Touch of Passion (22 page)

There was no sign of the water that had swamped the area a few nights earlier, but the destruction that had been done remained. Kian hadn't seen the benefit of clearing it away until they were certain that the cause had been dealt with. If it had looked bad during the fog and darkness, it looked far worse in the light of day.

Dismounting and tying the horse to one of the few trees still standing, Dyfed walked over some of the ground that he'd covered three nights ago. Kian had probably already been over it several times, looking for signs of what, exactly, had taken place.

The lake was the most obvious clue, clearly being the source of the water that was found at each site of destruction. But if the beast or creature, or whatever it was, lived in the lake, then it certainly didn't leave any kind of trail when it came out. Farther into the trees, the path that the creature had forced was so wide that it looked as if a small herd of elephants had gone on rampage, but except for the remaining dampness, there was no disturbance on the ground around the lake. Even if there hadn't been footprints or paw prints, there should have been something—perhaps a path where a large beast had dragged itself along, out of the water, or impressions where it had leaped from spot to spot. Yet there was nothing.

It had been foolishness for him to go to
Fynnon Elian
. Whatever was happening at Tylluan was far more powerful
and mysterious than a mere well curse. But attending to such rituals was important to the people of Tylluan, and so he and Horas had made the journey to the well and paid the keeper to remove from it any curses regarding Tylluan that might have been thrown into its depths. It had been three days spent for nothing more than a calming of the people's nerves—a calming that would be lost the moment the next attack came.

But Desdemona had promised Dyfed that she would let nothing happen until he returned, on the condition that he would meet her at the lake as soon as he was across Tylluan's border. She would know when he was home, she'd told him, and would come to him as quickly as she could.

Standing at the water's edge, Dyfed wondered how long that would be. The clouds were growing darker in the sky, and a chill took the place of the sun's warmth.

Desdemona.

What a strange, compelling young woman she was. She had been in Dyfed's thoughts constantly since that memorable night, and he felt a curiously strong desire to see her. He began to walk up toward the trees with the intention of biding his time by examining the damage in the light of day, but had scarce gotten into the tree line before he sensed her presence.

Dyfed turned just in time to see a flash of color moving over the water, and then she was there, standing on the shore, a vision dressed in shimmering green with a long velvet cape fluttering over her shoulders and down to the ground. Her shining black hair was undone, falling down to her hips, and she was breathing a little harshly, her cheeks pink with color. She looked unutterably beautiful.

She said his name and began to move toward him, and Dyfed found himself striding full-length to meet her. He wasn't entirely sure what it was he intended—perhaps to say something or even kiss her—but he certainly didn't expect what happened.

They went into each other's arms, found each other's mouths—and promptly lost their senses. There wasn't a slow
building of desire or even a few moments to explore and discover; they went straight from physical contact to desperate need.

The impact of the sensation was like being flung against a brick wall. Dyfed felt as if someone had set his body on fire and inflated his head to the point of exploding, both at the same time. His hands pressed Desdemona's slight body against his own with all the strength he possessed and her hands did the same to him, but they couldn't get close enough. They had to be one,
now
, or perish from want.

He had never known anything like this before, and, frankly, it was terrifying.

With a strength he didn't know he possessed, Dyfed managed to push her to arm's length. Gasping for air, he said, “This is madness. And it's wrong.”

She nodded, shuddering for breath. “I'm frightened by it, too.”

And that was the end of all discussion.

He took her there, to his absolute shock, right on the muddy ground, with her velvet cloak spread out as her only cushion. They tumbled down, tearing at each other's clothes, and then, with her skirts tossed up about her waist and half his trouser buttons torn off, he was thrusting inside of her. She rose up to meet him, and their movements became one, forceful, powerful, blinding in pleasure.

Only one word swept through his chaotic thoughts as he surrendered to the desire that drove them both.
Bliss
. This was as close to heaven on earth as he was likely to get. No other woman had given him this feeling; he knew with honest clarity that no other woman would.

“Desdemona.” Her name tumbled off his tongue unbidden, and the sound of it made her weep.

“Dyfed,” she whispered urgently, as if it were a plea, holding him, moving with him. “Dyfed. Dyfed.”

Over and over she said it as they rose together to fulfillment, until the sweet release swept over them. It was so powerful that Dyfed's mind swam dizzily and for a moment he
was completely disoriented. He collapsed on top of her, unable to spare her small, delicate body from his full weight. But she didn't seem to mind. Her legs and arms wrapped about him, hugging tightly as if she never wanted him to rise again.

She was still weeping. The sound penetrated Dyfed's whirling brain and brought him to his senses. Lifting his head, he gazed into her violet eyes and with a gentle hand swept the hair from her face.

“What's the matter, darling?”

“I don't know,” she answered, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I never cry. At least, not since I was a child. But you've done something to me . . . ..”

He lowered his head and kissed her softly. “Something's happened to both of us,” he murmured. “This has to do with magic, Desdemona Caslin. You know that, too, don't you?”

She nodded. “Yes. I know. Oh no, don't,” she said when he began to rise, disengaging their bodies. “Stay.”

He smiled and kissed her again. “Don't worry. I'm going to make love to you again before we part. Far more slowly, if that's possible, and if rain isn't pouring down upon us.”

He sat up and did his best to rearrange their clothes, then drew Desdemona into a sitting position and set both his arms and cloak about her to keep her warm. “This is a damnable place to have had this happen. We're both covered in mud, and anyone riding by might see us. I think we've both lost our senses. Please don't cry anymore, Desdemona. Are you so unhappy to find yourself sharing an enchantment of some sort with me?”

“I don't know,” she said, wiping her face. “It was never foretold that I should have one who was fated for me, but it's the only explanation. I just . . . it just seems impossible that it should be with you. You're not even a powerful wizard.”

“Fated?” he repeated, ignoring the insulting tone regarding his lack of powers. “I'm sure it can't be. We call such ones
unoliaeth
, or oneness, and that kind of union wasn't foretold for me, either. My brother, Lord Tylluan, has one, but not me.”

“I know,” Desdemona replied, and he heard a touch of bitterness in her tone. “He came to Llew and warned Cadmaran of your journey to London with this woman. His
unoliaeth
, he called her, and made a vow before the Guardians of what he would do to anyone who might harm her.”

“Kian went to Llew?” Dyfed was astonished by this news. “He spoke with Cadmaran? And with you?”

“He came alone, and for that I must admire him, but I hate him for all the rest.”

“Why on earth should you hate Kian?” Dyfed asked. “He's done nothing to you.”

“He's sending you away to guard his woman, and there's nothing I can do to stop him. Or you.” She looked up at him, lifting one cold, ungloved hand to cradle his face. “I cannot bear the thought of being parted from you, now that I've found you. These past three days have been endless for me. Please don't go away to London. Let someone else take Lord Tylluan's fated one there.”

“I would if it were possible,” Dyfed told her honestly. “But Kian is my lord as well as my brother, and I cannot gainsay him. There is but one way for me to return to Tylluan, and you hold that power in your hands. Tell me about what you've been doing for Cadmaran, and how it is that you came to be with him.”

“I cannot tell you everything,” she said, lowering her gaze and leaning more closely against him. “Lord Llew asked a favor of my father, and offered him a great deal of money in return. My coming was part of their agreement. Please believe me when I tell you that I did not know I would be left behind when my father departed. I hate everything about England, excepting you, and wish I might make you my captive and take you back to America. But as I cannot compel you to do my bidding,” she said sadly, “then I must stay here, where you are.”

“Yes, you must.” Dyfed smiled at the thought. He certainly had no intention of letting her go so far away. “But that
doesn't solve our more immediate problem. I know that you're not the one who has directly caused the troubles here, but you have something to do with them. And until those troubles have stopped, Kian won't allow Loris to come back to Tylluan, and I'll be made to remain in London to chaperone her.”

“But why?” Desdemona asked miserably, clinging to him. “Surely you can find someone else to take the woman. I
hate
her. And I hate your brother for sending you away.”

Dyfed didn't know why he should find the childish, petulant statement so amusing. His relationship with Desdemona was clearly going to be a trying one. She had obviously been terribly spoiled and would require a very firm hand.

“Hating my brother isn't going to do us any good. If you don't want me to be gone for any great length of time, then you'll have to help him rid Tylluan of this evil.”

She glanced up, troubled, even slightly regretful. “It won't do any good, Dyfed. I control the creature now and it does my bidding, but I cannot keep it from seeking food when it grows hungry. If I do not take it out and let it feed, it will go anyway, and do as it pleases.”

“What is this creature?”

She hesitated. Overhead a rumble of thunder sounded. “It is one of the ancient creatures, held in slumber by enchantments performed long ago by your ancestors, but raised back to life by my father. Cadmaran knew, or discovered by some means, that long generations of Caslins have retained the knowledge of how to unlock certain enchantments.”

“But I thought that was forbidden by the Guardians,” Dyfed said.

“If it is, it hasn't stopped wizards like my father from carrying on the tradition. But the secrets are held very dear within my family, so that Cadmaran was obliged to have my father come to him to perform the spell that brought the
athanc
back to life.”

“
Athanc
?” Dyfed had a dim memory of the word from one of his father's stories.

“It lives deep within the lake,” she said, “and comes out only at night and only to feed. But it's a clumsy, stupid brute, and without guidance it won't discern animals from humans. In a way, I've done your brother a favor, for I've kept the creature from killing any mortals.”

“It lives in the lake,” Dyfed repeated thoughtfully. “That would explain the water. But how does it travel without leaving a trail? From the damage it wreaks it must be quite a large creature.”

“It can be,” she said. “But it can also make itself small. The beast can transform itself into liquid and travel underground, rising where it wishes. But it cannot go far from the lake, else it would weaken and perhaps fall back into darkness. But before it did, I believe it would cause a great deal of destruction, for it can grow angry at the least cause.”

A cold breeze blew over them, riffling their hair and chilling their faces, though they were warm enough pressed together beneath his cloak. Dyfed glanced up and saw that the dark clouds were about to open.

“Can it be killed?” he asked.

Desdemona shook her head. “None of the ancient monsters can be destroyed. They can only be returned to slumber, and the only wizard I know who can perform such an enchantment is my father, who is back in America. And even if he wasn't, I doubt he'd agree to help your brother, except, perhaps, for a very great price.”

“Your father may be the greatest wizard in America,” Dyfed said, “but I believe our
Dewin Mawr
could match and perhaps even best, him. And Kian isn't far behind in powers.”

“I have felt his strength,” she said, “but they will avail him nothing if he does not know the ancient incantations.”

“Do you know them, Desdemona?” Dyfed demanded, touching her chin to lift her gaze to his own. “You must tell me truthfully if you do.”

“My father has been careful to keep them to himself. It's the truth!” she said insistently when Dyfed looked at her
askance. “Can you think that I would lie to you now if I possessed the knowledge to keep you from leaving me? I only know how to call the beast and manage it, and how to send it back to the depths for rest. Nothing more.”

“And you do this for Cadmaran willingly?”

Another clap of thunder, louder this time, and the first few drops of rain began to softly fall. Dyfed ignored it and continued to gaze at her, waiting for an answer. Desdemona lifted a hand high up into the chilly breeze and placed some kind of invisible shield about them. The rain continued to fall, but not on them, and the wind could no longer touch them.

Dyfed was impressed. “You're a useful female to have about,” he said, sliding a finger down her soft cheek in a gentle caress. “Now tell me about Cadmaran.”