Touch of Passion (45 page)

The dogs were already throwing themselves against the shield, while half a dozen men armed with pistols appeared.

“
Datod!
” Kian shouted, and, “
Difetha!
”

Neither worked, and the shield was beginning to give way. One of the dogs had nearly pushed through and would quickly be upon them.

Lifting his hands again, he tried once more,“
Rhyddhau!
” and the silver cords slid away.

Desdemona Caslin came to her feet with a fury of sound and motion, unleashing all her anger and power just as the shield gave way. A sound came out of her—neither Kian nor Dyfed had ever heard anything like it—that was sufficient to put the fear of God into man and beast alike. With a flash of her hands she sent the dogs up into the air—not flinging them away but high up—and kept them there, twisting and growling and clawing helplessly.

“
Carreg!
” she shouted in that still-unearthly voice that shook the very ground, and the dogs immediately became stone once more, frozen into their twisted positions.

And then she dropped her hands—no, Kian thought as he watched in amazement, it wasn't merely dropping, it was more like slashing. The stone figures were hurled into the garden beyond, crashing to the ground and exploding into hundreds of tiny pieces. The force threw Kian and Dyfed and all of Cadmaran's men flat onto their backs, but Desdemona Caslin stood unaffected, her dark demeanor and scowling expression like that of a demon creature come out of the pit to vent her fury on any who dared cross her path.

Kian rose to his feet first and moved to help his brother.

“Hell hath no fury,” Kian muttered, wiping bits of rubble from his sleeve. He would have done the same for Dyfed, but he had already pushed past his brother to gather Desdemona Caslin into his arms. Kian spent a brief moment staring at the clinging couple and wondered what his brother had gotten himself into, wishing to take such a woman as wife. But there wasn't more time to ponder the matter; Cadmaran's men were coming to their senses, too.

“We've got to get out of here,” Kian said. “And across the border into Tylluan, where Llew can't touch Miss Caslin.”

“I welcome a meeting with him,” Desdemona said in a manner that made Kian's skin tingle. Dyfed, however, only gazed at the frightening female with adoration.

“Do you have the gift of levitation?” she asked, and in unison with Kian swept her hand toward the men advancing upon them, sending them insensible to the ground.

“I know quick traveling,” he told her, “but we can't leave the horses.”

“Only tell me where they are,” she said, reaching out to grasp the front of Kian's tunic, “and hold on to me tightly. I can carry you both outside the castle walls, and we may be done with Llew forever.”

It was amazing how long the man could talk, Malachi thought as he shifted uncomfortably on the rock upon which he'd been sitting for a full half hour or more, his chin resting in one hand. He'd been hard-pressed several times not to nod off and was put in mind of his school days, when his teacher's dull lectures had tempted him to play tricks with the clocks. Malachi's father, the former Earl of Graymar, had put a stop to such nonsense in the manner commonly employed by mere mortals—a thorough whipping—which had proved to be astonishingly successful in keeping Malachi from using magic so casually again in public settings.

Not that he hadn't gleaned valuable information regarding the Caslin family from Morcar's droning tale. Quite the opposite. He must certainly send Brecmont to America with some of this interesting knowledge to lend him aid. But for the current problem, it added nothing in the way of help.

“Well, that's most intriguing,” Malachi said when the Earl of Llew stopped long enough to take a breath. Malachi stood and tugged at the lapels of his perfectly tailored coat, straightening the edges. “Thank you for relating the tale, and also your knowledge and experience of the Caslin family. It was vastly entertaining.”

Lord Llew tilted his head curiously. “Entertaining?” he repeated, a touch of confusion in his tone.

“Very,” said Malachi. “I'm so glad that we were able to come together and have this meeting, brief as it must necessarily be. I'm afraid I must be going now, however, for I assured Lord Tylluan that I'd be back well before sunset.”

The Earl of Llew frowned and slowly rose to his feet. “You cannot leave. We've not yet discussed the
athanc
.”

“Perhaps another time,” Lord Graymar said. “I must return in plenty of time to help my cousin plan for the beast's wanderings tonight. He received some dreadful scratches last night. Lord Tylluan, not the
athanc
, of course. Clearly, he needs a better plan, and as advice is the only help he'll accept from me, I must make certain to be there to give it.”

“But—”

“No, no,” Malachi protested, “I can't stay longer, though I wish I could. Perhaps we might meet again before I depart for London and reminisce about old times. But for now, I must bid you good day.”

“Malachi—”

“There is one final thing that I must say to you before I go, however, Morcar,” Lord Graymar said. “And I hope that you'll think on it well and calmly throughout the coming days, though I have no doubt you'll be in no condition to do so right away.”

A wary expression possessed Cadmaran's dark features. “What is that?”

“I will pay you for the girl—for Miss Caslin,” Malachi said, “to make up for the loss of her. Tenfold, if necessary.”

Cadmaran shook his head in confusion. “She is to be my wife soon. I have no intention of selling her. Certainly not to a Seymour.”

“You don't have any choice in the matter,” Malachi informed him. “I believe that a
unoliaeth
exists between her and Dyfed, and, if that is so, to keep them apart would only bring down the wrath of the Guardians. Considering that
they've already placed a blood curse on you,” he said more gently, “I should think that's the one thing you'd want to avoid above any other.”

And then, not waiting to see how long it took for the Earl of Llew to comprehend him, Malachi prepared himself for the odd sensation of rapid traveling, closed his eyes, and departed.

Niclas and Professor Seabolt arrived at Tylluan shortly after Kian and Dyfed returned with Desdemona Caslin, well in time for Kian to give orders for the evening meal to be served in the castle's medieval great hall, as was the custom at Tylluan when guests were present, with all the castle folk in attendance.

Having heard the news that Professor Seabolt had at last found the long-sought enchantment, and being assured by Niclas that Loris was still safely, if not happily, in London, and being successful in their rescue of Miss Caslin from Morcar Cadmaran's clutches, there was a good deal to celebrate.

The
athanc
was going to be finished off tonight. Miss Caslin would help to control the beast, and Kian would perform the enchantment to put it back into slumber. All he had to find was a woman who was willing to play the most important part in the spell, which might, he admitted, be rather difficult, considering how dangerous that part was going to be. But surely one of the maidens at Tylluan would be willing to risk her life for the good of her family and friends. His people were all brave, even the females.

Dyfed and Miss Caslin had retired abovestairs as quickly as they could, waiting only long enough to hear what Malachi
had to report about his meeting with Cadmaran and to properly greet Niclas and to rejoice over the news that Professor Seabolt had brought.

They'd been gone for three hours now, ostensibly so that Miss Caslin could have a hot bath and a change of clothes and a little nap before the celebration at dinner. Kian had his own notions as to what his brother and Miss Caslin were actually doing—they'd been unable to keep either their eyes or their hands off each other since being reunited—and though they didn't say so, he knew that Malachi and Niclas and Professor Seabolt had the same thought.

Malachi commented that he would have to approach the elders among the Families as soon as he possibly could in order to gain their approval for Dyfed's marriage, and Niclas said something about first needing to contact Draceous Caslin in the States and obtain his agreement regarding a change of husbands for his daughter.

“I believe I have just the man for that particular task,” Malachi murmured thoughtfully. “Though I'm not certain that Dyfed and his beloved will be able to wait long enough for Brecmont to achieve Boston and send word back to us.”

Kian, having already had to wait for what seemed like an eternity to be united with his
unoliaeth
, didn't think it so terrible a thing for his brother to have to wait a few months. Apart from that, neither Dyfed nor Miss Caslin appeared to be suffering all that much from the lack of being legally wed

The celebration dinner was a great success. Despite the short notice, Cook managed to produce a meal that would have made Loris proud.

Before the fine meal was done, some of those who could play and had brought their instruments struck up a tune. Singing and dancing commenced, and, shortly thereafter, Kian and some of those who had the ability to levitate objects had taken up one of their favorite games—sending small objects flying in an attempt to strike various chosen spots about the room. It was rather like hitting the bull's-eye in archery, and whoever struck closest to the mark was deemed the
winner. Spoons were the favorite projectiles, doing little harm as they hit candlesticks and vases and tapestries, but when they'd all been spent, the players were left with only forks and knives to continue on with. Unfortunately, these tended to do more damage and break more objects, but as the evening progressed and the wine flowed and the musicians played even more cheerful tunes, those caught up in the game really didn't care.

The contest had come down to a tie between Kian and Malachi. They had long since given up on eating utensils as missiles and were using small unshelled walnuts. The objects they were trying to shatter were several teacups—all mismatched, as they were what had survived of Tylluan's various tea services throughout the years—which Malachi had enchanted to fly about the room in any and every direction. Kan and Malachi took turns sending a walnut flying; whichever of them broke the most teacups would be the winner.

They were encouraged in their efforts by a great deal of shouting and clapping and, of course, by continuing music and boisterous singing.

Loris heard the noise even before the carriage door opened and, stepping out into the darkness, recognized with an inward groan the familiar sounds of dishes being broken.

“Oh, m'lady,” Elen said as she gained her feet. “It's one of
those
nights. The ones Master Ffinian liked best.” She sounded very happy.

“What the devil's going on here?” Mr. Goodbody, coming out behind Elen, asked. “Sounds like we're back at the Red Fox.”

“Yes, it does,” Loris said. She glanced at the men Mr. Goodbody had hired, some on horseback, some dismounted, two on top of the carriage. “Two of the boys from the stable are coming,” she told them. “Follow them and unload the carriage and then you may all present yourselves to the kitchen. I'll make sure Cook has plenty of food and ale set out to greet you.”

This met with murmurs of approval, which wasn't surprising, as they had all labored hard, with little rest or sustenance, in order to arrive at Tylluan with such speed.

“Mr. Goodbody,” Loris said, and lifted her skirt to climb the stairs. “Welcome to my home.”

“Ha!” Kian shouted with a laugh. “Another hit! Now we're even.”

“Not for long,
cfender
,” Malachi said. “I shall hit the next one with both eyes closed.”

“God save us,” a new, masculine voice said loudly enough to be heard over all the noise, “it's
worse
than the Red Fox.”

Although the majority of those in the hall cared nothing for the words, they had a profound effect on certain individuals present. Kian's head whipped about so quickly toward the great hall's entry that his neck made a snapping sound. The next moment he was on his feet.

“Loris,” he said, with enough surprise and amazement that it caught the attention of all those around him, and the room, by degrees, grew silent.

The lady of Tylluan was a sight to behold, bedraggled from the long journey, with her hair partly undone and her dress muddied and torn. Her face was pale and drawn, clearly showing her exhaustion, and yet Kian had never found her more beautiful. His heart leaped to see her so near, and he could only wonder that he'd not felt her presence the moment she'd crossed Tylluan's borders.

He could certainly feel her now. Her anger was a palpable thing, especially in the stark silence. He knew that his people were glad to see her, for everyone at Tylluan had missed the mistress of the castle greatly, but he was also aware that they feared her wrath. If Loris had been here, matters never would have gotten so out of hand.

Almost more shocking than her presence was that of Mr. Goodbody. Kian hadn't seen him for ten years but
remembered the man vividly. He had changed little with time, save that he was perhaps a bit more portly and a tad more bald.

And then Kian realized, suddenly, why the man was there and couldn't help but admire his wife for her bravery and cleverness. None of them—not even Malachi or Niclas—had considered that she would turn to those from her former life for help. They thought they had boxed Loris in neatly, leaving her without a way to get to Tylluan, but she had outdone all their plotting.

“Well,” said Malachi. “I confess I am thoroughly taken aback. What an excessively odd feeling.”

“She said she would beat me here,” Niclas murmured, shaking his head. “She came close enough. I'm all admiration. I must congratulate you on your wife, Kian,” he said. “She is a rare treasure.”