Authors: Mary Jo Putney
Dangerous Gifts (5 page)
“Why is he considered a hero?”
“At Waterloo, the French tried to break through the line where his regiment was stationed. All of the senior officers were killed or wounded in the first assault, leaving young Duncan in command. Though he was wounded himself, his courage and leadership prevented the enemy from breaking the line.”
Leah nodded, understanding better why he disliked the label
hero
. It had been bought at a very high price. Proceeding to the critical question, she asked, “His affections are unattached?”
hero
. It had been bought at a very high price. Proceeding to the critical question, she asked, “His affections are unattached?”
“I believe so. As I said earlier, he has not been going about much in society. Dislikes being lionized, I believe. But I understand that he’s been more visible in the last fortnight.” Lady Wheaton laughed wickedly. “Good hunting, child. If you can’t capture him, I don’t know what woman could.”
Leah leaned back, expression determined. This was why she had accepted a faery bargain for beauty—so she could win the heart of a man like Duncan Townley.
Even though mortals could not see him, from habit Ranulph stayed in the shadow of a massive rhododendron as he waited in the park opposite Wheaton House. As always, his Leah attracted an endless stream of male callers.
Then a smart sporting carriage drawn by matched bays swept into the square and halted in front of Wheaton House. The driver, a strikingly handsome young man of military bearing, gave his reins to his groom and jumped lightly to the ground, then entered the house. In a remarkably short time, he emerged with Leah on his arm. She was looking up into the man’s eyes, her face bright with laughter.
She was exquisite, his little harpist. Ranulph greedily absorbed the sight of her slim, graceful figure and delicate features. He felt a surprising urge to reveal himself and wrench her away from her young man. Goddess, but he’d spent too much time observing mortals! He was developing some of their vices, such as jealousy.
He watched as the young man helped her into the carriage with tender care. Then the man left his groom to wait at Wheaton House, and drove off with Leah.
Ranulph scowled. He should be pleased. If he was any judge, his little harpist was finally well on her way to falling in love, which meant that the day when he could claim her was not far off. That knowledge only increased his impatience.
“Surely in London you can find other amusements while you wait to net your mortal miss,” a familiar purring voice said.
Ranulph was becoming accustomed to Kamana’s silent appearances. This time when he turned, his hand was not on the hilt of his sword. “There is enough greenery here to sustain faery life, but it is locked into strange, unnatural shapes. I shall be glad when the time comes to return to my wood.” He suppressed a sigh. His longing for the familiar green peace was almost as powerful as his desire to have Leah there as his consort.
“It won’t be much longer now,” Kamana said. “The silver threads are crossing now, creating shared destinies. You’ll be home again soon.”
“I hope so.” He studied her appreciatively. Today she wore an Indian costume that swathed her magnificent figure with provocative snugness. Necklaces of golden coins jingled around her neck and drew attention to her dark silky skin. “What are your London amusements, Lady Kamana?”
She shrugged, the gesture creating a tantalizing possibility that her wrapped garment would come unmoored. “Observing the passing scene. Visiting the green margins of the city. Did you know that by the river in Chelsea there is a wonderful apothecary’s garden that contains plants from my own land?” She gave a dazzling smile. “But mostly I watch these strange, intriguing mortal creatures.”
“Surely you cannot wish to stay in London forever.”
“Oh, no,” she said positively. “Soon I shall return to the country. I’ve visited the great faery courts in Somerset and Derbyshire, and some smaller ones as well. I know what home I would prefer, but I will not speak of it until I’m sure I will be accepted.”
He smiled down at her. For all her regal bearing, she was really quite a small creature. “I’m sure that whatever court you choose will welcome you gladly.”
“We shall see.” She pressed her hands together in front of her chest and bowed gracefully. “As we say in Hind,
namaste.
Until next time, Lord Ranulph.”
namaste.
Until next time, Lord Ranulph.”
She vanished in a shimmer of light. A good trick. He must learn how to do it. Then he turned and glided unseen through the street to Hyde Park so he could continue observing Leah and her mortal.
Leah enjoyed watching Duncan as he drove expertly through the crowded London streets. Heavens, she would enjoy watching him groom a horse or weed a garden. By the light of day he was every bit as handsome as he had seemed last night. More so.
Yet she was even more struck by the quality that Lady Wheaton had mentioned the night before. Beneath the facade of a bold and dangerous-looking hero was a disposition of surprising sweetness. The expression in his golden eyes when he’d called for her had been almost shy.
Duncan had come at an unfashionably early hour so they would not be constantly interrupted by acquaintances. When they reached the park and the traffic no longer required his complete attention, he glanced at her and said, mirroring her own earlier thoughts, “You are even lovelier than I thought last night. Helen of Troy could not have surpassed you.”
“That is a very pretty compliment,” Leah said seriously. “But I would not want to launch a thousand ships. So much suffering! Not that I think it was Helen’s fault. Surely Menelaus and Paris could have resolved their differences in a more civilized fashion.”
Duncan grinned. “I’ve often thought the same. A duel would have been far more efficient. But the truth is that the Greeks simply liked to fight. I expect that any excuse would have done as well.”
“Then they shouldn’t have blamed the Trojan War on Helen,” she said firmly. “It’s the same as Adam blaming Eve for his own weakness. Most reprehensible.”
He gave her a smile that made her knees weak. “I see that you are a radical.”
“Not really, but I’ve read Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin and agree with much of what she said.” Leah smiled ruefully. “I promised Lady Wheaton that I would not reveal my bluestocking tendencies, but with you, I forgot my promise.”
“I’m glad. Women with ideas are far more interesting than those who haven’t two thoughts to rub together.”
Leah glowed at his words. The compliment seemed to belong to her more than his praise for her beauty.
He continued, “Tell me about your family. Parents? Brothers and sisters?”
“No brothers and sisters,” she said with regret. “I came late, when my parents had long since given up all thoughts of having a family.”
“And . . . ?” he said, perhaps hearing something in her voice.
She hesitated, then said aloud what she seldom admitted even to herself. “My parents had little patience or interest in a child. They did their duty, of course, but . . .” Her voice trailed off before she continued, “Though my childhood was a quiet one, I always had my books and music. I was . . . content.”
“I see,” he said quietly, and she suspected that he did see.
“What of your family, Captain Townley?” she asked.
“Call me Duncan,” he said with a warm look that reached deep inside her.
She seemed to be having trouble with her breathing. “Ver y well, Duncan. But . . . but you must call me Leah.”
His answering smile was like a touch. How could the simple exchange of names feel so intimate?
“I was fortunate, for my parents were unfashionably interested in their offspring. I have two older sisters who alternately spoiled and tormented me.” He grinned. “That’s normal for families, from what I’ve seen. Jane and Caroline are both married now. At last count I had five delightful nieces and nephews.”
Trying not to sound too envious of his family, she asked, “Did you always wish to grow up and join the army?”
“Actually, my inclinations were scholarly rather than military.” He concentrated rather more than necessary on steering around two stopped carriages. “But shortly after I finished at Cambridge, my parents died within a month of each other. I felt the need for a change.” He smiled with wry sel-mockery. “I also had romantic notions about serving my country, so I went into the army and was sent to the Peninsula just before the big push into France.”
He’d had a baptism of fire. She did a swift calculation, and decided that he was only about twenty-five now. War had matured him early. “You may deny being a hero, but at the least, you served your country well,” she said quietly. “Don’t apologize for that.”
He pulled his horses to a halt, then turned to her, the reins tight in his hands. “We both seem to have the ability to hear more than what the other person is saying.”
So the deeper levels of this conversation were not in her imagination. She asked, “Is that bad?”
“No.” He snapped the reins and set the horses into motion again. “Not bad at all.”
For the rest of the drive, they talked about anything and everything. Leah had never found anyone, male or female, with whom she could converse so easily. And Duncan was obviously enjoying himself as much as she was. Could falling in love be this simple? She prayed that it was so.
As Duncan drove back to Wheaton House, he said with a touch of diffidence, “Tomorrow is the last night that Vauxhall will be open before closing for the winter. My uncle, with whom I’m staying, has suggested inviting you and your godmother to join us. Apparently she and my uncle are old friends. Might you be able to come?”
“Let me ask Lady Wheaton when we reach home. I believe we’re free tomorrow night,” she said, ruthlessly jettisoning invitations to three loud, crowded rout parties.
With a private smile, she guessed that her aunt would be almost as interested in the excursion as Leah.
Chapter Five
After spattering rain all day, the skies began to clear as dusk approached. Leah gave thanks—she did not want the evening at Vauxhall canceled. She was ready and bouncing with eagerness an hour before Lord Townley and Duncan were due to arrive.
Monique, who styled Leah’s hair, shook her head sadly. “You must not wear your heart on your sleeve, m’zelle. Men like Captain Townley enjoy the hunt. Where is the challenge in a woman who falls into the hand like a ripe plum?”
Shadow, who was sitting on the vanity table with her paws tucked primly under her, gave a soft, scornful yowl. Feeling supported, Leah said, “Captain Townley is not like that. He would despise such games.” She was not sure how she knew that, but she was quite positive that she was right.
After Monique left, still shaking her head, Leah stroked Shadow’s luxuriant black fur. Now that she thought about it, she realized that the cat’s eyes were the same transparent gold as Duncan’s. An interesting coincidence.
She spent the next hour playing her harp, and wondering if Duncan would like the traditional instrument as much as he had enjoyed her piano playing. Wryly she recognized that every thought in her head involved Duncan one way or another.
When a maid summoned her, she raced down the stairs like a hoyden. Outside the drawing room, she made herself pause to take a deep breath. Then she went in.
Duncan greeted her warmly and made the introductions. Lord Townley was a lean, handsome gentleman with silver-touched hair and an unfashionably brown complexion. He bowed over her hand. “I had thought my nephew exaggerated your beauty, but I see instead that he understated the case.”
Leah liked the twinkle in the viscount’s eye, and the obvious affection between him and his nephew. One of the bits of female advice that Lady Wheaton had offered was that a man who could get along with his relations was a good prospect for getting along with a wife. Leah had learned more such useful things in a few weeks with her godmother than in twenty-one years with her real mother.
Lady Wheaton swept grandly into the parlor, looking particularly fine in a navy blue costume trimmed in military-style gold braid. Lord Townley swung around, and there was a suspended moment while they looked at each other. Both of them were very still until the viscount said softly, “You haven’t changed at all, Andrea.”
To Leah’s amazement, her worldly godmother blushed. “Nor have you, Will. You’re still an outrageous flirt.”
“A flirt?” he protested. “I’m a simple man, dedicated to the pursuit of truth.”
“Hmph. The truth isn’t in you,” she said, but she took his arm eagerly when he offered it.
Leah and Duncan exchanged a glance of mutual surprise and amusement. As they followed the older couple out to the carriage, Duncan said under his breath, “I had thought my uncle a dedicated bachelor. But perhaps I was wrong.”
Leah laughed and tightened her clasp on his arm. Magic was in the air. Why shouldn’t Lord Townley and Lady Wheaton also feel the enchantment?
Ranulph had visited Vauxhall Gardens several times. During the day, the acres of trees were a welcome respite from the stone and stink of the city. He’d come several times at night as well. The concerts weren’t bad, though nothing as good as faery music, or Leah’s lilting airs. But in the tree-shadowed paths, it was simple to find women who would lie with a handsome stranger. The physical satisfaction he’d found in such encounters was fleeting, but easily come by.
Tonight was different because Leah was here, along with her damned suitor. The young man was definitely a suitor—a blind man could see that.
Leah and her party had promenaded along the Grand Walk, watched the Cascade, and dined in a supper box. There was something afoot between the older man and Leah’s godmother as well—Ranulph could see the energy glow between them. Not as intense as the radiant bond between Leah and young Townley, but definitely there, and growing stronger. The lot of them were having such a good time that they were like feasting court faeries, he thought acidly.
After the fireworks display, the couples separated and went off to promenade through the gardens, wanting privacy to talk—or for other reasons. Ranulph drifted through the shrubbery, watching Leah. The provocative sway of her hips as she walked intoxicated him. And her breasts, ah, those perfect little breasts . . .
He caught his breath as an idea struck him. What if a patch of fog rolled in from the river while Leah and her suitor were on the Dark Walk? No one would think anything of it. In the mist it would be easy to separate Leah from Townley. Lost and confused, she would run to her suitor in relief when she found him. Except that it would be Ranulph she would find, guised in the form of the man she desired.
He gave a great shout of laughter as the plan took form in his mind. He’d have her tonight, and pleasure her so well that she would be mad for the young man whose face he wore. Then, when her wits were scrambled with love, it would be time for Ranulph to collect his price, and she would be his.
In his bed—and in flower-filled glens and mossy bowers—he would bind her to him with the erotic arts learned over centuries, skills no mortal could hope to match. Through passion he would swiftly overcome any resentment she had at being compelled to leave the world of mortals. Not that he expected much resistance. Once she adjusted, how could she not prefer eons of pleasurable life in the glittering realms of Faerie?
He waited until Leah and her escort left the lighted Grand Cross Walk for the Dark Walk. Then, his gaze following her graceful figure, he raised one arm and summoned the fog.
Thick and soft as cotton wool, the dense mist rolled over the trees and walkways of this corner of the gardens, muffling sounds and reducing vision to a matter of two or three feet. Even Ranulph could see little.
All about him were gasps and feminine squeals of surprise. Ranulph smiled and snapped his fingers as he murmured a few words in the ancient tongue of magic. A spell of confusion formed in his palm, a dim sphere with dark swirling streaks inside. He tossed it toward Leah and Townley. The spell was a small one, and would affect only them and an area of fifty feet or so around.
Then, silent as the fog, he headed toward where he had last seen her. He’d done his work too well, for even he became confused. She was not where he had expected, and neither was her escort. Ranulph stopped and searched the dense fog with scent and sound and intuition. Trees to the left, beyond that two people coupling, and not with the partners they’d come with. But where was Leah?
He heard light steps on the gravel path. A soft voice said uncertainly, “Duncan?”
Vibrant with excitement, he made himself visible to mortal eyes in the guise of Duncan Townley. He took a moment to familiarize himself with the new form. He had to admit that it was not a bad body, for a mortal. Then he called, “Here, Leah!”
He stepped forward, and almost ran into her. She gasped, “Oh!” as he caught her shoulders to steady her.
“Are you all right?” he asked, the words coming in a deep voice that was not his own. Slowly he ran his hands down her arms as he studied her delicate features.
She smiled, shamefaced. “I am now. I don’t know quite how I lost you. One moment I had your arm. Then the fog came, and I got confused.”
“I know. I was worried.” He drew her into his arms and held her close. After making a small sound of surprise, she nestled close.
Reminding himself that he must go slowly, he kissed the top of her head, then gently moved his lips to her temple. She tilted her head back questioningly. The damp fog caused tendrils of hair to cling fetchingly to her throat. No longer able to restrain himself, he claimed her lips.
She gave a shiver of surprise. “I . . . I shouldn’t,” she whispered into his mouth.
“I was so worried,” he said again, and kissed her bare throat, stroking her rapid pulse with his tongue.
Her mind might have doubts, but her body didn’t. She pressed against him even as she murmured another vague protest. With a few steps he moved them to a mossy bed that he had created earlier, safely away from the graveled walk.
“This . . . this is most improper,” she said weakly as he dropped to his knees, then tugged her down beside him.
“You’re wrong,” he said intensely. “For us, it’s the most proper thing in the world.” He started to say that he loved her, a phrase that worked like a magical spell on any mortal female who was already as aroused as Leah was. Yet he could not utter the words. In some indefinable way, it seemed wrong to lie to her about that.
He kissed her throat again, at the same time slipping her shawl from her shoulders and deftly unfastening the tapes securing the back of her gown. The bodice fell away, revealing her lacy underthings and the tops of her perfect breasts.
“Oh, Duncan.” Eyes wide and startled, she made an ineffectual attempt to cover herself properly. “You really shouldn’t do such things.”
“I must have you, Leah,” he said tightly. Though he wore the form of a mortal, it was Ranulph’s own need that burned through his words. He captured her mouth, swallowing her protests while his hands delved beneath her gauzy garments.
He should have let his passion show sooner, for suddenly she was responding with a desire that matched his own, her small hands biting into his back. She was like a flame, her lithe body twisting beneath his, her hands and mouth eager.
Madness swept through him, a scorching need to make her his own. Yet even as he possessed her, their bodies joining with a wildness that seared his senses, he realized that something was wrong.
Something was wrong.
Something was wrong.
He cried out at the same time as she, drowning in passion’s inferno. In that same instant, as he felt the fierce heat of her response, his partner suddenly transformed. Her slight body became more voluptuous, her tawny hair turned into a tangle of silken tresses as black as night.
With shock and incredulous rage, he realized that it was not Leah but Kamana who lay beneath him, her shapely limbs twined around him and her golden eyes filled with wicked amusement. Violently he wrenched himself from her embrace. “Damn you!” he panted. “How dare you interfere with me!”
She laughed, unabashed, and rolled onto her side, propping her head up on one hand. Her clothing had vanished, leaving her naked except for the gossamer spill of her raven hair. “Why are you so angry? You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” Her free hand drifted to her breast, where the mark of his teeth still showed. “I thought I played the innocent very well, until the end.”
He flushed. “That is not the point. You had no right to deceive me.”
Her brows arched. “Yet you had a right to deceive that child, to take the virginity that mortals prize so much? That would have been unkind.” Her voice became husky. “I thought that you were in need of a diversion, so I sacrificed myself to that cause.”
He snorted. “Sacrificed! You mated like a she-panther. The marks on my back will not disappear quickly. Is that why you came to England, to find bolder lovers than the Folk of India?”
Her laughter pealed through the fog that enclosed their private glen. “Sexual congress is one of the great arts among my people. There are none in Angland that could match the sensual skill of one of my kind.”
Seeing that he was on the verge of explosion, she added kindly, “Oh, I admit that you are not without a certain talent in this area. With practice, and the teaching of a skilled partner, you might someday equal a lord of Hind.” She stretched a hand lazily toward him, her fingers trailing sparkles of light.
Cursing, he leaped to his feet before she could touch him. “You witch! You were probably driven out by your own kind, and that is why you’ve come here to plague me.”
She dropped her teasing manner. “Not at all. But I will not let you hurt that child wantonly. The fact that she is bound by the faery bargain she made does not mean she must be your prey now. Have patience, and you will soon have all that you desire.”
“What I desire is to be free of you,” he said viciously. Then he whirled into the fog as her laughter followed him.
One moment Leah was smiling at one of Duncan’s remarks, and the next the thickest fog she had ever seen had fallen with amazing swiftness. She gasped and turned around, then realized that somehow she had let go of Duncan’s arm. At first she was not alarmed, thinking that he must be within touching distance.
But he wasn’t. He had vanished. She moved toward where he had been, or where she thought he had been, without success. Fear began to rise in her. The fog was uncanny, menacing. Struggling to contain her panic, she called, “Duncan?”
There was no answer. Hands clenched, she called again. Why could she hear nothing? It was as if she had fallen from the face of the earth into a nightmare.
Then she heard a faint, “I’m here, Leah.”
She exhaled with relief, but in the fog it was impossible to tell from where his voice had come. Uncertainly she turned in a circle. “Where?” she called back.
“Stay where you are,” he ordered, his voice a little closer. “If we both move, we’ll never find each other.”
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