Everlasting Enchantment (13 page)

Her stomach growled.

If Lady Yardley considered this tea, Millicent wondered what a full meal might be like.

The duke clasped her arm, gave it a painful squeeze, and led her over to a group of women.

Millicent lifted her chin as all eyes turned to study her from head to toe. Selena had managed to twist Millicent’s hair into the semblance of a chignon, yanking as hard as the vamp could, of course, but it lacked the pearls and feathers and diamonds sprinkled into the other ladies’ coiffures. Well, she might not be up to their standards, but she rather thought not a one of them could break up a bar fight, scare off a were-lion, or satisfy the magic man the way she could.

How odd. The thought actually brought her comfort.

“It’s the country girl, is it not?” asked one of the ladies.

“Lady Millicent,” greeted Claire, her hazel eyes sparkling with delight. “I’m so glad you could join us!”

“Lady Yardley,” began Millicent.

“I’m sure it’s her,” interrupted a woman standing nearby. “Those eyes are most unusual.”

“You are being quite rude, Lady Chatterly,” said Claire.

“And since when do I care about social niceties?” Lady Chatterly bore down on Millicent, iridescent blue peacock feathers in her hair this time, the colorful eyes of the pattern seeming to stare intently at her. “I fear you possess something of mine that you forgot to return to me.”

Millicent threw Ghoulston a disgruntled look. He had thrust her into this predicament.

“Perhaps you should discuss this in private,” suggested Claire, tilting her head at the duke, who wore an expression of polite inquiry, as if he hadn’t the slightest idea what they were talking about.

Lady Chatterly ignored her, stepping forward in her boldly striped gown and clasping Millicent’s arm. “I demand to know who you have given it to.”

Millicent growled softly. Who had made Lady Chatterly the keeper of the relic? What right had she to think she held any demands upon Gareth? Millicent struggled to retain her human shape as her cat tried to surface, for she did not suffer anyone to hold her against her will.

Then Lady Chatterly’s face went through an abrupt change of emotion as she felt at Millicent’s arm. She pushed up the billowy sleeves of Millicent’s gown and gaped at the bracelet still tightly fitted around her wrist. “It’s not possible… you could not have resisted him… what is
wrong
with you?”

“I… nothing, I assure you. He is not as irresistible as you seem to think.”

“Nonsense!”

“Am I missing something?” inquired His Grace with just the right touch of boredom to his voice.

Claire patted Lady Chatterly on the shoulder. “My dear, you really must contain yourself. Come now, a nice hot cup of tea should do the trick.”

“But… but… how is it possible? I’ve never known a woman to wear it for more than one single evening…”

“Astonishing, I agree. But remember, Lady Millicent is from the country, and they are rather… conservative in her area. I’m sure she will succumb soon, and then promptly return the, err, item to you. Isn’t that right, Millicent dear?”

Millicent obligingly nodded.

Claire led Lady Chatterly to a back table, consoling the woman as she went.

Normal conversation resumed around the room.

“See what you’ve done?” hissed Millicent. “She’ll come to you for the relic, now.”

Lord Ghoulston shrugged, rather elegantly, drat the man. “I don’t know a thing about it now, do I? And I hazard to guess she will be reluctant to discuss the matter. Besides, it shall be a wicked pleasure to send her on a wild-goose chase into the backwaters of the North. She’s a bit of a harpy, that one.”

He stepped over to the nearest chair and pulled it out for her. “My dear cousin, please take a seat.”

Millicent frowned but sat, arranging her skirts with unnecessary fuss. What was so important that he had risked exposing the relic this way? She should warn Claire about this supposed gift for the queen, but she had no idea what to warn her
of
. She set the tea box on the linen tablecloth in front of her and glared at it.

“Tea, my dear?” inquired His Grace, filling her cup before she could respond. Then he turned to address the woman on his other side, whose gown revealed more of her charms than necessary as she leaned forward to smile at him.

Millicent sighed and took a sip. Perhaps it would calm her as easily as it had appeared to calm Lady Chatterly. Claire gave the woman one last pat on the shoulder, and hurried back to Millicent’s table.

“Now, my dear,” she whispered as she sat next to her. “You must tell me all about it.”

“I assure you, there’s not much to tell.”

“But he did… come to you, didn’t he?”

Millicent glanced at the duke, but he looked entirely engrossed in his conversation with the other woman.

“Yes. But you spoke truly, Claire. I come from a very conservative family.”

“Then you must tell me all about them, for I cannot imagine…” She shook her auburn curls, as if chastising herself for bad manners, and then held out a silver platter to her. “Scone, my dear? Or perhaps a cucumber sandwich?”

Millicent nodded. She couldn’t talk much with her mouth full, and she hated to lie to Lady Yardley any more than she had to. She truly liked the woman.

Another lady with blonde hair and a demure gown sat down on the other side of Claire, and began to speak to the table in general. “Did you know that Prince Albert is arriving to visit the queen today? The
ton
is atwitter with gossip. Various factions are pushing them to marry. This will be his second visit, and if rumors are to be believed, he has matured into a fine-looking young man.”

All eyes went to the speaker, and that’s when Millicent realized what tea parties were really for. Gossip.

“It is my understanding,” said His Grace, “that she was not so pleased with him on his first visit. I believe she referred to him as rather pudgy. And he could not dance worth a farthing.”

“Perhaps,” said Claire. “But since then I hear he not only learned to dance, but has also shed the baby fat of his youth.”

Lord Ghoulston scowled. “Still, I do not think it a suitable match. The queen should marry someone from her own realm… not some foreigner.”

“Ah, well,” said the blonde lady, “there is no accounting for the vagaries of love, is there?”

The duke bestowed her with a brilliant smile. “Very true, very true. It is as unpredictable as the weather, is it not? And given the queen’s impulsive nature, she may surprise everyone with a man of her own choice.”

Millicent sipped her tea, washing down the bite of moist bread that stuck in her throat. The duke appeared more interested in this idle gossip than a man should be… or perhaps this was normal. How could she possibly know the inclinations of the gentry? But still, she detected something in the duke’s tone that bothered her… or was she jumping at every little nuance, because she felt suspicious and bewildered by the duke’s purpose in bringing her today?

“Why, Lady Millicent, what is this beautiful box sitting in front of you?” said Claire. “There are some unusual gemstones in it.”

“Oh.” Millicent set down her cup of tea. “It’s, err, a present for the queen.” She studiously avoided looking in Ghoulston’s direction. “But if you think it gauche of me to offer a gift for the courtesy of inviting me to the ball…”

“Oh, quite the contrary. The queen loves unusual gifts. What’s inside it?” And Lady Yardley lifted the lid and sniffed. “It smells rather odd.”

“It’s a special blend of tea leaves found only in the hills near my home. They say a great wizard once used magic to blend several leaves into one plant, and although he is long gone, his creation continues to flourish.”

Ghoulston coughed into his embroidered napkin.

“Most unusual,” said Claire.

“Indeed.” Millicent curled her fingers into a fist. “Because of its unusual origin, I suggest the queen have it tested, or tasted, before she tries it. I wouldn’t want to cause her any stomach upset.”

Ghoulston kicked her beneath the table.

“Oh, do not worry,” replied Claire. “The queen has many magic-users to ensure the safety of anything that nears her person. Just think, a new blend of tea. She will be most delighted by your thoughtful gift, Lady Millicent.”

Millicent gave her a wobbly smile. She’d done the best she could to warn them. She just wished she knew more. She had a sudden image of Nell in were-form, tied up like a goose, the duke plucking out her brilliant feathers. One by one.

She should have followed her instincts, gotten Nell out of that prison of a palace, and left the duke to his own devious schemes. Now she felt a part of them, and responsibility for whatever happened would rest on her shoulders.

Lady Yardley laughed at something the duke said, calling him “Silly Willie.”

She liked Claire. She had even liked the queen.

Getting involved emotionally with other people
never
turned out well for her.

Gareth stood by Millicent’s bedside and watched her sleep for a time, thinking he had Merlin to thank for one thing. Had Gareth not been trapped in the relic for centuries, he would never have met his one true love. For he no longer had any uncertainty about his feelings for Millicent. When the duke had poisoned her, and Gareth thought he’d lost her forever…

No, he did not doubt the strength of his feelings for her. Millicent’s feelings, on the other hand, still remained a mystery to him.

The burgundy sheets twisted about her long legs, revealing tantalizing glimpses of pale flesh. He liked how she slept in the nude, unself-conscious in her bare skin, and wondered if her animal nature had anything to do with it. He had never known a woman like her… so passionate… able to take all he could give her. He did not want to live without her.

There must be some way to make her love him as much as he loved her! Surely that would release him from the enchantment. But with Millicent, it would take time to tear down all the walls around her heart, and he didn’t know how much time they had left.

He glanced at the closed door, heard Nell’s snoring from the other room, and quickly shed his clothing. Then he leaned down and kissed his sweeting, a featherlight touch intended to wake her gently. Her lips moved ever so slightly beneath his.

Gareth traced a path from lip to cheek, marveling at the smooth texture of her skin. He nuzzled her ear and softly whispered, “I love you.”

Millicent sighed and her lashes fluttered.

He made love to her with only mouth and tongue, tracing a path down her neck, across the slope of her shoulder, to the lush curve of her breast. When he suckled a rosy peak, she stirred, a slow moan escaping from the back of her throat. He kissed his way down her smooth stomach, slid his tongue over the graceful contour of one hip, and then the other.

She smelled of wild roses and green meadows.

He kissed a path down her thigh, over her knee, along her muscled calf. She trembled slightly, her breath quickening, and Gareth knew she would be fully awake by the time he paid homage to her other leg.

When he reached her upper thigh, he angled his body half over hers, nuzzling the silky hair between her legs until she spread for him. And then he began his lovemaking in earnest. He knew exactly where to lick, precisely when to suck, until Millicent’s breathing became ragged and hoarse. With a skill born of centuries of practice, he raised his body and slid effortlessly into her.

“Gareth,” she breathed, those eyes now wide open, shining golden in the twilight streaming in through the window.

“I love you,” he whispered again, seeking to show her how very much. He sought the most sensitive area within her, keeping his lower body tightly pressed against hers, continuing the gentle pressure he’d used with mouth and tongue.

A slow, gentle friction.

Building to a gradual unfurling.

He reached his pinnacle when he felt hers begin, his body responding to the tightening of her muscles, his heart responding to the joy of her pleasure. Millicent continued to shake long after his own tremor of release had passed. He cradled her to him, feeling pleasure course through her again and again, like the ripple of waves across a calm lake.

She breathed his name again, this time with a bit of awe.

He would have smiled if he had not been so intent on the bracelet on Millicent’s arm. Had he detected a slight loosening of the silver band? Alas, yes. It slid down another inch, falling off as it always did after he made love to the relic-holder. The stupid piece of metal did not recognize that Millicent was different… perhaps Gareth had given the enchantment too much credit. If it had been crafted to find his true love, it would not be falling off her wrist. Frustration flared inside of him. He needed more time with her. “Promise me you will never give the bracelet to another.”

Millicent tugged the bracelet back up her arm, held it there until it tightened once again. “I cannot keep you forever, Gareth.”

He twisted a lock of her silky hair around his finger. “Why not, my lady? Imagine a lifetime of the pleasure I just showed you. A lifetime within my arms.”

“That’s entirely unfair.” She wiggled, putting a bit of distance between them. “You are too skilled between the sheets, Gareth, to allow a woman to think clearly afterwards.”

This time he allowed himself a smile. “Promise me.”

“I cannot keep you trapped within the relic for my entire life.”

He leaned forward and kissed her. “Promise me.”

She huffed. “Oh, bloody hell, all right. I promise. Why is it becoming so difficult to deny you anything?”

“Because you love me, my lady.”

“But not enough.” Her shoulders slumped. “Not enough to free you.”

Gareth swept his blond hair away from his face. Damn Merlin. He could not bear to see Millicent unhappy. He reached for her again to comfort her, but she leaned away, stretching out her long limbs with the fluid grace of her were-cat.

As always, her inner strength rose to the surface once more, and she cocked him a saucy grin. “How I wish it were otherwise. I would not mind being woken up every morning in such a manner.”

Gareth should have known she would not accept sympathy. He wondered if she had ever been offered it. He shrugged his shoulders, watching her gaze follow the movement with appreciation. He had never met a stronger woman, and wondered if that was the reason he had fallen in love with her. He needed her much more than she needed him.

“It would be my pleasure to wake up with you in the morning, my lady… but it is actually the dead of night.” He reached out and curved his arm about her waist, pulling her into his lap. “The most difficult part of the curse right now is being taken from your side. I regret every moment I cannot be with you.” He nuzzled her hair, breathing in the sweet scent. “Tell me what you did while I was gone.”

She shivered, raised a hand to smooth it across the front of his chest, as if she tried to sculpt his muscles. “There is much I have to tell you. But I am afraid it’s going to be difficult for me to concentrate if we continue to touch each other—”

A bolt of iridescent wings shot through the window into the room, plowing into a cluster of decorative perfume bottles on the vanity. Scent exploded into the air, an overwhelming mixture of lavender, rose, and vanilla. Gareth had his sword to hand before he knew what had invaded Millicent’s bedroom, his blade and body protecting her as he sought out the source of the commotion.

“It’s just Ambrose,” she said, her voice laced with exasperation.

“What’s an Ambrose?”

“Part of the news I had to share with you.”

Gareth squinted. A little man staggered upright from behind a crystal bottle, his prismatic wings fanning the air to keep him steady… which served to scatter the scent even more strongly about the room. The sprite sneezed, wiping a pointy nose on an elegant but tattered sleeve.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, “but the currents from the waterfall beyond your window play havoc with my wings.”

Gareth picked up his sword belt and slipped the blade back into its sheath, tossed it back on the table, and then turned a brow to Millicent. She shrugged, resulting in a tantalizing motion of her naked breasts.

“Bran sent him,” she started, then noticed Ambrose’s mouth drop open, and quickly tugged the sheet up over her chest. “He’s a message sprite.”

“And why did Bran send him?”

“On a most urgent matter,” interrupted the sprite. “Of that I can assure you, good sir. I am employed only by the gentry—fallen as they are to reside in the Underground—but gentry no less!”

“What an annoying creature. Quit ogling my lady, little man, and get out.”

“Ogling? Why sir, I may stare, but I never
ogle
.” Ambrose raised his pointed brows and looked at Millicent. “But I swear, Miss Millicent, if you would but give me one more peek, I shall give up drink forever.”

Gareth lowered his head. “Get. Out.”

The little man huffed, but launched into the air, flying back out the window. Within a few moments they heard Nell screech from the other room, and Gareth assumed the creature had entered again through the withdrawing room window, and regretted that he had disturbed the ladybird. But Nell must deal with the little man for the moment. He needed answers to his questions without the sprite interrupting. He turned to Millicent.

“I am as astonished as you are,” she said. “I did not think Bran gave a farthing about what happened to me beyond my ability to keep order in his pub.”

“Then he sent the sprite to help you?”

“Yes. Bran heard that Nell and I were taken prisoner, and he intends to help us escape.”

Gareth’s lip twitched. Ah, poor Millicent. She looked perplexed as to why another person would come to her aid.

She shrugged, smooth silk sliding over soft skin. “I did not ask for his help. I never have.”

“Perhaps you’ve never really needed it before.”

“Well, I sent the sprite back to Bran and told him to wait for a signal from us to move. I imagine he has every disreputable brawler in the Underground waiting to join a good fight. They fear the sorcerers, you know, but not as much as one would think—especially with enough gin in their bellies to give them courage.”

“Good. Then we can escape as soon as we discover what the Duke of Ghoulston is up to.”

“I doubt it shall be that easy, but…” She frowned. “Ghoulston took me for an outing yesterday. I’m sure it has something to do with his plans for world domination—or whatever his ridiculous goal is, but I cannot make sense of it.”

“Where did he take you?”

“To a tea party at Lady Yardley’s country estate. He gave me a gift to give to the queen, and he wanted to be very sure no one knew it came from him.”

Excitement stirred inside Gareth. “What was this gift?”

“A golden tea box inlaid with gems. But I swear I could not smell any magic upon it. And His Grace would not dare to put any sort of poison in the tea leaves. It would be discovered quick enough. And despite his charade, the box could easily be traced back to him.” She made a face. “He told Claire—Lady Yardley—that I am his cousin.”

Gareth had seen many men conspire in many ways to gain wealth or power. He trusted Millicent’s senses, for shape-shifters were known for their ability to sniff out magic, especially predators—the master of the Hall of Mages employed the baronets as spies exactly for that reason. So he believed the box and its contents carried no magic… and besides, he did not think Ghoulston would be so foolish as to try to put a spell upon the queen. He also doubted that the duke would poison the queen… it would gain him little. Unless he could manage to put a doppelgänger in her place… but it would be too difficult to keep up such a charade for very long. Doppelgängers were difficult to control, often prone to their own evil desires…

“But there has to be something unique about that box. And I believe we might be able to find out what it is.” Gareth stood and pulled on his clothing.

Millicent watched him with an appreciative gaze. He liked the way she looked at him. Like a cat would look at a tasty mouse.

“How? Because I must get Nell out of here, Gareth. Ghoulston has threatened her one time too many. I cannot keep risking her, and she refuses to leave until we discover what the duke is up to. Although why Nell should care about what happens aboveground is beyond me.”

He turned, studied her face until she blushed. “Do you truly believe that? Do
you
hold such a disregard for the world above?”

“They have never cared about us, or what happens down here.”

He leaned down and caressed her pink cheek with the back of his hand. “Because most of them think you are a myth, my dear. You know the sorcerers have gone to great lengths to keep this place a secret. And perhaps those aboveground do turn a blind eye onto what happens down here, but do you not realize that both places are intertwined? What happens above can affect the Underground.”

She threw up her hands, displacing the sheet about her upper body, a puddle of satin forming around her hips. “I don’t know what has happened to me! I have always minded my own business, and except for Nell, have made sure to keep independent of all others. I go my own way. I take care of myself. It has kept me from harm since I was a little girl. And now…”

“You have become involved in things larger than the shell you created around yourself,” he finished for her. “Is it so very bad, my lady? Do you regret so strongly that I have entered your life?”

She sighed, the anger draining from her as quickly as it had come. His mercurial cat-lady.

“No, my dear knight. Despite all the complications… I have never felt so alive before. Loving you has been a gift I could never regret, no matter what happens.”

Gareth understood her unspoken words. As far as Millicent was concerned, they had little hope of a happy future together. She feared he would resent her for keeping him trapped in the relic, or that he might be turned to dust if the curse were broken. No wonder she could not fully love him. She would be risking too much of her heart, and he could not blame her.

But he could not let her go, either.

He handed Millicent her chemise. “I have shown great restraint, my lady, but if you do not cover yourself now, I shall not be able to resist caressing those perfect breasts much longer, and then it shall be another hour until we have our answers.”

She cocked her head, midnight hair spilling over pale shoulders, as if she seriously considered delaying. “Blasted cat,” she finally muttered. “My penchant for curiosity is most inconvenient.” And then she pulled the chemise over her head.

***

Gareth gently tugged the rope of the bellpull. The embroidered decoration he had ripped off when he had yanked it too hard before still lay on the table. It felt like such a long time ago, when he had first come to this room with Millicent, and Selena had helped them escape. He should have known they would wind up right back where they started, what with baronets and the duke’s minions chasing after them.

He finger-combed his hair back from his face, took off his belt, and set it next to the embroidered scrap of fabric. He did not want Selena to feel threatened in any way. After further thought, he removed his surcoat and tunic, tossing them over a carved mahogany chair, his nipples tightening from the chill in the room. He would not bare his chest for most women, as it would decidedly put them off until they were abed. But Selena was not most women. Subtlety would get him nowhere.