Everlasting Enchantment (17 page)

“Are you sure he can manage to find his way there again?”

Bran nodded. “Seen me a lot of drunks, and he manages his liquor better than most.”

Gareth nodded, walked over, and gently picked up the sprite. “Are you all right?”

Ambrose rubbed his head, glanced at Millicent, and scowled. “Slightly wounded. Never incapash… incapacitated.” And he took flight again, this time waiting for Gareth to open the door.

“Good luck,” called Bran as they left the pub. “If ye’re not back by tomorrow evening, Millie, I’m coming up myself to get ye.”

She did not reply, just shifted to panther and kept her gaze resolutely focused on the message sprite. Those wings glowed somewhat, which made it easier for them to follow Ambrose through the twisted streets of the Underground. They crossed too many bridges for Gareth to count, the water smelling as bad as the Thames, carrying away the waste of the city. Two thugs challenged them once, a man with a deformed face and his dwarf partner, but at the sound of Gareth’s sword sliding from its scabbard, they quickly disappeared.

They finally reached the outskirts of the city, where tunnels peppered the walls of the enormous cavern, and the sprite unerringly chose one, Millicent and Gareth having to push to follow. Some sort of glowing fungus grew on the walls of the tunnel, so they had a greenish luminescence to light their way. Despite Gareth’s excellent night vision, he still managed to stumble into Millicent. The first time she turned and looked at him, golden eyes glowing in the darkness, then continued up through the passage, ignoring him after that.

Gareth wondered if she had shifted on purpose to avoid conversation. Millicent still grieved for her friend, and he would comfort her if she would only let him. He had to remind himself that she was unused to comfort. Bran had mentioned as much, when they had been searching for her after she’d run away following Nell’s death. The were-bear would have been more of a friend to Millicent, if she had but let him. But by the time Bran hired her, she had already been on her own for far too long.

Ambrose grunted as he slammed into another wall. He had managed to bounce off more than a few as he led the way.

The rocky ground slowly changed to more even footing, and soon they reached a rough-hewn set of stairs. Gareth could only imagine how many sorcerers had carved secret passages into the Underground to perform the darker arts, and began to wonder about this lady friend of Bran’s. But the man would not send Millicent into danger. Perhaps the passage had already been there when the lady had moved into her residence and she had come upon it accidentally. And later discovered that the Underground was no myth. But how had the lady met Bran? Gareth now regretted his reluctance in asking Bran more questions. He had a feeling he had missed a rather interesting story.

The passage finally ended at a closed door. Ambrose lifted the knocker—his wings buzzing furiously—and let it fall with a muffled thump.

“There is a knocker?” said Gareth in disbelief.

“Of coursh,” piped Ambrose. “How else would the lady know when Bran comes to call? You certainly aren’t shug… suggesting he barges in unannounced, are you?”

“This is just a bit too civilized for an entrance from the Underground.”

“Perhapsh. I must say it’s shmuch… much better than how I first arrived here. Through a crypt, no less.”

The door suddenly swung open and a liveried footman bowed to them, showing no surprise at welcoming a panther, sprite, and sword-wielding knight. “Lady Millicent and company? We have been expecting you. Please follow me.” And he turned smartly on his heel.

Gareth had not felt odd within the Underground, but as they passed through a cellar, up the stairs, and into an elegant hall, he imagined they made an unusual group within the fine trappings of this home. Magic permeated the walls, with enormous paintings of sparkling lakes that rippled beneath a golden sun, where birds flew in a cloudless sky and fish jumped above the waves. Chandeliers of crystal beads wrought in the shape of teardrops created a glittering rainfall above them, and the mosaic floors beneath their feet shimmered with designs of silver minnows racing like lightning.

The footman halted halfway down the hall, threw open a pair of gilt double doors, and bowed them through.

A lady stood within a parlor, which was covered in shelving from wall to ceiling. So many different objects sat upon each shelf that Gareth could not make sense of the vision they created as a whole. He would have happily studied each in turn, from odd-shaped seashells to clear paperweights with moving figures inside, if the lady herself had not commanded his attention.

She wore a loose evening gown of soft pinks, the material floating around her as if she stood in a mild breeze. With tousled black hair, thin red lips, and an extraordinarily long, hooked nose, the lady was more striking than beautiful. Gareth bowed, and she nodded at him.

“I apologize,” she said, her voice so at odds with her serene appearance that Gareth started. She punctuated each word with a soft honking noise. “I just had to meet these friends of Bran’s… you are quite lovely, my dear.”

She spoke to Millicent, who responded by sitting on her haunches and licking one black paw. Gareth’s hope that she would shift back to human out of politeness faded. He stepped forward. “Sir Gareth Solimere, at your service, my lady. My companions; Ambrose the sprite, and Lady Millicent.”

“Lady Roseus, good sir,” she replied. “I thank you for allowing me to satisfy my curiosity about my guests.” She glanced at Millicent, who responded by switching to lick her other paw. “My man will see you to a guest room, where I have laid out several gowns for Lady Millicent to choose from. They are all visiting gowns, since I understand she is to venture out tomorrow to pay a call on a friend of hers…?”

Gareth nodded, unwilling to satisfy the lady’s curiosity to the extent of telling her the name of Millicent’s friend.

Lady Roseus honked a yawn and quickly covered her mouth. “Please excuse me. I am not used to such late-night visits. But know that you are welcome here, and should you have need of anything, my staff is at your disposal.”

“You are most gracious, my lady.”

Millicent spun and padded out the door, Gareth following a bit more slowly. He turned and looked up at Ambrose, who hovered near his shoulder. “You should return to Bran and let him know we arrived safely, and all is well.”

Ambrose wobbled in the air. “But… but Lady Millicent might have need of me…”

“Go.”

The sprite threw a glance at Millicent, who flicked her tail but otherwise ignored him, following the footman up the stairs. Ambrose grunted sadly and then whizzed away, heading back the way they’d come. With a gratified sigh that the little man had left without much of a fuss, Gareth hurried up the stairs to catch up to Millicent, his frown increasing with every step he took.

By the time they reached the guest bedroom, Gareth wore a scowl.

The room had been decorated like the rest of the home, the walls painted with magical lakes fading to clear shallows. But a starlit sky glittered above these waters, and the floors had been crafted with carpets in flecks of brown and cream, with tiny bits of sparkling stone spread throughout, so the entire room appeared to be a sandy shore. An occasional swell of water would flow from the walls to lap over the floors at the edges of the room. A low bed sat in the center of the space, a canopy of bushy silklike fronds covering the top, one small window beside it.

“Ring if you need anything, sir,” said the footman before closing the door firmly behind him.

Millicent sniffed the room, then settled on the bed, her nose on her paws, her eyes closed.

“I know what you’re doing,” said Gareth, leaning against the closed door.

The panther sighed.

“You’re staying in your were-shape to avoid speaking to me.”

He thought he detected a twitch of Millicent’s lip.

“You were incredibly rude to Lady Roseus.” He stepped over to a wicker chair, several gowns laid over the top. “And look how generous she’s been.” Gareth suddenly had an alarming thought. Perhaps Millicent cared for Bran more than he had imagined… surely not. But he prodded anyway. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of her?”

At least his question had the desired effect of shifting Millicent back to human. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s a
flamingo
.”

Ah. That explained a few things about Lady Roseus, including her unusual decor. “So?”

“I am a panther.” She sniffed. “In the hierarchy of shape-shifters, we do not compare.”

Gareth stepped over to the bed, sat down beside her on top of a coverlet embroidered with flowering rushes. “Why are you avoiding speaking to me? I know what you must be feeling… do you still blame me for Nell’s death?”

“No. I… I am sorry for blaming you. It was unfair of me.” Millicent rose and stood facing the wall, a long stretch of indigo water with a night sky above, the twinkling of the stars reflected in the gentle waves.

Gareth rose and stood behind her, breathing in the scent of her hair. How did she always manage to smell like a grassy meadow? “You were overwhelmed by grief. And I do not think you are done with it.”

Millicent firmed her mouth. “I will be when I expose Ghoulston.”

Gareth laid a gentle hand on her arm. “My lady, do you still mistrust me so?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can see the grief in your eyes, in your face. You do not have to keep up your guard with me. Allow me to help.”

She took a deep breath. “This is why I did not want to speak with you. You will not let it be… I wish I was still angry at you. It would make things easier.” She turned, staring up at his face, her own features lined with a deep sadness. “What do you want me to do? Cry and tear out my hair? That won’t bring Nell back.”

Gareth thought his imaginary knuckles would be bloody by the time he finished pounding at the wall around her heart. “No. But acknowledging your grief might make her loss easier to bear.”

“I haven’t cried since… since my mother died. And it did me little good then.”

He understood. She had been broken too long. But it was time for her to heal. “I love you, Millicent. I vow I will never leave you. Ever.”

Her eyes suddenly welled with tears. “Damn you, Gareth.”

He folded his arms around her. Her forehead collapsed against his shoulder, and she began to shake.

“Bloody hell,” she sobbed. And then she spoke no more for a very long time, until she had soaked his tunic, and quit trembling.

Gareth spoke to her the while, nonsense words of comfort and love. His lady cried so quietly that he would not have known it but for the wetness of his tunic.

She finally looked up at him, her eyes rimmed with red, irises glistening an amber color in the starlight. “I feel… drained, now. Empty. Make love to me, Gareth. Fill me with your goodness.”

“I fear you give me more credit than I deserve, Millicent. I am no better than any other man, often filled with dark thoughts and temptations.”

“But you fight them, Gareth. And your actions are always noble. Let me be a part of that, for a while.”

He would have protested more, but she leaned up and covered his mouth with her sweet lips, and Gareth lost himself in the delicious feel of Millicent.

She had been a fool to fall in love with him.

Millicent knew that.

Even as she wrapped her arms around him, as he drew her down to the carpeted floor that looked like nothing more than a sandy lakeshore, she chided herself for loving him. If she lost him the way she’d lost Nell…

No. She couldn’t bear it. The darkness of her beast would finally overcome her humanity. Oh, sometimes the panther felt like a separate being living inside her. A beast she could control. Could tame. But more often than not, she could not separate it from herself. The desire to hunt and kill, to allow mindless instinct to take over, became an everyday battle. And when Nell died, Millicent could not stop from shape-shifting. For the first time, the beast had ruled her, taken over the change, and dominated her will. She had not killed Selena in self-defense. Millicent wanted her dead, with a blind fury her beast relished and gloried in. If Millicent had not realized her dark nature before then, the pleasure she took in feeling Selena’s torn flesh beneath her claws made it readily apparent.

Millicent did not know how she had managed to return to the tavern, could not remember shifting back to human.

She growled low in her throat.

She could not allow that to happen again.

Gareth broke the kiss, pulling his face back to stare deeply into her eyes, his blond hair falling across his forehead and cheeks. “What is it?”

Millicent shook her head, pulled him down to her using her were-strength, and rolled them both over until she lay atop him. She supposed they might be more comfortable in the bed, but they lay near the wall, and a shallow wave from the enchanted mural lapped over their bodies, curled about his broad shoulders. She felt the cool slide of the water against her legs, felt it gently tug at the hem of her skirts. Starlight reflected off the lake and into Gareth’s crystal-blue eyes. A light breeze tugged at the few loose curls in her coiffure, and she could smell the sharp scent of pine from the forest off in the distance, the lush scent of meadowsweet blooming in a clearing between the trees. She could see through the magic, of course, if she wanted to.

She didn’t want to.

Millicent sat up, straddling Gareth’s hips, and unbuttoned her bodice, the worn fabric allowing her to shed it easily. She tossed the ragged cloth aside, one of the best she owned, but nothing to compare to the gowns the duke had provided her with. Then she half turned so Gareth could reach the ties of her corset, giving him an arch look over her shoulder.

He grinned, that delightful one where his full lips curved to create two little lines next to the corners of his mouth. The smile reached his eyes, changing the brilliant blue to a soft azure. His skilled fingers made quick work of her laces, and he tossed aside her corset as carelessly as she had her bodice, then untied her skirt and petticoat, until they fell down her hips, allowing her to slide her chemise over her head.

Millicent did not bother to take the time to discard her skirts. She slid down Gareth’s lap, untied his drawers, and pulled them down his angular hips. He was already hard, rigid, and full. She had intended to pleasure him slowly, to savor what she feared might be the very last time she made love to him. But she had spoken truly to Gareth. She had never felt so empty before, so very much alone. Nell had been more of an anchor than Millicent had ever suspected. She needed to fill this emptiness inside her, to selfishly lose herself in his love. To remind her of the joys of being human.

Millicent leaned forward and took him inside her.

He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

“Did I hurt you?” she whispered.

Gareth strangled on a laugh, clutched her hips, and began to rock her. Millicent fell forward onto her arms, sunk her fingers into the thick carpet, and opened her body and soul to her white knight. She tried to emblazon the feel of him in her mind, for the memory would have to last her the rest of her life. His strong fingers dug into her bottom as he pressed her down to him. She felt her nub rub against the smooth skin of his pelvis, and the friction added to the fire already burning inside her womb.

She threw back her head and arched her back, pulling him deeper inside her.

Millicent exploded unexpectedly, her breath coming in harsh pants as ecstasy shook her. She felt Gareth throbbing inside her; as always, his release a match to hers. She absently wondered if all men could do that, or if this was yet another one of his special skills. For it increased her pleasure twofold, and it took her a very long time to come back down to earth again.

When she became aware of her surroundings once more, she realized her coiffure had come undone, and she sagged over Gareth’s lean body, her face hidden within the dark strands. She also realized she felt infinitely better… and that she had rushed their encounter.

Millicent slowly rose, regretting the loss of him inside her as soon as she did so. He lay spent on the sandy carpet, his eyes closed, his breathing still ragged. She quickly stripped off her skirts, stood naked in the magical starlight. Shallow water swirled about her ankles, over his muscular legs. But the illusion did not quite reach reality, for the waves looked nearly transparent, and her skin felt dry.

She walked over to the washbasin, wet a cloth, and cleaned herself, then wet another and returned to his side.

“Take off your clothes,” she instructed.

Gareth opened one eye, grinned at her, and then sat up and proceeded to follow her orders. Millicent knelt next to him, placed her hand against his smooth chest, and pushed him back down after he tore off his last garment. Starlight gleamed in his hair, burnishing it gold. Like his eyes, it changed color according to the light, and she thought she liked it best right now, the shade akin to a shiny gold sovereign. And she liked his eyes best now too: twinkling with starlight and darkened to a smoky blue.

Millicent took her clean, wet cloth and smoothed it over his brow, watching the strands of hair around his face curl from the damp. She traced his nose, the fine straight shape—except for the slight turn up at the end, which she realized added to his boyish handsomeness. She smoothed the cloth over his full lips, noting the wide shape of his mouth. Then across his cheeks, the bones slightly prominent, and then along his firm, slightly square chin.

She must memorize every inch of him. She could not allow her memory of him to fade over the years. It would be all she had left.

His neck, the skin ridiculously soft and vulnerable. His shoulders, incredibly broad and strong. His chest, the sculpted ridges and valleys and the slight puckering of his nipples.

Gareth watched her with a quizzical look, which abruptly faded when she reached his pelvis, ran the cloth over his shaft. Even after their lovemaking, it had remained half-erect, and she watched, slightly amazed, as it stirred to life once again.

Millicent dropped the cloth, remembering how Gareth had made love to her with his mouth. She would not only memorize the sight of every inch of him, but his taste, as well. She dipped her head.

Gareth groaned.

Her tongue tingled. Slightly salty. Rich and heady, like strong ale. She explored the length of him, until he started to tremble, and clenched his fists at his sides. And then she retraced the path her cloth had taken earlier, until she reached his mouth, and he grasped the back of her head, kissing her with an intensity that made
her
tremble.

And then the world spun, and Millicent found herself on her back, Gareth inside her, slowly, sweetly making love to her again.

If she died tonight, she would be content.

She blinked the burn of tears from her eyes. She had shed more today than she had in her entire life, and she would never cry again. She vowed she would not have a reason to.

Gareth whispered in her ear, nonsense words of passion and endearments. He made love to her this time as if he sought to comfort her as well: gentle, gliding motions that slowly built a delirious heat inside her once again. And Millicent responded by dancing to the loving tune with him, touching him wherever her hands could reach. Saying good-bye with tender caresses.

They reached that peak together, and tumbled over it slowly, clasped so tightly together Millicent thought, for just that one moment, they might have become one being.

“Gareth,” she murmured, tasting his name on her lips, memorizing the feel of it in her mouth.

He lifted his head, his eyes so incredibly blue, so incredibly intense.

“Millicent,” he breathed… and then disappeared.

She blinked for a moment, startled by the cold air replacing the warmth of his body, his sudden absence. Dawn had come too quickly.

Millicent sat up, held her head in her hands for a moment.
Gareth.

She sighed, and stood. The painting on the wall had lightened, and the one lone window across the room now glowed with the pale coming of the sun. Something she had little experience with. But it occurred to her that she stood in a room aboveground… and she had a task to do.

Muck up the duke’s grand schemes. Revenge for Nell.

Millicent went back to the washbasin and splashed her face, dispelling the dreamy aura Gareth had created. By the time she finished washing, a beam of sunlight slanted into the room, fell on a glint of moonstone.

The bracelet.

As usual, it had fallen off her arm when they had made love. It must have been after the first time, but she could not remember losing the bracelet. She bent down and picked it up, cradling it in her hand. She had promised him she would never give the relic to another, that she would always return it to her wrist, so he would come to her again.

But she knew she could no longer keep that promise. Too many reasons bade her otherwise, but the most compelling one was simple. She loved him.

Millicent set the bracelet on the mahogany wood top of the washstand and strode over to the chair that held what appeared to be over a dozen gowns. Heavens. She picked up a chemise edged with fine lace and pulled it over her head, when a knock at the door interrupted her.

“Yes?”

The door cracked open, the beaked-nosed face of her hostess peeking through the crack. “I thought I might come myself to help you dress, dear, instead of one of the maids. Bran led me to believe there is a bit of… secrecy regarding your errand.”

“I can manage fine by myself. I am not used to maids and whatnot.”

Undaunted, Lady Roseus slipped into the room, a smile on her face. Despite her rather large nose, or perhaps because of it, she was a strikingly lovely woman. She wore a pink morning gown, the shade matching the color of her cheeks. “Here, let me help you with those laces.”

She punctuated her words with a decisive honk. Millicent sighed and turned around, holding up the linen corset to her front. She did need help, and if Bran liked the lady, she should make an effort to do so as well.

“Where is Sir Gareth?” asked Lady Roseus as she tugged on the corset strings.

“You just missed him,” replied Millicent, the ghost of a smile on her face. Apparently, Bran did not trust the lady enough to reveal any of their secrets. She would take her cue from that, for she could feel the other woman fairly quivering with curiosity.

“Your human form is just as lovely as your were-panther, Lady Millicent. The color of your hair matches your coat… sleek, black, and shiny.”

“Thank you.” Millicent turned around and studied the gowns.

“And your eyes,” continued Lady Roseus, “such a lovely shade of gold, and slanted just like your panther’s.”

Millicent flushed, ignoring the lady’s further compliments. She supposed she would just choose the gown on top. She picked it up, and Lady Roseus honked.

“Oh, my dear, not that one. With your coloring, let’s see…” She dug through the pile. “This bronze poplin, now, this will be quite complimentary on you. I must apologize for all the pink gowns. I did not know what you looked like, and I have so many of them…”

She looked so earnest, and concerned, that Millicent could not help but warm to her, and tried to hide the dismay on her face as she gazed at the dress. “I’m sure this will suit.” The dress looked extremely… fussy. But she supposed Lady Yardley would be impressed by it. The hem and sleeves and an apron-like square down the front had all been edged with scallops. Lady Roseus handed her matching bronze shoes, a small black lace hat trimmed with bronze beads, and a pair of light green gloves.

The lady tamed Millicent’s hair into a presentable chignon, pinned the silly hat on her head, and handed her a bronze-beaded reticule and black lace parasol. Millicent retrieved the bracelet from the washstand and stuffed it into the small bag, fighting the urge to return it to her wrist. She turned and faced Lady Roseus, lifting her chin to combat the sadness in her heart.

“You look smashing, my dear,” said the smaller woman. “The carriage is waiting, but my man will need a destination.”

“I shall give it to him,” replied Millicent.

Her hostess’s face fell.

“I thought curiosity was
my
animal’s faulty nature.”

Lady Roseus pinked at the subtle gibe. “I am really quite fond of Bran.”

Millicent raised a brow.

“I am interested in anything concerning him… especially if it could be dangerous.”

“Do not fear, Lady Roseus. My task will not endanger him, or any of your household.” Millicent studied the other woman. “You must care for him a great deal to aid him with little knowledge of the reason.”

Her pink complexion darkened to rose.

“I will make sure to mention that to him.”

The lady’s face lit. “Oh, would you? I would be ever so grateful… men can be rather obtuse, at times.”

Millicent nodded in agreement, followed her hostess from the room, down the stairs, and through the hall to the front door. A carriage did indeed stand waiting for her, and the coachman pulled down the step for her, and she climbed inside. The man gave her an inquiring look.

Millicent realized she had no idea where Lady Yardley lived in London. Or whether she would even be at home, instead of ensconced at her country estate, where Millicent had last met her. “Lady Claire Yardley… daughter to the Earl of Sothby.”