Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 (17 page)

Chapter Ten

She’d have walked through fire to see that expression on his face. Thankfulness, relief and something deeper that they still needed to explore, his eyes kindling with warmth. But not here, and certainly not now.

With an effort she pulled away, but kept hold of his hand. “Come on.” Dusk was giving way to darkness and they had to go soon.

“Where are we?”

“My brother’s residence. Kentmere Castle, near Edinburgh.”

He gave a sharp laugh. “Then let’s get out of the lion’s den before the lioness sets her claws into us.”

Before she could move, he drew her close and gave her a swift kiss. “Thank you.” He glanced at Lyndhurst. “To you too.”

Lyndhurst said nothing, but he nodded and drew away. “Much though I’d like to kill every damned person in the place, I fear we should let discretion rule us. Let’s go.”

The maze was in the shape of an octagon, the edges sharply defined. As they took the first step toward the copse of trees that was their shelter, a man came around the corner. He was carrying a bucket, but he had pistols stuck into the broad leather belt at his waist. He stared, wide-eyed, for the moment it took Blaize to drop her hand and draw his own.

“You will do this to nobody else,” he said calmly, allowing the man to drop the bucket and reach for his weapon. That gave Blaize the time to move closer and rap him over the head with the butt of the pistol. He fell like a stone.

Then Blaize bent and forced the man’s eyes open. He stared into them. “Day and night you will remember this. Remember me. You are mine now, and I will not let you go. When you fall, cry to me. When you dance, I am your master. You will rave, you will know no peace and you will not speak of me or of this.” After a few moments, he let the man’s head fall on to the ground. The dull
thump
demonstrated how little care he’d shown, but Aurelia couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Why is he like that?”

He returned to her and took her hand. “He’s mine now. A bacchante. They won’t get any sense out of him and he will suffer. Better than death, because it will carry a message to the dowager duchess. She will know that I am back and I will not rest until she has paid for what she’s done.”

As he spoke, he walked, following Marcus who had set out for the grove of trees. “You can do that?” she asked.

He glanced down at her. “Did he tell you my identity? Whose gifts I inherited?”

She swallowed. When only Marcus had told her, the story had seemed fantastical. But now she’d discovered Blaize and seen what he did just now, and the way he corroborated Marcus’s story without discussion, she believed. She was in the presence of two gods.

“He told me.” She swallowed, but she kept walking. If they ran, they’d attract more attention. If they walked, people might think they belonged here in some way. “If anyone interrupts us, we’d agreed that I’d reveal my identity and order them to care for us.”

“You won’t let me leave a madhouse behind me?”

“Can you?”

“Now that I’m in possession of my senses, yes, I can. They must have drugged my food, though I’d love to know what they used, because I’ve never been so helpless before.” He strode confidently forward, the picture of a healthy countryman.

“That must be my mother.”

“Does she have a stillroom?”

“Not here. There is an old stillroom, but it’s just a storeroom now.” She’d never known her mother take an interest in distilling. Not even the local passion for whisky, although that was either illegal or for the consumption of the household only. But that meant there were quite a few distilleries hereabouts.

He grunted. “She would probably prefer to keep such activities private. She’s using some fearful ingredients, if I’m any judge.”

“You should be,” Marcus said. “I don’t know anyone she’s used them on before. You don’t think she just buys the potions?”

“From the market?” Blaize said, full of scorn. “That drug did what it was meant to do. It subdued the god in me while the lack of wine took effect. I could do nothing. And it must be short-lived. I feel weak, but better. You just witnessed my powers are returning rapidly.” He frowned. “Foxglove. She said foxglove was in it.”

“What did you do to the man?” she asked. She was fearful of finding out, but she had to know, for her peace of mind.

“I drove him mad,” he said calmly. “For the rest of his life. He knew what he was doing, together with the other man. They deserved it. And I cannot let an insult like that pass. She knows it.”

His hand held hers so carefully she didn’t register what he’d said for a moment. Then the realization hit her with a sledgehammer blow and she stopped dead. He was right. That was worse than death. “You want to do that to my mother?”

He didn’t let go, but turned to face her. “To the entity that shares her body. It can’t be driven out without killing her. If we kill her, the gifts will fly to another, and we’ll have to start again.”

Reluctantly she moved forward when he tugged gently on her hand. Her mother had always done what she considered best for her daughter. She’d never shown her cruelty or shown any sign of unkindness. “How can you be sure it’s her? Why can’t it be someone close to her?” She thought of her own recent predicament. “Her maid?”

“It’s her,” he said, glancing at her. When they reached the group of trees he halted, dropped her hand and faced her. “You may stay, if you can’t bear this. This is your home. They’ll be good to you. You can say you were abducted and you escaped. Castigate us as much as you like.”

“Stretton, she’ll kill her,” Marcus said.

“No, she won’t. She’s an asset to the duchess. I swear I won’t hurt you or cause any harm to come to you. I’d rather hurt myself.” He reached for her, then dropped his hands by his sides. She wanted that touch, hated his withdrawal.

“Why am I an asset?”

Blaize exchanged a helpless look with Marcus. Then back at her. Determination lit his gaze. “There are more than gods, my—Aurelia. Other beings survive, but most don’t know it. The spirit passes into them and they think they have a gift. Wood nymphs, sea nymphs.”

“Mythical beasts?”

A wry smile twisted his lips. “I wouldn’t call them beasts. It’s up to you. We must go, and we have to fight your mother. If you don’t want to set yourself against her, then you have to make your decision now.”

She wanted to think, but all she could do was feel. And she knew that parting from this man would kill her for sure. “I go with you.”

His expression relaxed and he stepped forward to take both her hands in his. His warmth flooded her, his presence invaded her, but because she wanted it. “How much have you been holding back?” she asked him.

He bit his lip. “A little.”

“Promise you won’t.”

He swallowed. “I would overwhelm you. I don’t want to do that. I want you as you are.”

Marcus interrupted. “Can we do this in the coach? That is, if we ever get there.”

Blaize grinned. “Yes, we can. We can always bring her back if she changes her mind.”

She felt an odd reluctance to leave. She might never see this place, her home, again. She had made her choice and whatever came of her decision, she would stick by it. That might mean exile, even to another country, and a lifetime’s strife. However much she didn’t want that, it came with Blaize, and she belonged with him.

They didn’t come across anyone else. “The dowager probably told nobody about my capture,” he said.

“Only a few people know the maze’s secret,” she ventured. “So you’re probably right.”

“I never learned the secret, but you did.”

“I’ve known it forever.”

“Just as well.”

The coach they’d arrived in stood in the road, its lights shuttered. They’d travelled for perhaps twenty minutes and reached a small side-entrance that she’d led them to this morning. The four horses stamped in impatience as Marcus helped her climb in and Blaize swung in to sit next to her.

The coachman swung down from his perch and slid the shutters away from the lights, which illuminated the road before them.

Aurelia was still confused, still unsure, but she knew one thing. She belonged with this man. If that made her an idiot, so be it.

“We’ll marry as soon as possible,” he stated, and that made her smile.

“Don’t you think we should talk about it?”

Marcus spoke up then. “I told you when we set out that you’d have to end the journey married.”

The coach jolted into movement, but the driver didn’t push the horses into a trot. They walked, better at night, when potholes and ruts made most roads dangerous. But they had no choice. They had to get away.

“Can’t you—I don’t know—” She waved a hand in the air. “Do magic or something?”

Marcus smiled lazily, at ease now that they were on their way. “If we wanted to announce our presence, yes, we could. But that’s always been anathema to us.” He leaned forward and closed the blinds over the windows, then turned up the wicks on the interior lamps in the coach, giving them more illumination.

“How do you know that?” Blaize demanded.

“Instinct,” Marcus said, “And my own feelings. It’s wrong. I’ve fought all my adult life to allow people the freedom of choice. So I should support people who want to take that away?” He shook his head slightly. “I think not.”

“Your choice is Marcus or myself,” Blaize told her. “Or we could hire someone to marry you. But you will return to London a married woman. Society won’t like that we eloped, but we can recover from that. What you would never recover from is spending over a week with two men and no chaperone.”

She had to admit they had the right of it. And she wanted one man in particular. Except now she was a little afraid of him. She’d seen what he could do, and she suspected he was capable of more. “Tell me what you can do,” she demanded. “Exactly what am I marrying?”

Blaize made a courtly gesture to Marcus. “It appears the lady has made her choice.” He turned to her with a smile. “Sweetheart, I can drive men mad. I need to drink to stay sane, especially wine.”

“I think I managed to understand that part.”

Silently, Marcus handed Blaize a bottle of wine, uncorked. Without taking his attention from her, Blaize took a deep draught. “The more I drink of this, the stronger I’ll become. I don’t ever become intoxicated, unless I haven’t had any alcohol lately.”

“I never saw you drunk.” She hated her small voice. She cleared her throat.

“You never will.” He took another drink. “If I stop drinking, within a day, I come into my true powers. I’m mad, as the world might have it, but not as I’ve been for the last—how long?”

“Two weeks,” Marcus said quietly. Blaize swore, and offered no apology. He drank again before he continued. “I need bacchantes to work properly. The bacchanal wasn’t a drunken orgy—not
just
a drunken orgy. It has a purpose. I can incite mobs to riot, and drive armies berserk. But I’m also in control of sanity, the opposite of madness.”

“How can you disguise doing that?”

Blaize shrugged, a graceful movement of his powerful shoulders. She’d have thought that after two weeks of near starvation, he’d be thinner, less strong, but that wasn’t the case. Wearing a shirt, breeches and waistcoat, with sturdy country shoes and no stockings, his figure was disguised. Only now did she realize how clever his town coats were cut to minimize his strength. “People believe what they want to believe. They’ll come to the conclusion they can understand. It’s happened down the ages. It will happen again. When I’m gone, the next Bacchus will incite it.”

“But always on the side of good.”

Reluctantly, Blaize shook his head. “Not always. It depends on the character of the man containing the gifts. The gifts don’t think, they have no independent existence. They need the host, the thinking, moving human being.” A shadow crossed his eyes, then was gone.

He reached for her and she took his hand, but new doubts assaulted her. She’d never felt so small, so pointless. She’d done all she could to help, but without them they would have stormed the castle and taken it.

But she would marry him, because she had to. She’d take what he had to give her, but she wouldn’t hold him back. He needed to go to places she couldn’t follow, and she’d have to let him when the time came.

“Where are we going?” she demanded when she realized they weren’t going back to the village.

“Leith,” Marcus said. “We’re taking ship to London as soon as possible. I sent a messenger to Newcastle and bespoke a vessel. It should be waiting for us. If it isn’t, we’ll find another. The dowager will be waiting for us on the road to London, once she hears of this. She won’t be expecting a ship. I didn’t have time to organise anything from London, otherwise we’d have taken ship here too.”

“Clever.”

He shrugged. “Military strategy includes taking advantage of the unexpected. I also told the landlady that we’d be making haste to Gretna tonight. Let it slip, as if I shouldn’t have said anything. If your mother hears, she’ll be delighted.”

“Maybe I should have gone into the house. Because if she does hear, she’ll know who rescued Blaize,” she said.

Blaize raised a brow. “I did.”

“If I hadn’t left you the wine, you wouldn’t have done,” Lyndhurst said.

How a man could appear elegant dressed in rough country clothes, none too clean, defeated her imagination, but he did. Haughty too. “I would have starved myself for a few days. Mad and dangerous, I’d have escaped.” He grimaced. “But I fear there was something in that drug that compelled me to take it. I was eating the most noxious rubbish. It could have killed a lesser man.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

She squeezed his hand. “I can’t understand why Mama would torture you like that. If she is who you say, then I can see her fighting back, but she’s never been a cruel woman.”

“Even keeping you under thrall so that she can draw immortals to her?”

Blaize cut off his sentence abruptly and Marcus rolled his eyes. “I could always get out and walk.”

In a second, she rounded on Blaize. “What did you say?”

Blaize groaned. “I’m still weak. I need help.”

“That is not going to work. What did you mean?”