Magic In The Storm (5 page)

She imagined what it would be like to kiss
those lips. They would be warm and gentle. She looked again at what
she had drawn, and noticed a slight smile to his lips. Yes, he was
a kind man. And set now in his face, his eyes showed him to be
thoughtful as well.

She drew the outline of his face, shading in
his high cheekbones and strong chin. And then his hair. He had
long, wavy black hair. Adriana’s pencil took many long curving
strokes in drawing his hair, reveling in its thick softness.

She added the lines of his neck and the top
of his shoulders. They were broad shoulders. Strong shoulders.
Perfect for relying on. She knew he would care for her and make her
happy.

She sat back and studied her drawing. Yes.
She had captured the man with her pencil. In careful lettering she
added his name, “Morgan” to the bottom of the page and then the
date, 5 May, 1815.

She was very pleased. She had never drawn a
person before, only inanimate objects and nature. Storms were a
passion of hers, as were sunsets, violent seas and swift
rivers.

It depended on her mood what she drew or
painted. When she was happy, which was not too often, she painted
sunrises and sunsets with a beautiful blending of all the muted
colors. When she was angry, it was a storm or a violent sea that
flowed onto her canvas with its grays, blues and black. When she
was feeling trapped in her London prison, she drew large open
spaces—fields to run free in, beaches to splash through the cool
water, rolling meadows and hills.

Painting freed her. Only in her paintings did
she truly live. She did not care if her guardian was right and she
had no talent. When she looked at her paintings or drawings, she
felt the same feelings she had when she created them. Somehow, she
felt as if she were there, wherever it was that she had
painted.

Never before had she drawn a person. She
looked at the man in her drawing. That he had known just what to do
to make her calm unnerved her, but she had known somehow, from the
minute she had seen him, that he would.

And there was something more. She was
attracted to him in a way she’d never felt towards any other man.
He was so large, with a raw strength that emanated from his very
being, and yet he had been kind, gentle and soothing when she had
been in pain.

He had healed her.

But that was impossible.

Men, no matter how strong or calming, could
not heal broken bones. Yet he had. He had placed his hands around
her leg and...

Adriana touched her leg where Morgan had
touched it with his large, warm hands. It was bruised, but that was
all. A shiver ran up her spine.

She had to find out more about him. Knowing
his name was not enough.

The thought of asking her sent a chill
through her, but Lady Vallentyn was the only one who would
know.

T
here were only a few candles lit in the long,
dark solarium, creating a small pool of light at the table where
Lady Vallentyn and her niece, Miss Havelock, were working. Every so
often, flashes of lightning from outside the large windows
dispelled the shadows. The women paid no attention to the storm,
however, speaking quietly and intently as they tended to their
plants. Adriana hesitated at the door, unsure of whether she should
interrupt them.

It seemed as if a lesson was going on. Lady
Vallentyn, who had her back to Adriana, was explaining something to
Miss Havelock about the particular plant in front of her. Miss
Havelock nodded her understanding, but before she could say
anything, Lady Vallentyn held up her hand to quiet her.

“What is it, my dear?” Lady Vallentyn asked
sweetly, turning around and looking over at Adriana. “I do hope
that you had no trouble finding your way back to the abbey after my
son so rudely abandoned you.”

How had Lady Vallentyn known she was there?
The question flitted ever so briefly through Adriana’s mind, but
she the sickly sweetness in her hostess’s voice distracted her.
There was something about this woman that made Adriana very uneasy.
She was so cold and serious. Adriana suppressed a shudder.

“It was not a problem, my lady. I didn’t get
lost. I merely continued my ride alone.”

“And where did you go, alone?” Lady Vallentyn
asked, sending shivers up Adriana’s spine.

“To, to the forest,” Adriana began
hesitantly. She then shook off her irrational fear, told herself
she was being ridiculous. Lady Vallentyn was clearly mistress of
this estate; if anyone knew who this man was, it would be her.
Adriana then succinctly told Lady Vallentyn all that had
happened—including how Morgan had healed her with his touch. As she
finished her tale, a bolt of lightning illuminated the look on Lady
Vallentyn’s face and Adriana knew that she had just made a mistake.
Possibly a very serious mistake. She took a step backwards toward
the door.

Even now in the bleak candlelight, she could
see that Lady Vallentyn’s face had gone quite pale. Her deep red
lips were pressed together to form a thin line. Suddenly Adriana
was very scared—but still, she had to know.

“Do you... do you know who he is, this man?”
Adriana asked, gathering her courage.

Lady Vallentyn’s mouth turned up into an
unpleasant smile. She took a few steps toward her, and, with some
effort, Adriana held her ground.

Putting her hands on Adriana’s shoulders,
Lady Vallentyn looked into her eyes. When she spoke her voice was
oozing with so much sweetness that Adriana almost shook with
fear.

“My poor dear. Obviously you hit your head
when you fell.” Her voice became deeper and more resonant as she
said firmly, “There is no man who can heal bones with a touch. That
is patently ridiculous, as I am sure you would agree.”

Adriana shook her head. That was an odd
sensation—it was almost as if she had heard the words inside her
head. Had she said them, or had Lady Vallentyn? She couldn’t be
sure.

Lady Vallentyn turned Adriana toward the door
and walked her to it with her arm across her shoulders. When they
reached the entrance, she faced Adriana again. “You must go
directly up to your room, my dear Miss Hayden. You have had a
terrible shock. You are clearly imagining things.”

“But what about the man? He said his name was
Morgan. Do you know of him?” Adriana was unsure of why she kept
asking questions. She wanted nothing more than to get away from
this woman. There was something odd happening. It frightened
her.

She felt very confused. She should just go
back to her room. But then it happened again.

“There is no man. It was all in your
imagination.”

Adriana saw Lady Vallentyn’s lips move, but
the voice she heard was in her mind.

Lady Vallentyn looked at her with some
concern. “Go now and lie down, Miss Hayden. You do not look well. I
will send a maid up with a draught that will calm you down and make
you feel better.”

Adriana paused just inside the door and
looked up once more into Lady Vallentyn’s eyes. They were black,
shuttered and cold. Adriana suppressed another shudder and then did
as she was told.

“Oh, and Miss Hayden...” Lady Vallentyn
called after her.

Adriana stopped and turned around.

“Please do not ride in the forest any more.
It is an old wood and clearly there are many unstable trees. I
would not want you to chance getting seriously hurt.”

Adriana gave a little nod, and then turned
and went up to her room.

Once again she had heard that voice in her
mind. As she climbed the steps to her room, Adriana tried to shake
off the creepy feeling this left her with. She had the impulse to
shake her head, as if she could shake the voice out of it. Instead,
she felt the words interweaving through her mind, entwining with
her own thoughts and ideas. They began to mesh and blend so that it
was getting to be more and more difficult to remember what Lady
Vallentyn had said to her and what she had thought on her own.

Did the man Morgan really exist or had she
just imagined him? What would happen if she went riding in the
woods? Would a tree fall on her again? Or perhaps she would become
seriously hurt in another way? She could not take that chance, it
was too dangerous—or was it?

Adriana’s head began to ache from trying to
figure out what was real, and what she had imagined; what she had
said or thought, and what had come from Lady Vallentyn. Hopefully,
the draught would not only help her sleep, but would make her head
stop aching as well.

<><><>

“Morgan, I would speak with you,” a voice
called from outside.

All of the animals in the barn suddenly
became very quiet. Morgan finished cutting the apple in his hand
and distributed it to a few animals. Sheathing his knife, he gave
Apollo a gentle pat on his nose and then went out into the pouring
rain.

His mother sat on her large black stallion,
waiting impatiently for him. The rain fell in sheets all around
her, but not one drop dared to fall directly on the lady or her
horse.

As he moved closer to her, the rain bent to
avoid him as well. Within her protective circle, it was as if there
was no storm. No rain, no wind. Just tension. While all around them
mother nature gave vent to all of her feelings, within Lady
Vallentyn’s world there was nothing.

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Morgan said, giving
her a slight bow, and ignoring the cold rain water that dripped
from his hair.

“You met a girl today and healed her broken
leg,” she began without preamble.

“Yes.” Dare he ask about her? He had hardly
been able to focus on caring for the animals in his barn for
thinking about her. He
had
to find out who that girl
was.

“You imbecile!”

Morgan flinched and automatically turned his
shoulder toward her as her harsh words cut him. “You know very well
what would happen if she were to tell anyone of the man who could
heal broken bones with a touch. We would all be discovered.”

“I was aware of the consequences of my
actions,” he said. He stood tall, all of his muscles tense, ready
for the scolding she was about to unleash upon him.

“But that did not stop you?”

“No. She was in pain and needed immediate
care.” He didn’t mention the fact that he couldn’t stand to have
anyone that beautiful in such pain, nor how brave and strong she
had been in light of the situation.

Do you worst, Mother, he said in his mind,
knowing she could read his emotions if not his very thoughts. I
would do it again in a moment were I given the chance.

His mother let out a sound like the hissing
of a cat. “You spineless little boy. Such weakness will be your
downfall. Just be sure that it is not mine as well.”

There was nothing for him to say. He had
known when he healed the young woman that he was doing something
dangerous, something that he would pay for. He did wonder how his
mother had found out, but then, she always seemed to know whenever
he had done anything wrong, no matter what it was.

“Is she all right? Who is she?” Morgan bit
his tongue, and wished the words back into his mouth.

“You are not to seek her out,” his mother
said, in her deep commanding voice. Her words resonated in his
mind.

Morgan knew what she was doing—she was using
her powers of persuasion to make sure he did her will. He had
experienced her powers enough times in his life to know that he
would not be able to stop them from taking hold of him.

That didn’t stop him from trying to fight
them. He stared into her bottomless black eyes and tried to block
her words with his mind. Even as he did so, however, he felt the
coils of her power insinuate themselves into the niches and
crevices of his will, and he knew he could never win. His mother’s
words bound him, and forced him to obey.

His hands balled up into fists as he stared
harder at his mother, fighting her power over him with everything
he had.

He would not obey. He would seek out this
girl. He would find out who she was. He would not obey his mother.
He would do as he willed.

A sharp pain caught him directly between his
eyes. Thrown backwards, he had to break eye contact, and ended up
on the ground.

Frustration seethed from within him. He was
destined to be the most powerful Vallen of all time! And yet, he
could not even protect himself from his own mother’s powers. How
was he to attain his destiny if he were so helpless? He knew his
mother was strong, but he should be even stronger.

His mother laughed. “What a fool you are,
Morgan. You think you can best me? I am the most powerful Vallen in
Great Britain, and you...” She moved her horse forward so that it
was only inches from him. “You are nothing but a man.”

Morgan held himself stiff, refusing to let
her see the pain she was causing as her words cut deeply into him.
She leaned down and whispered, as if telling him a great secret,
“Never shall you know your full powers, Morgan. Never.”

She sat straight again and looked down at him
with contempt. “You are nothing, and you never will be anything
because you are male. It is your own doing. Had you been born a
girl, as was destined, you would not be in this position now.”

It wasn’t his fault!
He wanted to
scream at her, to shout and fight against her for taunting him as
she always did. But it was of no use. Not only wouldn’t she listen
to him, but she would laugh. She would laugh at his impotence just
as she always had—and that would hurt more than anything else.

Her cutting words had already reopened all of
his old wounds, the lashes that criss–crossed his back. Soon his
shirt would be soaked with his blood, but he ignored the pain. He
would not give her the satisfaction of seeing how she hurt him, nor
would he back down. He would never...