Magic In The Storm (6 page)

“Give up, Morgan.”

He seethed, his heart pounding with
anger.

“No! Never! I will be powerful. I will attain
my destiny!” Morgan’s shouts echoed through the woods as he leaped
to his feet.

“You are nothing!” she said quietly,
interrupting his rant. She had no need to shout. She could make her
herself heard with a mere whisper. “You are nothing, and soon you
will be even less.”

That stopped him. “What do you mean, I will
be less?”

“You shall see. It is almost time,” she said
cryptically, but it was the true happiness on her face that
terrified Morgan. “No longer will I have to worry about you
stupidly misusing your meager little powers. Soon, Morgan, very
soon.”

“I did what I had to do,” he ground out from
between his teeth.

His mother’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Then
you will pay for it.” She raised her hand, palm facing outward and
focused her eyes on the barn.

“A pox on all that dwells in this place!” Her
voice resonated throughout the clearing, permeating the air and was
carried, swirling into the barn.

“No!” Morgan bent his mind to retrieve the
words, to pull them to him instead, but it was too late.

With a laugh, his mother turned her horse,
and rode away into the dark woods.

Morgan dropped to his knees, his heart
pounding hard in his chest, as he watched her ride off. Slamming
his fist into the soft, wet ground beneath him didn’t do anything,
but his frustration and anger demanded some action.

Morgan looked up, thankful that the rain was
falling on him once again. He needed to feel it on his heated face
and body. He needed it to cleanse him of his anger.

As his heart slowed, he realized that there
was something missing. He had felt something leave him earlier when
he was working in the barn, but now he felt it more acutely. It was
like a hollow in the pit of his stomach. Something had been taken
from him.

Had his mother taken it? She had extracted no
promises from him, and he had given none. He didn’t quite
understand it, but somehow some small piece of him was gone.

Slowly, he got up and wiped the dirt from his
hands on his breeches. He paused to remove his shirt and vest—he
would reopen his wounds if he took them off later, once his cuts
had begun to heal. Tossing his ruined clothing towards the door of
his cottage, he went back to the barn.

How many animals would he have to cure of the
pox? How many hours of sitting and making the needed potion and
then feeding it to the innocents his mother had harmed due to his
own stupidity?

No, not stupidity. He had known he would pay
for healing the girl.

A
driana was finally
able to escape her duties later the following afternoon. She had to
search for Morgan—had to find out if he was real or not.

She immediately changed into her riding habit
and, armed with her sketchbook, went out riding towards the
forest.

It was a perfect day for a ride. The sun was
shining, and the storm of the day before had moved off in the
night, leaving the world looking bright, and smelling
refreshed.

She enjoyed a brisk trot, moving with her
horse and relishing the feel of the warm air brushing against her
face. She felt good just knowing she was taking steps towards
solving the mystery that had been plaguing her.

She would find out the truth. She was
determined to scour the woods for any sign of this man—for anything
to clear up her uncertainty.

As she neared the forest, however, a strong
feeling of foreboding overcame her. She did not know why, but
suddenly riding through the forest was a terrifying proposition.
She jumped as a large black bird swooped over her head and landed
just in front of her horse. It was the same raven she’d seen the
other day. She didn’t know if this was a good omen or not. She
nearly laughed at herself—it probably lived in the woods, that was
all.

Still, her stomach muscles tensed as she
looked at the thick stand of tall trees. Why, anything could happen
if she rode through the forest. The trees were old and set so close
together. She had been extremely lucky the day before when the tree
had only fallen on her leg. She might not be so lucky this
time.

Adriana stopped short of the line of trees.
No, it would not be a good idea to ride into the woods. Not today.
Possibly not ever.

But she had to find out if Morgan
existed!

Adriana sat on her horse in indecision for a
few minutes, trying to figure out how she was to do this. Slowly,
she dismounted, keeping her eye on the forest. If she was going to
have any chance of finding this man, it would be here, in the
woods.

Just as her foot touched the ground, she
realized what she could do.

What if she walked through the forest? Surely
there was nothing wrong in that. She couldn’t fall from her horse,
and if a tree began to fall, she could run for safety.

She loosely tied her horse to a tree. Tucking
her sketchbook under her arm, she took a few hesitant steps into
the wood.

This felt right.

She took a few steps more and decided this
was indeed the answer. She could most certainly walk through the
woods, but never, ever ride. Riding was simply too dangerous. She
had realized that yesterday—or had Lady Vallentyn told her
this?

She couldn’t quite remember who had said it,
but then, there were a few things she was uncertain of after her
conversation with Lady Vallentyn. It was very odd.

Now, however, she would find out whether
Morgan was just a figment of her imagination. For once and for all,
she would solve this mystery.

She focused her mind on her search and, with
growing confidence, followed the path her horse had taken the day
before.

She found the tree that had fallen and pinned
her down quite easily. It lay just where she remembered it. Was
there any sign that it had been lifted and put back down or that
her leg had been caught under it?

No. There was nothing to show that any of
that had happened.

Perhaps when she found Morgan again—if she
found him—she would be able to find out what had really happened.
But where could he be? Did he live in the forest, or had he just
been passing through when he had heard her scream?

Adriana spent nearly an hour wandering the
paths around the forest, searching for any trace of her rescuer.
The more she looked, though, the more certain she was that it had
not, after all, been real.

Only one thing was certain—there was no man
in these woods and nothing to indicate there ever had been. She
could find no trace of him, or of anyone at all.

It was just a lovely old forest. A perfect
place to lose oneself.

The cool, quiet of the woods soothed away the
pain that had been throbbing in Adriana’s head all day. Although
she was horribly disappointed, the peace of the forest enveloped
and comforted her. It rather reminded her of her painting
studio—only good feelings pervaded here. Adriana felt almost lulled
by the tranquility she found in walking through such majestic
trees.

If only there was not that nagging feeling
that she was missing something. But there really was no sign at all
of Morgan.

Finally, and very reluctantly, Adriana
decided to turn back. Running her hand over the rough bark of a
tree, she grasped hold of it and slowly swung herself around so
that she continued walking back the way she had come.

Her steps homeward were soon halted by a
dog’s bark. Its sound was clear, as if it were somewhere very
nearby. Adriana stopped walking and strained her ears to try to
tell the direction from which the sound had come.

The dog barked again, but this time a loud
splashing sound followed it. There had to be a stream where a dog,
or dogs, were playing. Without a moment’s hesitation, Adriana
turned toward the sounds. Perhaps, at the very least, she would
take a moment to sketch the flowing water of the stream.

She turned off the path, and picked her way
through the wood toward the sounds. There was a clearing not too
far ahead, but Adriana was stopped by the sound of a voice—a man’s
voice. More carefully and quietly now, she made her way to the edge
of the clearing and peeked out from the trees.

Adriana’s breath caught as she watched a dark
head emerge from under the water.

It was him! He hadn’t been a dream, or her
imagination. He was real!

Morgan flipped his long black hair back out
of his face, sending a spray of water flying toward Adriana. As he
did so, he turned around to face her. She very nearly took a step
forward to let him know that she was there. Her hand was half–way
raised, her foot in mid–air about to step out from the trees when
she noticed that he wasn’t wearing anything—at all.

S
he will do,”
Tatiana answered with a nonchalant wave of her hand when Lord
Devaux asked her what she thought of his ward.

If truth be told, she had been quite pleased
with Adriana’s conversation when the girl had put in some effort.
But she wasn’t consistent. It was clear Adriana was still unsure
about this marriage.

Lord Devaux sputtered. “She will do?” He sat
down on the chair opposite Tatiana without waiting to be asked.
Narrowing his little eyes at her, he said, “That girl is brilliant.
She can converse on any subject you’d care to name, including all
of the bills currently up for discussion in the House of
Lords.”

“Perhaps. But my neighbor, Lady Hepplewhit,
doesn’t care for politics, and Miss Hayden looked particularly lost
when asked about the current styles in London. And she had nothing
at all to say about Countess Lieven’s ball. Did she even
attend?”

Lord Devaux pursed his lips repeatedly,
clearly at a loss. “Er, well...” he began. He cleared his throat
and then tried again. “I am certain she received an invitation.
Whether she attended or not...”

“In other words, no,” Tatiana said, losing
her patience with the little man.

“Perhaps not. I assure you, though, Adriana
is an excellent political hostess. She can converse with any guest
on the issue at hand, and that is just what Vallentyn needs—someone
to promote and garner support for the issues he is working on.”

His face brightened perceptively as a thought
overtook him. “You don’t need someone who follows every fashion,
and spends too much money on her wardrobe,” he said, voicing his
idea. “If she is overly concerned with her own social position
among the beau monde, how could she possibly help your son? No, you
don’t want some flighty society miss, you need a political hostess.
You need someone who will help support Vallentyn’s career in
Parliament—and that is just what Adriana will do.” He paused for a
moment and then quickly added, “With my help, of course.”

Tatiana thought about this for a moment. He
was right. It was still important for the girl to be involved with
society to some degree, however. “You will see to it that she
becomes more a part of proper society. And I will see to it that
she does not become so involved she forgets her duty to her
husband. Moreover, I don’t care what she spends on dressing
herself. I want a daughter–in–law with an excellent reputation in
every part of society—and with the best connections.”

“Yes, of course,” Lord Devaux said
meekly.

“And you
will
ensure she marries my
son, won’t you?”

“Oh, yes. Of course she will. There is no
question...”

“There still is the question. That is why I
am telling you this.” Tatiana infused her voice with just a touch
of magic. “You
will
make sure that she marries
Vallentyn.”

Devaux’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as
he swallowed hard. “She will marry him. I will see that she
does.”

“Good.” Tatiana sat back in her chair. She
herself could easily ensure that the girl did marry her son, but
she would really rather not have to resort to such... force.

<><><>

Adriana stopped and caught her balance on a
tree. How embarrassing!

She couldn’t allow Morgan to see she was
there, not when he... she could feel her face heat and was sure she
was blushing furiously.

She resolutely tried to keep her eyes on his
face, but they disobediently darted down his exposed body. Strong
muscles defined his bare shoulders and chest. Below that Adriana
couldn’t see anything because of the water, and she was extremely
grateful. She had never seen a naked man before, and was certain
that she never should—at least not until after she was married.

In her mind, Henrietta’s stern voice told her
in no uncertain terms she was to leave immediately. Adriana knew
the voice was right—she shouldn’t be here at all. She started to
turn away, but Morgan gave another bright shout of laughter. She
looked over at him playing in the water and knew she just couldn’t
go.

The thought of leaving without drawing even
one little sketch of Morgan and the river was unthinkable. Surely
it was alright from an artistic point of view. Men painted naked
women, so why couldn’t she draw a naked man?

No, neither Henrietta’s voice in the back of
her head, nor the threat of being caught in so compromising a
position could force her to leave. She would stay, but only for a
very short time. Just long enough to do one quick sketch, she told
herself sternly.

She opened her sketchbook, took out her
pencil and watched in fascination as Morgan reached out and grabbed
a long stick floating on the water in front of him. He threw it
further downstream and, with a bark of excitement, a great black
Labrador went swimming after it.

Morgan dove for it as well, with a jump that
gave Adriana a glimpse of a sleek, sculpted back and buttocks. His
legs kicked powerfully at the water. He reached the stick just
before the dog. Laughing, he came up for air as the dog barked
again.