Susan Spencer Paul - [Enchanter 01] (32 page)

A storm came up in the middle of the night. A fitful, thunderous storm that made the windowpanes rattle in their fittings.

A vivid bolt of lightning woke Julia, and the furious clap of thunder that followed had her sitting up and clutching the bed linens.

“Niclas,” she murmured aloud, praying that he and Abercraf were safe at some wayside inn.

She lifted a hand to touch her neck, feeling the loss of the Tarian’s weight there. It had been uncomfortable to
wear while she slept, yet she missed it now. It had changed her in ways that she’d never known, being merely mortal, and now that it was gone she could feel those changes slipping away. Yet her senses were still heightened, as they’d been when she had worn the necklace, and as she slowly cast her gaze across the dim, fire-lit room, she knew that something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Run
, she thought. Scream.
Now
.

She tossed the covers aside and, careless of her bare feet, ran to the bedroom door. But the handle refused to turn, and the key was frozen.

“Oh, no,” she said, and lifted a fist to pound on the heavy wood.

A strong arm stopped her, and a large, gloved hand slipped over her mouth to quiet the scream she’d been about to emit. Even as she was lifted from the floor and pressed against the length of a tall, hard body, she knew who it was.

“Why, Miss Linley, were you going to run away so soon after my arrival? How unforgivably rude. And I thought Linleys were such pillars of society. I shall have to inform your aunt of your terrible failings as a hostess.”

She fought with all her strength as he dragged her back across the room and flung her roughly onto the bed. Julia landed on her back but quickly scrambled upright, holding the neckline of her white cotton gown firmly in place.

The earl of Llew loomed over her, far taller than she had remembered but just as dark and frightening. He was clothed all in black, with a black multi-caped cloak sweeping from his broad shoulders almost to the floor. His hair was unbound and fell wildly about his dimly illuminated
face, making him look fierce and even demonic. His black eyes pinned her with a penetrating stare, moving slowly from her face down the length of her body. He did nothing to hide what he was thinking, and Julia began to tremble.

“Such a pretty little gown you’ve worn to greet me in, I see.” Reaching out a gloved hand, he stroked the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder. “It makes me think of all the things I should like to do to you, dearest Julia. And that would serve him especially well, would it not, to rape his lover while her sweet aunt sleeps but a few doors away?” He leaned closer, gripping Julia’s chin between the vise of his forefinger and thumb to force her near. “But I’ll not enjoy you just yet. We might be interrupted, and then I might be obliged to harm someone you love. And that would make you unhappy, would it not, dearest Julia? Not to mention that it would be a terrible way to begin our new life together.”

She tried to scream, to twist away, but he held her tight. The vise on her chin squeezed so painfully that tears filled her eyes.

“What? Have I taken you by surprise, my sweet? Did you believe you would marry? Perhaps become wife to Niclas Seymour? Did you?” The fingers tightened and she groaned in pain, bending beneath his force. She was certain she was going to faint, and struggled to maintain her senses.

“I’m afraid I could never allow it,” he said, bringing their faces so close that she could feel the heat of his breath as he spoke. “I want vengeance on Niclas Seymour. On all Seymours. They have denied me the wife I desired, and now I will do the same. Niclas Seymour shall not have you. He must live, instead, with the knowledge
that his beloved Julia belongs to another man, is lying beneath another man and receiving his seed and pleasuring that other man in every way that he commands. And not as a cherished wife. No, not that. She will be my mistress. My whore. And all of society will know of it. Not that I care for that. I only care about making him suffer. And he will, my love. Oh, yes, he will.

“He’ll know very well how I’ll use you, and that your life will be a misery and a hell because of me. And he’ll know, too, that you can never leave me, for I can force you to love me with sick desperation. I can. You’ll soon discover that I speak the truth.”

She reached up to grasp his hand with both of her own, digging her fingers into the leather of his glove and pulling hard in a bid for release. With an angry grunt he flung her back, and Julia crawled farther away, gasping for air and rubbing at the sharp pain in her face.

“I won’. . . t love you,” she managed to say.
“Ever.”

He chuckled with dark amusement. “You’ll do whatever I tell you to do, Julia, just as you did once before. And if you struggle against my power, I’ll make you very sorry. But come, my blushing virgin. It’s time we’re away.” She felt a hand close over one of her ankles, and with one powerful tug she was dragged across the bed and onto the hard floor. The next moment he had taken a fistful of her hair and pulled her upright, holding her up just high enough that she had to stand on her toes to keep the strands from ripping out of her scalp. Using both fists she struck his chest and shoulders and face, whatever she could reach, but it had no effect whatsoever.

“Now, Julia, you’re going to stop this foolishness and obey me,” he said, and gave her a shake that sent rivulets
of pain streaming over her scalp and face. “You’re going to stop fighting and collect your shoes and a coat. We’ve many miles to journey until we reach Llew and I don’t want my cherished mistress arriving in naught but her sleeping gown, pretty as it may be.” With his free hand he reached out to caress her breast through the thin cloth, squeezing lightly and then a bit harder, and all the while Julia flailed at him, using both arms and legs now. And still it had no effect on the man. It was as if he were impervious to pain.

“Delightful,” he declared with satisfaction, moving his hand lower, along the curve of her waist. “I believe you’ll do quite nicely, Miss Linley. I shall soon have your belly swelling with child. My child. My bastard. And then I’ll get you with another, and more after that, until we shall send half a dozen or more of our odd half-breeds out into the world to worry the Seymours.”

She finally managed to land a solid blow to his face, smack on his cheek beneath his left eye. He gave a grunt of pain, which filled Julia with intense satisfaction for the moment she was allowed to enjoy it. With an oath he yanked her upward off her feet and sent his own hand flying toward her face. She saw it coming, but could never afterward remember receiving the blow.

I
t wasn’t a clap of thunder or a bolt of lightning that woke Steffan. It was a dream—the kind that meant something particular to a mystic.

Within moments he was on his way out his bedchamber door, running barefooted down the hall toward his uncle’s room. Half an hour after that he and his men were on their way, riding through the rain to find Niclas, while Ffinian, Kian, and Dyfed were readying their men for the long ride to Castle Llew.

“We’ll have our dear Julia safely back, my lads, never fear,” Ffinian declared over the noise of the rain as they made to mount their horses. “I only hope Steffan can run Niclas to ground before too much time has passed.”

“We gave our word to Steffan that we’d wait for Niclas to arrive before we did anything,
tad
,” Kian told him, “and we’ll keep to that.”

“Only for as long as we must, my boy,” his father said, spurring his horse forward. “And after that we’ll be fetching her out of Castle Llew on our own, and waiting be damned.”

The storm didn’t disturb Niclas, either. He’d been sitting in his room at the modest inn where he and Abercraf had settled, staring into the fire. Lightning illuminated the room from time to time and thunder filled the air with its ominous rumblings, but he paid little mind to either.

He was thinking of Julia and wondering whether she was sleeping and, if so, what she was dreaming of. Did she miss him as much as he already missed her? Was she afraid, as he was, of the days to come? Of the loneliness?

He would go back to London to settle matters and make plans. Malachi would agree to keep an eye on Julia, to make certain that she was well. He’d pester her into going out into society, even if she didn’t wish to. The earl of Graymar was good at that.

Then Niclas heard something over the rain, and lifted his head. It was vaguely familiar. A sound? A voice?

Earlier, the inn had been loud with the noise of merrymakers in the tavern, but that had died away more than an hour before. This voice was different, urgent and angry . . . and

Niclas bolted out of the chair and fumbled for his shirt, which he tossed on without buttoning.

“Steffan!” he shouted, throwing his bedchamber door open and racing into the hall. “Steffan! I’m here!”

Abercraf’s door opened across the hall, and the manservant stood there in his nightgown and bare feet, his hair all askew.

“Sir! Is something amiss?” he cried, but Niclas had already run past him toward the stairs.

“Steffan!”

“Niclas! Cousin!”

Steffan was at the entryway, barred by the innkeeper who held a gun aimed at him.

“Let him in!” Niclas demanded, rushing down the few remaining steps and physically pushing the innkeeper aside. “Get back. Put that thing away.”

“Niclas,” Steffan said, striving for breath as he and his men pushed their way inside. They were as wet as they could possibly be. “We’ve come to fetch you. It’s Cadmaran.”

Niclas knew that the silent moment that passed was much shorter than it seemed: shock made it feel as if it were an eternity.

“He has Julia,” he said, the strained sound of his own voice foreign to him.

Steffan nodded. Reaching out, he clutched Niclas by the arm.

“He’s taking her to Llew. Our uncle and cousins are already on their way with all their men. They believe it will be enough, but you and I both know the truth. We’ll need Malachi if we’re to get her back. Kian can’t fight against the earl of Llew. He’s simply not strong enough.”

A particularly loud clap of thunder exploded above their heads. Niclas closed his eyes.

They needed Malachi. No one else could wrest her from Morcar Cadmaran’s clutches.

“Can you call him?” he asked Steffan. “Is there any way at all to reach him?”

Steffan shook his head.

“I’ve been thinking on nothing else during our ride here. If I could send word through the water faeries, or if I only had time to read the bowl and send word from the spirit realm—but even then there’s no assurance that he
would know quickly enough and”—he squeezed Niclas’s arm so hard that it hurt, and rare desperation filled his voice—“there simply isn’t enough time. I dreamt of what was happening to Julia, and of what is to happen. We can’t delay, and we can’t wait for the
Dewin Mawr
.”

“There’s a way yet left to us,” Niclas murmured.

“No,” Steffan replied forcefully.
“No.”

“It’s out of your hands,” he said sharply. “Innkeeper!” he shouted, and that man appeared with his gun still in hand. “Put that away,” Niclas said again, then waved a hand at his cousin and his men. “Give these men something to eat and drink. Quickly. We’ll be leaving within fifteen minutes’ time.”

“But, sir,” said the innkeeper, “you can’t mean to go out in this storm? That’s not at all wise, sir.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Niclas repeated as he made his way to the stairs. “I’ll pay you twice what it’s worth to make sure they’re well filled by then.”

“I don’t like it,” Ffinian said, giving a shake of his head. “I say it’s best if we attack with full force, using all our men. If we can but overwhelm Cadmaran’s forces—and keep him busy with defense—Kian might be able to take him by surprise.”

“It won’t work,” Niclas said, accepting the cup of wine that Dyfed pressed into his hand. “Cadmaran’s men outnumber us fivefold, and even if they didn’t, he might very well use Julia as protection against whatever magic Kian might attempt. And don’t forget that if we attack first, Cadmaran will gain the advantage. His powers will increase and Kian’s will be lessened. Worse than that, Malachi will be able to do little to help us.” He gazed solemnly at those
assembled. “Cadmaran must be forced to attack, and there’s only one way I can think of that he might be lured into doing just that.”

He and Steffan and Steffan’s men had just arrived at the place outside the earl of Llew’s estate where Ffinian and his sons and men had set up a camp of sorts. The storm had diminished into a light, though steady, drizzle, and the tent where the men had gathered to discuss their plan was more than sufficient to protect them from the elements.

“At least let me go with you,” Kian said.

“He’d never let you pass through the gates,” Niclas replied. “I must go alone.”

“He’ll harm you,” Steffan said, his face pale and his countenance shaken. “I can sense it. He’s going to hurt you badly, Niclas. You must have someone to lend you aid.”

“I hope that I shall,” he said, finishing the last of the wine and setting the cup aside with finality. “Malachi will come once he senses I’m in danger.”

“But that will take time, lad,” Ffinian said. “What if he’s delayed half an hour?”

“Then I shall be extremely put out with him,” Niclas said with a grim smile. “Though I don’t expect to be here to do anything about it.”

In the corner where he stood, Steffan groaned out loud. “Don’t speak of death,” he pleaded. “I feel a great dread for what’s to come. Don’t tempt fate by making light of such matters,
cfender
, I pray you.”

Niclas moved to set a comforting hand on his arm.

“Don’t fear for me, Steffan. None of you,” he said, looking at each of them, “must think of me, but keep your minds fixed on getting Julia safely away. If you bear me any love at all, promise me that. No matter what may happen,
the end of this day must see her delivered. Give me your hands on it.”

He set his hand in the middle of the circle they made and each laid his own upon it.

“Take every care, lad,” Ffinian said. “Cadmaran’s as dark and shifty as a demon. He cares only for himself and no other.”