Touch of Passion (3 page)

Loris began to feel rather alarmed at this incoherent speech, and at his strange behavior. “There's no need to say such things to me, sir. I must go back in now, if you please.”

He didn't release her. Instead, he continued speaking. “The trouble was,” he said, as if she should already understand, “that I didn't truly believe what my family had told me about such things. But it happened all the same, just as they said it would. I was so taken aback.” He laughed softly. “It was like being run down by a post coach. I scarce knew who I was. And what a strange place to find one's destiny.” He cast a glance back at the light that spilled out of the tavern's open doorway. “I always thought it would be in Wales, if it was going to happen at all, at some party or ball or family gathering. But, except for what you've suffered here, I don't mind this being the place.” He smiled at her warmly and lightly squeezed her hand. “I'm just glad it's happened.”

“Please, sir,” she pleaded, “I only came out for a moment, and must go back in. Mrs. Goodbody will be very angry if she finds me gone.”

“Oh, you needn't worry about her any longer, for I shall take care of you now. You must come to live with us until you've grown old enough for marriage. What are you? Thirteen? Fourteen?” He laughed again. “So young—I'm still amazed to think of it. But it is just as well, for you'll have time to get to know me. I'm just turned seventeen, so we're well matched. I don't think I could have borne a very great difference in ages, could you?”

He was mad, she decided. Completely crazed. Or drunk. Or, more likely, both. Loris began to tug at her hand.

“Sir . . . my lord . . .”

“Kian,” he corrected. “I should have told you that before, but I fear my wits have gone begging.” He released her at last
and stepped back to make her a formal bow. “Kian Seymour, of Castle Tylluan in Montgomeryshire, North Wales.” He straightened. “You'll love Tylluan, for there is scarce more beautiful land on God's earth. My father is Baron Tylluan. You'll like him, too, once you've had a chance to get used to him. He is rather mad much of the time, but harmlessly so. And he'll love you—he's always longed for a daughter.” He turned his head slightly, toward the open kitchen door. “And here is my brother coming to find me. Dyfed!” he shouted. “I'm here, in the alley, and I'm in company, so mind how you speak.”

His brother's blond head appeared from around the door, illuminated by the light. He stared at them for a silent moment until he was able to make out their figures in the foggy darkness.

“Kian, for God's sake, what are you doing out here?”

“Speaking to beautiful Loris,” Kian said happily, moving quickly to pull Dyfed out of the tavern complete and in Loris's direction. “You've both already met in a way, though perhaps you are not aware of each other's names. Dyfed, this is Loris. Loris, this is my brother, Dyfed Seymour. He's the younger, if you were worried about that. I am the inheritor of the lands and title.”

Loris stared from one to the other, wondering whether she should start screaming for help. But the look on the face of the second twin stopped her. He was clearly as bewildered and concerned as she was, and that gave her a small measure of comfort.

“Kian, how could you?” he asked in a low tone, sounding utterly disgusted. “She's but a child.”

His elder brother frowned at him. “It isn't like that. Not at all.”

“I
know just
what it's like,” the other said. “You've gone too far this time, Kian. It's worse than two or even three at a time. I'm sickened to think of what you intended. And if you've done this child any harm I shall make you pay for it
dearly. Come, girl, and I'll take you safe inside.” He reached out a hand, and Loris took it gladly.

Kian stepped in their way. “You'll not take her anywhere,” he said. “You misunderstand everything, Dyfed, and give both Loris and me great insult.”

Loris began to tremble and felt the younger brother's comforting arm come about her.

“Do I?” he countered angrily. “I suppose you were discussing British history with the young miss, or perhaps your favorite passages from
The Mabinogion
? Don't take me for a fool. I know you too well to believe such lies. I shall tell Father of this, and perhaps even Malachi.”

Kian took a step nearer, his expression one of fury, and began to speak harshly in a strange language that Loris didn't understand. His brother countered in kind, and soon they were shouting at each other in the indecipherable tongue.

She'd had more than enough and broke away, running too quickly for the elder brother to catch her, though he certainly tried. He might have had better luck if his twin hadn't grabbed his arm and forcibly held him back.

“Loris!” she heard him cry, but she pushed her way into the kitchen, not looking back.

“Damn you, Dyfed! Let me go!”

Kian tried to shake his brother off, but Dyfed held him fast.

“What's the matter with you?” Dyfed demanded. “From the first time you lay with a female you preferred full-grown women, and there are plenty of them here to satisfy you. Leave that young girl be.”

“Idiot!” Kian shouted furiously. “It has nothing to do with that!”

Dyfed's grasp only grew stronger. “What does it have to do with, then?” he demanded. “Tell me and I'll let you go.”

“Let me go
now
,” Kian said in a warning tone, “or I'll make you do so. Your powers are nothing to mine.”

“Aye, your powers are stronger,” Dyfed agreed, “but I've strength enough to hold you until I can make you see sense.”

Kian made a sound of complete exasperation. “There's nothing to make sense of. I can't tell you anything yet. Not until I've talked to Father. And Malachi.”

“What do they have to do with it?”

“I have to explain something to them. That's all. Dyfed, let me go!”

“Tell me what you have to explain,” Dyfed insisted, “and why the girl matters.”

“Because,” Kian said with impatience, “I want her to come and live with us at Castle Tylluan. That's
all
I'm telling you now.”

Dyfed pulled his brother closer, looking carefully into his face. “You want to take her to Tylluan?” he repeated with disbelief. “A young girl, among so many rude men? A stranger to us, who knows nothing of our ways, nothing of magic?”

“I know it's odd,” Kian admitted. “I felt the same way only days ago. But I'm telling you that it
must
be.”

“And I'm telling you that it cannot be,” said Dyfed, releasing him at last, slowly. “I've just learned that she's being sold to Gregor Foss. He's to take her this very night. Mrs. Good-body told me so when she saw you follow the girl out here.”

Kian was stunned. Gregor Foss was overlord to one of London's most dangerous rookeries and counted among the deadliest men in the city. Kian had gambled with the fellow once before at the Red Fox and had decided never to do so again, even though Kian had come out the winner. Foss wasn't a man who took losing lightly, and Kian wasn't so foolish as to press his luck with a man who'd as soon kill him for a half crown as win it.

A chilly wind riffled his hair and sent shivers coursing down the length of his spine. “That's not possible,” he said, shaking his head. “He'd have no interest in a mere girl like . . .” Then realization struck. “He wants her for one of his whores,” he said, anger rapidly taking the place of incredulity.

Gregor Foss was one of those who liked starting his whores young so that he might make the most profit from them. Women who plied their trade on the docks tended to the at an early age; a girl of thirteen would last a good ten years, at least, before falling ill. And Foss would be more than willing to pay a goodly sum for a beauty like Loris, for whose company he could demand a higher price.

Kian's anger soared. The very idea of another man so much as touching the one who had been destined as his filled him with an uncontrollable wrath.

“He'll
not
have Loris,” he vowed harshly. “
Ever
”

Dyfed reached out to grasp Kian's arm again. “You can't stop him without using magic,” he said firmly. “He's too big and has too many of his men with him. He'll try to shoot you the moment you say a word against him, or attempt to stick a knife in you. You'll be forced to use magic to stop him. Either way it's going to be a terrible mistake. If you must rescue the girl, at least let me call for Malachi or Niclas. They'll take care of it without any trouble.”

“There's not enough time,” Kian said curtly, shrugging free. “We don't even know whether Lord Graymar is in London. And Cousin Niclas will be at some party or ball, as he ever is. It might take hours for you to get in touch with either of them.”

“Give me ten minutes,” said Dyfed. “Just let me try.”

“I don't need their help,” Kian retorted. “I can manage Foss on my own.”

“
Not without using magic
,” Dyfed said insistently. “And if you use more than you already have this night, we'll be banished from London forever. I don't
want
to be banished.”

Kian gave him a look filled with scorn. “Your concern for Loris is astonishing, Brother. What happened to the champion of moments ago?”

“He's standing here being sensible, as usual,” Dyfed shot back with matching contempt. “Please, Kian, just stop for once and
think
before you do something rash. Even if Foss takes the girl, Malachi can get her back before any harm
comes to her. No one denies the Earl of Graymar anything that he demands, certainly not a knave like Foss. There's no need for you to be a fool and risk so much for the both of us.”

“Oh yes, there is,” Kian said softly, holding his brother's gaze. “Loris will be filled with fear if Foss takes her, and I'll not let her suffer even a moment if I can stop it. Now make your choice, Dyfed. You may come back inside, or send for help, or go home. It matters not to me what you decide, but I am going into the tavern
now
.”

Gregor Foss was a big man.
Very
big. And powerfully built. He towered over more normal men and seemed to fill any room that he entered with his dark, hairy person.

Loris had always been terrified of him, knowing his reputation for violence, but never more than at this moment, when she realized that none of her pleading was going to change the Goodbodys' minds. Foss had offered them a sizable sum for her, and they'd be unlikely to turn it aside for the sake of a mere serving girl. Even if they'd wanted to do so, they would be far too afraid to anger so powerful a man by refusing him what he wanted.

His hands were in accord with his size; Loris could feel the strength in them as he ran his large palms over her arms and waist, examining his new purchase with a satisfied smile.

“There's a good, healthy girl you are. Pretty as a flower and just as sweet I'd wager, eh?” He laughed and gave her a squeeze, then slid his meaty hands down to her hips, which he patted with more care. “What do you think, then, lads?” he asked the men who'd accompanied him, all of whom were sitting behind him, drinking ale and eyeing her with interest. “Is she worth what I paid?”

“Pretty,” one of them agreed. “But she's a skinny little bit, ain't she?”

“Aye, that she is,” Foss agreed. “Look how small her waist is. I can almost wrap a single hand full around it.” He laughed again.

Another of the half-drunken men sat forward, a tankard wavering in his grip. “She's still growin'.” He leered at Loris, his appreciative gaze wandering over her young figure. “Looks like she'll have what she needs in a year or two.”

“I'll make a fortune off her long before then,” Foss declared. “Only think what she'll bring after.”

Loris stood captive, stunned beyond speech or movement. Mr. Goodbody's pronouncement that she'd been sold to Foss had caused a desperate, almost involuntary pleading on Loris's part, but the following realization of her situation had silenced her. From the moment Gregor Foss set his hands on her body, fear and shock had left her as chilled and immobile as stone. She knew she was present but felt far, far away. So far that when Kian Seymour reentered the tavern and began to push his way toward her with forceful purpose, she could scarce make her mind think of anything more useful than what a fine figure he made against the rough crowd filling the Red Fox.

He held her gaze as he approached, and she felt a dim hope—so faint that she could scarce hold on to it—that the young gentleman might be able to save her again. He might be half-mad, as evidenced by his behavior in the alley, but she would far rather go with him, anywhere, than spend another moment in Gregor Foss's unpleasant grip.

The tavern, already muted because of Foss's presence, grew more silent. Gregor Foss and his men took note and turned to watch as Kian Seymour made his way.

Despite the focus of his course, he looked, Loris thought, as relaxed and swaggering as any of the dissolute nobles who found their way to such dismal places. He smiled at Foss and his men as he neared Loris and greeted them easily.

“Good evening, Foss. I heard you'd come. I hope you're in a gaming mood. I thought we might try cards this time.”

Foss's smile wasn't quite as friendly. He clearly hadn't forgotten the memorable night when the young gentleman had won a large sum from him in a game of dice. Though
he'd attempted to engage Kian Seymour on other nights, he'd been rebuffed. But tonight the lordling appeared willing.

And that made Gregor Foss suspicious.

“Not tonight, Master Seymour,” Foss replied in civil, if not particularly friendly, tones. “I'm busy just now. How d'you like this girl I've bought?” He grinned into Loris's pale face, revealing an unpleasant set of tilted, blackened teeth. “Ain't she a pretty little one?”