Touch of Passion (46 page)

“Aye,” Kian said, his gaze fixed on her, his heart pounding frantically in his chest. “She is indeed.”

Loris cast her gaze about the hall, lingering for a long, significant moment on Kian before moving on to take in all the broken pottery on the floor.

“The last of the teacups,” she said with dismay, walking slowly forward to bend and pick up a shard. “After what I've told you all about not breaking the few fine things we have left with your games,” she murmured, gazing at it as she rose full-height. “When you
know
that these are the last we have.” She shook her head, and Kian saw all the castle folk in the hall lowering their heads in shame, as only Loris could make them do. “And despite that,” she said in a pained tone, “you use the last of the teacups in order to amuse yourselves.”

It was very well done, he thought, and worked upon the vast majority of her listeners exactly as she wished. Of course she failed to mention the lovely new tea set Kian had just bought for her in London, but that wouldn't have been to the purpose. Though she certainly enjoyed celebratory dinners, Loris didn't like them getting out of hand and knew
how to trim that fact down to a fine, sharp point that would nettle the people of Tylluan for a good fortnight.

They had broken Her Ladyship's few remaining teacups on the very night—having at last become Lady Tylluan—when she should have come home to a far better welcome. It would be all that the servants, fighting men, tenants, and villagers would talk about for weeks to come.

The silence was complete. Loris looked at the assembled once more, gave Kian a particularly hot gaze, and said, “I'm going to my chamber now but will return to the hall within the hour. I hope, by then, that I shall find it clean enough to welcome the king himself.”

The shard she held dropped to the floor, and Loris turned and walked out, Mr. Goodbody and a grinning Elen at her heels.

Kian was waiting in her bedchamber by the time Loris opened the door. He had lit the fire and poured her a glass of wine and was sitting in a chair, one leg crossed over the other relaxed and composed.

Loris wasn't either of those things just now. Quite the opposite. Her heart had reacted so painfully to the sight of him in the hall that she'd had to cover her fear with foolish anger. Now, seeing him at an even closer distance, it was worse.

He'd been attacked. Successfully attacked. The beast had managed to strike him—his beautiful face and his hands and arms, possibly even the rest of his body. He was attired in formal dress as the lord of Tylluan, with a cuffed, high-collared shirt and a waistcoat and jacket. But she could see the deep scars that ran upward from his hands and downward from his face and chin until they disappeared into cloth. Malachi was a powerful healer, and she knew that the scars would not be permanent. But that didn't ease the fear in her heart or dim her determination to help Kian be rid of the beast.

She longed to go to him, to both fret and rail all at once, but knew better than to do either. The fact that he'd been harmed did little to further the argument she was about to
lay before Kian, and if he didn't agree, he would only go out and fail with the
athanc
and very likely be hurt again.

“I had to stop in the kitchen first,” she told him, pulling off her gloves. “It was necessary to provide sustenance for the men who brought me here. And Elen was hungry as well.”

“And what of you, Loris?” he asked. “When was the last time you ate? Or rested?”

“I don't remember,” she replied honestly. “But it scarce matters, for I'm not hungry and I don't intend to rest. Until later.”

“Will you at least take some wine?” He motioned to the glass he'd filled for her.

She unbuttoned her pelisse and tossed it onto the nearest chair. “I will, thank you.”

As she crossed the room, he rose, picked up the wineglass, and offered it to her.

Loris shook her head. “Not yet,” she said, and turned her back to him. “Unbutton me. Please.”

She heard his hesitation and the surprise in his voice as he set the wineglass aside. “Very well. If you wish.”

She could scarce wait to get out of the dress she'd been wearing for nearly three full days now. There had been no time to change clothes on the journey, and she was desperate to be in something clean.

“Thank heavens,” she murmured, pulling her arms free of the sleeves as soon as he had the first few buttons done.

“Hold on,” he said, bending nearer to work on the tiny fastenings. “You'll tear it. If I'd known you were this eager to see me I would have carried you up the stairs the moment I set sight on you. But that was what I wanted to do even knowing how angry you were.” He took a moment to kiss the top of her neck.

She shivered beneath the soft caress. “I have every right to be angry. How could you do such a thing to me, sneaking off in the middle of the night and leaving a letter to explain?”

“It was cowardly,” he admitted, “but I didn't want you coming along, and time was of the essence. If I'd told you,
you would have talked me into letting you return to Tylluan. I find it very hard to resist you, you see.” Another soft kiss saluted her shoulder.

Loris turned about to face him, pulling the remainder of the dress away and stepping out of the muddy skirt. She tossed the garment aside and began to untie her petticoats.

“You didn't think I'd be able to get here,” she said. “You thought I would be trapped in London because no one would help me.”

“No one among our friends and relatives, leastwise,” he said, sitting down again to watch with obvious interest as Loris continued to wrestle with her clothes. The petticoats followed the dress, and she sat down in the chair opposite to begin unlacing her boots. Kian moved to kneel before her. “Let me help you with these as well. I'm becoming quite adept at being a lady's maid, as you well know.”

She was too weary to argue and leaned back, resting her head and closing her eyes.

“I never thought you would turn to the Goodbodys,” he told her, sliding the first boot off and setting it aside. His thumbs ran over the top of her stockinged foot, rubbing away the ache of three days of journeying. Loris murmured with pleasure. “I'm astonished,” he went on, “and very proud, that you faced your unpleasant past. And not simply faced it, but used it to your advantage.”

“I was surprised, too,” she said. “It wasn't at all what I expected. Saving that Mr. Goodbody was willing to do what I wished for a sufficient amount of money. That's why he decided to come along. To make certain he got the rest of what I promised. And also, I think, to keep an eye on the men he'd hired. I'm not certain he trusted them to deliver me safely.”

“And if you didn't arrive safely,” Kian said, removing the other shoe, “he wouldn't get paid. It appears his greed has its virtues, for he did get you here safe and well, and very quickly. Niclas and Professor Seabolt only managed to best you by a few hours, and they weren't encumbered by a carriage and longer horse changes.”

“He was surprisingly good company,” Loris told Kian, biting her lip to hold back a moan when he rubbed her other foot. “Mr. Goodbody, I mean. We spent a great deal of time arguing at first about who had wronged the other more—he still feels quite strongly about not receiving any recompense for setting my grandfather in the right path to finding me—and I thought poor Elen was going to leap out of the carriage just to gain some peace. But when we got past that he proved to be quite amiable and a good storyteller. You can imagine how many interesting tales a tavern keeper has to tell. Oh, Kian, that feels too good. You must stop.”

His strong fingers had slid up to her calves and were gently kneading the aching muscles there.

“You need to sleep, Loris,” he murmured. “Let me put you to bed. We'll talk more of all this in the morning.”

“No, I'm not going to sleep,” she said, opening her eyes. “I've ordered a hot bath, and afterward, I'm going out with you to meet the
athanc
. But when that's done with,” she said with a long, weary sigh, “I vow I'll sleep for a week.”

His hands fell still, and he said, clearly and slowly, “No, you're not.”

Loris had understood well before she'd started her journey that Kian wasn't going to accept her decision either readily or with good grace. She was prepared for all his arguments.

“Was that Desdemona Caslin sitting beside Dyfed in the great hall?” Loris asked, pushing into a higher sitting position so that she could look at him.

Kian frowned and slowly rose to his feet. “It was. We rescued her from Llew this afternoon. But she has nothing to do with you becoming involved in the matter. Because you'll not be. Get the notion out of your head completely.”

“But she is going to help you, is she not?” Loris asked. “Just as she's been doing since Dyfed and I left for London.”

“She will,” he said, “but it's entirely different.”

“Because she's a sorceress?”

He nodded curtly. “Aye.”

“But you need a virgin to work your enchantment,” Loris said. “The
athanc
can only be held in its solid form long enough to be captured if it lays its head upon the lap of a maiden.” Reaching to pick up her wineglass, she looked at him from beneath her lashes and asked, “Do you happen to know of any sorceress within fifty miles of here who is also a maiden?”

He scowled darkly. “You know very well that I don't. But that still doesn't—”

“I'm yet a maiden,” Loris reminded him. “Which you know better than anyone else. And as the lady of Tylluan, it is my right to be the one to help with the enchantment.”

Kian's expression grew fierce. “There are any number of maidens at Tylluan who would make such a sacrifice for their home.”

“I know that,” Loris said quietly, sitting forward and holding his gaze. “But you would not ask another to take your place in this task, and I'll not let another take mine, either.”

He stared at her in silence and then at last turned away and moved to stand by the fire.

She stood to follow him. “I'm sorry if it makes you unhappy.”

“It doesn't make me merely unhappy,” he told her as she stood in front of him. Lifting a hand, he cradled her cheek. “It terrifies me. I can't lose you, Loris. Not when we've only just begun to find each other after so many years.”

She smiled and set a hand over his. “I don't intend to be lost,” she murmured. “I certainly don't wish to be. But I know that I
must
be the one allowed to do this for Tylluan.”

“How do you know?” he whispered.

“I'm not certain,” she said. “It's almost as if someone told me that the venture will only be successful if I am the one to lure the
athanc
into submission. I'm not merely saying this to convince you, Kian. It's true.”

He still looked doubtful, and deeply troubled.

“Do you remember,” she said, “when the curse was first laid upon you? Upon both of us?”

“I can never forget it,” he murmured. “Why do you ask?”

She moved away a little, trying to find the words to tell him what was in her mind. “I've been thinking upon it as I journeyed from London. Mr. Goodbody reminded me of something that I hadn't thought upon very much.”

“What?”

“That you wouldn't wait for help to come before taking on Gregor Foss. He overheard Dyfed pleading with you to wait until help could be fetched, and you refused.” She looked at him.

Kian nodded. “It was foolish of me. But this is different, Loris. I've already told you why I must do this alone.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You've told me why you can't ask Malachi for help. I am but a mere mortal, and you must have a maiden to aid you in the enchantment. This time, Kian, you should accept the help that is offered to you, and not be so stubborn and prideful as you were ten years ago.”

His eyes filled with despair, and he said, again, “I can't lose you.”

“You'll not,” she vowed, moving to stand before him. “You must let me be the one, Kian. If Desdemona Caslin can be allowed to help because she happens to love your brother, then I must certainly be allowed to help the man I love as well.”

There was nothing more that he could argue after that, though Kian desperately wished he could. But the word
love
had tumbled from her lips, filled with truth and honor, and he couldn't throw it back at her as if it had no meaning.

And so he had agreed and left her to bathe and change into clean and more comfortable clothes. His last glance at her had shown Loris pulling out the remaining combs and pins from her hair, letting it fall loose and free. She was home now and could be herself again. He didn't need to ask to know how intensely happy she was.

When she came back down the stairs her mood was completely changed, much to the joy of the servants, who had quickly cleared and cleaned the mess in the great hall. It looked, now, as if a meal had never taken place that night, and their lady's pleasure and smiling praise for their efforts left them all looking deeply relieved.

Introductions had been made after that. Loris and Desdemona exchanged nods and pleasantries, and Desdemona stated that she was glad to meet a woman of Loris's admirable powers. When Dyfed told her that Loris didn't possess magic, Desdemona merely smiled.

Mr. Goodbody, much the better for some food and ale, took the introductions and reintroductions cheerfully. He remembered Niclas especially well, having been so recently terrified into submission by that powerful gentleman, and, of course, could never forget Kian and Dyfed or the Earl of Graymar. Whatever displeasure Mr. Goodbody once held for the Seymour clan seemed to have disappeared completely, probably, Kian thought, because of the fortune in jeweled hair combs that Loris had given him for his help.