Fascinated (20 page)

Because his union with Alicia could not be permanent. Once she learned of her duties and opportunities, she would not want a conventional marriage. And even if she did, she would not want
it to be a loveless one to a man who had his duty to consider above all else. The course of his life had been set all those years ago, when he’d dropped to his knees beside his mortally wounded brother with the lilt of Fae laughter ringing in his ears. He would continue his role of protector and husband for appearance’s sake, obey his orders to begin training her in the use of her magics, but after that…

Edward tried to consider what would come after that, and his thoughts showed him only darkness. He frowned. There had been many times in his life when the future was unclear to him. Occasionally, he had not known whether there would be any future for him at all. None of those moments had unsettled him like this one did. Because then he had known the source of his disquiet—a musket ball, an assassin’s knife or Fae malice. This uncertainty came from inside him.

I will master this.
He pushed himself away from the wall.
I must.

Above all, he must keep his heart at a distance from Alicia. He must teach her and pleasure her. He would keep her close, sated and calm until her nature and future could be clearly determined. He had played the charming rogue before in the Service. He must give himself to that role now, but there could be no more to it than that. Not now, and not ever.

B
y the time Edward returned to the library, Alicia had finished her letter to Verity and sealed it with one of the wafers he’d left out for her. The letter now lay on the desk and she sat on the sofa leafing through a volume of Keats’s poetry.

“And now we wait for my people.” Edward dropped casually into the armchair by the fire. “How shall we occupy ourselves in the meantime?” His voice was heavy with meaning, but Alicia decided this once, she would not let herself be distracted by the sensations those meanings conjured within her.

She closed the book and laid it aside. “You can tell me about magic.”

Edward’s sigh was as heavy as it was openly theatrical. “Very well. First you should know that what is said about magic being of the Devil, or mere superstition, is untrue. Magic is a part of the natural world, as much as the motion of the tides or the light of the sun. Unlike those forces, however, the power of magic can be harnessed by some human beings.”

“Catalysts and Sorcerers?” Alicia prompted him.

“Just so. There is also a third type, the Seer, but they are extremely rare. Not more than one in a hundred humans is a born magic worker, and not more than one in a hundred magic workers are born with a genuine ability to see the future.”

“Is it always a matter of birth?”

“Yes. Either one has the talent or one does not. Like hair or eye color, it does seem to run in families. It is not, however, any respecter of rank, class or nation. A magic worker may be born anywhere and is as likely to be female as male.”

“How shockingly democratic.”

“So it has been remarked,” Edward said so seriously that if Alicia had not seen the sparkle in his eyes, she would not have known he understood her to be joking. “The strength and the ability of the magic worker does vary from person to person, and from partnership to partnership. A strong Catalyst can make a great difference to a weak Sorcerer, whereas a strong Sorcerer can form spells with even a trickle of power from a weak Catalyst.”

“And you are a Catalyst?”

“Yes. It is my gift to draw magic from the natural world and channel it toward a Sorcerer.”

“So, what does the Sorcerer do?”

“They shape the magic to their purpose and return it to the world.”

“But how?”

“It is a matter of will and concentration. Would you like to try?”

“Can we?”

“Certainly. Although, perhaps we should go outside.”

Discomfort rippled through Alicia. “Is there danger?”

“Not real danger.” Edward stood. “I can shield us both from
that. But until you understand how to fully control your abilities, there is some risk to the furniture.”

“That is not entirely reassuring.” Alicia accepted the hand he held out and let him raise her to her feet.

“No, I suppose not.” He chuckled as he unlatched one of the French doors that led to his walled garden. “After you, my dear.”

It felt delightful and daring to be outside without a bonnet on. The sun shone down from an unusually clear blue sky to warm Alicia’s face and hair. The summer air was hot and heavy, and filled with the heady perfume of blooming roses. Uncle Gavin would have turned positively green with envy at the profusion and variety in Edward’s formal beds. They even climbed up the brick walls that surrounded the garden to tangle with the green ivy tendrils.

“Someone takes great care over these.” Alicia she bent to inhale the rich scent of a cluster of pure white blossoms.

“They were my mother’s passion,” said Edward.

“Where is she?” It felt odd, almost rude, that she knew nothing of Edward’s family.

“She’s gone,” he said flatly. “My father as well, of course.”

“I’m sorry. I should have known that.”

Edward shook his head. “It was a long time ago. Now, shall we begin?”

“Yes, please.”

“Very well. I will hold your hand. As you become more experienced, if your talent is strong enough, you will not necessarily need physical contact to draw upon a Catalyst, but the amount of power you can absorb will diminish with distance.” He folded his fingers around hers, and even this simple touch rivaled the sun for warmth. Alicia felt her heart lurch uncomfortably and she had
to work to focus on what he was saying to her. “Do you see the angel statue?”

“Yes.” With its little girl’s face tipped up to the sky and marble tears running down its white cheeks, it was a surprisingly mournful creation for such a cheerful garden.

“Good. I will open the channel between us, and send you some magic. When you feel it, I want you to picture in your mind that statue rising into the air. Do you understand?”

“No,” she admitted.

But Edward only smiled. “Neither did I when I was first given instruction. Never mind. It is easier to experience than to understand. Close your eyes.”

Alicia did as she was told.

Do you hear me, Alicia?
Edward’s voice, warm, kind and comfortable, settled into her thoughts.

Yes.

Good. Now.

Slowly, a golden warmth threaded into her veins. At first she thought it was a recurrence of her inner desires, rising to the touch of Edward’s hand and his thoughts. But this was something different. If light had weight and force, it would feel like this as the sun rose in the morning. As it filled her, she had a sensation of buoyancy, and yet she felt strong as well. If she had been at all weary or disturbed before, those feelings were pushed away before this current of new power as sediment was washed away by fresh water.

Water,
said Edward’s voice in her mind.
That is a good way to think of it. Cup your thoughts around it, as you would cup your hands to fill them with water.

Alicia tried. She pictured the light forming into a golden ball, a plaything for a fairy-tale princess to hold in her hands.

That’s it. Open your eyes, Alicia. See the statue.

She did, and the dirty marble thing seemed to her even more pathetic than it had before.

Reach out your hand. Let the power flow from your fingers, and raise it up.

She stretched her arm out in front of her. In her mind’s eye she saw her golden sphere twist into a rope to thread down her arm to her fingers, and from there across the empty air between herself and the statue. Alicia gasped. She could feel the warm marble as if she held it in her hand. Her senses told her of its curves and angles. She was aware of its weight, the pitting worn into it by wind and weather, and something else. Annoyance. The sculptor had not enjoyed his labor in making this thing. It was part of a large lot, one of a hundred to be sent to London fools for their gardens, but a job was a job and a man had to eat…

Very good, Alicia. Very good indeed.
Edward’s surprise touched her, and pride as well.
Now, raise it up.

Alicia lifted her arm. The stone was heavy and unbalanced. It wobbled. She frowned, trying to steady her ethereal hold on the statue. So deep was her concentration, so sure was her sense of touching the statue, that she was not at all surprised to see the marble angel rise unsteadily into the air and hang there, suspended by nothing at all. The feel of the stone in her mind fascinated her. It was so complex, and nowhere as solid as it should be. There were flaws in it, and a few of the cracks ran deep. She could feel them with this touch of her mind. She could even reach into them.

Alicia, stop!

The angel shattered. Edward grabbed her and lunged sideways,
bearing them both to the ground. His weight pressed her to the grass as shards of stone rattled down around them.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he finally rolled aside to release her.

“Yes. I think so.” Alicia gasped and sneezed and pushed herself up from the grass. The power was gone. She shuddered from surprise and sudden cold as much as from the abrupt absence of Edward’s warm weight. She looked up at him, and to her chagrin saw a scarlet thread trickling down his temple. “But you’re cut!”

Edward dabbed at the place with absolute unconcern. “Nothing serious. However, you now understand why I wanted us to try this outside.”

“I don’t even know what happened. I wasn’t trying to break it.”

“Of course not,” he said. “But your mind wandered from the task. When you’re working with magic, that is almost the most dangerous thing that can happen. Concentration is vital. Otherwise, you will do too much, or not enough. Come.” He got to his feet and held out his hand. “We will try again.”

And they did. But after shattering the angel, Alicia found her confidence had also fragmented. Edward was in no mood to make allowances, however, and insisted she make another attempt. After she rolled several edging stones pathetically across the tidy lawn, they tried again, and again after that, until Alicia’s head began to ache and her throat felt quite parched. Edward took her back into the cool of the library. He ordered her to sit still while he fetched lemonade, bread and butter from the pantry. Despite her professed queasiness, he urged Alicia to eat and drink deeply.

“The shaping of magic is an exertion, as much as if you had been truly lifting those stones in your hands. You need to refresh
yourself.” He poured himself some sherry from the decanter on the table. “You’ve made an excellent beginning. Soon, you’ll be ready to use your power to sense more of the world around you, and inside you. You’ll be able to affect transference and transformation.”

“As well as destruction,” added Alicia.

“Exactly.” Edward paused and took another sip of sherry. “There is perhaps one other thing I should tell you.”

“What is that?” Alicia swallowed the last of the lemonade and held out her glass for him to refill. He was right—it did taste wonderful, and she felt much steadier for it.

“One of the most powerful ways for a Catalyst to transfer power to his Sorceress is through the sexual act.”

Alicia’s hand trembled and she took a larger gulp of lemonade than she intended. Edward smiled at her, his eyes alive with mischief to see her so discomposed.

“Like you did with me when I first removed my brooch?” she inquired, pleased that her voice stayed steadier than her hand.

“That was one way, yes. There are others.”

“I find this does not surprise me.”

Edward’s eyebrows lifted. “Why, Alicia, you are becoming positively worldly.”

“I hope that does not spoil my charms for you, my lord.”

“Quite the contrary, I assure you.” Edward sipped his wine. “I find it fascinates me, because I think this spirited woman is the real you.”

Alicia looked into the depths of her own glass. Was he right? Could this pert creature be the real Alicia Hartwell? If that was true, then Alicia Hartwell was most unladylike. But then, she
knew that already. Ladies did not feel as she did when they looked at a man. They certainly did not enjoy the acts she apparently did.

Thinking about this was a mistake, however. It only recalled the details of her time in Edward’s arms more strongly to her mind. Her headache was quite gone now, but it was replaced by a restlessness that the memory of her strange “wedding” night only intensified. It also brought back several questions she had not yet found the opportunity, or the words, to ask.

“Was it…normal?” Alicia Hartwell also seemed to be a shockingly blunt sort of person.

Edward’s eyebrows lifted, his confusion clear as he tried to understand where this question had come from. “Was what normal, Alicia?”

“What we did. Before. This morning. Was that…a normal variation of the marital act?”

Edward seemed to take a strangely long time setting his glass down. His mouth quivered. “Did you enjoy it?”

There was no point in even attempting to evade that direct question. “Yes.”