Lust (16 page)

“I am in a contemplative sort of mind today, I'm afraid.”

Prudence nodded and studied their youngest sister. “Mercy seems oblivious to what is going on. I wonder at her naiveté.”

“She copes with it the only way she knows how. By constantly wearing a smile. It is just another mask she wears. Different from ours, but its purpose is the same.”

“I hope for her sake that the fey have not made a mark for her. She's a far too gentle and trusting soul.”

Smiling, Chastity thought about what Prudence was saying. “I don't know. I think Mercy could prove quite tenacious if the provocation was strong enough.” Chastity glanced at her elder sister. “You're talking of the fey today as if you have somehow come to accept the truth throughout the night.”

Prudence's fair skin blushed pink. “I did. It was some where around three and four in the morning as I was tossing and turning, unable to stop thinking of the golden man who was sitting so close beside me on the settee.” Prue stopped and placed a gloved hand on Chastity's forearm. “It's blasphemous, isn't it, to believe in the fey.
To actually desire an alliance with them
.”

“There are many who have committed greater sins, Prue. For this, for longing for a man who makes you
feel,
well, I believe you'll be spared purgatory.”

Prudence glanced at her, was about to say something in response, but held her tongue as they came to stand
beside their sister. “Gorgeous, aren't they?” Mercy asked, pointing to the white flower.

“Indeed they are. Do they smell nice?” Chastity asked.

Scooping up a flower, Mercy held out her palm to Chastity, who inhaled delicately. “Floral. Pretty. But there is a spice to it.”

Mercy colored delicately. “I heard Lord Ashcrombe telling Lady Sefton that the lotus bloom is compared to a woman's most intimate parts for the way the petals unfurl, and it's sweet but spicy scent.”

Prudence snorted, and Chastity inhaled the bloom again while she said, “Lord Ashcrombe is desiring an affair with Lady Sefton. He would tell her anything she wanted to hear.”

Shrugging, Mercy plucked the bloom from Chastity's hand and let it slip back into the pond. “I thought it a beautiful analogy, actually.”

“I've never been one to compare my intimate parts,” Prue said on a chuckle. “But then, being the virtue of temperance and restraint, I have given very little thought to anything that could be construed as…licentious.”

Mercy turned to look at them. “Do you really think that wrong?”

“Yes, I do,” Prue whispered. “A man should not even know what a woman's parts look like. If he were at all a gentleman, he would see to his needs in the dark, as is proper. He most certainly should not go about gazing at flowers and thinking of intimacies.”

Mercy shrugged, allowing Prue's censure to run off her
like water off a duck. “Ah, well, I could stay by this little pond forever. I find it so tranquil. The water is so clear and still that you can see your reflection perfectly.”

“Do you not think you've stayed here long enough, Mercy?” Prudence asked with reproach in her voice. “People will start to talk about your not socializing.”

“I only wanted a few minutes alone with my thoughts. I'm tired of small talk.”

“And smiling and being kind,” Chastity finished for her.

Slowly Mercy nodded as she untied her bonnet strings and pulled her hat from her golden hair, only to lay it on the grass beside her. “Remember in the books Mama would read to us at bedtime? The ones filled with faery tales and romance? Do you recall how one of the stories spoke of a magical pond that when one gazed deeply into the water, one could see the reflection of the person they were to marry? No? Well, I do, and I have sat here all this time, gazing at the water, and I've seen nothing. Naught but my own smiling reflection, and it's left me feeling…empty, I'm afraid.”

“Oh, Mercy,” Chastity whispered. “I understand completely.”

Her sister's eyes started to glisten. “Something so strange is happening. I've felt it ever since Beltane. Have you?”

She nodded. “I've felt it, as well.”

“I'm trying to be understanding with Papa, but he's been so…evasive. I've asked about the fey, and the faery queen, and he will not talk of it. Yet I cannot help but
believe it has something to do with them. You know, Beltane is the time of year that the fey are known to walk freely amongst mortals. Do you think we can actually feel their presence amongst us? Is that the mysterious change we feel coming upon us?”

“I believe so.” Chastity swallowed hard. “Have you seen one?” she asked.

Mercy shook her head. “Other than the two who came to tea yesterday.”

“So you know.”

“Of course.” Mercy's lovely eyes turned cold. “I'm the virtue of kindness, not idiocy.”

Smiling, Chastity let her gaze drift over the fine lawns and gardens of Lord and Lady Sefton's grand Elizabethan home. She had always thought Mercy, in her kindness, naive and blind to the darkness of men. This show of backbone made her feel so much better. She had always worried that Mercy would be taken for granted by some unscrupulous man who would leave her broken and dispirited. Because of her kindness, Prue and she had shielded their youngest sister, oftentimes forgetting that she was only ten minutes younger.

“Those two who came to call are from the Seelie Court,” Mercy said. “The Unseelie Court are more apt to move beneath the light of the moon.”

“And how do you know so much?” Prue asked.

“Because it's my most favorite topic,” Mercy said on a sigh. “I adore the fey.”

“The Unseelie,” Chastity said, steering the conversa
tion back. “What did you mean by they move through the night?”

Mercy contemplated her. “They are the Dark Fey, followers of pleasures and sin. Naturally their guiding star is the moon. Their element the darker forces, mist, fog, rain and shadows. They seduce and entice their victims in the darkness.”

Mist? Glistening mist? she wanted to ask. Oh, Lord, she truly had encountered one of them—the Dark Fey—that night in the maze. Thane…

“The fey are incredibly beautiful creatures,” Mercy continued, warming to her subject, “but the Dark Fey are by far the more beautiful. Theirs is a sensual voluptuousness. Even their voices are deep and seductive. They live for pleasure, for the thrill of seductions. Their needs are dark, commanding. They say,” Mercy whispered conspiratorially, “that the Dark Fey are very dominant in their desires and that there is no greater pleasure than for a woman to submit herself to them.”

“Oh,” Chastity whispered as her hand flew to her heart. If Mercy was intending to frighten her, she was doing a poor job of it. For Chastity was utterly intrigued. Dark and commanding. Beautiful and compelling. That was Thane.

“Well, I cannot imagine such heathen wantonness,” Prue scoffed. “If we're to be given up to the fey I'm grateful that it is to the Seelie Court. Sunlight and joy seems much more enjoyable then being dragged to the underworld and ravished.”

Chastity didn't think so. She would much rather be
ravished than revered. As she admitted the fact, her virtue rose within her, chastising her for such thoughts.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

The three of them turned their heads to the sound of the deep voice coming from beyond the trees to their right. As if by magic, Arawn and Crom appeared. Chastity heard the soft intake of Prue's breath. She waited for the same response and felt nothing as her gaze skimmed over Crom.

Today he was dressed in black britches, tall boots and a blue overcoat with a matching waistcoat made of silk and embellished with gold thread. It was a very rich, very elegant outfit, but somehow she found herself comparing it to the black jacket and silver waistcoat that Thane had worn yesterday. She found Crom's lacking. As her gaze skimmed the tall length of him, she realized that his hands did not look half as exciting from beneath his lace cuffs as Thane's. His hands had been very masculine, despite the lace resting against them. His fingers were long, elegant, but possessed of strength and an aura of authority. Even the ring he wore was black and shining. A mixture of onyx and moonstone. It hadn't looked effeminate or foppish. Not that Crom did look foppish, but when compared to Thane, he came across as somewhat lacking.

“A glorious day for a stroll, wouldn't you say,” Arawn announced as they came to stand before them. “We could not stay away, knowing you were here.”

Studying them silently from beneath her bonnet brim, Chastity could not help but wonder how…ordinary they
were. It almost made her wish to believe that they were mere mortals. But once one looked up into their faces, once one's eyes took in the extraordinary handsomeness, it was impossible to believe that such beauty could belong to a man. No, they were fey posing as gentlemen.

She wondered at their ruse. Did they think that she and her sisters would run in fear of them? How long did they intend to pretend they were something they were not? Till they were safely wed? Till they had them secured in their court?

“Shall we, then?” Arawn inquired as he held out his arm to Prue. “I see two benches beneath those enormous willow trees that we could stroll to. And as they are in full view of the other guests, it wouldn't be considered improper or risqué.”

Chastity could almost hear the rapid firing of Prue's heart. Her sister was infatuated. She wanted this stroll with her golden fey. However, Chastity wished for nothing more than to sit by this pond, reflecting. But reflection would only make her dwell on Thane. Was he a man as he would have her think, or was he something else. One of them, or…a Dark Fey?

If she refused to join them on their stroll, she knew that Prudence would not accept Arawn's arm. Her virtue would forbid it. Would ruin this moment for the notoriously even-tempered and restrained Prudence. But her mind was warring against it. She needed to sit and think. To recall every second of her meeting with Thane for any clue of what he truly was.

“Miss Lennox?” Crom murmured, holding out his
arm to her. Gazing up at him, Chastity forced herself to paint a false smile on her face.

“A short stroll seems very nice. Mercy?” she asked, looking down at where her sister sat in the grass, her linen skirts spread full around her. “Will you not join us?”

“Thank you, but no. This spot has too great a hold of me, I'm afraid.”

Chastity looked up at her companion to see the relief that washed across his face.

She didn't want to be alone with him. She knew that much. But she didn't want to ruin her sister's afternoon, either.

Ahead of them, Arawn and Prue were leisurely strolling. Chastity placed her hand over Crom's forearm and allowed him to steer her toward the white bench.

In silence they walked, until he cleared his throat and looked upon her. “I hope you do not feel put-upon, Miss Lennox. My friend and I petitioned Lady Sefton for an invitation right after we left your house yesterday.”

“Not at all, my lord. I do hope I did not give you the impression that either I or my sister are put out.” Although, she had to admit, she was rather put out. Now, she was going to have to spend time with him. She would much rather be unguarded and at ease with her sisters.

Glancing in Lady Sefton's direction, she saw her flittering like a butterfly. She was rather busy flirting with Lord Ashcrombe, who was a notorious libertine. Chastity could only guess what faery gift they had offered to induce the notoriously selective lady to give up two invitations to her coveted garden party.

“You look very lovely in that shade of blue. Ethereal, even,” Crom said.

The compliment grated on her nerves. Especially the thought of being ethereal. She was not an angel, nor did she wish to be. She was a virtue, and neither did she wish to be that, either. His compliment was benign. Uninspired. She had heard that, about her beauty, many times, and she was rather tired of it. How she would have much rather heard something else, about her mind, or her intelligence. Something. Anything more substantial then a comment about her looks.

“You are very quiet this afternoon, my lady. As much as you were yesterday.”

“I am not skilled at conversing with ease with the opposite sex.” It was best to stay with the truth. He was a fey. She didn't know if they could discern truth or lies, and she didn't feel like discovering the fact this afternoon.

“You are a very pure spirit,” he whispered, “both in thought and deed. I am not deterred, for I know what appears as aloofness is really an innate sense of decorum.”

And disinterest
. He stopped them in the clearing between the pond and the bench. Taking her hand off his arm, he brought her gloved fingers to his mouth. His gaze held hers while he pressed his lips chastely against her fingers. “I won't be deterred. And I'm not put off by your innocence and modesty. In fact, I'm rather drawn to it. What man would not wish to have a paragon for a wife?”

Her heart suddenly constricted, missing a beat entirely.
She did not want to be his or anyone's paragon. She wanted to be a wife, a woman, not some model of virtue to be put up on a pedestal and stared at.

“What is the saying?” he asked, his violet eyes shining. “Ah, yes, who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies.”

She smiled, not knowing what else to do. There was a price to be paid. She instinctively knew that. But what she was growing to fear was that she and her sisters were the cost.

Still holding her hand, Crom brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “I hope I have not been too bold in my suit. It is not my wish to frighten you, but only to make my intentions known. I would like to court you, Miss Lennox.”

And this was the price. Her hand to this fey. Prue's hand to Arawn. But in repayment for what? she wondered.