Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 (18 page)

The coach jolted, sending her against him with a heavy
thump
. She pulled away and leaned against the corner, as far away from him as she could get in this cramped space. No, she wouldn’t let him seduce her with his big body and his easy smile. She wanted answers.

Blaize gazed at her, his eyes distant. Then he sat forward and rested one hand on his knee, turning to confront her directly. “I don’t think it affected you in any way. I think she did something, gave you something that changed your attraction to men. Did you never notice how they flocked to you?”

She sniffed. “Until recently I thought that was my fortune. And my dazzling beauty, of course.” Never forget that. But yes, now he mentioned it, the phenomenon had puzzled her. She’d usually put it down to rank and fortune, but other heiresses, more beautiful if she were honest with herself, had watched as men walked past them and headed for her. Not all of them could have wanted her influence or her money. Some were as well off in that respect as she.

“Every time I look at you, I see that,” he said softly, and he meant it. His expression softened and his eyes drank her in. He must still have some traces of madness about him. That was the only way she could explain it. Or he was as deep in love as she was.

“Nonsense,” she said briskly now. “Be practical. You know I’m not an accredited beauty. You’re right, they flocked.”

“And they stayed with you. They didn’t leave you and visit the other heiresses. As if you were the magnet to their iron.”

“So now I have men clinging to me like horseshoes around a magnet? Very pretty.”

He barked a laugh. “Life will never be dull with you, will it?”

Considering who—and what—she’d agreed to marry, she could say the same. “One can only hope not,” she said primly, but then pursued her point.

This time, when the coach jolted, she let herself remain closer to him, although not yet in his arms. If not for the presence of Marcus, she might have done so. But, well-brought-up young lady that she was, she kept apart.

He was right. “Why didn’t I think of that before?” she said.

“You mean why didn’t you think, ‘I must be bespelled,’ instead of ‘I’m rich and well-connected’?” Blaize grinned. “That’s why.”

It was. Who in their right mind would think that they’d been spelled? The answer came to her in a flash. “It’s that green drink.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Blaize drawled. “It’s all right, Lyndhurst, you can stop staring out of the window. We’re not going to argue and your contribution would be welcome. Tell us about the green drink, my sweet.”

Despite heat rising to her cheeks when he used the endearment in front of someone else, Aurelia fought to explain. “My mother likes us to have something healthy. She’s dosed us, my brother and I, since we were little. At the moment, all she does is insist that I don’t use ceruse on my face and I have this terrible green drink as part of my breakfast. It tastes of spinach and cabbage overcooked for hours. Strong enough to overwhelm other tastes.”

Blaize exchanged a telling look with Marcus, who had swung his attention from the green and purple Scottish scenery outside and back to them. “I wonder what she did to Kentmere?”

“I wonder,” Marcus said heavily. “She is a witch, or she knows someone who is. The kind of sorceress who works in a stillroom and produces potions for clients. In the modern world, we denigrate such activities as old-fashioned or worse, but rationality can’t explain everything, no matter how you try.” He paused. “How I try. At one time I refused to allow that such pursuits mattered, that they were all nonsense. But then, nightshade is a natural substance. So is arsenic.”

Aurelia pressed her fingers to her throat. “Do you think she has those things?”

Crooning her name, Blaize touched her neck. The marks he’d left weren’t as apparent as she’d thought they would be, but they were still there. “Who did that to you?”

“You did.”

“No!” His initial denial was accompanied by an expression of horror. “Why?”

“Drugs?” Marcus offered. “When we found you yesterday, you tried to throttle her. That’s why I deferred our rescue attempt until tonight. You needed to be sober for us to have any chance of escape. I was better armed when I returned, and I would have shot you if you had tried such a thing again. I had some strong men with me too. You might have noticed the coachman and footmen are rather powerful individuals.”

Blaize shook his head. “I confess I did not. But if you had shot me, I’d have thanked you.” Gently, he traced around the marks he’d made, and to her shock, his eyes glistened with tears. “I am a thousand times sorry for this. I don’t know why you bothered to come back for me. I swear, I wouldn’t have killed you. Not in any state.”

Aurelia wasn’t so sure, but she’d take the chance. To be with him would make the risk worthwhile. “I look a bit like my mother. Maybe you thought I was her.”

“Or maybe your scent has changed since you stopped drinking that green stuff,” Marcus said.

That made sense. If something about her was “off”, then Blaize might well consider she was who she said she was.

One thing was for sure—her attraction hadn’t reduced at all. It raged at her, giving no surcease. She wouldn’t stop wanting him. She couldn’t stop loving him.

Chapter Eleven

Leith wasn’t too far away, but they drove slowly, for safety’s sake, and arrived in the early morning, as dawn touched the sails on the ships with pink and men were trudging to the docks to begin their day’s work.

Aurelia knew Leith well. Unfortunately, that meant Leith knew her. The masquerade of her being Marcus’s sister wouldn’t work. They agreed that hiding wouldn’t serve any purpose, since by the time the dowager heard of their presence here, they’d be gone. So Marcus set out to ascertain that his leased ship had arrived. The time had come.

They lodged at the inn Aurelia’s family had used before, but they explained they’d had some problems on the road and their luggage was behind them. The landlady tutted, but gave them two rooms on the main floor and promised to send a maid to see to Aurelia’s needs.

Her reputation thrown to the winds, Aurelia settled in her room, a palace compared to the places she’d slept in the past week, and waited for Blaize to join her. When he did, she flew to him, and his arms closed around her as if he wouldn’t ever let go.

With a groan, he settled his lips on hers and took her in a long, sweet kiss. The world was lost and good riddance to it. She gladly opened for him and welcomed his tongue into her mouth, touching hers to his, shyly at first, but his hunger overwhelmed her. He smelled earthy, but not entirely unpleasant. And it was Blaize, the man she’d despaired of seeing ever again.

He ate at her mouth as if it could provide him with sustenance, and his hands went to her breasts. She pushed them into his palms eagerly, aching for his touch.

“No more waiting,” she murmured when he separated their mouths and began to kiss down her throat. “Now, Blaize.”

“I dreamed of you,” he said, frantically kissing his way down her throat. “You kept me alive. Aurelia, I need you.”

The next minute all she was holding was cold air. Blaize stood on the other side of the room by the door. “I won’t. Not like this.”

“Blaize, no!”

“Blaize, yes.” His chest heaved as he drew a few sharp breaths. “I want you for my wife, Aurelia. Not a mistress. We have the rest of our lives, so what’s one night?”

Slowly the world came back to her. The landlady would report that she spent the night with him. Of course, if they were married, it wouldn’t matter. “Can’t we say we’re married and do the deed when we get home?”

“I have a better idea.” He lifted his hand, gestured to the window. “We’re in Scotland. We’ll marry later today. Marcus is out hunting clerics.”

For a moment she couldn’t speak. He was right. They could. If the minister was a stickler and insisted on residential status, she could point out that she was Lady Aurelia Welles of Kentmere Castle. “It’s really happening?”

“Yes, it is. I couldn’t be happier.” He wiped his hand over the lower half of his face. “Well, actually I could. I won’t take you like this, stinking and bearded. It’s not worthy of you. However much we both want it.” He took a cautious step back to her, but he was still feet away. “I touch you and I want you. Simple as that.”

“Me too,” she managed to say, barely, past the lump in her throat. She’d have taken him now, still half wild man, even though the landlady would have told anyone she met. But surely it wouldn’t matter? “We marry today.” It still didn’t sound real, even when she said it aloud.

“We do.” His smile could have melted diamonds. “And I need a bath. Or haven’t you noticed?”

She smiled back. How could she not? “No, not really. Although you’re not as bad today.”

“It rained,” he said simply. “And I stole my guard’s clothes. He won’t need them.” He lifted his arm and sniffed his sleeve. “These aren’t too savoury. I’ll send out for something else. I won’t marry you in these.” He took another step forward and tentatively held out one hand. Shyly, she took it, and he gripped it firmly. “You still want to do this? I don’t mean marry me. You must do that, to retain your position. But you don’t have to get involved in the rest. I have a great many houses and six large estates. You can go to any of those, if you wish, and never see me again. Or live in my house in London and I’ll leave. You know what it will mean, being closely associated with me. You also know you don’t have to do that.”

“You’ll give me your name, but not your body?”

“Something of that nature.” He gave a characteristic one-sided grin. “But now you know what’s involved. You’ll be involved in the struggle. You could die.”

“We all die.”

“I want to convert you.” He said it abruptly, as if he couldn’t stop himself.

She cradled the warmth of his hand and frowned. “Convert me to what?”

“What I am.” He spoke in a rush, as if afraid she would interrupt him. “It will make you stronger, so that you can take care of yourself. Combat others with more power.”

“And what else?”

“Your blood will become ichor. It will be clear, and lethal to humans if they absorb it. You will live longer.”

“How long?”

He shrugged. “As long as you wish. We can’t die through illness or old age, but severe injury will still destroy us. We can drown too. It’s possible to destroy yourself. When we die, our attributes move to the nearest pregnant body. The nearest unborn child.”

“And you want to do that to me? How is it done?”

“We cut ourselves a little. Bring our blood into contact.”

She spotted the flaw immediately. “But if your blood touches me, I’ll die.”

He drew her closer and his voice softened. “Do you think for one moment that I’d hurt you? There’s a test we can do to see if you are compatible, but since your mother is an immortal, I don’t think we’ll have any problems. But this isn’t conditional on the marriage. I’m telling you now so you can think about it. We will marry anyway. How we conduct ourselves afterward is up to us.”

Although she had little choice, he was trying to give her as much as possible. She appreciated that. She loved him for it. He was so far above her level that she couldn’t imagine why he’d ever want her, and she’d never underestimated her own worth before. Supremely practical, she’d never seen the point of it. But now she could. He would live forever, he was powerful and he was fighting a foe that she couldn’t imagine facing.

She no longer doubted him.

The door opened on a knock, admitting Marcus. He let out an exaggerated sigh. “I thought I might find a shoe thrown at the door if I tried to come in. Are you…?”

“Not until tonight. Did you find someone to marry us?” He didn’t release her hand, although he didn’t bring her any closer to him.

“Yes, a cleric not far from here, but we have to wait until tomorrow. He wants to draw up the documents properly, he said. I’m sorry, but that was the best I could do. Unless I put him under thrall and I’m guessing that you want the records and his recollection to be crystal clear. And I found someone to provide clothes.” Not reluctant to show his feelings, he grimaced. “If I’m to spend the night in the same room as you, as I presume I am, then I would be more comfortable if you bathed. I took the liberty of ordering one from the landlady.”

“I was about to do the same. There aren’t three rooms available?”

“No. The house is full. I’ve ordered a meal served privately tonight. But only after you’ve bathed.”

“Thank you.” He meant it, although she sensed reluctance in him. Perhaps he was hungry for real food. He’d eaten what they’d brought with them, and that with an avidity that shamed her. If only they’d reached him sooner! Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed the back, as elegantly as any courtier. “I’ll see you at dinner, my lady.”

“No, he won’t. We’re eating in separate rooms, and from now until the wedding you’ll have a maid with you. Not a perfect chaperone, but nobody can say that we were remiss in any way. The landlady is a gossip. The news that you’re here will be all around the town by tomorrow, and I’m including Edinburgh in that.”

“But nobody will contact my mother.”

“We’ll be next door. We’ll keep your room locked and you’re marrying as early as possible tomorrow. Then we’re getting on board, not coming back here. So don’t unpack.”

That forced a laugh from her, although nerves were already climbing all over her, sending prickles of concern through her whole body.

Marcus must have been a brilliant strategic planner. Apart from the maid snoring, everything came to pass the way he described it. Clothes were waiting for her, fresh, not the best, but certainly better than the travel clothes she’d been using. She found a closed gown in deep pink and a stomacher of ecru satin. The maid dressed her hair and made a reasonable job of it, so that she looked almost herself again. Over the last week she’d made a deliberate effort not to look too much like Lady Aurelia Welles, but now she owned her name again. The relative solitude of the night before gave her a chance to settle her mind and think.

Whenever she was in Blaize’s presence, her thinking processes scattered. She looked at him and she could think of nothing else. The time apart gave her time to consider what life would be like with him. She made a few decisions that night, while she lay in a surprisingly comfortable bed that could have been made of rocks for all the sleep she had. But she’d driven the landlady to distraction by ordering a bath for herself. After all, this was the night before her wedding. Whatever else it might be. And she was unlikely to repeat it.

At home, she’d dress in something fine, but not too elaborate, and go to the family chapel first thing in the morning, where she’d meet her groom. They’d marry in a small, private ceremony, then have a wedding breakfast, which could become loud and raucous. At least nobody insisted on the old bedding ceremony, to witness the losing of her virginity.

Barbaric. She shuddered at the thought.

“Everything all right, my lady?”

She nodded and then smiled. “It’s very good, Youmans. Thank you.” She hadn’t mentioned it was her wedding day. Why should she? But Youmans might pick up her state of nervousness. Even with her rigid training she found it difficult to hide it.

Tonight would be her wedding night. But they’d be on board ship, so they’d be unlikely to have any privacy until they reached London. She could give him her decision then.

Leaving her room, she found Blaize outside. He was leaning against the balcony that ran outside and led to the stairs. The main part of the inn was a large room that was the height of the building in the old-fashioned style, when smoke from the fire was left to find its own way out through the roof.

“Good morning, my lovely one,” he said. “Are you quite ready to meet your fate?” But he said it with a smile, so fond her heart melted all over again. And predictably her mind went into its customary confusion.

When she shook her head in an effort to clear it, he straightened up. “Is that a no?”

“No, no, it’s not. I just feel—I feel
stupid
around you and it annoys me.”

He laughed, so easy they could be back in London and past all this. “Don’t worry, it’s happening to me too. God knows I shouldn’t be doing this, but ever since I saw you I knew you were mine. Let’s accept our fate.”

“It appears we have no choice.” Nor did she want any.

A pleasant-looking gentlemen in cleric’s garb met them at the door of a small church Aurelia had never visited before. Taking her hand gently in his, Blaize led her up the aisle to the altar, where the woman the cleric had employed to act as the second witness waited for them.

The marriage seemed perfectly regular. In England they’d have had to wait three weeks at least, while banns were called, unless they obtained a special licence. Here all they’d had to do was ask.

She made her responses and heard his—quiet, without inflection, but sincere.

And then they were married. They signed the register, Blaize received the certificate and that was it.

Marcus kissed her on both cheeks, but so far Blaize hadn’t done more than take her hand. He gave her a ring, a plain gold band that gleamed on her hand as if it grew there, so well did it fit.

Outside, a carriage waited. Marcus had really thought of everything. Except one thing.

“The marriage settlement,” she said.

Everyone of her condition in life had a marriage settlement. It protected the husband’s estate, insured it remained intact, but provided for the wife. It laid down things like her allowance and what would happen if she were widowed. From what Blaize had told her, that would be unlikely. And she didn’t like to think of it.

“We’ll sort all that out when we get to town,” he said. “You’re never going back to the house your mother is in, and I will care for you with everything I have. You can spend my entire fortune if you wish.”

Marcus spluttered a laugh. “You’ll find that difficult. Mine is extensive enough.”

Blaize raised a brow. “I have amassed a considerable amount, more by accident than design. I have survived with nothing, and I’ve lived in luxury. It means nothing if you’re unsatisfied or unhappy.”

“But you can feel sorry for yourself in comfort,” Marcus said dryly. “Come, we’re here.”

Aurelia had always enjoyed the docks. Once or twice they had taken ship, but her mother disliked being at sea. She said the motion made her queasy, but it had never concerned Aurelia.

The gentle rocking under her feet felt comfortable, and the way the wooden planks of the deck gave a little when she walked on them. Like the floorboards in an old house. But this ship wasn’t what she expected. “Where did you find this?”

Marcus gave a grin, the nearest to boyish that she had seen in him. “A friend berths his yacht at Newcastle. I asked him for a favour.”

Because he’d found them a
yacht
. The late Prince of Wales had enjoyed his yacht. A vessel of the utmost luxury, designed and made for someone of importance. That meant private rooms.

Downstairs—below decks, she should remember to call it, the steward showed them into a room she found surprisingly spacious, furnished as a bedroom.

Finally Blaize let go of her hand, but only to turn and face her. “Are you hungry?”

She shook her head. “I had something at the inn while I was dressing.” She glanced away. “I can’t think of food now. I thought we’d have to wait—I mean, I don’t want to appear forward—” Heat reached the tips of her ears.