Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 (21 page)

“My second embraced who I am. She wanted to convert, so we could spend forever together, she told me. I felt differently for her. In lust as well as love. But she was clever, beautiful and, I’m afraid, as wanton as the god of orgies could ever want.” She wished he wouldn’t smile. That speared right through her, threatening to release the dam of tears blocking her throat.

“I had never met a mortal who could cope with my demands and then ask for more. Who saw me as I truly was and didn’t recoil. It was the love of a man released from a nightmare, who’d found another way to live. But I killed her.”

“You killed her?” Repeating his words stupidly, like her aunt’s parrot who only had one phrase and repeated it over and over until the day he died. She might well do the same. She knew he was capable of it, she couldn’t even hide behind believing that he couldn’t.

“We didn’t wait for the test to rush into the conversion. I was foolish, and enthusiastic, and I should have taken more care, but she was so eager to join me in my world.” He bit his lip.

“What was she like?”

“Beautiful, impulsive, promiscuous—not that I minded because I was too. It was what we did back then. It made no difference to the way we felt about each other. So I agreed to convert her. She obtained blood from another immortal, one of her lovers. I had no idea.”

Not so different, she reflected, thinking of her own mother. While the dowager was discreet, Aurelia had suspected more than once that she’d taken a little dalliance over the years since she’d become a widow. Aurelia had brushed the consideration aside as none of her business. People did that, even the married ones.

But she said nothing. She’d wanted her own marriage to be different. Assumed it would be. Was he telling her that this was a temporary arrangement? Not that divorce was easy or even advisable, but separation was.

Would he use her and then go his own way? For the first time, she realised how she differed from this god standing before her. Living for centuries must give a person a divergent outlook on life. He probably regarded this state of affairs as normal, had gone through it more times than he was telling her.

He continued with his story. “I didn’t know. She used his blood instead of her own in the test. So of course it worked.”

“Why would she do that when she knew it could kill her?”

“She said I was too careful, too fussy, and she desperately wanted the immortality I could give to her. She accused me of making excuses. She took the risk, and when she—died, she confessed her sin and took all the blame. When we brought our blood into direct contact—when we cut our skin and allowed the blood to flow together—I poisoned her. She died.”

He spun around again, staring out of the window, but his hands gave him away. They were clenched in fists by his side, the knuckles white.

A smile curved her lips, bitter and reflective. “You must have loved her very much.”

“I swore then I wouldn’t do it again. Wouldn’t fall in love, wouldn’t marry.”

The pause weighed heavily on her, a burden she could hardly bear.

“But I did both.” His shoulders moved as he sucked in a gust of air and then breathed out again. He turned back to her, and this time he hid nothing. She saw yearning, and a love so profound she could hardly believe it. “The moment I saw you, I fell in love with you. Head over heels, fathoms deep. Unable to stop myself. I threw everything into the wind, all of it, for you. I don’t expect you to believe me. I should have told you this before, and I wish I had. I knew there was enchantment at work, but I didn’t care.”

She found her voice. “I should have asked.” She swallowed, trying to force moisture into her parched throat. “You told me you were old, far older than people thought you were. You couldn’t have gone all that time without being—scarred.”

“No.” He took a step before her, then halted. “Marked by experience, that was all. With you, I was born again, in the best possible way. Washed clean. It felt like that, but I should have known better. I should have told you, but I wanted you so much, I couldn’t bear the thought of your rejection. It was my sin. I promised d’Argento I would tell you everything, promised myself. But I did not.”

How could she feel like this, as if she’d lost something precious? How stupid she was, to imagine that he came to her with a whole heart, as she had to him. Her love was fresh and new. She was his third choice. One day she’d die and he’d carry on, meet someone else. Unless she let him convert her.

It was too much. She couldn’t think about this. Shock after shock, and then the marriage. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was exhausted.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t take any more,” she said. “Not today.” Maybe not any day. She didn’t know. It was only late afternoon, but she desperately needed to rest. “Let me sleep,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll feel differently once I’ve rested.”

He nodded, his jaw set. “Of course. I’ll send a maid to you.”

“I’ll think about it, I promise.”

“Don’t. Rest.” He jammed his hands in his pockets, as if he needed to keep them there or he’d seize her in his arms. She’d like to think so.

She nearly reached for him, but forced herself to stop. The memory of falling asleep in his arms tempted her almost beyond bearing, but she truly needed to think, to let all she’d learned sink in and become real to her.

So she let him cross the room and glance back at her, his mouth kicking up in an encouraging smile that nearly killed her. “Sleep well, my love. I’ll have dinner sent up to you. Take your time.”

Chapter Twelve

He should have told her. His cowardice had forced him to hold it back. He loved her too much to risk letting her go so he’d kept to himself the piece of information that would have hurt her the most. Only fair he should pay for it.

Shock would account for the numbness in her eyes. So would extreme hurt. And he’d caused it by telling her of his previous loves. Yes, he’d loved before, and if he hadn’t told her the details, would he have made her happier?

He did what he always did when emotion threatened to swamp him. He found something else to do.

The next morning, while he didn’t feel any better, Blaize had accomplished several tasks. He’d restored himself to the appearance he wished to present to the world, from perfectly manicured nails to exquisitely arranged neckcloth. And he knew what his quarry had been doing.

The dowager had attended balls, claiming that her daughter was indisposed and had gone into the country for a few days. He could work with that story, but she’d have to tweak it if she wanted Aurelia to present a respectable face to the world. Or Blaize would take great pleasure in ruining her.

And he could do it, by fair means or by any other way that presented itself.

He strode into his study to find someone already in occupation. D’Argento sat there, booted feet up on his desk, crossed at the ankle.

Blaize grinned tightly. “I won’t ask how you got in here. You used your exceptional powers of persuasion, did you not?”

D’Argento returned his smile. “You said you wouldn’t ask.”

“It was rhetorical. Who did you manipulate?”

“The pleasant footman who let me in. I told him you were expecting me, and I gave him the mental persuasion until he was sure I was right. It didn’t take much. I was about to call for a maid and persuade her that you wanted nothing more than to give me coffee and perhaps something to eat.”

“Breakfast is an hour off.” Since he couldn’t sleep, he’d risen early. In just a few days he’d grown used to sleeping with Aurelia, and he missed her more than he’d ever missed anyone before. He’d never been entirely comfortable sleeping with someone else before, but now his arms felt empty without her, and his bed too cold. “I can hurry it along. My cook is the best.”

D’Argento rolled his eyes. “I know. I ate here before, remember? You should get married, then you could have dinners and social events here. Really give your cook something to do.”

“I did,” he said calmly, already on his way to the door. “Marry, I mean.”

D’Argento made a sound, a kind of “Argh!” cry and then another, then a low, menacing growl, as if he’d lost the power of speech. Rather as if he was about to explode.

Blaize calmly placed the order for breakfast to be brought forward. “And maybe someone would like to see if her ladyship is awake yet. She might appreciate a meal in bed.”

He should have known his wife better by now. By the time he led d’Argento into the breakfast parlour, she was seated at the table calmly buttering a slice of toast. His heart rejoicing at the sight of her, he crossed the room and kissed her cheek. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

Her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink when she saw d’Argento. “Good morning,” she whispered.

“And congratulations,” d’Argento said, with an easy smile. He would show none of his uneasiness before her, his innate courtesy too polished to allow that to happen.

“Thank you.” She bit into her toast. “Have you seen the Duke of Lyndhurst?”

D’Argento shrugged and spread his hands. “I came straight here. After depositing my companion at his house.”

Aurelia paused, then put her toast carefully back on the plate. “You found my brother?”

“I did. He requested for the chance to put off his traveling dirt and begs to inform Stretton that he would be visiting later today. Of course, since I had no idea of the events that occurred while I was away, he assumed he’d find you at his mother’s house.”

“Where was he?” Her voice was so hushed, Blaize knew she was affected by the news.

“I would have located him faster if he’d been in France, where he was supposed to be,” d’Argento said. “Instead I found a stack of unposted letters, detailing amusing anecdotes about the French court, and no duke. If I didn’t have other means of persuasion, I could have wasted even more time but once I’d finally traversed the hallways of Versailles and found him totally absent, I located his body servant and discovered his location. Which meant another journey. But I found him, and as you can see, I am here.”

He bestowed a beatific smile on Blaize. “I flatter myself that nobody else could have accomplished what I did. He had set several false trails.”

“Intriguing,” Blaize said. “Tell me more.”

“I fear that any further and I would be breaking a confidence. I’ll allow him to tell you for himself, if he wishes to.” He sent Aurelia a glance. “Although your news overtops anything he has to say. I fear he might not take this easily.”

“If you wish to visit your mother, I’ll accompany you,” Blaize told Aurelia. He would do anything for her, but not allow her to go into danger on her own. Where her mother lived, danger resided.

“Not yet.” Again, the fast response.

He got to his feet and went to the sideboard. “Should you prefer me to fill a plate for you?” She should eat. She needed to keep up her strength. Today wouldn’t be the easy day he’d envisioned with time to talk and rest. No hiatus for them. Since her brother had returned, he couldn’t keep her away from any trouble, either. She’d want to see him.

She replied in the assent, and he took care to select only the best of what was on offer and not to overfill the plate. He’d have preferred to feed her himself, from a tray brought up to their room, but that was a happy memory. He would have it back, if he possibly could.

Dismissing the seductive scene from his mind, he took her plate over, ensured the coffeepot and teapot were within her reach and went back to the sideboard, where he helped himself to considerably more than he’d given to her.

D’Argento had some coffee. “This is what I need more than anything else.” He glanced at Aurelia. “Your brother is an interesting person.”

Her mouth relaxed into a smile. “Thank you.”

“I came to warn Stretton to expect him sometime today, but now I’ve heard your news, I expect he’ll be here sooner rather than later.”

Blaize was vaguely disappointed when nobody hammered on the front door demanding entrance. It would have satisfied his sense of drama. Instead he settled for collecting all the information he could before the no-doubt precipitate arrival of the Duke of Kentmere. “Did you find him well?”

“Thriving.” D’Argento speared a morsel of kidney, examined it critically and popped it in his mouth. He finished, took a sip of coffee and continued. “He believed his sister safe, but suspected something and went to discover more.” He grinned. “He was tolerably pleased to see me, once I’d introduced myself properly.”

The sapphire on d’Argento’s finger twinkled in the bright sunlight when he lifted his hand to help himself to more coffee. Although relatively early—and he’d probably not stopped to rest since he returned home—his appearance was immaculate. His town coat of the same blue as his jewel was perfectly fitted, his waistcoat without a crease or a mark and embroidered in the finest thread. And yet Blaize could remember him in the filthiest of rags, fighting by his side. At home anywhere.

Today he could walk out of this room and go straight to Court. Probably better dressed than the King. Blaize was damned glad to see him, especially after the last two weeks.

Rapidly, he brought d’Argento up to date with proceedings since his friend had left town. D’Argento listened with barely a lifted brow, but didn’t interrupt until Blaize got to the part of the marriage. “You could have dusted things over. Escorted her to Scotland on the event of a family illness. Invented a chaperone.”

“Lyndhurst informed me that it was either him or Stretton,” Aurelia said. “That I had to return to town married.”

“Nonsense,” d’Argento said roundly. “You are the daughter of a duke. You could have brushed past it. It’s only the nonentities and the newcomers who need be concerned.”

“Totally not. The gossip-sheets glory when the mighty fall,” Blaize said.

“They do,” Aurelia replied, “but none of that mattered very much to me. I would have married Blaize anyway.”

The pause gave Blaize a chance to gather his sangfroid. She’d stated that in front of another? The anxiety that had kept him awake all night thawed a little. “I feel the same way.”

“Of course you do,” snapped d’Argento. “You are meant to. It sounds as if men were falling over each other trying to kiss Lady Stretton’s tiny feet.” He shrugged. “I felt some of the enchantment myself. Is the Duchess of Lyndhurst a witch, then?”

“Did you not discover her identity? Did her son not tell you?”

“He doesn’t know.” D’Argento sighed. “She knows he is an immortal, of course, but he has stubbornly refused to provide her with proof. And so he hasn’t asked her about her own immortality because that would force the issue. I tell you, you tell me.”

“Not all the children born at Hill House that day carried the spirit of an immortal,” Blaize pointed out. “And not all the immortals found their way there. Otherwise our task would be considerably easier. Some went in the other direction.” He reached for the teapot and found it empty. A shame. He’d call for more, but they needed to gather their plans before Kentmere’s imminent arrival. “Was he enchanted too? Kentmere?”

“For quite a while, one gathers,” d’Argento said. “Another reason for his trip. To escape her influence. He is himself now.”

The expected thundering on the front door finally arrived. When the butler came in with the silver tray, Blaize nodded and managed to add, “A fresh pot of tea wouldn’t go amiss,” before the breakfast parlour door was flung open and in strode a man who must be Aurelia’s brother.

He stalked to her end of the table and stood by her side.

Blaize hadn’t needed that to note the resemblance between the siblings. Garbed in fashionable, though not over-elaborate clothes, Kentmere was a tall man of athletic build. He appeared to advantage in current fashions. Interesting that he wore his own hair tied back in a simple queue. Fair hair too. An interesting contrast to Aurelia’s dark-haired beauty, but a familial resemblance certainly existed between them in the shape of their faces, the full lips and pellucid complexion. However, where that made Aurelia beautiful, it merely added to her brother’s austere handsomeness.

Kentmere placed a proprietorial hand on the back of Aurelia’s chair. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing I didn’t want,” she said.

“I thought you were safe with Mama,” he said. “I certainly was not, but she never showed a moment’s cruelty to you.”

“I worried about you, Edmund,” she answered him, placing a soft hand over his. Blaize knew what that hand felt like. “Why were you in danger from Mama?”

“I’ll explain to you when we’re home.” His voice was mellifluous, rich with musicality. Another point of interest for anyone trying to discover what attributes the man before him possessed. A god of music? Apollo?

“She
is
home,” Blaize pointed out. “We married in Leith before we took ship to come here. This is now her town residence.”

Kentmere didn’t waver. “I will challenge that, naturally. I would prefer if you named your seconds, sir.”

It took a moment for Blaize to process that challenge, so astounding did he find it. “I wouldn’t meet my brother-in-law. Nor would I challenge a fellow Ancient.”

Kentmere said nothing, just glared.

Blaize waited.

D’Argento sighed heavily into the silence. “You won’t meet,” he said. “Kentmere, now is the time to tell us who you are and what you expect to happen. Your sister is married. Accept it.”

“She is not. I have sworn to protect her, and that I will do to the best of my ability.” He raised his hand.

Blaize reacted with a blur of speed and power. Nobody would hurt his wife, not even her brother.

As Kentmere unleashed a whip of power, the slash of his hand releasing an arrow of fury aimed straight at his heart, Blaize reacted without thinking, defending the woman he loved with a flare of anger, knocking away the arrow and sending a shot of pure power straight at his opponent’s heart.

“Nobody takes her from me,” he growled.

Kentmere shoved Aurelia aside—as if Blaize would ever put her in danger—and kicked out, knocking the table over. It fell with a crash of glass, porcelain and the harsh clatter of silver, but Blaize barely glanced at it. Only to ensure Aurelia was not hurt, and then he was knocking aside another arrow. Fashioned of air and fire, it flamed toward him. As Blaize ducked, the weapon skimmed past his cheek, leaving a searing line of pain behind.

From his position down low, he sent a returning bolt. Not as elegant, perhaps, but more effective, since Kentmere had obviously expected his arrow to take Blaize down. This time the compressed force had its effect. It struck Kentmere in the centre of his forehead and the man fell.

“Impressive.” D’Argento had his arm around Aurelia, preventing her from racing forward. At the same time the door to the breakfast room was flung open yet again, only this time to admit a servant.

Kentmere had keeled backwards, his full length now splayed against the polished parquet floor.

“He’s not dead.” Blaize glanced at the appalled footman. “Have him taken upstairs and put into a guest bedroom.” The footman bowed with a perfunctory gesture Blaize didn’t usually encourage and left the room.

“I’ll attend to him,” d’Argento said. After all, he was a physician. The god of physicians. “You struck him rather hard. Maybe too hard.”

“He offered violence. Aurelia could have been hurt.” While not an explanation, at least it was a reason. Blaize had reacted from instinct rather than rational thought. The man had threatened to take his wife from him, then he’d attacked him with a weapon Aurelia shouldn’t have seen.

At least he knew who Kentmere was. “I think we’ve discovered our Cupid,” he said thoughtfully. “One with quite a temper.” He straightened his sleeves, tugged his neckcloth to restore it to order.