Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 (24 page)

“Sometimes. It’s good to give up control from time to time. To let someone else worry and take responsibility.”

Yes, it must have been hard sometimes. She hadn’t realised before. “I have a lot to learn. It’s just as well I have a master to teach me.”

“Thank you. But I’ll learn as much from you.”

“I’m here, I’m with you, and I’m a god?”

Laughing he hugged her close. “Demigod, my darling. Don’t get too carried away.”

She laughed with him, total joy infusing her. But out of nowhere weariness crept over her, swamping her with fatigue. “Goodness, I’m tired.”

“I told you that would happen, didn’t I? Your brother is still unconscious, but he’s well. He’ll come around soon, and be assured, I’ll wake you then. But for now, rest. You need it. Your body needs to catch up with what you are now.”

He had told her. And she couldn’t think of a more comfortable place to sleep. Nestling in, she slept.

Blaize could think of nothing he’d rather do than stay here and hold his wife until she recovered. At any other time, he would have consigned the world to hell, and done just that. He meant it when he told her she was the most important person in the world to him. But he’d seen her through the worst of the ordeal that had turned out to be anything but an ordeal.

When they were making love and he’d realised he’d have to fight to get out from under her, he rejoiced and let her have her way. She was pressing so hard on his chest she was making it hard for him to breathe. That was the first sign that the blending had had its effect and she’d joined him. There would be no sudden moment, no epiphany, but a gradual conversion for her. She could enter his world at her own pace, learning her strength and her powers. Since she was a demigod, she wouldn’t have attributes, no curse like his. Only extra strength, extra life, and he prayed she’d want to spend it with him.

He was fathoms deep in love with her. No way of getting out and no chance he would ever want to.

The doorbell rang, the clanging a discordant sound, even two floors away. He’d have to see to that, get a quieter one. He couldn’t have his wife’s sleep disturbed.

Although his doorbell rang several times a day, the jangling usually heralded a social visit from a friend, or a petitioner, or even a business call, but this could only be one person.

He beckoned to a maid who had just emerged from the servant’s entrance. “Go and sit with her ladyship, if you please, in case she wishes for anything when she awakes. Do not allow anyone else into the room and send for me immediately if anyone tries to gain entrance.”

The maid curtseyed and nodded, then hurried away.

Calling mentally to d’Argento, he discovered the man was in the drawing room, so he made haste to join him. He wanted a few words before the servants showed the dowager in. He had felt her presence the minute she entered the house. His lair.

“Your lady is well?” d’Argento said when Blaize entered the room.

Smiling, Blaize nodded. “She is resting.” He paused, but d’Argento needed to know. “I converted her.”

“I know. I sensed the presence of a new immortal. I’m more than glad for you, my friend.”

Those words, spoken quietly, meant a great deal to Blaize. “Thank you.” D’Argento knew what he’d suffered before, and how much he regretted his actions of the past. Men often said “this time it will be different”, and he vowed that would be the case. He would never put anyone or anything above his wife. Including himself.

“Why would the dowager come here?” d’Argento was sitting, seemingly at ease, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. “Does she imagine she’s so powerful she’s impossible to defeat?”

“We can hope so,” Blaize responded. “That way we can finish this today. She may not realise we aren’t of the new generation. I falsified my death and you simply disappeared for a few years. If we’re new, then we’re not as accomplished.”

D’Argento shrugged. “We shall see. Did you sense her?”

Blaize nodded. “She didn’t bother to hide her presence. On the contrary, she forced it on us. I shall have to calm ruffled servant sensibilities.”

“You don’t employ immortals?” d’Argento said.

Blaize snorted. “And how do I locate them?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” d’Argento answered, but waved his had dismissively. “I’ll tell you later. An idea I had while I was hunting down our miserable protégée. Do we have a plan?”

“To kill her?”

“You’d kill your mother-in-law?” D’Argento arched a brow.

“Without a second thought.”

The door opened to admit the butler who held the expected salver and the card. Blaize waved him away. “Show her up, please, and send up some refreshments. I fear we must prepare ourselves to receive more female visitors in the future.”

The butler didn’t turn a hair, but Blaize sensed his disquiet. He employed the best staff he could find, but he’d given them an easy time of it. If he lost any because of his marriage, his reference might not be kind. However, the man left, and a maid arrived. They must have prepared refreshments in advance, because a tray of beautifully set tea things and small delicacies stood waiting for them.

Blaize wondered where they’d come from, since normally he didn’t bother with such fol-de-rols. Maybe they made them for themselves downstairs. He didn’t object to that, since the domestics performed their duties more than adequately.

A quick glance at d’Argento told Blaize that his friend was as tense as he. They knew each other well. “Plan?” Blaize suggested.

D’Argento’s response was a hollow laugh. “Speak to me mentally, deep in our minds. Be wary of touching her or meeting her eyes. Either she is a powerful witch or she knows one. As well as being a Titan.”

Blaize gave a terse nod. The door opened again and the butler bowed the dowager in.

The lady responded shortly to their bows, but took in the elegant room with surprise arching her brows. “My daughter is here? I expected her to receive me.”

“I haven’t informed her of your arrival. She’s resting, but remain assured she’s perfectly well.”

The duchess lifted her chin. “I wouldn’t have allowed that in my home.”

“She’s had an exhausting journey from Scotland, so I gave orders for her not to be disturbed.” He gestured to a seat. “Will you not sit?”

The duchess inclined her head in a manner worthy of a queen and deigned to sit on the gilded sofa. The blue upholstery contrasted well with her blood-red gown. She waited until Blaize and d’Argento had taken seats, one either side of her, but between her and the door. Her face betrayed nothing. Although Aurelia didn’t particularly resemble her mother, there were echoes of her in the bone structure of this woman, and her eyes. The duchess waved away offers of tea.

Sick of dissimulation, Blaize decided to get to the point. He had no time for this. “Who are you?” he demanded abruptly.

Her shocked laugh rent the air. “You think I’d tell you that?” If her brows arched any more, they’d reach her hairline. “How foolish do you think I am?”

“I merely thought a little honesty would help.”

She regarded them closely. “I came for my daughter. And to discover the whereabouts of my son. I can sense my daughter here, but not him. So tell me where he is.”

Blaize transmitted his surprise to d’Argento and d’Argento returned,
I didn’t do that. Maybe he’s developed a shield against his mother.

That stands to reason. That should help us.

A shame he hadn’t thought to do the same for Aurelia.

The dowager studied them both, and he felt the warmth that indicated another mind trying to penetrate his own. He let her, but only to a certain level. As if he were human. He’d spent years developing that pattern, so that anyone reading him wouldn’t immediately know he was immortal. She could read that part. He could send her images of himself and Aurelia making love. With any other woman he wouldn’t have hesitated, but the notion of exposing Aurelia like that raised his ire and forced him to push those images down so deep nobody could connect with them.

She was his. Those memories were his. Theirs. Nobody else’s.

While he waited, d’Argento would be at work. Not for nothing was he the messenger of the gods. His communication skills were unparalleled. If he, Blaize, took the brunt of the conversation and left him to work, d’Argento would come up with some answers.

“Have you finished?” he said pleasantly to the duchess. “I should tell you that yes, we’re all perfectly well and we appreciate your story of a sick relative. Add a private engagement to that and we can brush this off in society well enough. If you behave cordially to us, at least in public.”

She waved a hand in dismissal. “The fools will think what I want them to.”

“And it’s always been that way?”

He got a reaction from her—blankness, followed by her customary arrogance. “Naturally.”

So it hadn’t always been that way. “What were you before you became the Duchess of Kentmere?”

She shrugged. “A nobody. I preferred it that way. I needed to put some time between my last human existence and this one, so I lived quietly for a while as a country widow. Did you not do the same?”

That was turning the tables with a vengeance. Now
she
was fishing for answers. Which meant his mental barrier had held.
She didn’t know
. “Did I?” Since he’d started again after the explosion she could well assume that he was one of the new, weaker generation. “I had no choice, if you remember. Did you have anything to do with that?”

“With what?” Her blank, polite query didn’t fool him.

“The explosion. The disaster.”

“Hardly a disaster. Don’t you think? It cleared the air and helped to get rid of a lot of old grudges.”

Blaize’s fury rose to choke him, but he didn’t need d’Argento’s
Careful!
to warn him. He kept his barriers intact. People he loved had died in that explosion. His father had died. He would never forgive the perpetrators for that. Jupiter was reborn, but in a different body, a different person. His father was gone.

Her complacency infuriated him. Everything about her infuriated him. But he picked up something from that astonishing comment, more than her trying to rile him. “You like order, don’t you?”

“Most people do.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why, don’t you?” She was prevaricating again.

“Doesn’t everybody?” If he didn’t, he’d have nothing to destroy in his mad times. If everyone was mad, what was one more madman? He needed that order to create disorder. “What do you want?”

Waiting for the signal that d’Argento was in position and ready to attack, he was running out of things to say to this despicable woman.

“My daughter. I’ve come to take her home. You’re right, we will brush over this incident. But I wanted her for Lyndhurst, and she will have him. I know who he is, and what he represents. I can use him. You I don’t know and I don’t care for. I will destroy you.”

That surprised a splutter of laughter from d’Argento. “So sure, madam!”

She arched a brow. “And why should I not be?”

“You haven’t succeeded in the past thirty years. What makes you think you can succeed now?”

It was true; if they could have succeeded in subduing the world to their will, the Titans would have done it. But the struggles of the Olympians left, plus their hidden allies—the few humans who knew about them, the minor immortals who made themselves known like the nymphs and muses—had fought them battle by battle, forcing them back until the Olympians were ready to return.

“It takes time. And planning.”

Again the organisation. Under her fashionable paint and powdered hair lay another mask, one Blaize couldn’t penetrate. That was some indication of her power. Also that she was comfortable and Blaize didn’t like that. He needed to make something clear.

“Aurelia is married to me. It’s legal and it’s what we both want. You are not taking her.”

“I am.” She got to her feet, the skirts of her majestic red gown swirling around her before they settled. “Enough. I’m tired of this.” She turned her head and gazed at d’Argento. “You cannot move. You think I couldn’t feel you, skulking around inside me? Remain still.” Utter contempt rang in her voice.

No. Oh, no
. She’d used his skill against him to trap him. Blaize slipped into d’Argento’s mind, looking for the places where his friend had left deliberately weak points. D’Argento sat frozen in his chair. Once Blaize got to him, he could restore him. She’d used the simple trick of blocking him inside his mind, but that wouldn’t keep him prisoner for long. Only if he’d been new, but she didn’t know that.

“Give it up, Mother.”

Shock forced him to turn his head. Standing in the open doorway, leaning wearily against the doorjamb, stood Kentmere. His hair flowed down to his shoulders, and he’d dressed simply, in breeches and shirt, giving him a wild, otherworldly appearance.

The duchess allowed herself a moment of surprise before she straightened. “I’m glad you came down, my son. You look appalling. Come home.”

The power of her persuasion should have brought her son to his knees. It wasn’t aimed at Blaize but he felt its strength. But Kentmere stood strong.

D’Argento shook himself free from her hold. Easy now that she was concentrating on someone else. He rose, taking a stance so that the three men formed a triangle with equal sides, a shape of power.

Kentmere nodded at d’Argento. “I’m obliged to you,” he said. That was all, but it conveyed more than simple gratitude. It stated his allegiance. He was an Olympian and he would join with them.

He smiled sadly at his mother. “I will come home when you are gone. I don’t want you to return to the castle. I’ll provide you with a comfortable residence of your choosing, but not that. I have found something to fight for, Mother. I don’t respond to you any longer.”

“You will.” So determined, so arrogant, she refused to give up.

Blaize nodded at Kentmere, who gave a terse acknowledgment. They had to trust he could hold his corner. As if shaking out a whip, Blaize uncurled his power, sending it in both directions, to Kentmere and to d’Argento. At the same moment, d’Argento did the same.