Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 (25 page)

A thin, blue line of light shot between the participants. Relief flooded through Blaize as he felt Kentmere’s lash of power. Sparks, blue and white sprang from the lines, now held taut between all three of them. Nobody, mortal or immortal, could pass that barrier without serious injury or death.

The duchess glared at the lines with contempt. “Do you think that will hold me?”

“Long enough for us to kill you, yes,” Blaize said.

“You know what will happen then.”

For a brief moment Blaize felt sorry that he hadn’t impregnated Aurelia. If he had, she could have taken charge of the immortal that would be released with the death of the dowager. But he wouldn’t wish that on her. It would hurt her, because, despite everything, Aurelia still loved her mother. For that reason alone, he would do everything he could not to kill her.

It didn’t matter. Kentmere should not do the deed. He was her son, and sons should never kill their mothers. Blaize didn’t want to, but there was one other here who could do it with a clear conscience. D’Argento. If she was planning to enslave the people of the country he loved, then someone had to stop her.

He felt her presence before he saw it. Then she appeared in the doorway standing next to her brother. Aurelia wore a loose silk robe, the ends tied firmly around her waist, her hair loose, hastily pushed back behind her shoulders and adorably tousled. She glanced at her brother and smiled, but her face tensed when she saw the line.

“Don’t move!” Blaize warned her, but Kentmere already had an arm around her shoulders, holding her close, but firmly, so she couldn’t cross the sparkling blue line.

“What are you doing?”

Not, apparently, killing this woman. They couldn’t do that with her daughter looking on, at least he could not. But they could still incapacitate her. It would be better to do that, Blaize belatedly recalled, the mist of anger dissipating a little. Then they could keep her imprisoned. Perhaps give her a taste of that hellish maze. That would be sweet.

He communicated his intent to the others. While he received reluctant consent from d’Argento, Kentmere agreed wholeheartedly. And deep down, in the area he reserved for Aurelia, he soothed her, not trying to send words, but waves of comfort.

You have to do this,
she said sadly.

He nodded.

“Damaged goods,” the dowager said coldly. “But with Aurelia’s fortune, we can brush through it. As long as the marriage doesn’t become generally known.”

Blaize knew better than to remind her of the official records. They’d married in Leith and he was sure she could send someone to the parish in question and have the report expunged. Not that he’d allow that to happen without a fight.

“She’s married to me. I’ll marry her as many times as I have to.”

“And I will do the same,” Aurelia said. Only Blaize heard the tears in her voice, and only because he knew her so well. Better than anyone else in the world.

The line was holding steady. With a flick of his wrist, he extended another, above her head, and almost instantly d’Argento and Kentmere sent lines out to join it. Now they had the pyramid, its apex above the dowager’s head.

She only laughed. “You think I came here with nothing to protect me?”

With a wave of her arm, a vision shimmered before them, brief but telling. Lyndhurst, naked but for his breeches, his body scored by dozens of marks, cuts, lashes from whips. He was tied between two pillars, and his head sagged.

“I have him,” she said. “He’s mine, be sure of that.”

Damn. The man who had grown up apart from the immortals hadn’t learned what he needed to protect himself from a powerful Titan. With any number of curses, ancient and modern, Blaize tested her vision and saw only truth. No illusion, that. How could they have allowed this to happen? Why hadn’t they kept closer watch on him?

Because Blaize had let his concentration slip, for the first time in years. Maybe thirty years. That was why. And d’Argento was occupied with Kentmere for the time it took for the dowager to secure Mars.

“You are keeping him like that in your parlour, one presumes?” he said, keeping his tones to a fashionable drawl. He didn’t carry a quizzing-glass, but he wished he had, so he could level it at her. He was maintaining the lines with one hand. He still had the other free.

D’Argento had gone still again, but not because of a temporary paralysis. She wouldn’t do that again, now he had the measure of her. He was sending out his senses, trying to locate Lyndhurst.

“I keep him in the cellar,” she said. “Of which house you are at liberty to try to discover. When I have my daughter back, I will restore him to health and he may marry her.”

“She’s married to me,” Blaize pointed out patiently. How many times did he have to repeat it?

She shrugged, showing every evidence of insouciance. “And for that, you must die. Unfortunately, in the public eye as well. Otherwise I’d just do away with you.”

“And how do you propose to do that? With the mysterious green concoction that you made her drink?” It rankled Blaize that the duchess had forced Aurelia to continue to take the herbs that had kept her in line. While he didn’t think her mother had gone so far as to keep her in thrall, he did believe she had used Aurelia to draw men to her until she found the ones she wanted.

The duchess gave a sharp, ugly laugh, so unlike her usual society musical tones that Blaize was forced to believe she meant it. Something had amused her. “That was a recipe guaranteed to keep her healthy and beautiful. No magic involved, just a mixture of things she should take regularly. As a child Aurelia took a dislike to all green vegetables. I made sure she got them.”

Blaize curled his lip. “You expect me to believe that when I know you for a witch?”

I don’t think she’s the witch. She’s shown no sign of powerful witchcraft. She has the skills of the immortal, but not of a sorceress.
That from d’Argento.

He was right. An enchantress as powerful as the one who’d set a spell on Aurelia would have shown evidence of her power by now, if only with that tingle immortals generally felt in the presence of ancient and powerful magic. Some didn’t believe in it, so rare was it, but Blaize knew better. It existed, and because it was so primitive it was not as predictable or as controllable as the powers immortals usually wielded.

She’s not a witch,
Kentmere said, confirming what they thought. “You’re hardly Circe, are you, Mother?”

The mention of the powerful sorceress who had kept Odysseus in thrall made the lady smile. Was that it? Was that her identity? Surely a witch that powerful had the means of cloaking her power.

“No,” she admitted.

“When I was abroad, I found a mentor. It took a separation of months and a great deal of tuition for me to work out the conundrum,” Kentmere continued. “You’re Themis, aren’t you?”

Chapter Thirteen

With an exclamation of fury, the duchess showed her claws. Blue fire flashed from her fingertips, temporarily pushing through the line. Enough to sear a line down Blaize’s arm. Keeping her identity secret had given her an advantage. Now the Olympians could hone their attacks on her, make them more effective.

The knowledge shot into Blaize’s brain, relayed by d’Argento.
Themis, Titan, goddess of order, law and keeping the status quo. Opposed to innovation. Her will is law. She may have foresight. Presides over the oracles at Delphi.

Blaize let the warmth of the knowledge surge through him. He was her worst enemy. The god of disorder, madness, raging insanity, he knew now how he could beat her. And he would. With a finality that would send a message to the other Titans, wherever they were hidden.

They couldn’t win today, not with a cost that would cripple their cause. However young Lyndhurst was, he was still one of the principal gods and they needed his martial expertise for the coming struggle.

Abruptly, he dropped his hand, breaking the connection. “I won’t stop looking.”

Kentmere, his arm around Aurelia, nodded and moved into the room, leaving the path to the door clear. “Leave,” he said.

D’Argento said nothing, only watched. The duchess walked to the door, her steps measured, almost leisurely, then turned, her skirts swishing about her. “I will give you a day to return my daughter to me. And, my son, I want you back too. I have birthed you both and you owe me that, at least. Come home. If not, after that, Mars dies. And probably more. How do you know how many immortals I have under my control?”

She was right, damn her.

But Blaize was already formulating a plan. He would defeat her and now he knew how. Except for one problem.

After embracing her brother and exclaiming over his recovery, Aurelia went to her room and changed, leaving Blaize and Edmund to resolve their dispute. After all, Blaize had rendered Edmund unconscious.

Because they were not receiving this evening, she chose an informal sacque gown, one of her favourites, in white silk with little blue forget-me-nots scattered haphazardly over the fabric, giving an impression of charming disarray. It was good to have her own clothes back. At least her mother hadn’t prevented that.

Not that her mind was even halfway involved with what she would wear. A maid arranged her hair in a simple style, a loose knot with ringlets falling over one shoulder, and she selected her pearl necklace and earrings. Her mother had sent her enough belongings to make herself respectable, but not all of them. A silent message that the dowager was awaiting the return of her daughter. She’d have to wait a long time because Aurelia was never going back.

Selecting the clothes gave her a peaceful few moments and dressing another restful half hour, a time she badly needed to assimilate what had happened downstairs. She’d never seen such a blatant—and frankly terrifying—display of power. That crackling, sparkling line, so intensely blue, so menacing, had frozen her for the moment it took Edmund to put a restraining arm around her. He’d also taken the opportunity to give her a quick, reassuring hug.

She had so much to say to him. Presumably he’d know of her conversion, the results of which seemed nebulous until she recalled Blaize’s comments about her strength. She tried hefting a hairbrush, squeezing, and gazed with shock at the result. The buckled, twisted silver had taken as much effort to achieve as cracking a walnut.

And would she live forever? Did she want to?

She would hold on to the knowledge and not try to make sense of it. That would come in time. For now, let Blaize cope with the crisis any way he could, and the rest would flow from there. One way or another.

It was that last caveat that caused her to pause.

Downstairs, the drawing room was restored to its pristine elegance, and the men sat around conversing as people did before a meal. Despite others being present, Blaize gave her a kiss on the lips that was neither friendly nor too passionate. Loving, with a sweet pressure that reminded her of all kinds of wicked, intimate things. But when she closed her eyes and breathed him in, the desire returned, as powerful as if they’d done nothing since Scotland.

Blaize led her to the sofa and sat with her, retaining her hand in his. Edmund handed her a sherry. “You’ll need a little fortification, sister dear.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek. “Congratulations.” He glanced at Blaize. “Probably. You will treat her well.” That was a command, not a request.

“I have every intention of doing so,” Blaize said smoothly.

“We must endeavour not to repeat yesterday’s misunderstanding. I assumed you were a Titan, since I’ve had no luck finding Olympians in this country. An Ancient who took advantage of my absence.”

Blaize nodded. “In these times we must all be on our guard. Be assured I would injure myself before I laid one finger in anger on your sister.” He paused. “My wife.”

Edmund jerked a nod. “Indeed.” Shaking out the sleeve ruffles on his coat, he sat. “I’ll have to send for my clothes. My mother may have the London house for the remainder of the Season, I meant it about turning her out of the castle. That is the principal seat of the Dukes of Kentmere. She’ll have to make do with one of the other residences.”

“What happened to your father?” Blaize asked.

Because of her new awareness, Aurelia sensed the tension that invaded her brother, although he showed nothing outwardly. “What is it, Edmund?” Blaize wrapped her hand in his warmly.

Edmund studied her, then shook his head. “I will tell you another time. We have enough to deal with for now.”

“She murdered him, didn’t she?” She bit her lip. “You mustn’t be afraid of upsetting me. So much was kept from me that I want to know everything. I didn’t know our father, don’t forget. He died shortly after my birth.”

Reluctantly, Edmund nodded. “I believe she did. You were born mortal. I think he objected to her plans for you.”

Aurelia found she could feel sorrow for someone she’d never met. Blaize squeezed her hand, and she glanced at him, taking comfort from his presence before turning her attention back to her brother. Edmund met her gaze and then gave Blaize the same cool-eyed study. “I have learned. I located an immortal abroad, and I’ve been her pupil. She taught me much. Our mother enchanted men and used Aurelia as bait to draw them to her. I have no idea how many she did away with in her search for immortals. If they were of no use to her, then she’d destroy them.”

His steady voice drew her in, as it always had when he’d told her stories when she’d been a little girl. “You are still enchanted, Aurelia. It doesn’t affect you; you’re the magnet.” He turned his attention to Blaize. “You see what I mean?”

Blaize closed his eyes, sighed. “I know. The moment I saw Aurelia, I wanted her. I thought—I didn’t think. I don’t care. She is my wife now and she will remain that way. I have faith in what we have.”

“It might not last. It might not be as powerful. You could end up hating each other.”

Blaize gave a derisory laugh. “How many marriages have you just described? It won’t happen, I tell you.”

But Aurelia wasn’t so sure. Her emotions were true and real. She knew that. But her heart plummeted when she thought he might fall out of love with her.

At that moment, the butler came in to inform them that dinner was ready and Aurelia discovered she had quite an appetite after all. Two courses of eight dishes each provided an elegant repast, and she tucked in with a will. Since the meal was an informal one, she had no compunction in dismissing the attendants. The footmen glanced at Blaize, who ignored them, and then they obeyed their new mistress.

“We’ll ring when we need you,” she said, indicating the small handbell at her side. They bowed as they left.

They discussed nothing important while they filled their bellies, but once Aurelia closed her knife and fork on her plate, she watched the men discuss the merits of the short sword in elegant swordplay and wondered.

The change in her was subtle, not obvious unless she wanted to use one of her newfound powers. Speaking mentally, extra strength. She drank the wine sparingly, as she wanted to stay awake for the ensuing discussion that must take place although the fatigue Blaize had warned her about was already adding weights to her eyelids and sluggishness to her thoughts. The notion of bed, with clean sheets and her man to keep her warm beckoned temptingly. She’d excuse herself as soon as she could.

Blaize glanced at her once or twice, but said nothing, either mentally or aloud about her condition. She appreciated that he trusted her to manage how she felt, without swamping her in care, but he remained with her, his support adding strength to her. How she could feel so content when so much was going on defeated her but here, in this elegant dining room, with its dark red walls and the spotless chandelier casting light on to the proceedings, she was happy. Landscapes decorated the walls, and the mahogany furniture glowed with careful polishing, giving the room an air of tranquil comfort. Blaize really did employ the best.

The footmen came in when she was sure everyone had had enough and laid a charming dessert service, with delicacies in every dish, together with a new selection of wines. They could linger over this course and, convinced nobody expected her to withdraw in a solitary state after she’d eaten, Aurelia was content to pick at a dish of strawberries and sip a glass of white wine.

Only then did she notice that the liquid in Blaize’s glass was water. At first she’d assumed he was drinking wine in his green-tinted goblet, but it proved not so when she saw him pour water into his glass from the jug on the table.

That disturbed her. “You’re not drinking?”

Sighing, Blaize cast his gaze to the ceiling. “No. I have a plan, and it involves me recruiting my people.”

D’Argento groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Not again. Last time we put it down to a riot at Bedlam. What this time?”

“A rather more substantial demonstration,” Blaize said. “It’s the only way. Let me explain. I will use the truth to trap her, but I need to build my power to make it strong enough.”

It took him a shade less than two hours to convince everyone. By that time Aurelia was so tired she couldn’t think straight.

Then an epiphany came to her, so clear, so obvious that she almost groaned and suddenly she was wide awake again.

She knew what she had to do and nothing would stop her. Nothing and no one.