Nicholas: The Lords of Satyr (14 page)

“Why did you agree to it?” he asked, suddenly curious.

She shot him a wary glance. “I wanted a family in which Emma and I might make a place for ourselves and be accepted for who we are.”

He lay a hand over hers. “You have that here.”

She inclined her head, hoping but not daring to believe. “Grazie.”

S
ignore Faunus set a silver platter on Nick’s desk. “A letter has arrived for the signora.”

Nick picked up the folded sealed vellum and read the spidery letters of its address. He tossed it back to the tray. “From her aunt. See that she receives it.”

“Certainly, sir,” Signore Faunus said, bowing.

Nick gave him a sardonic glance. “Such formality, Faunus?”

“Your signora expects it, and I enjoy it,” his servant replied. “At times.” He departed with a flourish of coattails, shutting the door behind him with exquisite propriety.

Moments later, Jane was knocking upon the study door. She entered at Nick’s summons and burst into speech almost immediately.

“I have had a letter from my aunt!” she said, almost twirling in excitement. “She and Father are taking a villa near Florence for the season to escape Tivoli’s heat. And they’re bringing Emma! But this is wonderful! I shall have to ready Emma’s bedchamber immediately. Which shall we select for her?”

Nick leaned back and smiled indulgently. “Your choice.”

Jane tapped a corner of the vellum to her chin, thinking. “She’d been accustomed to sleeping in a room adjoining mine. Do you think—?”

“Such an arrangement could make for awkward moments now that you’re married,” Nick reminded her.

“Oh, right. Of course. Perhaps the turret then. She’d adore that. She’ll require her own nanny and tutors and that sort of thing. Only until she leaves for academy. But I have her with me until then.” Jane hugged herself with glee.

“When do they arrive?”

“Within the week. They’ll stay several nights with us before journeying on to the villa they have rented.”

Seven hells! His estate would be crawling with family during the upcoming Calling night. The forcewall could keep them from the inner recesses of the compound, but it was risky having them here.

And Jane would be unavailable. Any plans to impregnate her would have to be postponed until next month’s Moonful.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, noting his silence.

He summoned a smile. “Just wondering if we should invite Lyon to sup with us?”

“Yes, and Raine as well?”

“He’s away.”
Searching for your sister.

“Lyon, then. We’ll make it a family gathering,” said Jane. “Oh! There’s much to do.”

She quit the room without shutting the door, a cardinal sin in his house for which any servant would be roundly scolded. But Nick merely nudged it shut with his mind before returning to his work.

Later, he summoned Signore Faunus to discuss preparations for the impending trio of visitors.

The guests arrived a week later. Baggage was stowed and everyone seen to their rooms to freshen up before dinner.

Jane installed her father in the north wing and her aunt in the south and then escorted her sister upstairs to the third floor. Long habit prevented Emma from hugging her, even after such a long separation. Of necessity, Jane had drawn away from her touch too often in the past.

“It’s a princess tower!” exclaimed Emma, running her hand over the curving walls of the turret that was to be her bedchamber.

“Then you must now be a princess,” said Jane. “Because it’s yours.”

Emma peered from the window to the landscape below. “I shall have to grow my hair.”

Jane regarded her quizzically.

“Like Rapunzel,” said Emma.

Jane smiled. “Come along, Rapunzel. We shall visit more later tonight. For now, we dine with the family.”

“I can’t believe we sleep tonight in a true castle!” Emma said on the way downstairs.

At their entrance to the formal salon, Lyon and Nick rose from their chairs.

Catching the tail end of their conversation, Lyon asked, “I hope your sleep will not be disturbed. Has Nick regaled you with the tales of our castles’ ghosts?”

Emma was immediately intrigued. “Are there ghosts?”

Lyon nodded, while Nick shook his head.

“Of course there are,” said Lyon, “at least in my castle. If you find none in Nick’s you’ll simply have to come meet mine.”

“Are there truly ghosts here?” Emma asked Jane.

Nick answered for her. “Only if you believe the legends handed down by peasants in the surrounding countryside, as Lyon apparently does.”

Lyon gave Emma a conspiratorial glance. “Peasants have a sense about these things.”

“There are countless stories,” said Nick. “Yet in thirty years, I have seen no ghosts myself.”

“Of what do you speak?” asked Izabel, coming downstairs with Emma’s father to join them.

“Ghosts,” said Emma.

“No such thing,” said Signore Cova, heading for the liquor cart.

“I beg to differ,” said Lyon. “These humble acres of ours have borne witness to much mayhem over the centuries, alas leading to numerous fatalities. Our ancestors battled the Sienese and Florentines and others who sought to gain a foothold here. And on a more personal note, our great-great-great-grandmother, who was beheaded, is said to wander the staircases with her tiara as she searches for her head to place it upon.”

“How gruesome,” said Izabel.

Jane shuddered.

Emma bit her lip, glancing toward the stairs.

“Perhaps a change in conversation is warranted,” said Nick.

Izabel studied him. “I’ll begin a direction by saying how well you’re looking. Marriage appears to agree with you.”

“Tolerably so,” said Nick. Over a glass filled with dry wine, he shot his brother a look filled with equally dry humor. “In fact, Lyon hopes to wed soon, don’t you, brother?”

Lyon returned Nick’s look with an inscrutable one of his own.

Jane sensed an undercurrent of information pass between the brothers, to which the rest of them weren’t privy.

“Another wedding so soon?” Izabel asked, looking displeased for some reason.

Lyon stabbed an hors d’oeuvre with a fork. “Let us talk of other things. Dinner, for instance!”

The following night, Nick and Lyon begged off dinner under the press of business and left Jane and her family to dine without them.

Raine had arrived home from Paris late that afternoon and met the brothers in the gathering place near dusk. Together they took wine made from their own grapes, in preparation for the ritual to come.

“I bring news from the north. The cause of the pox has been determined,” Raine told them without preamble.

Nick and Lyon perked to attention.

“The ailment afflicting the vines is called phylloxera. Its cause is an aphid that was recently brought to Europe on an American vine,” Raine went on.

“Such a pest could easily spread into our vineyards on a workman’s boots or hands,” said Nick.

“It’s a dangerous time. We can’t afford having the forcewall weakened while Raine leaves Satyr land for weeks on end,” said Lyon. “I put forth a suggestion that he and I should postpone our bride quests until such time as a cure is found.”

Nick twisted the stem of his glass between two fingers. “Don’t think to escape your destiny so easily, brother.”

Raine looked bleak. “Nick’s right, Lyon. This pox could rage for years, while Fey’s daughters continue to be at risk.”

“Speaking of which, are you any closer at all to locating the second FaerieBlend?” asked Nick.

Raine shook his head. “It’s proven difficult.”

“Nick found his easily enough,” chided Lyon.

“It occurs to me that the reason for my difficulty may be that I wasn’t meant for the daughter in Paris,” said Raine. He looked at Lyon. “What do you say if I try Venice and you take Paris instead?”

Lyon shrugged. “The other two daughters are strangers to me. Take them both if you wish.”

“I think not,” said Nick.

“Then it’s decided,” said Raine, looking relieved. “Tomorrow, I journey to Venice.”

They lifted their glasses as one in a toast to the stone god who lorded over them. Together they performed the ancient rituals that would bolster the forcewall around their lands and keep their secrets safe.

Moments later, moonlight bathed them in its fullness. Tunics and trousers fell away. Gilded goblets fell from their fingers to the soft moss, spilling drops of blood-red wine from their cups.

In unison, they raised their faces toward the light, drinking in its power. Their muscled backs arched and their strong arms spread wide in supplication.

Worldly concerns slipped from Nick’s mind as the Change came over him, bringing with it both unbearable pleasure and pain. He bent low as his second shaft made its way from his belly.

They were at their most vulnerable now. And Humans were near. He must trust the forest to protect them from the outsiders in the long hours that stretched until dawn. It was his last coherent thought before the Calling overtook him.

In the distance, undetected, someone crept closer to watch. The forest accepted her at first, knew her as maenad worshipper. Avidly she gazed on the debauchery unfolding in the sacred arena.

Her eyes glittered as she observed the lords rut their conjured women. In their condition, they would take any female on offer. They could father a babe—one with Satyr blood in its veins—in her this very night! She stepped forward, already beginning to unfasten her gown.

But the forest suddenly detected her evil. It railed at her intrusion, intent on rejecting her. Insects bit, and thorned vines twisted over her tender ankles. Branches leaned down to lash at her.

Go back!
they warned.

She fought their threat for long minutes, desperate to stay. Eventually the will of the forest was too much, and she was forced away.

But the watching had stimulated her. She would need her stepbrother between her legs tonight.

Nick wasn’t fond of skulking but found himself doing just that upon his return to the castello at dawn. He would have been in Jane’s bed last night, spilling inside her instead of Shimmerskins, had it not been for her family’s presence.

Next month, he promised himself. Next Moonful, nothing would prevent him from giving her a child.

Once inside his home, he took the stairs and headed for his bedchamber. At the sound of furtive footsteps, he slid into the shadows.

From an alcove he watched a disheveled Signore Cova pad barefoot down the hall. His hair was askew, and he wore a rumpled dressing gown. Nick looked in the direction from which he’d come. Izabel’s sleeping quarters.

There could be only one reason behind this nocturnal assignation between a stepbrother and stepsister. Interesting. Such peccadilloes of nature left him unfazed, but he wondered if Jane knew such a relationship existed between those two. Unlikely.

He moved a few steps along the hall and came face-to-face with the younger sister. She sidled behind him, staring down the hall in the direction from which she’d come. He followed her gaze but saw nothing odd.

“Yet another wanderer,” he murmured.

“I was searching for J—Jane,” Emma whispered. “I have something I m—must tell her!” She burst into tears and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Some latent parenting instinct had Nick offering comfort. He led Emma farther along the hall toward a chair. Her hands were small and trusting in his as she told him of her fears.

For the first time, he considered what having children in his household would really mean to his life. The subject of heirs had been an abstract idea before. Now it struck him that children meant he would assume another role—that of father. He would guide any offspring in simple ways as he now guided Emma away from her terrors. And in more complex areas of their lives as well. It was a responsibility he would welcome.

Once Emma was seated, he knelt in front of her.

“Now, tell me again exactly what happened.”

“I saw a ghost—the one with a tiara!”

Nick sat back on his heels, skeptical. The child had obviously been spooked by Lyon’s stories.

“I d—did!” Emma wailed. “She wore a necklace of tree bark and a tiara of leaves in her hair—”

Nick stiffened. She was describing one of the hamadryad night servants. But that was impossible! She couldn’t see them.
Unless
she at least a drop of ElseWorld blood in her veins. He studied her speculatively but detected no hint of Faerie. Had there been another sort of interworld coupling in her lineage at some point?

Jane chose that moment to appear in her doorway. Her cheeks were still flushed from sleep, but she’d thrown a robe over her nightgown. When she saw Nick and Emma, she hurried toward them.

Her eyes swept him, noting he still wore his evening clothes. He read her curiosity but knew she wouldn’t think it her place to question his whereabouts during the night. And he’d offer no explanation.

Emma leaped up and ran to clasp her sister’s arm. Out of habit, Jane pulled away.

“I saw a ghost, Jane. At first I thought it was Lyon’s headless grandmother!” Emma looked around as though to make sure the coast was clear, and then she whispered, “But if it was, I must tell him she has located her head.”

“Oh, Emma, do you think it might have been a dream?”

“No, it was real,” said Emma. She scratched her knee. “Or it seemed so.”

Jane smoothed her sister’s hair, tucking flyaway chestnut strands behind her ear. “Could it be Lyon’s talk of ghosts that put this idea into your mind?”

Emma shrugged doubtfully and then shivered.

“Come, you’re chilled. You must sleep with me, and I’ll keep any ghosts away,” said Jane. She remembered Nick and quickly clarified herself. “For the remainder of the morning, I mean.”

Nick saw them off and then made his way to his chamber to bathe. He didn’t need sleep. The Satyr were rejuvenated after a Calling.

While the others slumbered on, he made the rounds of his property. He returned midmorning to find his wife’s visitors preparing to depart.

“But I assumed you would visit longer and that Emma would remain with us when you left,” Jane was saying to Izabel.

“You promised!” Emma wheedled.

“And I’ll keep my promise when the time is right,” said Izabel, drawing on her gloves. “But I dare not leave you here until you’re older. Why, Lyon’s talk of ghosts scared you witless after only one night under this roof.”