Touch of Passion (16 page)

Dyfed shook his head, disoriented. How had she gotten out of his arms so quickly? Where had she disappeared to?

“It was a girl. A young woman,” he amended. “She's an American. I don't know which direction she took, but at the last she mentioned Cadmaran. She may be heading for Llew.”

Kian and Horas spurred their horses across the clearing and back into the trees, aiming in the direction of Llew. Once Desdemona crossed Tylluan's borders, she'd be free of danger, for the magic that gave the lord of the land an advantage would be gone, but if Kian could catch her before then . . .

But he won't
, Dyfed thought grimly, watching as Lud and Bened carefully gained their feet. Desdemona Caslin was clearly more than a match for Kian, perhaps even for Malachi. Dyfed had a feeling that she would only be caught if she wished to be and only held captive by a man against whom she was powerless. And that, strangely enough, seemed to be him.

By the time they returned to the castle, it was almost dawn. Kian and Dyfed made their weary way inside while the others stabled the horses.

With a wave of one hand Kian set flames dancing in the fireplace in his study, then poured each of them a drink. Dyfed tumbled into a chair near the fire, rubbing his face with both hands in a futile effort to stave off exhaustion.

“I'm sorry that you won't have a chance for much rest before you leave for
Fynnon Elian
,” Kian said, handing his brother a glass before sitting in the chair opposite him. The warmth of the fire was most welcome after so many hours in the fog. “I never imagined we'd be out so late this time.”

“It's all right,
fy gefell
,” Dyfed said, sitting back and sipping from his glass. “That a woman has been involved with what's been happening was something you couldn't possibly have divined. I'm sorry you weren't able to catch her.”

Kian uttered a weary laugh. “Horas and I never had a chance of doing so. She was—I almost can't believe it, Dyfed—she was flying. Or so it seemed. Perhaps the fog played tricks with my eyes, but all I could see was a moment's flash of color well above the earth. This woman is a
sorceress of immense powers. You must tell me everything you learned about her.”

“It's not very much,” Dyfed replied, setting his drink aside on a nearby low table. “Her name is Desdemona Caslin. She's from America. She said she would replace my horse.” He wasn't about to tell his brother about the kisses he and Desdemona had shared. Not until he'd sorted them out in his own mind.

Kian was looking at Dyfed with interest. “She said she would replace Bachgen? She must not be aware of how difficult—almost impossible—that would be. And that's an odd thing for someone bent on destroying Tylluan to say.”

“Aye,” Dyfed agreed somberly. “I know that, but she said it, nonetheless. Several times. Oh, and she told me her father's name, as if I should recognize it. Draceous Caslin. Does it mean anything to you?”

Kian shook his head slowly. “No. I've never heard the name before. But we are not in much communication with those of our kind who adopted the Americas as their place of refuge after the exile. Perhaps he's their idea of a
Dewin Mawr
.” Kian was thoughtful for a moment, gazing at the fire and fingering the glass in his hands. “But Cadmaran must know something of them, since the girl mentioned his name. I wonder how, though?” Looking at Dyfed, he said, “Tell me a that you remember of your encounter, and quickly, so that you can have at least a couple hours of sleep before you must go.”

Dyfed did as his brother asked, telling him everything except for those parts that had to do with her touching him or demanding a kiss or those actual kisses that came after.

“But how is it that you were able to hold her?” Kian asked. “Her powers must necessarily make her a difficult prisoner.”

“I find it as bewildering as you, Brother, but have no explanation for it. But there is something far more curious to me. Though her powers are great, I don't believe she alone has caused the destruction at Tylluan. There was something with her. A creature, or even perhaps one of the ancient
monsters, as you've suspected. I didn't see it, but I know it was there.”

Kian sat forward, sighing. “I thought there must be, for the signs of destruction were the same as before. The water and the haphazard damage to the trees and plants—those are not the earmarks of our kind. We are almost peculiarly neat and tidy when we wreak havoc.” Standing, he moved toward the fire, gazing into the dancing flames. “But what is this thing? And where does it disappear to so quickly? It must be tremendous in size and strength, yet it leaves behind almost no mark, no trail.”

“It leaves a water trail,” Dyfed countered. “Can you not seek the advice of the water faeries? Surely they know something useful.”

“All those that once lived within Tylluan's borders have gone. But I've thought of going elsewhere, perhaps to Glen Aur, to ask of the beings there.” He took another sip from his glass, then turned to look at Dyfed. “When you're in London, you might do me the favor of visiting Professor Seabolt and getting his opinion on the matter.”

Dyfed was taken by surprise. “Surely you still don't expect me to go to London after this?”

“Of course I do,” Kian replied. “I need you to escort Loris and introduce her about Town. And keep her safe.”

Dyfed smiled wearily. “She'll hardly need me to act as guard with Malachi and Niclas keeping an eye on her. And Julia will see that she's properly introduced into society.”

“I'll rest easier knowing that you're with her,” Kian told him a bit more tersely, and Dyfed couldn't decide whether his brother was growing irritable because he was weary or truly becoming angry. “I don't want her being bothered by hordes of men when she attends parties and balls. I expect you to stay by her side and keep the wolves at bay. Apart from that, you seemed eager to go when I told you of the trip this afternoon. You've always loved to be in Town.”

“I do,” Dyfed said, “but you need me here more. I can help you find Desdemona Caslin.”

Kian's eyebrows rose, and Dyfed knew he had stepped wrong. He had to be careful how much he revealed to his cunning brother.

“Can you?” Kian asked, eyeing him curiously. “How?”

Again, Dyfed hesitated to reveal everything that had transpired. He should have told Kian that Desdemona had said she would find him again, but he couldn't. Or, more truthfully, didn't want to. What he wanted was to see Desdemona once more, alone, and he couldn't do that if he was in London or if Kian knew of it.

“Because I'll recognize her,” Dyfed answered at last. “Even if she changes her appearance, I'll know the sound of her voice.”

“Or you might not,” Kian said. “A very powerful sorceress can change everything about herself, even the sound of her voice. No”—he watched Dyfed closely—“I believe it would be best if you and Loris proceed to London as planned. I appreciate your desire to lend me your most excellent aid in solving the troubles here, but the arrangements for your journey have already been made. I have no intention of altering them for my sake alone.”

Dyfed rose from his chair, ready to argue further, but Kian lifted one hand to silence him.

“I'll do very well on my own,
fy gefell
. All I ask of you is to keep Loris safe and enjoy your time in London. And don't forget that you must always speak aloud while there.
And
,” he added with a slight smile, “try not to get into trouble. The last thing I need just now is Cousin Niclas or Malachi complaining to me about any havoc.”

“I'm not the one who always gets into trouble when we visit Town,” Dyfed told him.

“That's true enough,” Kian admitted. “I won't be there to get you into any scrapes, but I also won't be there to get you out of trouble, should any arise.” He grew more serious. “Swear to me, Brother, that you'll keep a close eye on Loris. Don't let anyone upset her or . . . make her unhappy.”

Dyfed understood what his brother was asking of him.
Kian always fretted when he and Loris were parted, which, during the past few years, had been seldom and for two or three weeks at most. He'd not enjoyed their yearly jaunts to London because Loris refused to go, and had always left Dyfed and their father there long before their planned visit was done in order to return to Tylluan, where he and Loris had doubtless badgered each other without ceasing until Ffinian had come home and made them stop. Dyfed imagined that those had been happy times for Kian, happy because he had Loris to himself for a few weeks, despite their fighting, and because she had no one else to turn to when she needed company.

“I give you my word that Loris will be kept safe and happy,” Dyfed promised. “But you must promise me something, as well. If you cannot find Desdemona Caslin within a few days' time, you must send for me and let me help you. And if you do find her, swear to me on your honor that you'll not harm her.”

Kian gave him that curious, searching look once more, then nodded. “If I can avoid doing so, of course. I cannot know what she may attempt, but I should not wish to harm her, or any woman.”

“Thank you.”

“Go to bed, Dyfed,” his brother said. “Loris will be having you wakened as soon as the sun has brightened and the fog cleared. Sleep as much as you may until then.”

“What about you?” Dyfed asked. “You're as weary as I am.”

“Don't worry over me,” Kian replied. “I'm going to ride over the tenant lands and make certain no destruction came to them during the night. It was bad enough losing a rare horse like Bachgen, but for the tenants to continue losing livestock . . .” He sighed and drank deeply from his glass, wiping his mouth with the backs of his fingers after. “I'll be here to see you off to Elian's Well, and then, I promise you, I shall seek my bed and sleep like one of the dead.”

Dyfed thought the same thing as he made his way to his chamber. He was so weary that it would be a miracle if Loris
could rouse him come the morning. But that wasn't the case. He had barely laid his head upon his soft pillow when he heard a voice, calling his name.

Weariness made him confused at first, and then, as he sat up and peered into the darkness, he recognized that it was her. Desdemona. Calling him.

Sliding out of the bed, he went to his balcony doors, flinging them open. The fog was still thick, but the intense blackness of night was giving way to a softer, lighter darkness. In a few hours the mist would fade altogether, leaving behind another bright, warm, beautiful spring day.

Somewhere, she was calling Dyfed's name, yet he knew that he alone could hear it. This must be what it was like for others to hear his voice in their heads, rather than with their ears. He heard her so clearly that it was more a feeling than simple knowledge. Her voice poured over and through him, sweet and caressing, filled with a longing that his own emotions suddenly matched.

He tested the sensation, closing his eyes and thinking her name, wondering if she could hear him as well. Part of his gift let him communicate with certain individuals despite a great distance, but those individuals had always only been close relatives or those who lived at Tylluan.

Desdemona heard him and answered with a pleasure that made him smile. Dyfed stood in the cold, damp air, shivering, and wondered what he was feeling. It was new and strange and a little frightening. He didn't even know her, had only been in company with her for a few brief, somewhat frantic moments, yet there was such an intensity of desire, even in this delicate connection of thoughts. It made his heart ache.

I must see you
, he heard, and answered that he would be leaving Tylluan soon.

She paused; then it came again more firmly.
I'll find you
.

He hesitated and then, not entirely certain that it was either right or wise, began to tell her about his journey to
Fynnon Elian
.

Castle Llew was a massive, imposing structure. It had been constructed in the same century as Tylluan but had undergone few alterations since that time. There were a few modern touches: balconies, larger windows with glass panes, gravel roads. But apart from these Llew remained, in the main, a foreboding medieval fortress.

Kian slowly brought Seren to a standstill and gazed at the impressive edifice, considering what he was about to do. Loris had railed at him for a full hour this morning before he'd at last managed to escape, telling him in impressively fulsome terms that he was every kind of fool for facing Morcar Cadmaran both alone and uninvited. Kian had been encouraged at her fears for his life—any amount of concern from Loris was rare and welcome—but unwilling to follow any of her suggestions, such as waiting for Dyfed to return from
Fynnon Elian
in order to accompany him. Dyfed wouldn't return until tomorrow night at the earliest, but even if he were home, Kian still would have gone alone.

Kian tried to imagine what Malachi would have done, how he would have approached a wizard like Cadmaran, but it did little to encourage him. Malachi had always moved with such
power and natural confidence, even when he'd been a youth, that it seemed impossible to emulate.

From his earliest childhood, Kian had watched his older cousin with care, filled with awe and admiration for all that he said and did. Malachi never seemed to step wrong or be at a loss for what to do in any situation. How it was that Kian had been declared to be the future
Dewin Mawr
was a great bewilderment. Worse, it was a fearful thought, knowing that one day not only the Seymour family but also other families like theirs would look to Kian for guidance and security.

And that wasn't going to happen if he couldn't at least muster up the nerve to confront Morcar Cadmaran. Alone.

The road to the castle seemed long enough when Kian first spurred Seren onward, but in a surprisingly short amount of time he found himself at the castle gates, which swung open for him without the help of human hands. Guards stood on either side of the entryway, silent, not moving even as Kian dismounted and walked into the outer bailey, leading Seren along.