Touch of Passion (32 page)

“We've heard tell that it's been roaming about for many weeks now, my lord,” said Edwart, “and everyone knows you've been buying a great many animals from both near and far. How much longer will it take before you decide there's naught else to be done? It will roam all the way to the border if this goes on.”

“It cannot go that far,” Kian said. “It's tied to the lake and must return there each night.”

Moris stepped forward, his eyes wide. “But then where's it to find food when it's killed all the livestock, my lord? Will it not come for us and our wives and children?”

“No,” Kian told them, wishing he believed that himself. “I'll not let it come to that I promise you—”

“You cannot stop it doing as it pleases even now, my lord,” Ianto said. “And I do not think it will know the difference between a man and a beast when hunger drives it. Something must be done
now
, sir.”

“Aye, it must,” Kian agreed wearily. He had been standing behind the desk in his study when the men were ushered in. Now he sat. “The beast has eaten for the past three days. It will likely eat again tonight and then rest for another three or four. Enough sheep arrived this afternoon so that I can keep the creature at Tylluan tonight. A much larger herd, coming
from the south, will have arrived before the nights of rest are done, and I'll have enough to keep the creature sated for two full weeks, at least. We'll gain a few more days when the creature rests again. Give me three weeks to find the answer,” he said. “And if I cannot, I'll ask the
Dewin Mawr
to come.”

“And if even he cannot stop the creature, my lord?” Edwart asked.

Kian didn't even want to think of that possibility. The truth of the matter was that unless Professor Seabolt found the right enchantment, Malachi would be hard-pressed to do anything that would help—at least anything lasting.

“He's never let us down before now, has he?” Kian asked, striving to give them any comfort he could. And buy himself a little more time.

The men exchanged looks and nodded.

“Three weeks then,” Moris said. “And if the great
dewin
can't rid us of the beast after that, we shall call the authorities for help.”

The ball at Lord and Lady Hamlin's was a complete success, which meant that it was terribly overcrowded, or a crush, as Julia had explained. Loris had found it to be another of the
ton's
oddities that for a party to be considered successful it had to be terribly uncomfortable.

But she truly didn't mind so very much. Julia and Niclas were there, standing very close and touching each other constantly, as they almost always did while in public, and looking very happy. Dyfed had arrived at last, dashing and handsome and glowing with the good news that he and Professor Seabolt were getting closer to the answer to Tylluan's troubles, which meant that they might soon be able to go home. Lord Perham, too, was in good spirits, having been very pleased by the state in which Loris and Viscount Brecmont had returned to his town house earlier in the day.

Loris was still amazed to look back upon their drive through the park and remember how pleasant it was. Tauron—for Loris had told him that she found using titles so
constantly very tiresome and had given him permission to use her Christian name as well—had told her about the part of Wales where he had been born and raised, and Loris told him of Tylluan. She asked him about the Earl of Llew, confessing a great curiosity about him specifically and about the Cadmarans in general, and Tauron was open and seemingly honest in his replies.

He asked in turn about Kian, Dyfed, and Ffinian, whom he'd not encountered during his last visit to Town, and she told him what she could, leaving out everything about the recent troubles and his own cousin's part in them. Tauron clearly had no idea that anything amiss was taking place in North Wales, nor was he aware of either Desdemona Caslin's or Earl Llew's current machinations. Of course, Loris wasn't precisely aware what they were, either, since no one among the Seymour men believed she had a right to know.

“You look especially lovely tonight, Loris,” Dyfed said, admiring the blue gown that had become one of Loris's favorites. It was trimmed in white and silver and made her think of the early evening sky, just beginning to fill with stars. “I wish Kian and Father could see you now.”

Loris wished they could, too, but didn't say the words aloud. Instead, she asked, “But where is Lord Graymar? I thought he was promised to come tonight?”

“He was needed elsewhere,” Niclas told her. “The family, as always.”

Loris nodded her understanding. As the
Dewin Mawr
, Malachi was responsible for overseeing the safety of those who gave him allegiance. Whenever trouble arose, usually related to the danger of mere mortals discovering the powers of magic mortals, he was obliged to go. Quickly. Fortunately, Malachi had the power to travel very quickly indeed. He had arrived at Tylluan on past occasions almost before Ffinian had finished summoning him.

“He hoped to return to Town in time to put in an appearance,” Niclas went on, leaning closer to Loris and lowering his voice. “He's determined not to let Lord Perham outdo
him in playing chaperone at functions you attend.” Niclas glanced at the Earl of Perham, who was standing not far away, conversing with their hosts.

“The devil!” Dyfed suddenly murmured, just as the music for the last dance ended. His gaze was riveted across the room. “Look who's here, Niclas. It's Brecmont.”

They all looked, and Loris saw that it was, indeed, the viscount. He was making his way toward them, his progress necessarily slowed by both the crowd and the numerous acquaintances who hailed him. Women all about him turned to watch his tall figure as he passed, and Loris couldn't blame them in the least. He possessed the unnatural beauty that was common to magic mortals. Loris had grown used to being surrounded by such attractive beings but knew that those who hadn't couldn't help but be arrested. Added to that, Tauron was handsomely dressed in evening clothes that suited him perfectly. His coat was dark green, which only made the green of his eyes more pronounced.

“Grand,” Niclas muttered. “He's coming this way.”

“What's King Midas doing in Town, I wonder?” Dyfed said. “I thought Cadmaran had him locked up in Caerffill after that last incident.”

“That was two years past,” Niclas told him. “He can't keep the fellow imprisoned forever, can he? He requires the use of his gift too often for that. And Tauron's not made another mistake since then.”

“Imprisoned?” Loris repeated, frowning.

“That doesn't mean he's safe enough to be let out in public,” Dyfed said.

“He's come to Town to look for a wife,” Julia informed them. When Dyfed and her husband looked at her as if she'd uttered something terribly shocking, she smiled and said, “That's the gossip, at least. I keep telling you men that if you want to know what's going on in society, you must spend more time sipping tea in the afternoons with women.”

“Cadmarans don't look for their own wives,” her husband
said. “They certainly aren't allowed to choose outside their own kind.”

Julia shrugged lightly. “I only know what I heard. And all the mamas of available young women are thrilled. Viscount Brecmont will be fortunate to keep from being smothered by all the potential brides who're about to be thrown at him.”

“It won't do any good,” Niclas insisted. “Morcar will never let his cousin wed outside the Families. Cadmarans don't marry mere mortals, and they don't come to London looking for potential wives or husbands.”

Loris was far more interested in the idea that Tauron had been imprisoned . . . and by his own cousin no less.
What had it been for?
she wondered. Perhaps it had something to do with the unhappiness he had toward his own family.

But before she could ask the questions, Tauron had arrived and was making a bow. Dyfed's hand closed over Loris's arm and pulled her back. Both he and Niclas moved to stand in front of her.

“Mrs. Seymour,” the viscount greeted, smiling politely at Julia. “A pleasure to see you again, ma'am. And Niclas, Dyfed, I hope I find you well?”

“It's been a while since we've seen you,” Dyfed remarked, his voice chilly and unfriendly. “How have you been, Midas? Turned anyone into a statue, lately?”

Loris gaped at Dyfed in surprise. She would expect such sarcasm from Kian, but not his twin. Dyfed was usually the only one in the family who managed to behave in public, no matter what the provocation. But he was gazing at Tauron with grave dislike, and Tauron, she saw, had flushed angrily at the name he'd been called.

“Dyfed,” Niclas said in a warning tone before giving his attention to the viscount. “We are well, as you see, Brecmont. Are you in Town for very long this Season?”

“For the remainder.” Tauron met Loris's gaze as she stood on her toes to look over the combined shoulders blocking her way. “I intend to enjoy myself as greatly as possible before
the rest of my family arrive. Hopefully that will be many weeks away.”

“The
rest
of your family?” Niclas repeated faintly.

Tauron nodded. “Yes, all of them, from what I hear. A special gathering for some purpose of Morcar's. I'm sure Malachi will be pleased to know of it. Ah, good evening, my lord.” He bowed as Lord Perham joined them.

“Brecmont,” the earl said with pleasure. “You're looking well. You've come to collect my granddaughter for the promised dance, have you? I'm sure she's been looking forward to it.”

At that moment, the music for the next dance—a waltz—began drifting through the ballroom, and pairs of dancers were taking their places on the floor.

Tauron glanced to where Loris stood, still blocked by the two men.

“I've been looking forward to it as well, my lord,” he said, and reached out a gloved hand in Loris's direction. Both Niclas and Dyfed scowled at it, and Loris had to push mightily at each of them to move forward. Straightening her gown, she set her hand in Tauron's and let him lead her toward the floor.

“Why didn't you tell me you'd met a Cadmaran?” Dyfed demanded furiously. “Why didn't you tell me your grandfather is friends—
good
friends—with a Cadmaran?”

They were standing on a garden terrace outside Lord and Lady Hamlin's ballroom, to which Dyfed had dragged Loris the moment her dance with Viscount Brecmont had come to an end.

“I didn't know he was until this afternoon,” she said. “I was going to tell you and Niclas when we had a more private moment. Didn't it occur to you that other people were watching your encounter with Tauron? And overhearing what you said?”

“
Tauron
?” Dyfed's expression tightened. “You've only just met him and you're calling him by his Christian name?”

She made a sound of exasperation. “Don't change the subject. You know very well I have difficulty ‘lording' and ‘ladying' everyone in Town. It may come easily enough to someone born to such nonsense, but on the docks we weren't bothered by the social niceties and, I might remind you, we weren't bothered by them at Tylluan very much, either.”

“I don't want you near him,” Dyfed stated flatly. “I don't want you spending time with him or dancing with him
or
calling him by his Christian name. I promised Kian I'd keep you safe.”

“Then you'd do well to watch your own tongue,” she shot back. “Do you even recall what you said? In front of mere mortals, no less? Asking him if he'd turned anyone into a statue of late and calling him Midas. Not only was it dangerous; it was terribly unkind. He's not like Morcar Cadmaran. Indeed, he's not anything at all like any of the Cadmarans you've told me about.”

She'd never seen Dyfed look so angry, not even when he was fighting with Kian, and certainly never with her.

“You don't know anything about him,” Dyfed said, his voice tight. “I know Tauron far better than you do, Loris. Since we were boys. He can be a fine fellow, I grant you that. And more sufferable than the rest of his relatives, for I actually think he has a conscience. He's always been their black sheep that way, strange as that may sound. But he's still a Cadmaran.” He bent nearer and looked directly into her eyes. “His powers are dark powers. You don't know what he's capable of doing, or what he has done.”

“What has he done, then, that's so very awful?” she demanded. “Why is he treated so ill by both his family and yours?”

“I believe he's referring to the deaths I've caused. Or murders, as his brother once called them.”

Both Loris and Dyfed turned to see Viscount Brecmont standing not far away, listening.

He closed the French doors he'd so silently exited through, then moved forward. Loris was surprised that they'd not
heard his arrival, but the music was loud here—Dyfed had probably chosen it for that very reason, so that they could speak without fear of being heard. But neither of them realized just how loudly they'd been arguing; Tauron had clearly had no trouble hearing them at all.

“Kian apologized for that,” Dyfed said. “Everyone knows you couldn't be blamed. They were accidents.”

“They didn't feel like accidents,” Tauron replied. “Not to me. Your brother had the right of it. Others died because of my power and, whether I intended those deaths or not, that feels very much like murder.”

“If they had been,” Dyfed said, scowling at Tauron as he came nearer, “you'd have been cursed. Blood cursed. The Guardians understood that you were too young to control your powers.”

“And what of two years ago?” Tauron asked, coming to a stop directly in front of Loris. He looked at her, his gaze solemn. “When I was a child I didn't understand my gift. When I was just an infant I turned a household pet—a little dog that my mother adored—into stone. I was too little to know how to turn it back in time to keep it from dying. That was but the first of several ‘accidents,' but assuredly not the worst. One of my nursemaids soon followed the same fate.”