Touch of Passion (49 page)

“Perhaps Malachi should be the one,” she said, sliding off the bed to help Kian with his shirt and waistcoat. His long hair was in complete disarray, and she reached up to smooth it back from his face while he busily dealt with his trousers. “He is the
Dewin Mawr
, after all.”

Kian shook his head. “That's just what Cadmaran wants. He'll be furious that he wasn't able to engage Malachi during their meeting yesterday. And Dyfed is my brother. I'm
the one who must do it. Devil take it,” he muttered. “I've ruined these trousers. Half the buttons are missing.”

Loris's heart felt as if it had stopped. “
No
,” she said flatly. “No, Kian. Let Malachi take care of this. You dealt with the
athanc
and I understood that, but I'll not lose you because Lord Llew insists upon being a fool.”

Kian took her by the shoulders and kissed her into silence. “In the words of a very wise, brave woman,” he said, “I don't intend to be lost. Hurry and dress, Loris. I've learned the Guardians' lesson well, and I want you with me when Cadmaran arrives.”

By the time the Earl of Llew arrived at Castle Tylluan, Kian had composed himself and prepared for what was to come. He, Malachi, Dyfed, Niclas, and Professor Seabolt had shut themselves in Kian's study for almost the entire hour before the earl's arrival and argued, often at the top of their lungs—excepting Professor Seabolt, who rarely had a chance to say anything at all—over what was to be done.

Dyfed insisted that he must be allowed to fight for his woman, Niclas told him to stop being a fool, and Malachi and Kian sounded as if they were about to come to blows over who had the greater right to deal with Cadmaran.

Desdemona, sitting with Loris in a chamber that had once served as a sewing room for medieval damsels, but now acted as a drawing room of sorts, found the loud ruckus, easily heard throughout most of the castle, all rather amusing. Loris found it grating and not in the least productive. She was moments away from going into the study and bashing their foolish masculine heads together.

She glanced at Desdemona and wondered at how she could be so calm.

“Aren't you worried about what Lord Llew will do to Dyfed?” she asked, pacing nervously in a circle before the fire. “He is a powerful wizard, after all.”

Desdemona looked up from the book she'd been perusing. “There is nothing to worry about,” she said. “My powers are no longer dimmed by the magic of Castle Llew. If Cadmaran so much as looks oddly at my beloved, I shall kill him. It's a pity that you mere mortals must suffer so for the lack of powers.” She smiled and turned her attention back to the book.

Loris knew that she should find the other woman's coldbloodedness alarming, but the truth was that she was comforted. The Earl of Llew was outnumbered by wizards at Tylluan. Powerful, extraordinary wizards. And a dark sorceress who had the ability to give even Malachi pause.

Loris was thankful that Mr. Goodbody and his men had already taken their leave, so as not to witness any potentially alarming scenes. Niclas and Malachi had dealt with them: Niclas had taken care of paying them for bringing Loris to Tylluan, and Malachi had erased all memory of magic from their thoughts. By the time they rode away, they were all convinced that the job they'd done had not only put a great deal of gold in their pockets but given them quite a nice holiday as well. If none of them could precisely recall, some miles later, why they'd come to Tylluan or whom they'd brought, they didn't dwell on the fact too long.

As soon as the shouting died down, Loris and Desdemona rose to join the men in the study. The Earl of Llew was announced a few minutes later.

He came in slowly, blindly, feeling his way with the staff that he carried. Loris, who had never seen the man before, was struck by how handsome he was, despite the blindness. She had been used to thinking of him as evil and therefore as physically unattractive as his nature, but she had been far wrong. Lord Llew put her very much in mind of Tauron, with his black hair and eyes and tall, muscular frame. He
was also much younger than she had supposed, perhaps in his midthirties, but certainly not above.

“Ah, Malachi,” said Lord Llew. “You're still here, I perceive, along with Lord Tylluan. And Miss Caslin. Hello, my dear.” He nodded toward the chair where she sat and took a few steps farther into the room. “I sense other Seymours present in the room, as well, but they must be of the lesser variety, for I do not feel any great powers in them.”

“My wife, Lady Tylluan, is present,” Kian said. “And also my brother, Dyfed Seymour, as well as my cousin Niclas Seymour. Professor Harris Seabolt is here also, though you cannot sense him.”

“Niclas Seymour,” Cadmaran repeated with a smile. His strong fingers tightened their grip on the staff. “It's been a long while since you and I have been in company together. How is darling Julia? As beautiful as ever, I should imagine. I often comfort myself with memories of her. She was the last woman I saw before the blindness, you know.”

Fury possessed Niclas's features at the casually spoken words, and he took a step forward, hands fisted. Malachi set an arm across his shoulder to hold him back.

“Be careful,
cfender
,” Lord Graymar murmured. “Don't let him goad you with his nonsense. Mrs. Seymour is very well, Morcar,” he said. “But you would do well not to speak of her in so familiar a manner again. Fighting with my cousin has already caused the loss of your sight. You don't want him taking anything else from you.”

The Earl of Llew laughed, and the dark, unearthly sound sent a shiver running down Loris's spine. Kian's arm, which was about her waist, tightened.

“Have the Seymours not already taken enough, then?” Cadmaran asked. “I can only wonder at when you'll be satisfied.”

“Desdemona is not yours,” Dyfed informed him hotly. “She's not going back with you.”

“I have not come to insist that she do so,” the Earl of Llew replied, shocking them all.

“Then why have you come?” Kian demanded.

“First,” he said, “to admit defeat in the matter of the
athanc
, and to offer my congratulations upon finishing with the beast.”

Loris felt Kian straighten slightly, his stance wary.

“Do you jest, my lord?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Lord Llew replied calmly. “You have come out the victor in the contest that I forced upon you, and it would be churlish of me to deny the fact. I offer my sincerest congratulations.”

“A promise to never again raise one of the ancient creatures would be more welcome,” Kian told him.

“I agree completely,” Lord Llew said, all civility. “I give you that promise, on my honor.”

“Don't trust him,” Desdemona Caslin said, sitting forward in her chair. Dyfed, standing behind her, set a hand upon her shoulder. “He's lying.”

“Before the Guardians, then,” Lord Llew said. “And in their hearing. I give my vow that I shall never again make war upon Tylluan by raising one of the ancient creatures.”

“What are you up to, Morcar?” Malachi asked. “This is not like you.”

“What of Desdemona?” Dyfed asked. “Are you willing to let her go?”

“Ah, yes,” the Earl of Llew said, nodding again toward where Desdemona sat, clearly able to feel the power that emanated from her. “The little matter of Miss Caslin, whose hand as my future bride I obtained in good faith from her father, and for whom I paid a great deal of money. By the laws of England, I could have you arrested and punished for kidnapping my betrothed. But we do not live by the laws of England,” he said, “or, rather, I do not.”

“The money will be repaid,” Kian said. “We accept your disappointment in the matter, but the
unoliaeth
cannot be denied, even if we should wish it.”

Lord Llew tilted his head. “I don't believe you understand what you're saying when you speak of repayment,” he said.
“It would bankrupt Tylluan to part with such funds. I paid a very large sum for my intended bride.”

“You will be repaid,” Malachi said. “Just as I told you yesterday.”

“Malachi,” Kian said angrily.

“Tenfold, I believe you said,” Cadmaran remarked. “I confess such a fortune might help to soothe the pain of my loss, but I believe it is the one who gains my bride who is supposed to make repayment. Is that not so, according to our laws?”

“I shall gladly pay,” Dyfed said. “It may take time, but I'll find a way to do so.”

“There is no need,” Lord Llew said. His mocking smile died away, and his expression grew solemn. “I make a gift of her to you, Dyfed Seymour.”

A stunned silence followed the words. They stared at the man who stood in the middle of the room, all of them unable to speak.

“I see that I have taken you by surprise,” Cadmaran said. “But I assure you that I mean what I say. I release all claims that I may have had upon Desdemona Caslin, and give her freely and without demand for repayment to Dyfed Seymour. What is more, I wish you both happiness in your coming marriage, and give my solemn oath to never cause you either dismay or worry. I give this promise and make this gift, asking the Guardians to once more stand as my judges and witnesses. And that,” he said, “is the end of what I have come to say. Good day.”

He made a courteous bow, then turned about and, using the staff, found his way out of the room. The doors opened for him and closed behind him after he departed.

Kian and Loris exchanged glances, as did the others in the room.

“Is he in earnest?” Kian asked.

“I don't know,” Malachi said. “He seems to be.”

“He said it before the Guardians,” Dyfed said, his tone filled with wonder. “It must be so.”

Desdemona Caslin shook her head. “Something's wrong.”

Professor Seabolt, who had been sitting silently in the farthest corner, lost in thought, suddenly rose to his feet. “It's the blood curse,” he said, looking at Malachi for agreement. “The blood curse. Don't you understand?”

Malachi was on his way out the door before Professor Seabolt stopped speaking, with Kian at his heels. Morcar Cadmaran was still in the courtyard when they burst from the front doors. He was surrounded by several of his men, already mounted on their horses.

But Cadmaran wasn't paying attention to the horse that was being held for him or to anyone around him. He was standing with his hands held before him, the staff he had clutched only moments earlier fallen upon the ground.

“The devil,” Malachi muttered. “He couldn't have known it would be enough.”

“What is it?” Loris asked, coming to stand beside Kian. She saw what they were all looking at and found that she, too, was arrested by the sight.

Morcar Cadmaran was gazing at his hands.

He could see.

Slowly, the Earl of Llew turned and looked at the audience assembled on the steps of Castle Tylluan. His eyes moved knowingly over each face, coming to rest at last on Lord Graymar.

“I didn't know,” Cadmaran murmured, his tone filled with the same amazement that Loris knew they all felt. “You put the thought in my head yesterday, on Bryn Chwilen, when you mentioned the
unoliaeth
and the blood curse. I only guessed that it would be enough to make recompense for my wrongs. And it
worked
.” A wide smile grew upon is his handsome face. “I can see. The curse has been lifted. Now, at last, Malachi,” he said, “we are equals again.”

“You'll
never
be his equal,” Kian said curtly. “Sighted or not. You never were.”

“I shall be,” Cadmaran vowed. “Losing Desdemona was but a small price to pay to regain my sight. You will have to
decide, in the future, whether it was worth gaining her for all the loss that you shall suffer. It is a war between us now, Malachi,” he said, his black eyes filled with an intense hatred that Loris found frightening. “The Guardians may hear me as they please, but they cannot take my sight away again. They never lay the same curse upon one of our kind twice, and having lived in a hell of darkness these past three years, I fear nothing else.”

“Put this foolishness behind you, Morcar,” Malachi advised. “I don't wish to live in enmity with you.”

“But I do,” Lord Llew said. “And I will.”

He mounted his horse and took the reins, controlling the massive beast with ease.

“I shall see you again soon, Lord Graymar. Good-bye, Desdemona, my pet,” Lord Llew added. “I hope you'll be happy with your powerless husband. If he should begin to bore you, I would be glad to consider taking you back. You need only ask, my dear.”

Desdemona's reply was to look at his fallen staff, which still lay upon the ground. Beneath her gaze the object exploded into thousands of tiny shards, causing the horses to whinny and shy away.

Cadmaran laughed with intense amusement and, calling for his men to follow, rode away.

The events of the day cast something of a pall on the night's celebration, but not for the people of Tylluan, who were glad to be rid of the
athanc
and tremendously pleased that their lord had taken Loris as his wife.

Cook grumbled about having to labor to create two festive meals in as many nights, but with Loris back in charge of the servants and preparations, the work went quickly.

The great hall was filled to overflowing with all the people of Tylluan, dining upon dilled salmon, roasted lamb, and beef stew, along with a fine leek soup and plenty of bread and cheese. There was wine to drink and good ale as well and all the music and laughter and singing and dancing that
accompanied such celebrations. This time, the celebrants were careful not to break any dishes, and the only games that were played were those that involved the children.

Kian found it impossible to care about either the food or the celebration. A bathtub had been set up in his bedchamber, ready with soaps and lotions and soft towels. Water was being kept hot on the fire, and a bottle of French champagne had been brought up from the wine cellar and was waiting to be opened. He had instructed Cook to leave a basket filled with goods that required little preparation—breads, cheeses, some sweets and fruit—along with plates and utensils. He and Loris hadn't truly had a proper wedding night, a lack that Kian intended to remedy just as soon as they could possibly make a graceful exit.