Moonspun Magic

by Catherine Coulter

  The two brothers eyed each other in silence. It was like looking in a mirror, Rafael thought. It was as if he could raise his left hand to his jaw and the image facing him would automatically do the same thing. He hadn’t forgotten that another man laid claim to his face, his features, to eyes the identical silver-gray color—no indeed—but to see that man after so long a time, to see himself, it was disconcerting.

  Damien said softly, “It has been a long time.”

  “More than five years. Yes, a very long time.”

  “I had hoped that you would have changed, but you haven’t. If it weren’t for your tanned face, no one would know us apart. I’ve never liked sharing myself, so to speak.”

  “It is difficult, I agree.”

  “I have come for my ward,” Damien said abruptly.

  Rafael, who had pictured this inevitable meeting at least a half dozen times in his mind, now moved to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. “Brandy?”

  “No.”

  “Well, brother, I trust I find you well?”

  “As you see, Rafael. I am quite well.”

  “And your doubtless lovely wife? Her name is Elaine, I believe? Is she well?”

  “Yes, certainly. I want Victoria, Rafael. I don’t want difficulties with you. Nor do I wish to extend this conversation beyond what it must be. Have her fetched.”

  “I don’t think so, Damien. I believe any court in the land would agree that you have abused your position as her guardian.”

  “You’re being quite ridiculous, of course.”

  “Do you really think so? Shall I tell you how I happened to meet Victoria?”

  Damien merely shrugged, as if bored. “If you wish,” he said. But Rafael knew better. His twin was nearing an explosive point, his frustration and rage clear to Rafael. This time, however, he was dealing from the winning hand.

  “Remember as boys how the smugglers and their activities always drew us out of the hall at nights? Well, I was riding near the coast just south of Axmouth and felt that old excitement. I rode down near the beach, and sure enough, there were two smugglers on their way to meet some fine French brandy, I suppose. It turned out that the smugglers had caught a very frightened girl. I saved her. It was Victoria, of course, trying to escape you.”

  “She stole twenty pounds. Any court in the land would be shocked at such behavior of a ward toward her guardian.”

  “Perhaps. But then again, twenty pounds is a very paltry amount compared to fifteen thousand pounds, is it not?”

  Damien stiffened almost imperceptibly. “Ah, so you visited Westover, did you? Or did Victoria give you that information?”

  “No, I visited him first. He took me for you, of course, and his concern over Victoria’s, er, kidnapping was profound. I suppose you decided it was a very easy way to increase your coffers. After all, what chance would an eighteen-year-old girl have against you, Baron Drago?”

  Damien said nothing.

  “I assured Mr. Westover that Victoria was now quite safe and that the fifteen thousand pounds would be returned to her trust.”

  “You have no power at all in this matter, Rafael. None at all. Get me the girl, now. I have been patient with you, but my patience is wearing thin.”

  “Mr. Westover,” Rafael continued, ignoring his brother’s words, “was relieved that I—rather, you—had undergone so honorable a change of heart. He now believes you back on the path of guardian righteousness.”

  “Though you have been gone from England’s shores for many years now, brother, surely even you remember that a guardian holds the only power. And I will continue to hold absolute power over her until she is twenty-five.”

  “Or until she marries,” Rafael said very quietly.

  “There was only one gentleman who showed any interest, and he cried off.”

  “David Esterbridge, I believe?”

  “Yes.”

  “A paltry excuse for a man, that one. However, you assume that no other gentleman will want her? She is something of an heiress, after all.”

  “You may be certain that I will be well on my guard against fortune hunters.”

  “Indeed, you will be so very careful that she will reach twenty-five unwed and unfortunately quite poor?”

  “I have no reason to continue this with you, Rafael. It’s none of your affair. Now, if you don’t tell me where she is, I shall find her myself.”

  “Oh, I will tell you. She is upstairs in her bedchamber. With Lucia, I imagine. Waiting for me to tell her that you are well and finally gone.”

  “I will tell you one last time, brother, she is my ward. I will have the constable fetched if you continue with this nonsense.”

  Rafael gave his twin a very lazy smile. “What constable would remove a girl from her betrothed?”

  Damien grew rigid. He felt rage, and the blood of his rage pounded at his temples. “My God. You would marry her, you bastard, just to thwart me?”

  “You think so little of Victoria’s charms, brother? Well, it is of no consequence. Indeed, she has already agreed to marry me. The wedding announcement is in today’s Gazette, I believe. I had assumed that the announcement would be the way you would discover her whereabouts. Well, no matter now. The wedding is this Friday. As Victoria’s guardian, I am formally asking your permission to wed her.”

  “I do not give it.”

  “Your own brother? You believe your own flesh and blood a fortune hunter? Hardly kind of you, Damien.” Rafael paused, giving Damien a long look. He said quietly, “If you require a scandal, I will give it to you. Indeed, I will rock the land with a scandal. Now, my pleasure at seeing you after five years is about what I expected, except that you have become even more of a rotter. If you weren’t my brother, I would kill you for what you have done to Victoria, doubt it not.”

  “You damned bastard.”

  “The fifteen thousand pounds, Damien. See that it is returned to Mr. Westover by Friday. Trust me, if you don’t return the money, I will make your life a misery. You might even find yourself in Newgate.”

  Damien couldn’t think straight. His fury was so great he was shaking with it. His damned brother. He cursed long and fluently. Rafael didn’t move, merely looked at him, his expression remote. The gods were against him. And he wanted that money, wanted the money as much as he wanted to bed Victoria. Now both would be lost to him.

  No. He would think of something. He had to.

  “The fifteen thousand pounds—you want it for yourself.”

  “Don’t paint me with your own brush, Damien. But as for the fifteen thousand pounds, it will be mine. As her husband, all her earthly goods belong to me.”

  “I will give you this round, Rafael,” he said, turned on his heel, and strode from the drawing room.

  Rafael stood quietly, staring toward the empty doorway. “Damien, it is the final and last round,” he said. He heard the front door slam. Such a damned pity, he thought, remembering the two young boys, so alike they could even fool their parents. But Damien had changed. Or perhaps it was he himself who had done the changing. Perhaps Damien had always been as he was now, and Rafael just hadn’t wanted to see it. Until they were sixteen. He shook himself. The memory was faded now.

  “Are you all right, Rafael?”

  He looked up to see Victoria slithering into the drawing room.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I saw him leaving from my bedchamber window.” She shivered. “He looks so very much like you. It’s frightening.”

  “Come here,” he said, and opened his arms to her.

  She paused but an instant, then grasped her skirts in her hands and skipped toward him. She fitted herself against him and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

  “Thank you,” she said. “You’ve saved me.”

  His arms tightened about her back. He breathed in the jasmine scent of her hair. So sweet and innocent she was. Gently he lifted her chin with his fingers. He smiled down at her, and kissed her.

  He felt h
er surprise, then a slight quiver of pleasure in her body. To awaken her was a heady experience. He lightly glided his tongue over her bottom lip, but didn’t seek entrance. Not yet. He didn’t want to scare her. He had all the time in the world. He said as he raised his head, “No more fear, Victoria. We shall deal well together, you and I.”

  She gave him a dazzling smile. “Yes,” she said, “yes, we most certainly shall. Even though you’re a handful.”

  He arched a black brow. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Frances said she would give me advice on how to deal with you if you became too much of a handful for me. She, you know, has had a good deal of experience, married to Hawk.”

  He laughed. “Poor Hawk. How the mighty have fallen.”

  “Somehow I don’t believe your Hawk minds at all.”

  “No, he doesn’t, does he?”

  Bishop Burghley, a very old friend of Lady Lucia’s, presided over the very private wedding. A bluff, florid-faced man, he carried out his part with superb theatrics, his booming baritone overshadowing the vows of the handsome Captain Carstairs and his lovely young bride.

  Victoria was at once excited, scared, and filled with anticipation. She gazed up at Rafael when he quietly repeated his vows. He was kind, gentle, and he would be a good husband. He was also stubborn and occasionally autocratic. He would come to care for her, she would try very hard to make it so. And he didn’t want a marriage of convenience. Surely that meant that he wanted to make it a true commitment to her, to their marriage, to their future.

  She heard a slight movement behind her, but didn’t turn around. Only the Hawksburys, the Marquess of Chandos, Lucia, and her servants were in attendance. Perhaps, she thought whimsically, Lucia was dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

  “Your vows, my dear.”

  Victoria started. The bishop was looking benignly at her and Rafael was grinning. “Say you’ll have me, Victoria.”

  “I will . . . I do,” she said. “Oh, yes, I do.”

  When Bishop Burghley completed his exhortations on the sanctity of marriage, he said in his most genial voice, “You may kiss your bride, Captain.”

  “I will do my best,” said Rafael as he lifted the gauzy veil.

  Victoria raised her face to his and felt his lips lightly touch her closed mouth.

  “Hello, wife,” he said.

  His words were drowned out by the applause of their friends and the servants and the rounds of congratulations. They both turned as one, and in that instant Rafael met his brother’s eyes. Damien was standing at the back of the drawing room, his arms folded over his chest. He was wearing morning garb and Hessians. It was an insult.

  Rafael felt Victoria stiffen beside him and gave her a quick hug. “There is nothing he can do, Victoria. You remain here and I will get him on his way.”

  Hawk found himself staring from Damien to Rafael and back again. “Good Lord,” he said to Frances, “they are like two peas in a pod.”

  “And one a dangerous pea,” she said.

  “Rafael will rout the bounder,” said the marquess.

  “Well, brother, I see that you have indeed bound yourself to her. A pity, for you, that is.”

  “What the devil are you doing here, Damien?”

  “It occurred to me, brother, that you didn’t know the truth of things. I wanted to speak to you before you made the mistake of your life, but you weren’t here last evening.” Damien didn’t add that he’d looked everywhere for his twin and had been furious at his failure to find him. And he hadn’t been in time this morning. They were already married. He continued, “Being your loving twin, I was seeking only to spare you disappointment and humiliation.”

  “Get out, Damien.”

  “Afraid of the truth, Rafael? Perhaps you already know the truth. Of course, it isn’t the first time, is it, that we have shared the same girl?”

  Rafael stiffened, his eyes narrowed, and his hands fisted at his sides. “No more filthy references to Patricia. That is over and done with. Now, come with me to the library. I wish to get this over with once and for all.”

  Damien followed him willingly enough, casting one final glance at Victoria, who was staring at him, her face as white as the Valenciennes lace at the throat of her wedding gown. He smiled at her and gave her a small, mocking salute. It was both a threat and a promise, and Victoria knew fear.

  Rafael closed the library door. “Now, Damien, the only reason I didn’t kick you out is that I want to know if you have returned the fifteen thousand pounds.”

  Damien ran a negligent finger over his coat of pale brown superfine. “Oh, yes, indeed I did. I wouldn’t want my own dear brother not to have all that is his due upon his marriage to that little slut. To palliate your disappointment, perhaps.”

  “Do you want me to kill you?”

  The Rafael of today wasn’t the Rafael of five years before. Damien wasn’t fooled by those softly spoken words. He believed him, believed that Rafael would kill, believed that his life had led him to know death and fighting. “Not at all. What I want is for you to know the truth.”

  “What truth is that, damn you?”

  Damien walked away from his brother, saying over his shoulder in a calm, nearly disinterested voice, “I assume that Victoria told you what a blackguard I am?”

  “Yes, I managed to pry it out of her. It wasn’t difficult. When I rescued her, she thought I was you.”

  “An excellent actress,” Damien said, turning to face his brother. “She always has been.”

  “You have five minutes, Damien.”

  “Very well, Rafael. You haven’t married a shrinking little virgin. Indeed, it’s true I wanted her, but I love my wife. It was Victoria who did the seducing. Why do you think she married you? It is because you are my imprint. But I digress. I bedded her, yes indeed. She wanted it so much I couldn’t have stopped her if I had been a saint, which I’m not. She is a slut and a wanton, Rafael. Her passion exhausted me, I admit it. She escaped when I refused to divorce my wife and marry her. Her disappointment has become hatred, her hatred her revenge, using you. Against me.”

  He had no time to say anything more. He saw his brother’s arm, then felt a searing pain in his jaw when Rafael’s fist connected. He fell back, hitting his hip against the large desk.

  “You damnable liar. God, I can’t believe that even you would sink so low.”

  Damien stroked his jaw. It wasn’t broken. He wanted to smile, but he didn’t. He forced himself to shrug. “I just wanted to spare you a horrendous surprise this night. You remember David Esterbridge? I told you he cried off. It’s true. He discovered that Victoria was my mistress. He was struck down, poor boy, but considered himself well free of her. I myself wondered if perhaps Victoria weren’t pregnant and that was why she even considered Esterbridge. You must ask her. I tried to be careful, but as I said, she is so very passionate, so very eager. I sometimes forgot myself. Do you know that once she followed me into the old portrait gallery? I took her just beneath the portrait of Grandfather, against the wall.” Those words were scarcely out of his mouth before Damien quickly skirted the desk, making it a barrier between him and his furious brother.

  “Get out,” Rafael said. “Your lying filth has taken you beyond your five minutes.”

  “Certainly, brother. I only wanted to spare you, it’s true. Now that I’ve done my duty, I will return to Cornwall. Do you also plan to bring your bride there?”

  “Get out.”

  Damien shrugged. “Au revoir, then, Rafael. Perhaps I shall see you at Drago Hall?”

  Rafael said nothing. He was trembling with a rage so violent he didn’t trust himself to speak.

  Damien smiled. “If only Grandfather could tell you now what he saw. Well, you will discover the truth soon enough.”

  “Get out before I kill you.”

  Damien’s smile grew wider. “You must ask her which of us she believes the better lover. Brothers in all things . . . share and share alike, hmmm?” Since he wasn’t a
man bent upon his own death, Damien quickly removed himself from his brother’s presence, leaving his damning words in the silent room.

  Rafael watched his brother stride to the library door, open it, and leave.

  He closed his eyes a moment, trying to regain his control. Poor Victoria. That sweet, innocent girl, having to defend herself against a man like Damien. The filthy, lying sod.

  He forced himself to walk to the library door, open it, and pass into the entrance hall. Damien was gone, the bastard.

  “You’ve been so kind to me,” Rafael heard Victoria saying to Lucia. “Not at all a tartar.”

  “My dear,” Lucia said in high good humor, “you didn’t give me the right circumstance. Now, if you could but remain with me to do a proper come-out, you would see me fly my tartar colors quickly enough. When and if you meet Diana, she will tell you that I’m an impossible old lady.”

  “Somehow I don’t think so,” Rafael said, taking Lucia’s hand between his two large brown ones. “Thank you, more than I can say, for helping us.” He leaned down and kissed her. He grinned at the light flush on her parchment cheek.

  “Laying it on a bit strong, aren’t you, my boy?”

  “Not I, sir,” Rafael said to the Marquess of Chandos.

  “Lucia has been a bothersome old busybody for as long as I can remember, and that is more years than I care to count.”

  “Unfortunately, you old goat,” Lucia said, “I have yet to equal your ploy with Frances and Hawk. Masterful. You see, I am the soul of generosity. I’m willing to give you your due.”

  The marquess chuckled. “It’s true. I will also admit that you weren’t guaranteed the opportunity to truly test your own doubtless ruthless abilities. Rafael and Victoria were all too easy to match up.”

  “That we were,” said Rafael, pulling Victoria’s hand through the crook of his arm. He said quietly to her, “Did I tell you that you look quite lovely? The gown becomes you, but I can’t say much about that wretched veil.”

  “I believe the purpose of a veil is to keep the bridegroom from expiring from shock and fleeing through the nearest door before the vows are finalized.”