Demons & Dragons

by Gina Kincade

  He lifted his hips, setting his cock at her opening. She tensed, awaiting the pain she had heard would now come. He had been patient as much as he'd proved frantic, moving in slowly until he pierced through the last piece of her that could give him any pause for concern.

  “I am so sorry,” he'd whispered gently when she tensed. She knew he'd ceased moving while he waited for her to confirm it safe for him to continue. The ache died away as she felt her body conform and grip around his.

  “I am fine, My Lord.”

  He pulled back, looking upon her quizzically, but an evil smile took his face. He thrust in and out of her, drawing ripples of pleasure. The sensations had built and built until she tumbled with them over the edge of the precipice to ride out the waves of the most indefinable, exquisite bliss she had never fathomed. His seed had shot warm into her, with no thought to consequences. For a moment, neither had she as her core contracted in tiny ripples.

  Leaving her relaxed and sated, he fell flat onto her. Luxuriating in the sense of being all encompassed by him, she experienced a perception of safety in all that had just happened.

  “I cannot apologize for what just happened here. It was too perfect, too unbelievable, to utter such insane words for.”

  She had sensed mutual adoration emanating from within him, hesitant then to call it love even in her mind.

  “You never have to,” she had answered.

  Chapter Two

  Tears soaked her cheeks and hot desire wet her core as Sarah, her lady’s maid, vied for attention against Aubrey’s reminiscing.

  Confusion infiltrated, muddying her senses to time and space around her as she looked upon Sarah’s worried face. At first, she tried to force upon herself denial of the reality before her. Yet, she still found the sense of nauseating emptiness where love had once thrived to be more than she could bear.

  “Mercy, child!” Sarah muttered as she tried to pick up a few stems from the floor. Aubrey sat frozen watching the woman. With her lips pursed, she leaned further away from the flowers as if poison.

  The older woman yelled in pain, “Oh, the dratted thorns!”

  “Pardon?” Aubrey caught notice of the miniscule amount of blood coming from Sarah’s palm and the tiny scratch on her wrist.

  Once she’d risen, she tossed the remaining flowers on the coverlet over her bed and grabbed Sarah’s wounded hand. “I'm so sorry. I do not know what has come over me. Please leave them be. I will get them. I am sure I'm keeping you from many a task,” she uttered apace, her tone sounding a trifle mad.

  After a deep breath, she cleared her throat in a most unladylike fashion. Hiccupping on an ensuing sob, she wet her lips with her tongue and spoke in a grim manner to the woman’s injured hand. “But, first let me care for your wounds.”

  Feeling the older woman’s good hand grasp her upper arm and provide a little shake, Aubrey looked down upon her body. She waited for it to shatter like glass until she was nothing but a pile of shards upon the floor. “Aubrey, what is wrong with you?

  Flowers from Edmund usually excite you so. I grabbed upon them myself and brought them to your room earlier. I had hoped to bring a change upon this preposterous mood which has seized you since Lady Dalysbury’s nasty little visit earlier today. Surely, it cannot be as grim as all that, dear?”

  “I…” was all that came out as she looked into the woman’s face, so pulled with concern she appeared beyond her years.

  Kindness lingered in her grayish-blue eyes, bringing beauty to her aged countenance. Aubrey fell into her arms while trying to blink away the tears she'd grown to resent.

  “Why are you shaking like a leaf in a great gale?” Sarah asked.

  Aubrey, quite aware of the physical manifestations of her internal weariness, felt destroyed by fever and lunacy rather than a broken heart.

  “I am still merely distressed by her visit. Forgive me. I am acting the fool. Let me wash off your hand and wrist in the washbowl.”

  “Do not trouble yourself. I can manage.”

  Aubrey watched the woman pour water from the pitcher into the washbowl and begin dabbing at her hand, all the while bereft of her touch.

  Sarah turned to her with a scowl and said, “Pick up the flowers dear. Here is a beautiful glass epergne I brought from the kitchen for you to put them into. It shall sit lovely upon your table here, too.”

  Sarah went in and out, dumping the soiled water and refilling the pitcher with fresh while Aubrey went to work obediently, as was always her way. She gathered carefully the flowers from the floor and began arranging them into the array of trumpets of the epergne. As each stem plunged impetuously into lukewarm water, her thoughts circled around the one who had sent them to her. She couldn't stop the madness.

  Struggling somewhere between loving him for all he had offered and despising his place in the ton because it excluded her from being a part of his life, try as she may, she could not come to hate the man. She'd entered into this alliance with her eyes open, or so she had thought. Only now, she had no idea how she could have been so benish, been such a fool to think a short time of relations with The Marquess of Dalysbury would be enough.

  She had known from the beginning their time was fleeting. They could share no future, especially given the fact she possessed a secret of even greater offense than her reduced circumstance. If found to be a witch, society would feel obliged to be cruel even though the witch craze in Europe, according to historians, had ended. Therefore, she'd kept her secret to herself. Although he had gained inklings of something being amiss with her from time to time, she'd always found a way to keep him in the dark.

  “Here, maybe you will find comfort in the message which came with the roses," Sarah offered, her old voice never frail, but kind, calming. "I had forgotten to give it to you, with you and Lady Sanderly in such a state after Lady Dalysbury’s visit. Please forgive me, Miss.”

  Forcing her hand steady, she gained hold of the envelope. Fully baked, she tried to find comfort in the words scrawled on a piece of writing paper.

  My Dearest Aubrey,

  I must go posthaste to meet the Earl of Gloucester. I feel it suits my purposes to give this man’s proposals due consideration. I am besieged by thoughts of your beauty and will count the days until I can return to Dalysbury and secret away to hold you to me again.

  Always, Edmund.

  She went through the charade of showing the note to have made her much improved just to get Sarah to leave her be. Knowing the woman felt guilty for forgetting the letter, she had tried to reassure her, but she hadn’t the fortitude to deal with it fully. She wanted to be alone again, to shed the effort of blatant pretense. Arranging the stems provided a momentary reprieve from the truth, though it came at a high price.

  “All better now, child?” Sarah asked.

  Aubrey tried hard not to cave once again under the woman’s gentle touch.

  “Yes, you are a dear, Sarah. What would I do without your guidance and support?”

  “I must get back to my chores, then.”

  Aubrey noticed the heat which had risen to the maid’s cheeks as she ignored the flattery. A thespian she could not a moment longer be. When her door closed, she found her throat tightening. She needed large gulps of air to issue her ensuing sobs. Her fists clenched together and pushed against the sharp pains in her chest as she found herself too lethargic to make herself even dream upon her chances with Edmund anymore.

  It all fit with her groundless manner in the hours since Lady Dalysbury had come to call upon her. She questioned every emotion that ravaged her body, every rash thought that popped into her head, and every raw movement she made. Even her deliberations, sporadic and opposing, kept her from believing at least in the love they had shared, to heeding the threats of his mother, to wishing she had never laid eyes upon either of them.

  She'd known a day like this would come when she would have to leave him, but today seemed too soon. Dreams have a way of keeping hopes alive, even the impossible ones. So, on
ce crushed completely, it still seemed a loathsome loss.

  Turning in on herself, she braced the weight of her body with stiff arms upon the table. As she hung her head over the glass holding the nearly completed arrangement, the tips of the flowers tickled her forehead. She did not react to the gentle caress of nature as she once would have. A tear dripped onto a petal and made its way to the center of the flower.

  Aubrey forced air deep into her lungs. She raised herself up out of an obligation to finish something she had started. Once the final flower fell in among the greenery, the image of him taunted her. A dizzying amount of air expelled from her lungs.

  Just hours ago, in this very estate, The Most Honourable, The Dowager Marchioness of Dalysbury had emanated malice in the refined style of those who gain their value from their wealth. The memory of the words bit through her once again, and Aubrey held tight to her stomach as it rolled.

  “I want a word with you!” Lady Dalysbury had spat with her back obviously up already when Aubrey had hesitantly entered the drawing room at her call. She noticed Lady Sanderly’s absence immediately, realizing wearily Lady Dalysbury had called for only her. “Well, do not stand there all apurt. Get over here, you trollop! Do as you are told or I shall be forced to have a word with your cousins who allow you to live here. You may just find yourself on the streets where you belong before the day is through.”

  Good luck with that. You are not even capable of understanding the depth of my relationship with them. My cousins despise you and your pomp. While they may indulge you your say, they would never heed your misguided whims.

  “Yes, Lady Dalysbury.” Aubrey had barely whispered her acceptance as she'd forced her legs to walk with dignity toward the overly dressed woman before her like a witch about to be hung.

  The woman’s lacy fichu crossed over her bodice. Only, the thickness of the triangular piece of material around her neck made her look staunch and stuffy. The only isolated bit of flesh you could see on this woman was her face, and even that her overdone bonnet somewhat obscured.

  “Fine, then. I will start. You have bygaged my son with your wyrdling ways.”

  Aubrey stopped her gasp by breathing in deep and holding her breath as the derogatory term for sorcery or such magic sunk into her brain as her thoughts had whirled. Why would she have used such a term? Did she just mean to accuse me of seducing Edmund? It would have to be. The lady could not have any inkling of my magic!

  “However, I will not allow there to be a breach of promise between The Marquess of Dalysbury and The Lady Elizabeth Ward because he is dangling after a wench who does not have a sixpence to scratch with. Therefore, a plan was set out before my son in no uncertain terms, and he has become most agreeable towards it.”

  Edmund had been upfront with Aubrey in the details, so she knew the full extent of his mother’s wish to see him wed up in the peerage. Lady Elizabeth Ward was the daughter of the Duke of Harlington. The Duke, accordingly, also saw the marriage as worthwhile, given his great financial ineptitude, which had suffered upon his fortune for years since the passing of his father. It would allow him to spend unwisely without any fear of not being cared for in the manner to which he was accustomed as he aged. An advantageous arrangement it was seen to be by all but Edmund, who seemed the only one to care he did not love Lady Elizabeth.

  “Edmund has agreed to allow you to be his mistress, carte-blanche, after making Lady Elizabeth his wife. She need not know of this. Her only desire is to see her family well cared for, and to provide an heir. However, I do not wish to trap him in a loveless marriage, and I understand well the ways of men.”

  The Lady sat there with a grin out of place with the outlandish words she spoke. It was most improper, beyond all she had ever encountered, for a mother to know about her son’s mistress let alone arrange for one.

  Aubrey could easily imagine the future of Lady Elizabeth standing beside Edmund as his Marchioness, with more hair than wit, chatting on so about nothing of great importance. With a tight smile held on her face, Aubrey would not let on how much the mention of the girl pained her. She only wished Lady Elizabeth here against her will, too, to hear what a mere prop she served in Lady Dalysbury’s well-rehearsed play upon the life of others.

  Do you even comprehend the words you are speaking? Aubrey had raged in her mind at the Lady. The insanity of it all is no match for the impropriety of this meeting. Edmund would not agree to this. He did not agree to this, you deceitful liar! You think your money buys you such rights to speak to me this way. I know him to be more of a gentleman than to keep a mistress. He may agree to your loveless marriage out of duty and obligation, but he would not hurt me as to even suggest I stand by for a good fucking while Lady Elizabeth provides him heirs. Her words she knew to keep to herself. She would find no profit in arguing with a Lady of Edmund’s mother’s social standing.

  Besides, her heart had stopped beating at the mention of Edmund’s agreement to the marriage. She'd known it inevitable, but Lady Dalysbury had to be telling an outrageous lie as to Edmund’s agreement of a mistress. A deep ache in her chest made it hard to breathe. Silence spoke for her, since she had no words. Her first instinct she allowed, to not believe the woman until she could speak with Edmund herself. The grimness of reality told her the impending nuptials had probably been set, and his sudden trip had prevented him from breaking the news himself. His mother was just the sort to take advantage of such a situation. If truth be told, Lady Dalysbury had probably arranged the trip herself.

  “The money should ensure your silence in said matters. Or, I have affably come up with a second offer, which is my personal preference. I have arranged for you to travel with a family friend to the shore. During that time you shall be guised as belonging to the ton, a poor relation of mine perhaps. You will, however, make your way across the sea alone, which is not a problem for a chit of your standing. I will give you a generous competency so you can make a new life for yourself in Ireland. I believe you have relations there, as I have heard Lady Sanderly speak of them.”

  Aubrey did take notice of the second offer having already been arranged for. So, getting rid of her completely was more the Lady’s agenda. Yet, Lady Dalysbury’s next threat dealt the detrimental blow leaving her with no options but to leave.

  “You will not prevent the grand alliance of The Most Honourable, The Marquess of Dalysbury with The Lady Elizabeth Ward.”

  Aubrey recalled vividly how the Lady had used their formal titles abundantly to set her in her place. She had followed this statement with ruthless laugher, although the Lady had quickly stifled it to regain her uptight composure.

  “If you do not abide by my conditions," the brazen visitor continued, "then I will be forced to expose you, as well as Lord and Lady Sanderly, for the wizards you are. Make no mistake, if you attempt to coerce my son with some black magic into not fulfilling this arrangement of a proper marriage, then I will make things awful for the lot of you wyrdlings.”

  She had not even time to comprehend fully that this woman of all people knew their secret. The Dowager took a few steps toward her until only inches from her. “You stand there stunned, as if browbeaten. I mean no offense by telling the truth. There are no secrets in the ton, only knowledge kept until it suits one’s purposes. As if your real improprieties are not enough or even perhaps untrue, I will fudge false rumors about you and your magical cohorts.”

  Daft thoughts had swirled into an overwhelming state of irrationality until she grew lightheaded enough to think herself mad. Nevertheless, she spoke with a calm anger. “Why would you speak such lies about the Earl and Countess? They are such grand people,” she countered with false bravado.

  “I speak them because I have paid well for the secret. With money comes the resources for spies and informants beyond what you can even imagine.”

  No, it is just not possible! Then it hit her that a member of their staff had strangely left or disappeared last week. Yet, be that as it may, the staff would never be trusted
with such a secret. She had to be guessing, grasping at straws based upon some ugly rumors she dredged up.

  “Give Lady Sanderly my apologies on having to leave so hastily. Tell her I will most surely call upon her soon.”

  With her last bitten off word in her thinly veiled threat, Lady Dalysbury had left Aubrey alone in the room. Only moments later, Lady Sanderly did come, having been told of the caller by a faithful member of her staff. Aubrey, ashen by that time, remained seated, her legs too wobbly to support her. Her cousin, of course, must have promptly guessed at what had occurred, or at least some of what had occurred. For the Dowager's accusation of magic, beyond irrational to conceive of her having such knowledge, ripped through her thoughts like a whip within her brain making her wince as a full-blown headache threatened. Unfathomable for the woman to have gained such information, it still held true, lingered in the spoken words which had been shed upon her ears just moments ago.

  Lady Sanderly had voiced her own displeasure, interrupting Aubrey's malaise. “Lady Dalysbury’s scam of a visit will not go unmentioned. I will speak with her as soon as I can arrange to do so. Now, there is no need to rehash the demented conversation that took place in my absence. Push it from your mind. She is talking scared at the prospect of Lord Dalysbury falling in love with you. Now, forget her lies and go about your day as if she were never here.”

  Aubrey had finally let the tears and emotions she had been holding inside her free at that point. “Please, I beg of you to say nothing.”

  “I can not. I will not let that woman come in to my home and spew words as she wishes without my permission. You know I love you like a daughter. You know I wish I could make it so that you were. Then, Lord Dalysbury would be free to fall in love and to marry you with the consent of the entire upper ten thousand.”

  Fearing the stress it would cause her beloved cousin to know of the Marchioness’s threats to expose them, she panicked. Words started spilling from her mouth imploring the woman to let it go. “It matters to me none what the Lady has to say. My obvious distress is just in being caught off guard. It is of no matter, really. It changes nothing,” she lied, avoiding her cousin’s sorrowful eyes. “He has left to travel on business, and I am sure the Lady was taking full advantage of his absence to tell me of his impending marriage. We all knew the day would come when he would have to fulfill his duty. There was no chance of him marrying me. I curbed his soundings even when he was of the mind to dream.”