She refrained, however, and instead decided to make things easy for him. She gave him a little smile and said, “I thought we were good enough friends not to have to exchange empty compliments, that’s all.”
“Oh.” He thought about this for a moment. “I didn’t realize that telling a girl she looked nice was an empty compliment. My sisters always seem to enjoy being told they look nice, particularly when they have a new bonnet or dress or some such thing.”
Adriana couldn’t help but smile. Kat had told her that her cousins were rather empty–headed. “But I am not at all like your sisters, am I?”
Lord Vallentyn frowned at this. “No. No, you are not.” A smile then lit up his face. “That must be why I like you so very much.”
Adriana felt the heat rise in her cheeks,but could think of nothing to say to this.
Lord Vallentyn too seemed a little embarrassed by his admission, and quickly covered it up by asking if she’d like to accompany him to the refreshments.
“Thank you, I could use something to drink,” she answered, tucking her arm into the crook of his elbow, which he had held out to her.
“I do hope you’ve been enjoying yourself this evening. Mother especially wants you to be an active member of society. She thinks that will help with my career,” Lord Vallentyn said, leading her to a table laden with a punch bowl and glasses.
“You are still set on following your mother’s wishes, and taking your seat in Parliament?” she asked, accepting the glass of lemonade he’d poured for her.
“Oh, yes, naturally. My mother truly has my best interests at heart in this. I’m certain she’s correct and I should try my best to become active in politics.”
Adriana sighed, and nodded her head. There was nothing she could do. “Well, I suppose I’m not one to argue with you, since I have also agreed to go along with this scheme, albeit reluctantly.”
“I am happy you’ve decided to marry me. I think we’re going to rub along together very well.”
Adriana gave him a little smile, and could almost hear the bolt being thrown on the door to her freedom. Her heart suddenly began to pound in her chest. She needed fresh air—alone.
Pulling her hand away from his arm, she handed him her glass saying, “I’m sorry, my lord, you must excuse me.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Oh yes. I... er, just need to visit the ladies’ retiring room.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” he said, turning slightly pink.
Adriana turned and walked away as quickly as she could.
<><><>
Morgan was at a loss. He looked down at the palm in his hand, staring at all of the lines that criss–crossed it, trying so hard to remember what Cosmina had told him. Was this the line of the heart or life, he wondered as he ran his finger across the woman’s hand.
Even though this was probably the six or seventh woman who had asked him to read her palm, he still was unsure of himself. He wasn’t entirely certain how he had bumbled through the others. He only knew that somehow he had to make it through this one as well, and then another and another, all evening long.
He gave the woman a little smile, and then let his eyes wander around the room. The hostess, Lady Collingwood, had placed him in a small parlor off the main ball room. There were a few candles here, but not enough to fully illuminate the space. Swathes of colorful fabric hung all around, even hanging from the ceiling creating a rather exotic, claustrophobic feel to the room. “To give the room atmosphere,” the lady had tittered after leading Morgan in earlier that evening. He had nodded, smiled, and thanked her for her thoughtful arrangements. It wasn’t as bad as the forest, he reminded himself. And he could leave any time—as soon as he found Adriana.
He sincerely hoped the atmosphere was convincing the guests he knew what he was doing, since his performance probably wasn’t. There were, oddly enough, a good number of people in the room, all talking quietly and enjoying the refreshments Lady Collingwood’s servants made sure were always at hand. Some were waiting their turn with Morgan, the gypsy fortune–teller, while others just seemed to be enjoying the atmosphere. There were also a number of younger ladies who must have been taking a break from the dancing. Many of them stood about giggling to one another, but Adriana was not among them.
“What do you see in my palm?” the plain–faced middle–aged woman prompted him, bringing his mind back to what he was supposed to be doing.
He tried to use the tricks Nestor taught him on how to tell a woman’s station, and thereby what she would probably be interested in hearing. This lady was dressed rather more plainly than many of the others, so Morgan guessed she must be one of the chaperones.
“You have not have had a very easy life,” Morgan began hesitantly.
The lady sighed. “No, but it will improve, will it not? Oh, I know that it is too late to hope for a husband or children, but at least an easier time with my charges would be welcome?” Her voice rose hopefully.
Morgan gave the woman a little smile, and was quietly thrilled with himself for having guessed correctly. He then ran his finger along one of the longer lines that crossed her palm. “Yes, indeed, you shall have an easier time. See, here, where this line intersects with this other one,” he pointed vaguely at her palm and she bent her head to peer into it. “This signifies that a gentleman will come into your life.”
Morgan looked up and caught the woman’s eyes with his own. He held them and focused his energy so she could not look away. “Look for him in the places you go to in your ordinary life. He shall change everything for you. Do not be in a hurry, however, change comes with time. Now go and be happy with your life and know it will become easier in time.”
The woman blinked a few times and looked at Morgan with a slightly confused expression on her face. She then nodded slightly, and with a small smile flitting on and off her narrow lips she got up and meandered away through the crowded room.
Morgan shook his head. When all else failed, putting a suggestion into the woman’s mind always worked.
He started to look around once again for Adriana. Surely she should be here by now. He wondered if he could get up from the heavily draped table where he was seated and go looking for her. Nestor had assured him she would be here. She must simply have not ventured into this side room as yet.
Before he could stand up, however, another lady sat down in the seat opposite him. As she leaned her ample bosom toward him, she held out her heavily be–ringed hand to him. The candlelight caught the fire of the diamonds and rubies in her rings that sparkled at him menacingly. This was a woman of wealth and power, there was no mistaking that. From the jewels on her hand and at her throat, to her ornately designed dress with many ruffles and frills, to the high plumage that waved gently from her intricately coiffed hair—everything about her spoke of money. Her bearing said she knew it, and expected to be treated appropriately.
Morgan nodded a small bow to her, and then gently turned her hand over, holding it in his own.
“You are...” Morgan began.
He was interrupted immediately by the lady, “A woman of passion.”
Morgan looked up. She was looking at him through her partially veiled eyes with an intensity that made his skin crawl.
“Indeed,” he said. “You search...”
“...for a gypsy man of equal passion,” she interrupted again. “I have heard that gypsies are talented lovers,” she said, her voice low and husky.
This time, Morgan did not dare to look up. He knew precisely what he would see, and he did not wish to give this woman any indication he was interested in her shocking proposition.
Morgan cleared his throat and started once again. “You are searching for love, but it is not where you would think to find it.”
“Oh, I think I know where to find it,” she said, suggestively. Morgan felt a hand running up his thigh. Resisting the urge to jump from his chair, Morgan crossed his legs in an effort to remove himself from her reach.
&
nbsp; “You will find it in your home,” Morgan continued with as much magical power and conviction as he could put into his voice without making eye contact, “where your husband is waiting for you to return to him.”
The woman huffed in disbelief. The hand pulled away from his own and Morgan heard the chair she had been sitting on scrape back on the wood floor as she left the table.
Morgan sighed with relief, dropping his head into his hand for a moment.
Another palm appeared on the table in front of him. This one wore no rings, but the heel and side of the hand was stained with blue and black paint or ink—and it was shaking ever so slightly. Without looking up, Morgan took the hand gingerly in his own and brushed the palm with the tips of his fingers. Minute sparks of electricity jumped from her hand to his as intense tingles and heat went rushing up his arm and through his body.
A smile was beginning to grow on his face as he looked up into the deep, soothing green of Adriana’s eyes.
Without a thought Morgan stood, still holding tightly onto her hand.
“Morgan!” She then turned, and, with a quick look back at him, silently invited him to follow her out of the partially open doors into the garden just outside of the parlor. She did not stop there, however, but continued on, away from the sounds of the party, and into the darkness of evening.
<><><>
Adriana’s heart was beating hard.
She almost hadn’t believed her eyes when she had entered the side parlor searching for the way out to the garden—and saw Morgan there dressed as a gypsy and reading palms.
There was no mistaking him. She could feel his presence as easily as she could recognize his long dark hair, broad shoulders, and the tilt of his head. She watched with amazement and, she reluctantly admitted, growing pique, as one lady went over and nearly threw herself at him. A thrill went through her, however, when the woman got up in a huff and stalked off.
Now she turned to face him in the soft light of the moon reflected in his dark eyes. The cool, fresh air sent tingles over her bare arms.
“Why?” the question was wrenched out of her before she could even gather her wits. “Why are you here?”
Adriana had worked so hard over the past week to drive him from her mind. She had put away the painting of him her traitorous hand had painted without meaning to, and focused her mind on preparing for her wedding. Shopping, cleaning, preparing menus, making lists of who to invite to the wedding and the ball that would be held in her honor—she made sure all these things, with all of their little details, took up every moment of her time.
And now, just when she thought she had finally won the battle, and managed to go nearly the whole day without thinking about him, here he was again. She felt... well, she didn’t know what to feel. Her emotions were all in a turmoil, each clambering for dominance—anger, shock, joy, elation and, yes, desire.
Morgan took her hand again. “I came to see you. You left so suddenly. You didn’t even say goodbye.” His voice was low, and filled with sorrow. Adriana’s eyes stung with unshed tears.
She shook her head, pulling her hand away. She would not give in. She would be strong.
Taking a step away from him, she blinked rapidly a few times to clear her eyes, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “I had to.”
“Was it your guardian? Did he force you to leave?”
“No.” It came out as a croak. Adriana’s cleared her throat, and said more strongly. “No. It was me. I asked to leave.”
Morgan shook his head slowly. “I don’t understand. Why?”
Why? Adriana took a deep breath. How could she do this? Explain this to him?
He was so simple, so earnest, and so hurt. Seeing him here in London, in his shirt sleeves and colorful gypsy vest—looking so sweet and handsome, and completely out of place among the glitter of society... How could she explain to him the mores, the rules of society that had been drilled into her ever since she was a little girl?
She made the attempt. “It was wrong, Morgan, what we did together.”
“No. It was beautiful. You are beautiful.” He took another step closer and reached for her again, but she backed up, keeping her distance.
She still didn’t trust herself to stand too close to him. The threat that she would throw herself into his arms and beg for him to kiss her and hold her was there, at the very edge of her self control. She had to keep her distance. Luckily, the beautifully landscaped garden allowed her to do that.
“Please, Morgan,” she begged. “Please try to understand.”
“I am trying. What was wrong in what we did?”
Adriana took a shaky breath and tried again. “We... people who are not married should not, cannot be so... so intimate as we were. It isn’t right.”
“Adriana, you are so beautiful. Just looking at you makes me feel good. But touching you like I did, and having you touch me...”
“No. It was wrong. I still don’t know how I ever allowed you...”
“Because it wasn’t wrong. Nothing has ever been so right.” He reached out and took her hand, but she snatched it away again.
“Morgan, we cannot do such things,” she said as firmly as she could. Oh, but how I wish we could, her rebellious heart cried. “I’d like us to be friends,” she said, before she even had time to think it through. “Friends, but nothing more,” she quickly amended.
“Friends.” Morgan’s bright, happy eyes dulled, and his smile disappeared.
“Yes.” Adriana couldn’t help wringing her hands together. It was all she could do not to reach out and hold him to her—to bury her face in his broad shoulders and cry out that she wanted to be close to him again too. “Just friends.”
He stood staring at some point over her shoulder, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides. She desperately wished he wouldn’t look so sad and vulnerable.
She looked up into the star–strewn sky. How could the night be so still and lovely when her heart beat like a horse at full gallop, and her mind so very upset and confused?
“I need you, Adriana. I need to be with you.” His voice was quiet and low.
A flash of lightning suddenly rent the sky, and a wave of heat hotter than the hottest summer day suddenly engulfed them. For a moment Adriana struggled breathe, the heat was so intense. Clouds shifted in quickly covering the stars and moon that had been shining so brightly just moments before.
And then as if an unseen hand suddenly shoved her, a gust of wind pushed Adriana away from Morgan, knocking her to the ground a few feet away.
“How dare you!” A quiet, angry, menacing voice came from the direction of the house.
Twenty
Adriana’s breath whooshed out of her lungs as she landed hard on the ground. She struggled to catch her breath, but then lost it again when she saw Lady Vallentyn lit by a flash of lightning. Her long, pale face was filled with such hatred, Adriana had never seen the like before, and she hoped she never would again.
“What?” The word formed on Adriana’s lips, but she didn’t have the breath to speak it out loud, nor the voice as her heart hammered in her throat.
“Mother!” Morgan said, spinning around to face her.
Mother? Lady Vallentyn was Morgan’s mother?
“Well, well, Morgan. I heard you had escaped, but I simply could not believe it. I just had to see for myself.” Lady Vallentyn’s voice oozed malice.
Adriana’s stomach clutched with fear, but words kept screaming out in her mind—she was his mother? He had escaped? Escaped from what, why, how? Whatever could it mean?
Morgan paled, his face hardening into a look as terrifying as his mother’s. He took a step backwards, moving away from Adriana.
“You puny little boy, how did you do it? How did you manage to get past my barriers? Did your cousin help you? I know your brother could not have. He doesn’t have the ability.”
His brother, that would be Lord Vallentyn? Adriana quickly worked it out in her mind. And his cousin...
Morgan flinched pu
tting up his arm as if to ward off her harsh words. Yet he continued to stand up to his mother. “Kat had nothing to do with it, and neither did Vallentyn,” he said.
“Yet you managed somehow, even with your feeble little abilities. You know you are nothing, Morgan,” Lady Vallentyn hissed, advancing slowly.
Adriana gasped. She had always had bad feelings about Lady Vallentyn, but that was unnecessarily cruel.
Morgan’s arm stayed raised while he briefly turned his shoulder to Lady Vallentyn as she spoke, but just as quickly, he turned back to face the onslaught of her anger. As he turned, Adriana noticed the arm of his shirt flap open as if it had been sliced with a knife.
“You are nothing, and you will always be nothing,” she spat at him. “Soon you will be less than nothing, just an ordinary man. And you will never escape me again.”
Adriana watched as Morgan flinched and quickly turned his shoulder toward his mother once again. A gash appeared on his chest near the shoulder he had turned towards Lady Vallentyn. Adriana could see something dark beginning to stain his shirt—surely it wasn’t... blood?
“You may have worked some kind of trick, but you will never become powerful. Do not even dare to hold out any hope, it will not come. You... stupid... weak... little... boy!”
“How dare you!” Adriana finally said, gathering her wits, and trying to stand up. “How could you...”
“Quiet!” Lady Vallentyn said, raising her arm. As she did so, Adriana was thrown backwards once again. This time her head hit the tree behind her. White spots danced in front of her eyes with the pain.
She blinked her vision clear. Morgan took a step toward her, but then stopped. His shirt was now soaked with blood from his lacerated arm and shoulder. It was almost as if an invisible whip were thrashing him, descending again and again with each harsh word Lady Vallentyn spoke. But that was impossible—but so was being pushed backwards without being touched.
An unnatural heat began to surround Adriana as if she were sitting in the bowels of hell. It stirred the air as Lady Vallentyn said, “Now get yourself back to Vallentyn before I become truly angry. And if you ever try this again, Morgan...” Lady Vallentyn took a menacing step forward.
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