“Oh, Mercy,” Chastity whispered. “I understand completely.”
Her sister’s eyes started to glisten. “Something so strange is happening. I’ve felt it ever since Beltane. Have you?”
She nodded. “I’ve felt it, as well.”
“I’m trying to be understanding with Papa, but he’s been so…evasive. I’ve asked about the fey, and the faery queen, and he will not talk of it. Yet I cannot help but believe it has something to do with them. You know, Beltane is the time of year that the fey are known to walk freely amongst mortals. Do you think we can actually feel their presence amongst us? Is that the mysterious change we feel coming upon us?”
“I believe so.” Chastity swallowed hard. “Have you seen one?” she asked.
Mercy shook her head. “Other than the two who came to tea yesterday.”
“So you know.”
“Of course.” Mercy’s lovely eyes turned cold. “I’m the virtue of kindness, not idiocy.”
Smiling, Chastity let her gaze drift over the fine lawns and gardens of Lord and Lady Sefton’s grand Elizabethan home. She had always thought Mercy, in her kindness, naive and blind to the darkness of men. This show of backbone made her feel so much better. She had always worried that Mercy would be taken for granted by some unscrupulous man who would leave her broken and dispirited. Because of her kindness, Prue and she had shielded their youngest sister, oftentimes forgetting that she was only ten minutes younger.
“Those two who came to call are from the Seelie Court,” Mercy said. “The Unseelie Court are more apt to move beneath the light of the moon.”
“And how do you know so much?” Prue asked.
“Because it’s my most favorite topic,” Mercy said on a sigh. “I adore the fey.”
“The Unseelie,” Chastity said, steering the conversation back. “What did you mean by they move through the night?”
Mercy contemplated her. “They are the Dark Fey, followers of pleasures and sin. Naturally their guiding star is the moon. Their element the darker forces, mist, fog, rain and shadows. They seduce and entice their victims in the darkness.”
Mist? Glistening mist? she wanted to ask. Oh, Lord, she truly had encountered one of them—the Dark Fey—that night in the maze. Thane…
“The fey are incredibly beautiful creatures,” Mercy continued, warming to her subject, “but the Dark Fey are by far the more beautiful. Theirs is a sensual voluptuousness. Even their voices are deep and seductive. They live for pleasure, for the thrill of seductions. Their needs are dark, commanding. They say,” Mercy whispered conspiratorially, “that the Dark Fey are very dominant in their desires and that there is no greater pleasure than for a woman to submit herself to them.”
“Oh,” Chastity whispered as her hand flew to her heart. If Mercy was intending to frighten her, she was doing a poor job of it. For Chastity was utterly intrigued. Dark and commanding. Beautiful and compelling. That was Thane.
“Well, I cannot imagine such heathen wantonness,” Prue scoffed. “If we’re to be given up to the fey I’m grateful that it is to the Seelie Court. Sunlight and joy seems much more enjoyable then being dragged to the underworld and ravished.”
Chastity didn’t think so. She would much rather be ravished than revered. As she admitted the fact, her virtue rose within her, chastising her for such thoughts.
“Good afternoon, ladies.”
The three of them turned their heads to the sound of the deep voice coming from beyond the trees to their right. As if by magic, Arawn and Crom appeared. Chastity heard the soft intake of Prue’s breath. She waited for the same response and felt nothing as her gaze skimmed over Crom.
Today he was dressed in black britches, tall boots and a blue overcoat with a matching waistcoat made of silk and embellished with gold thread. It was a very rich, very elegant outfit, but somehow she found herself comparing it to the black jacket and silver waistcoat that Thane had worn yesterday. She found Crom’s lacking. As her gaze skimmed the tall length of him, she realized that his hands did not look half as exciting from beneath his lace cuffs as Thane’s. His hands had been very masculine, despite the lace resting against them. His fingers were long, elegant, but possessed of strength and an aura of authority. Even the ring he wore was black and shining. A mixture of onyx and moonstone. It hadn’t looked effeminate or foppish. Not that Crom did look foppish, but when compared to Thane, he came across as somewhat lacking.
“A glorious day for a stroll, wouldn’t you say,” Arawn announced as they came to stand before them. “We could not stay away, knowing you were here.”
Studying them silently from beneath her bonnet brim, Chastity could not help but wonder how…ordinary they were. It almost made her wish to believe that they were mere mortals. But once one looked up into their faces, once one’s eyes took in the extraordinary handsomeness, it was impossible to believe that such beauty could belong to a man. No, they were fey posing as gentlemen.
She wondered at their ruse. Did they think that she and her sisters would run in fear of them? How long did they intend to pretend they were something they were not? Till they were safely wed? Till they had them secured in their court?
“Shall we, then?” Arawn inquired as he held out his arm to Prue. “I see two benches beneath those enormous willow trees that we could stroll to. And as they are in full view of the other guests, it wouldn’t be considered improper or risqué.”
Chastity could almost hear the rapid firing of Prue’s heart. Her sister was infatuated. She wanted this stroll with her golden fey. However, Chastity wished for nothing more than to sit by this pond, reflecting. But reflection would only make her dwell on Thane. Was he a man as he would have her think, or was he something else. One of them, or…a Dark Fey?
If she refused to join them on their stroll, she knew that Prudence would not accept Arawn’s arm. Her virtue would forbid it. Would ruin this moment for the notoriously even-tempered and restrained Prudence. But her mind was warring against it. She needed to sit and think. To recall every second of her meeting with Thane for any clue of what he truly was.
“Miss Lennox?” Crom murmured, holding out his arm to her. Gazing up at him, Chastity forced herself to paint a false smile on her face.
“A short stroll seems very nice. Mercy?” she asked, looking down at where her sister sat in the grass, her linen skirts spread full around her. “Will you not join us?”
“Thank you, but no. This spot has too great a hold of me, I’m afraid.”
Chastity looked up at her companion to see the relief that washed across his face.
She didn’t want to be alone with him. She knew that much. But she didn’t want to ruin her sister’s afternoon, either.
Ahead of them, Arawn and Prue were leisurely strolling. Chastity placed her hand over Crom’s forearm and allowed him to steer her toward the white bench.
In silence they walked, until he cleared his throat and looked upon her. “I hope you do not feel put-upon, Miss Lennox. My friend and I petitioned Lady Sefton for an invitation right after we left your house yesterday.”
“Not at all, my lord. I do hope I did not give you the impression that either I or my sister are put out.” Although, she had to admit, she was rather put out. Now, she was going to have to spend time with him. She would much rather be unguarded and at ease with her sisters.
Glancing in Lady Sefton’s direction, she saw her flittering like a butterfly. She was rather busy flirting with Lord Ashcrombe, who was a notorious libertine. Chastity could only guess what faery gift they had offered to induce the notoriously selective lady to give up two invitations to her coveted garden party.
“You look very lovely in that shade of blue. Ethereal, even,” Crom said.
The compliment grated on her nerves. Especially the thought of being ethereal. She was not an angel, nor did she wish to be. She was a virtue, and neither did she wish to be that, either. His compliment was benign. Uninspired. She had heard that, about her beauty, many times, and she was
rather tired of it. How she would have much rather heard something else, about her mind, or her intelligence. Something. Anything more substantial then a comment about her looks.
“You are very quiet this afternoon, my lady. As much as you were yesterday.”
“I am not skilled at conversing with ease with the opposite sex.” It was best to stay with the truth. He was a fey. She didn’t know if they could discern truth or lies, and she didn’t feel like discovering the fact this afternoon.
“You are a very pure spirit,” he whispered, “both in thought and deed. I am not deterred, for I know what appears as aloofness is really an innate sense of decorum.”
And disinterest. He stopped them in the clearing between the pond and the bench. Taking her hand off his arm, he brought her gloved fingers to his mouth. His gaze held hers while he pressed his lips chastely against her fingers. “I won’t be deterred. And I’m not put off by your innocence and modesty. In fact, I’m rather drawn to it. What man would not wish to have a paragon for a wife?”
Her heart suddenly constricted, missing a beat entirely. She did not want to be his or anyone’s paragon. She wanted to be a wife, a woman, not some model of virtue to be put up on a pedestal and stared at.
“What is the saying?” he asked, his violet eyes shining. “Ah, yes, who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies.”
She smiled, not knowing what else to do. There was a price to be paid. She instinctively knew that. But what she was growing to fear was that she and her sisters were the cost.
Still holding her hand, Crom brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “I hope I have not been too bold in my suit. It is not my wish to frighten you, but only to make my intentions known. I would like to court you, Miss Lennox.”
And this was the price. Her hand to this fey. Prue’s hand to Arawn. But in repayment for what? she wondered.
“Of course,” she said, bowing into a polite curtsy. What else was she to say?
“Excellent.” He flashed a brilliant smile, then motioned to where Prue was sitting on a bench, and Arawn was standing beside her. They were deep in conversation.
“I sense that there is something on your mind,” Crom said.
“No, nothing.”
“You know what I am.”
Chastity looked up sharply. “I beg your pardon?”
“You know I’m a fey.”
She swallowed hard. There was no point in denying it. “Yes. I know.”
He sat down beside her and gazed straight ahead. “It makes matters much easier, doesn’t it? There is nothing to hide.”
She could only nod. How strange it was to talk to a faery. “I must caution you that while my intentions are most honorable, others of my kind are not so principled.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Dark Fey, my opposite. They are unscrupulous. They take mortals, trusting and innocent, like yourself, and ruin you.”
“You’re warning me.”
“Yes. You must be careful.”
“If it makes matters easier between us, I have not come across these Dark Fey you speak of.”
“But you will.” He reached for her hand. “I know they will come for you.”
She thought of Thane—why, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was because she thought of the way he had made her feel while in the perfumery. Warm and fuzzy, with the very great desire to see him again. She never felt this for Crom. Never had the butterflies, or the urge to feel his touch.
“You will come to me if any of the Dark Fey come to you.”
She didn’t understand his warning, the importance of the Dark Fey. But she nodded her agreement, if only to put an end to their intimate tête-á-tête.
“Of course, I shall inform you at once, if I ever come across one.”
“You make a jest of my warning, but soon you will understand.”
She was about to ask why the fey were all of a sudden in her and her sisters’ existence, when Prue and Arawn came up to them.
“We are raising suspicion.”
Chastity saw that Lady Sefton’s guests were taking a great interest them, and not the lavish luncheon the servants had brought out.
“Well, then, shall we? I have no wish to put a black spot on your reputation,” Crom said.
No, indeed, she thought sourly. He wanted her virtuous. Spotless. Perfect. Chastity knew what he wanted of her.
She had always hated her virtue. But never more than now as she looked down the long road of her future path. It was cold. Filled with duty and expectations. She would never break free of the morality that chained her. Would never be allowed to break the bonds. She was horrified by what she knew would be her life. And she felt reckless. Wild. Inside, she revolted. She wanted at least one moment of excitement. One wild interlude of abandon. Like last evening, she had stared deeply into her looking glass and imagined Thane’s hands all over body.
That had been wicked. Wild. Wanton. And she so desperately wanted to find that woman again. Somewhere deep inside her, that woman was locked tightly away. But Thane had found her. Had used the key to unlock her. But he was not here. She had sent him away. And now she was utterly imprisoned.
TEN
ABOVE THE TREETOPS, THANE AND KIAN hovered. He was mist, his preferred form when not in his own skin. Kian was shadow.
He saw his twin hanging between the leafy canopy of two ancient oaks. He was not completely gray, but a mixture of black and green. A clear sign that his sin was ruling him.
Thane knew what had prompted the beast. It was the same as what had awakened his. The Lennox girls, talking to two Seelie Fey.
The site of Chastity’s hand on Crom’s arm infuriated him. Made him want to lash out and pull her to him. But his sin could not rule. Lust must be shoved aside and fed later. He must learn, for the sake of the other princes and their dying court, what deviousness the Seelie were up to.
Beside him, he felt Kian stir, saw the shadow move and grow ominous. He hoped that his twin could control Envy. It would not do to engage the Seelie. Especially Crom, Niall’s twin. Their king was powerful, and Thane believed that his brother was, as well.
No, their war could not be brought out now. Not in front of the mortals, or the Lennox girls.
“I think a storm approaches,” the one named Prue remarked as she looked up into the trees where he and Kian lurked. “That shadow is rather dark. There must be a thundercloud forming behind the trees.”
When the Seelie glanced up, Thane was relieved that they paid little attention. They had no idea that their dark counterparts where there, listening to them. Fortunate for them, the Seelie magic did not enable them to shift their shape. That was a dark power, and one he and the other princes reveled in. In their altered shapes, the Seelie were as ignorant to their presence as the mortals. But Crom was part Unseelie, Thane reminded himself, and none of them truly knew what Crom was capable of.
“Oh, indeed,” Chastity murmured as she glanced up at them. “That cloud is rather menacing. I’ve never seen green before in a cloud.”
Thane was about to remind Kian of their mission, to warn him to control the jealousy he felt, when his twin suddenly left the safety of the trees, only to spread in a wide arc across the open expanse of grass to a pond. And to the form of a woman whose fingers were grazing the still waters.
Thane supposed he could not fault his brother for wanting to meet his virtue. Thane wanted to meet with his, too, and ravish her on the forest floor.
“I suppose,” the other fey, who Thane did not know, murmured, “we must be on our way. We’ve occupied your time for far too long. I see a few knowing glances being cast our way.”
“Of course.”
“Tomorrow then?” Crom asked. “We shall pick you up at five for the fashionable hour in Hyde Park.”
Prudence seemed all enthusiasm. Chastity, however, was anything but.
“Good day to you,” Crom murmured in a silky voice that was designed to enthrall. “I shall be counting the
minutes until tomorrow.”
Thane wanted to choke the bastard, or better yet, run him right through with his sword. But the Seelie would hear the singing of the faery blade slicing through the air. It would alert him to their presence, which was counterproductive. But it would be damn satisfying to watch the golden bastard die by his blade.
As the Seelie left them, Prudence and Chastity were left alone on the bench. Thane knew he should follow the Seelie, to learn of their plans, but he could not force himself to leave. He was above Chastity, and he wanted to drink her in. To use these minutes to settle the tumultuous feelings that ripped through him at the sight of her with his enemy. Any other man with her would have angered him, but the sight of a Seelie touching her sent him into a blind rage.
“I believe I will take a stroll amongst Lady Sefton’s lavender garden. Will you join me?” Chastity asked her sister.
“No, I’m afraid I see Mercy with a stranger. I think I shall go and rescue her. Enjoy your walk.”
This was the moment he had been waiting for. A chance to come to her. Would she welcome him? Or would she remind him of his vow to leave her be?
As mist, he followed her to a secluded path, and slowly allowed the iridescent droplets to form into his shape. He would have much preferred to come to her in the moonlight, but the daylight would have to do.
Who said that one must be seduced by the light of the moon only?
Mercy watched as her pale fingers glided through the still waters. Her gaze was still fixed on the elegant, yet strangely formed, lotus flower. Her sisters had thought it a strange thing. Had thought her little story behind the flower even more bizarre.
Perhaps it was really herself that was odd. For she had warmed to the story, her insides doing a strange flipping sensation. But it was not only her belly that had reacted. But her breasts and her own intimate parts, as well.
Sighing, she enjoyed the warm breeze as it ruffled through her hair. She was hot, sitting in the sun with her heavy afternoon gown and the layers of petticoats beneath the full skirts. How she wished she could lie in the grass in only her chemise, feeling the wind caress her body.
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