I thought I wanted him far away, but now I know that I want nothing more than to have him at my side. To be alone with him. I want what he can give. Pleasure. But there is more there. There is a yearning for friendship. Courtship.
For the first time ever, I yearn to see a man. I long to have my dreams come true.
Thane is that man. The one to awaken me. I would risk anything to be with him. The virtue inside me screams in outrage, but I will not listen. My path is with Thane. I sense that. I will go to him in the garden and discover what it is to be touched and loved. My lover awaits me.
RUBBING HER HANDS DOWN HER ARMS, CHASTITY walked away from the stone wall that was draped in ivy. She had come to the garden promptly upon her return from the Seftons’. Driven to this place, she could not understand the call, nor could she comprehend why the gate, which had opened before, now would not. Perhaps it hadn’t really. Maybe it was just another dream, a fantastical memory that had never really taken place. She had been having many of those lately. But that afternoon in the Seftons’ garden had not been a dream, or a fantasy. It had been real.
As if to confirm the fact, her finger brushed against the skin of her bosom. She had seen Thane’s mark, the one that had been left by his mouth. She could still feel the silk of his hair running between her fingers, the heat of his breath, the press of his body against hers.
It had been impassioned. Madness. Addicting.
“What are you doing out here?” her father asked, pulling her out of her musings. He was standing behind her, his hands fisted on his hips. His expression was one of concern. “You’re supposed to be napping before the masquerade tonight.”
“I was not sleepy,” she replied, shrugging gently. She saw his gaze pass over her shoulder to the patch of ivy that had been disturbed. Did Papa know of the gate? When his eyes narrowed, then turned on her, she suspected he did indeed know of it.
“The point of lying down,” he said, “is to restore your energy for the dancing. It doesn’t matter if you are tired or not. You’re supposed to be resting.”
She wasn’t a three-year-old. She did not require naps to put her in good humor. Besides, her mind was restless, unable to stop focusing on the events with Thane. Her body was also agitated. It craved more. Needed more.
“Off you go.” The order was followed by a wave of his hand. “And mind that you do not come out here alone again.”
She stopped, turned back to look at him. “Why, Papa?”
“It’s not safe.”
Her father was not himself. She saw it in his eyes. Suspicion. Fear. His body was tense, and she could see the way his jaw tightened as he surveyed the grounds.
“What is it, Papa? I know something is worrying you.”
When he looked at her, Chastity saw just how affected he truly was. “Do you recall my stories of the faery queen?” he asked quietly.
“Of course.”
“Do you believe them, or do you think I only made them up to entertain you and your sisters?”
Stepping closer to him, she touched his arm, offering him comfort. “I believe, Papa. I’ve always believed.”
“Good.” He nodded and gazed up at the horizon. “The fey are very real, my dear. Very real.”
“And they are here, are they not?”
He turned swiftly and clutched her by her elbows. “Have they come to you?”
“You know they have. Crom and Arawn are fey. You cannot hide that fact from us. We knew, almost immediately.”
His hold loosened and he pressed his eyes shut. “Aye. They’re fey.”
“And they’re here for us, are they not? To take us away to their court?”
Her father hugged her tightly. “The faery queen demands it. But I’ve a meeting with her on the morrow, and I will bargain with her. I’ll not see my daughters wed to any fey.”
Fear suddenly gripped her. “What did she gift you with, Papa?”
His fingers wrapped around her shoulders and he pressed her close, kissing her temple. “That is not for you to worry about.”
“And the fey, should I worry about them?”
He smiled. “No. You should not. I can manage them. After my meeting, I will call you and your sisters to my study and discuss matters with you. But for now, I would ask that you keep this to yourself. There is no need to worry your sisters—or yourself. No one will be leaving this house.”
“Mama?” she asked, swallowing hard. The color drained from her father’s face, and Chastity knew that her mother had no knowledge.
“Your mother…” he began, “she doesn’t know. Doesn’t believe.”
“Papa,” Chastity whispered as she reached for his sleeve. “What will you tell your wife when her daughters are taken by the fey?”
“You won’t be, by God,” he thundered. “I’ll offer the queen something else. Anything else. But I swear to you, I’ll not let you go. Not one of you. Now then,” her father grumbled as he kissed her cheek. “Off you go. There is naught to worry about.”
Chastity was reluctant to leave. There was more to this than her father was sharing. If only he would allow them in. If he would share what he knew of what would become of them. But his expression was resolute, and she knew that no amount of pleading would make him change his mind. He was intent on keeping them ignorant, and confusion swept through her that he could be so blasé about it. This was her future, her sisters’ as well, and their father was intent on shielding them from it. They would have to live it, would have to discover it on their own, and silently she fumed at the injustice of it. Females really were just the chattel of men.
And the fey? As Chastity left her father standing in the garden, she knew he could not manage anything about them, or their world. The fey were powerful. Much more than mere mortals. If her father had accepted a gift from their queen, then he was obligated to pay the tithe. That was basic faery lore. The fey did not give their gifts away for free.
And if she and her sisters were the tithe, then there was no help for them. They would belong to the fey. Would be taken to Faery. The only question remained was which court. The Seelie or the Unseelie?
Taking the side entrance, Chastity climbed the back staircase that led to her chamber. She was lost in thought and worry, and did not hear the door beside her groan on its hinges.
“In here.”
Someone grabbed her arm and dragged her into a room. She glared at her sister. “Mercy, for heaven’s sake, you frightened me half to death.”
“Shh, keep your voice down. Mother thinks we’re napping.”
“And why aren’t you?”
Mercy snorted. “I could ask the same of you.”
“What is it you want?”
“I saw one. Today. At the Seftons’ pond.”
“Saw what?”
Mercy pressed in and lowered her voice. “A Dark Fey.”
Chastity reeled back. “No!”
Mercy shook her and pulled her deeper into the room. “He was the most beautiful creature I ever saw. Even more so than the Seelie Fey who have come to call on you and Prue.”
“What did he want?”
Mercy’s light blue eyes widened. “Me.”
“Oh, dear God,” Chastity whispered. This was a nightmare. Papa should be informed. What would he do if both courts desired them? Suddenly she felt ill with the thought that perhaps her father had made bargains with both courts.
But would he do that? She had always thought her father honorable and upright. His life wanted nothing. What could he possibly desire that he did not already possess?
“He said he was coming for me,” Mercy babbled excitedly. “Oh, Chastity, I could barely breathe. The Dark Fey…well…” Mercy nervously licked her lips. “They’ve long since captivated me.”
“Their attentions are not honorable. You know that,” she said. Was Thane a Dark Fey, too? Strange how the thought was not shocking to her. Part of her had known all along that he was otherworldly. That erotic, compel ling scent seemed to follow him wherev
er he went, and the way the light seemed to glow around him, made her think of glimmering mist crystals.
“Chastity?” Mercy asked, pulling her from her thoughts. “Have you seen one also?”
“No,” she lied. She was not ready for her sister to know about Thane.
“He said he would come for me,” Mercy said. “Do you think it will be tonight, at the masquerade?”
“You must take every care,” she cautioned her sister. “These Dark Fey are most dangerous. You cannot give yourself up to them. You simply cannot, Mercy.”
“You’re right, of course. It’s just that, well, it was rather thrilling to have someone so…intent.”
“You’re too kind, Mercy. You put too much faith in people’s goodness.”
“I won’t underestimate him.”
Chastity followed Mercy from the room in time to see her sister leave via the servants’ stairs. Running to the window, she waited until she saw Mercy exit the house. Crossing the lawn, her sister paused by the fountain and peered into its clear depths. A shadow of cloud covered her sister’s back, and all Chastity could think of was how she had seen that particular shadow twice that day.
Kian allowed his shadowed form to engulf his virtue. Mercy, the embodiment of kindness, was bent over, gazing into the crystal waters of a fountain. Was she looking for her mystery man? he wondered. Would she wait there patiently until he showed himself?
Above her, he allowed himself to study her form. She was not normally the type he was drawn to. Envy was his sin. He was naturally drawn to the more experienced type of woman who enjoyed the darker aspects of passion. He needed that to assuage his sin, and give himself respite from the aching pain that Envy tortured him with. But there was something in Mercy that the Unseelie male in him liked. Perhaps it was her kindness. Maybe it was the fact that she was pretty, with her blond hair and blue eyes. Or maybe it was her luscious figure that aroused him. She certainly had an abundance of charms in that regard. In fact, all four of the Lennox sisters were blessed with bodies designed to incite every possible sin.
Maybe it was just the simple fact that she was his. His to possess and claim. His to take to his court. His to hide from the prying eyes of others.
He thought of hiding her away, and Envy seemed to shrink back. He thought of her with another, like the Seelie bastards that had been hovering around her and her sisters at the garden party, and Envy reared its head, making his body shake.
He did not like himself when his sin was loose. He was cruel. Overbearing. Jealousy caused him to do many foolish things. He could not bear to think of himself hurting this innocent lamb.
“Kian.”
He heard his name, whispered in her voice, and his sin slowly retreated, allowing him to see her through his own eyes and not the green haze of envy.
Slowly he regained his form and, coming behind her, he peered over her shoulder. She gasped and whirled around when she saw his reflection in the water peering back at her.
“How did you find me?”
He touched her cheek, caught the loose curls that blew in the breeze. “I could find you anywhere.”
She smiled, a fine blush crested against her cheek. If she had been any other woman, he would have caught her up in his arms and carried her to a private place where he could lay her out and feast on her.
From within the house, he heard the pounding of feet. His acute hearing sensed that he’d tripped the wards that the Seelie had set for his kind. He would stay and fight, if he could. At least now he knew where the wards were weak. They were strongest closest to the house. The gardens, while protected, were weaker, allowing him a few minutes with his virtue.
“I must go.”
“Don’t.”
He reached for her and brought her body up tight against his. A possessive warmth invaded his blood and he caught her lips hard with his. She didn’t know how to kiss, and the fact strangely pleased.
“Where will you be tonight?”
“At a masquerade. The Carmichaels’ in Berkeley Square.”
He kissed her again, just as the Seelie were about to open the door. “Expect me.”
And then he was gone, turning to shadow. He watched Mercy’s face break into a smile just as the Seelie guards, posing as footmen, burst out the door.
“I will wait for you,” she whispered.
Rising from the bath, Chastity took the toweling from her maid. Refusing Annie’s help, Chastity dried her body.
Inexplicably she wanted Annie to leave. Why, she didn’t know.
“That will be all.”
“Miss?” Annie asked, perplexed.
“I would like a few minutes alone, please. I will call when I am ready for you.”
Chastity could see that her maid wished to inquire further, but she did not. With a little bob, Annie left her alone.
The door clicked shut, and Chastity dropped the toweling and walked to a chair that sat in the corner of the room, then dragged it across the width of the chamber.
Beside her was the dressing table, and atop the mirrored tray was the blue-and-gold atomizer that she had not been able to stop gazing upon. It was as if it had a life of its own, speaking to her through the clear fluid it housed. It made her think strange thoughts. Do strange things…
Reaching for the bottle, she held it in her palm, feeling how warm it was in her hand. Had the fire warmed it? Was the source of heat from the perfume itself?
Look upon yourself.
Naked, Chastity lowered herself onto the chair before the full-length looking glass. She had never gazed at her unclothed body, but something—or someone—had whispered the thought into her head.
Unable to stop her body, she found herself seated, the image staring back at her so foreign, yet evocative. She could not look away, nor ignore the warmth in her palm where the perfume bottle rested.
Cover your body with me. It was that voice again, the voice that sent fluttering in her belly. The voice she could not deny. Thane.
Please, it begged.
Pulling the glass stopper from the bottle, Chastity dipped the pointed crystal into the clear liquid and inhaled the scent. It seemed to change from day to day, one time smelling of delicate florals and other times spicy. Tonight in particular it was a heady mixture of jasmine, neroli and rose, heated with the masculine scents of amber, musk and myrrh. It was a seductive concoction, sedative, yet arousing.
Inhaling the scent, Chastity felt herself grow languid, her mind a pleasant haze, while she felt her body waken.
Of its own volition her hand moved to her throat where the wet crystal tip kissed her skin. Her hand was shaking, and she watched a teardrop of liquid fall from the stopper and splash against the curve of her breast, only to trickle down over the peak—the same breast that bore the mark from Thane’s mouth.
Capturing the drop back onto the tip, Chastity watched as she slowly circled the outline of her pink areola, remembering the way Thane had touched her. The pleasure was unimaginable as she watched her own hand against her skin, the pale areola and nipple glistening wet as the perfume coated her skin.
Like that of a lover’s tongue…
The image came to her unbidden, a startling vision that was somehow pulled out of the place where she had so carefully and deeply buried it. She blinked through the haze of sensuality that bathed her. The image remained the same. Thane was standing behind her, the black-haired stranger from the maze. He wore the same gold-wired mask as he had that night in the maze, but this time, he was dressed only in black britches and a white linen shirt that was opened, revealing part of his chest. Stepping close to her, he wrapped his long fingers around her chair, letting the lace from the cuff of his shirtsleeve caress her bare shoulder.
Tilting her head back, Chastity closed her eyes and savored the feel of his lips brushing the tender skin beneath her ear. His breath was warm against her, making her shiver. His lips, so strong and masculine, yet supple, felt like a whisper of a rose petal gliding against her. And his scent�
� Dear God, that scent. It was a powerful elixir. All male and dark and mysterious. Chastity secretly took in his essence. Frankincense and amber, that deeply masculine scent of secrecy and the exotic. He had smelled the same that night in the maze, and its effects on her now were no less than it had been then.
She had the irrational urge to cloak herself with his body, mixing his scent with hers. She was utterly intoxicated by the aromas surrounding her and the sight of his dark head moving languidly down her shoulder.
One hand had left the back of the chair and now rested on her shoulder. His cuff covered her breast, but she could feel the sensitizing scrape of the lace against her nipple, which beaded with every brush of fabric.
He nipped her neck, then her collarbone as his hand on her shoulder steadied her. Bent over her as he was, she felt cocooned in his beauty and the heavy cloud of sensuality that shimmered around her.
Her gaze caught the reflection of the mirror, and she was struck mute by the erotic image of herself naked on the chair, with this stranger fully dressed behind her.
His hand on her shoulder was strong, manly, contrasting in a pleasing dichotomy against the thick lace cuff that lingered over her breast. The gold of his mask glittered against the paleness of her skin and the brief glimpse of his mouth against her upper arm, which was so perilously close to her breast, made her unable to take her gaze away from the mirror and the debauchery that was taking place in its reflection.
“Not debauchery,” he whispered against her as his hand squeezed her shoulder before sliding slowly over to her throat, “but seduction.”
How her body responded to his voice. That one word and the passion and the wickedness she heard in it. Seduction…
Her fingers reached for his mask, and he allowed her to pull it free. His lids opened, revealing brilliant blue eyes, and a face that was so beautiful. A face that was becoming everything to her.
“Thane,” she whispered.
He smiled, and gently took the perfume stopper from her hand and trailed it across her breast, lingering briefly before flicking at her nipple. She gasped, and he steadied her, his mouth now so close to hers.
Lust Page 17