Silence thicker than a lumpy batch of Clockwork Blue dye settled over the carriage.
Malcolm's curse was rough and low. "You have a death wish."
"Yes, I suppose so... though actually it's a petite mort I'm after."
He coughed, or made a choking sound. "Where did you learn that phrase?"
Her comment had come from a wicked part of her, she knew. But she must get his attention. "The French midwife. She told me all about it."
"Bloody hell. What kind of midwife is she? A former courtesan?"
His guess made her smile. "Actually, I believe she was. She married our local solicitor. They seem very happy." He grasped her by the chin. "You're going to quit playing these little games, Nicola. Do you understand?'
"No, because it's not a game. Our marriage is very, very real." She rubbed the hand that held her chin, hoping Malcolm could see the earnestness in her eyes. "You are my husband, and I'm completely devoted to making you happy."
"Don't you understand? You cannot survive if you get too close. I will make mincemeat pie out of you." He scooped her up and settled her on his lap. She'd barely gotten her breath from that unexpected move when he covered her lips with his. It wasn't a sigh that escaped her, but more of a moan. And she didn't shiver—she quaked strong enough to bang the leather soles of her shoes against the side of the cab. If he hadn't wrapped his other arm around her, tucking her into the surging power of his body, she would have fallen onto the floor in a mindless heap. His mouth ravaged hers in a piratic kiss—a kiss that would steal what might not be freely given. But if he was a pirate then she was a privateer, taking what she wanted in return. His tongue foraged her mouth, silky heat melting her bones even as she met his challenge and dueled for mastery.
A heady rush of pleasure rocked her to her toes. "I want to be your pie to eat."
He growled. "How you twist my words, little minx."
Then she felt her bodice shift, waiting cool air across her breasts. He surrounded one with the warm, moist heat of his mouth. Pulling sensations hit her belly and then lower in her womanhood, as if a magical string were attached to her nipples. She gazed down at his dark head as he moved from first one breast to the other.
Night frogs chirped in the countryside. The carriage wheels crunched on the rocky road as the conveyance swayed. A wolf howled in the distance. In the light of the moon, Nicola could see Malcolm's dark head moving as he suckled her. Then he turned his head, keeping his cheek pressed against the turgid peak.
"You bewitched everyone at the soiree. Even Clarence."
His shaven cheek rubbed against the tender nubbin, the slightly rough feel sending currents of excitement to her stomach. Without realizing exactly why she did it, she arched back. Her nipple found his mouth.
He groaned, then tongued it. Shivers of delight chased down her spine. After a while he looked down. "See how they glisten from my attention? They've grown long and hard."
"Yes, only for you."
Her words seemed to jolt him, for he withdrew. "Don't."
The fiercely uttered word startled her. "Don't what?"
He pulled up her bodice, covering her breasts, which ached with need. "Don't make the mistake of falling in love with me."
"You commanded me to marry you. Now you're going to command me to not love you?"
"Just remember that I forced you. I married you for your dye. The small pleasures we find in each other will not harm you as long as you remember that."
"I regret to tell you this, but you cannot control my feelings, nor can I control mine."
"Remember I warned you. If you fall in love with darkness, you'll never recover your soul."
She could feel the carriage slow. "What is all this about darkness and lost souls?"
"Haven't you figured it out by now?"
"What?"
"The rumors. They're true."
She stared at him, her mouth dry.
He leaned close. "You see, I really did kill my brother."
"There you are," Allegro exclaimed when he finally spied Glissando in the gardens behind Septima Manor. He hovered above the place Glissando sat curled in a ball. "What are you doing, hiding on that oak tree leaf? I never would have found you if I hadn't discovered your magical compass."
Glissando glanced at him, and then turned away, his head on his arms. "Did it ever occur to you that I didn't want to be found?"
"Why not? What's wrong with you, anyway? You sound different." He couldn't put his finger on the reason.
"Don't tell me that." He hid his face in the crook of his arm as a tremor swept through him.
"You aren't slipping your notes. They are starting to sound purer."
"Nooo," Glissando said on a moan. "Go away."
"I'll not do it. Are you all right?" Taking a good look, for the first time he noticed the paleness of Glissando's magical green light. The white tinge around his lips didn't look good, either.
"Just leave me be," Glissando said with a moan.
"Glissando, I have a strange feeling that you've broken another law. Did you use all of your elixir on the Duke of Clarence's mistress?"
Leaning against the stem of the oak leaf, Glissando turned away. "It's none of your business."
By the Maestro's pinky, Allegro wouldn't allow the recalcitrant pixie to fob him off. "It is, too, my business! We're partners, remember? How could you do something so radical?"
"I'll not stand for any more of your lectures, Allegro. I didn't—"
"Think of yourself," Allegro finished for him.
Glissando stilled. "What did you say?"
"You didn't think of yourself—only of the mission. How could you have done something so drastic?"
Glissando said nothing. A grimace twisted his features. Allegro watched his partner clutch his throat. With worry, he rubbed his chin. "Is it painful to lose the slip note?"
A fierce frown brought Glissando's green brows together. "Of course it's painful!"
Allegro winced at the monotone sound of the other pixie's voice. "Glissando, I'm impressed. Who would have ever thought to give up their own life sustenance for a mission? It's the most selfless act that I have ever witnessed."
"Huh? Why... thank you," Glissando replied. Brief pleasure relaxed the lines that marred his face. Then his features twisted as another spasm twitched his throat. "Tell Maestro that and maybe he'll give me a medal. Now, will you leave me to my misery?" With a martyred expression, he closed his eyes.
Allegro contemplated him. "You know, using the elixir to influence a human was rather ingenious—although it was stupid to use it on Lady Charlotte."
Glissando scowled. "Could you try not to be so flattering? You'll make my head swell, and believe me, that would look downright bizarre on this withering neck." He clutched his throat. "Aaargh!"
Allegro decided to take pity on him. "Do you want some of my elixir?"
Glissando stopped mid-howl, then slowly brought his gaze to Allegro, cautious but filled with hope. "You're offering me your elixir?"
"Not all of it, but some." Allegro unhooked his flask from his belt and extended the container.
"Why, that's mighty decent of you, old chap."
The manner in which Glissando suddenly sat up made Allegro wonder if he'd been faking his discomfort. But he noted the lavender circles under the other pixie's eyes. No, Glissando might have been hamming it up a little, but he suffered. He handed the pixie the container and watched Glissando greedily drink.
"Do you have any more?" Glissando handed back the gourd, and wiped his mouth with the heel of his hand. Contentedly, he stroked his neck.
"Yes, two hundred measures hidden in a special place."
"Zooterkins!" Glissando sat up straighter on his oak leaf. That's enough to fill up five vaults at D.C. al finel How did you get so much?"
"We Sopranos are known for our thriftiness. I'll give you what I have with me. But you're going to have to use it sparingly. We'll need every dust particle I can get my hands on for the plan
I have in mind."
Glissando cocked his head, clearly intrigued. "What plan?"
"I want to do what you did, but I have to ask your opinion."
"You do?" The fat pixie was clearly stunned. "What is it?"
"I've been thinking about Nicola. You know she's awfully upset because Malcolm told her he killed his brother. She's beginning to doubt her intuitions about him, and I fear she'll give up."
"I know," Glissando replied sadly. "But what about the elixir?"
Allegro fluttered his wings, nervous. "Do you think I could induce a dream for Nicola, a dream showing Malcolm and William together when they were younger?"
Glissando threw him a doubtful frown. "Why do that?"
"To remind Nicola how much Malcolm cared for his older brother."
"That might work," Glissando replied slowly. "And perhaps we could show her some of the accident."
"Only the part that makes Malcolm look good. They did fight, as you recall, and Malcolm was pretty angry."
"If you want to do all that, it will take a lot of elixir."
Allegro grimaced. "I thought it might. How much?"
Glissando paced. "Nicola is more slender than Clarence's mistress, though a little taller and much more strong- minded." He stopped his pacing. "I would say about ten kilosectors, give or take a milliform."
"My word! You're very good at scientific notation, are you not?"
"It was one of my best subjects at Coda." Glissando gave a modest shrug, though his chest swelled with pride.
Too bad he was so stubbornly independent. Allegro complained, "I sure wish you had consulted me before giving all your elixir to Lady Charlotte. Did it ever occur to you to work with your partner? We did a good job together as those old ladies."
Glissando licked his fingers, and then tilted his head. "True, we did."
"Do you think we could start working together from now on—with every aspect of this mission, Glissando?" Allegro couldn't keep the wistfulness out of his tone.
The other pixie pulsated a bright green and gave him a brilliant smile. "Yes, Allegro, certainly we can. From now on, we are going to do this mission together. For better or for worse."
Allegro prayed it was for the better.
Chapter 19
Nicola sat in Lady Teresa's drawing room and waited for the woman to greet her.
Despite her latter marriages, Lady Teresa had hung a life-size portrait of William on the wall. The oil painting was framed by lattice work and decorated with climbing roses, making it look as if William stood in an alcove. In the image, he held out his hand and Nicola could well imagine him beckoning in such a manner to his beloved wife. Tears burned her eyes as she stared at the painting.
The reason Nicola had come for a visit was because of the incredible dream she'd had—a dream that had shown her how very much Malcolm had loved his brother. It had seemed so real. The vision had told her the motivation behind Malcolm's drive to own the Clockwork Blue.
"Ah, Lady Nicola. I'm surprised by your visit," Lady Teresa said as she swept into the room. Her midnight hair curled in dainty tendrils about her face, set off by the buttery color of her bodice. The gold cord and tassel around her waist emphasized her slim figure.
Nicola noticed that her hostess wore the Falcon crest on her ring finger, obviously a gift from William. "I will not preamble. I'll get right to the purpose for my visit. You must tell me about hypnosis."
Lady Teresa's lips thinned. "I should have known Falcon would send you."
"He doesn't know I'm here."
"So, you've discovered I visit Madam Electra. What do you want in return for your silence?"
Nicola tapped her chin, contemplating the woman's stiff posture on the edge of the settee. "Amazing, but you and Malcolm are very much alike."
Pulling back, Lady Teresa scowled. "What are you talking about?"
"Both of you are very cynical. Did that characteristic appear after William's death?"
"I wouldn't know. Tell me your business, so we can get this over with."
"I have no ulterior motives, Lady Teresa, other than to acquaint myself with William's beloved wife."
The woman eyed Nicola, clearly not convinced, but didn't protest.
"Since you are more familiar with the haute ton and their idiosyncrasies, and because I'm merely a woman from the country who sees all sorts of otherworldly happenings and beings such as pixies, I'm confused as to why you don't want anyone to know you visit a mesmerizer." Teresa's jaw dropped. "My eyes! Lady Nicola, do not announce to the world that you believe in such things. You will become a pariah."
"Is that why you don't want it known that you talk to William?"
Teresa slumped back on the settee. "How did you know?"
"Because you're still in love with him. It stands to reason that you would pursue any method you could to communicate with him."
"You are very unusual, Lady Nicola, very sensitive and caring. Whimsical and spirited—not someone I would ever have imagined Falcon buckling with."
Was she an unlikely match for Malcolm? Perhaps, but Nicola vowed she would be just what he needed. "Speaking of my husband, you must assist in helping overcome his
grief for the accident that took William's life."
Teresa's eyes hardened. "He deserves to suffer."
"Were you there when William fell?"
Teresa clenched her hands in her lap. "No."
"How do you know it wasn't a tragic accident?" "Because Malcolm was furious at his father for bequeathing all his estates to William. It was tradition for the Earl of Falconwood to purchase property for any second son, so his father bought the Westeria estates for Malcolm and had planned to give them to him on his twenty-first birthday. But when Malcolm refused to take his father's side in a tax dispute, the Earl disowned him. Malcolm vowed to get the lands back, one way or the other. In that he succeeded." Teresa gave a bitter laugh. "He inherited everything upon his brother's death."
"Oh, my poor, dear Malcolm," Nicola murmured. She blinked away the moisture that stung her eyes and concentrated on Lady Teresa. "Can't you see what is before your very eyes? Of course Malcolm was resentful when his father broke tradition and gave away lands that belonged to him."
"I don't think—"
Nicola leaned forward. "But just because he was angry doesn't mean he would go so far as to murder his brother." Anger swam in Teresa's eyes, and she fidgeted on the sofa seat. "Pure greed drove Malcolm's hand to push William over that cliff."
Nicola shook her head. "You cannot convince me of that. Malcolm has never wanted for money. He didn't need to kill to get it."
"He needed a title. He wanted to serve in Parliament, and being part of the House of Commons wasn't enough. He wanted to be in the House of the Lords."
"Then why isn't he attending the sessions 7'
"Perhaps now he is devoured by remorse." Teresa gave her a pitying glance. "But you cannot change or soften the truth, Lady Nicola. He is as guilty as sin. Why, he even admitted as much."
"I simply don't believe it. I have seen too much honor and goodness in him."
"Don't delude yourself, my dear. Please. You will only get hurt."
The bejeweled ring on Teresa's third finger with William's crest twinkled in the late afternoon sunlight. Nicola wagered that she never took it off. She felt a sudden suspicion. "Why do you feel such an urge to communicate with William?"
Shifting her weight on the settee, Teresa averted her gaze.
"I won't pry, but I know what it's like to lose a loved one. After my mother died, I was devastated. Lots of little things I had done—or hadn't done—tormented me." Teresa's stricken expression confirmed Nicola's guess. "My father reminisced about all the wonderful times we had shared, the times we pulled together to help each other out, the small memories that I had experienced but had forgotten. Through our remembered stories, I finally realized that she knew I loved her as much as she loved me."
A gasp escaped Teresa.
Nicola g
rasped her hand. "Don't you know in your heart that William recognized your love, despite any silly argument you might have had?"
Swallowing hard, Teresa pulled back. "How do—I can't discuss this with you. Rehashing the past only reopens wounds. If you will excuse me, I have another engagement I must attend."
Clockwork Blue (The Lumière Chronicles) Page 24