Mistress by Magick

by Laura Navarre

  No doubt he shared her eagerness for the next stage of their reunion, when he took her to bed. Already her body pulsed and tingled with anticipation.

  Blushing, she murmured her assent and let him turn her uphill. Limbs still unsteady with the emotions sweeping through her, relief and incredulity and joy all battling for prominence, she climbed slowly, very conscious of his masculine presence close behind.

  As they neared the cottage, she was surprised to glimpse a battered carriage tethered in the drive. A hired vehicle from the village, most likely, she thought. The equipage appeared incapable of traveling any distance, and she rarely received visitors on this remote stretch of coast.

  “I cannot imagine who is calling.” She glanced toward Calyx and found him taut with expectation. Briefly she wondered if there was cause for alarm. But he seemed untroubled, hands relaxed at his side, nowhere near his sword.

  She lifted her brows. “Did someone else arrive with you on the Arcángel?”

  “Go and see.” A smile tugged at his lips.

  Perhaps it was Linnet Norwood, if she had not yet returned through the mirror. Curiosity and anticipation brimming, Jayne hurried toward the house, already planning what sort of dinner her modest kitchen could manage for a long-traveled guest. For certain, they had ample cause for celebration, with the Armada vanquished and a wedding to plan!

  She’d nearly reached the cottage when the door opened.

  The man hesitating on her threshold was portlier and older than she recalled, and attired more richly than any Carey of Clover Chase.

  But the round, florid face of Gifford Carey, smiling tentatively at his exiled daughter, wrung a cry straight from her heart.

  “Father?”

  “My dear girl,” her father said softly. “You are even more lovely than your brother reported.”

  She had thought she would never forgive him. In her childhood, he had been kind and loving, yet weak. When she needed him most, he had failed her utterly. Now, at the sight of his gentle face, blue eyes timid and blinking behind familiar spectacles, ten years of anger splintered and fell away.

  Aye, he had failed her. But he was still her father.

  She skimmed across the distance between them and hurled herself into his arms. The familiar odors of port and tobacco, so dear to her childhood memories, filled her head.

  Scarcely comprehending how he’d managed to come here, save that Calyx was surely involved, Jayne blinked against the sting of tears. Gifford Carey patted her shoulder gently.

  She stepped back and gazed into his soft eyes.

  “I was not certain I should come here, child,” he said quietly. “I could scarcely imagine you would wish to receive me. But Kinley thought you’d managed somehow to forgive him...”

  “So I did.” She smiled. “Kin has changed a great deal—and, I believe, for the better—from the intemperate young hotspur I recall. After Calais, he was the soul of kindness to me.”

  The baron bobbed his graying head. “Aye, he’s improved a great deal under Walsingham’s tutelage. And I myself have learned something of the nature of love from the good woman who has lately become my wife.”

  Once, she would have hated him for that. But Jayne, too, had learned something of the nature of love.

  “I am grateful you too have found someone to love,” she said softly.

  At her words, his nervous tension visibly eased.

  “I shall not attempt to excuse my shortcomings, Jayne. I am as flawed and fallible as any man living. I can only say that, in my grief after your dear mother’s passing, I was undone for many years.” His florid color deepened. “Kinley told me what transpired between you and Dudley, child. You had every right to expect me to proclaim your innocence and defend you from slander, as a father should.”

  He drew a deep breath. “I do not pretend past events can be easily forgotten. Still, I pray you may find it in your generous heart to forgive your old father someday.”

  Gifford Carey had spoken truly. She would never forget the pain of being condemned and abandoned by the father she’d adored. Yet it could not have been easy to seek her out, all the way from Clover Chase, not knowing whether she would laugh at his apology or spit in his face.

  It was never easy for a man, even a father, to admit he’d made a mistake.

  If he could swallow his pride and ask her forgiveness, could she not meet him halfway? Sometime during the ordeal of Calais, she had forgiven Kin for his part in the sorry business.

  As she stood hesitantly before him, she sensed Calyx’s presence like a rampart at her back. Clearly he forbore to intrude upon the scene, but she reached back and caught his hand to draw him forward. If her father wished her forgiveness, let him show the extent of his own forbearance.

  “I believe I can learn to forgive you, Father,” she said steadily, “if you, like Kin, can accept that I am no longer a child subject to your authority. I have been an independent woman for years, and I make my own choices. I intend to marry Lord Calyx as soon as it can be arranged.”

  She waited, bracing for some protest. Calyx might be promised a knighthood from the grateful Queen. But, sir or no sir, a reformed Spanish pirate was hardly a respectable match.

  Gifford Carey blinked rapidly as he absorbed this extraordinary plan.

  “I cannot claim to be surprised, Jayne,” he said at last, to her astonishment. “Your brother mentioned an attachment of this sort. Besides which, the captain and I have formed an acquaintance on the journey. Clearly, he has proven himself a worthy gentleman.”

  Jayne thought that a noble sentiment from a father who must consider a blackguard like Calyx a poor choice of husband. Still, his forbearance was a hopeful sign. She squeezed Calyx’s hand and smiled encouragement at her father.

  “There is something else you can do to set matters aright.” She lifted her chin and held her father’s blue gaze. “No doubt you are aware my son Ryder, your grandson, has been a ward of Lord Robert Dudley these six years past.”

  “Aye, Lord Robert.” Comprehension flashed across Gifford Carey’s face. “Indeed, that is one reason for this journey. You can scarcely be aware of the news in this remote place.”

  “What news?” Foreboding nibbled at her nerves. “Has something happened to Ryder?”

  “Oh, nay! The boy is very well.” Relief swept through her, but her father still looked anxious. “I am not certain how you shall receive this. But I must tell you, my dear, that Lord Robert is dead.”

  “Dead?” Jayne struggled to grasp the words. “Dear God—Dudley! He is dead?”

  “Aye, a month past, may God assoil his soul.” Her father nodded. “He died in his bed after a sudden illness.”

  Her mind flashed back to the dashing gallant who’d ridden to hounds at Clover Chase, always so elegant and witty and graceful in his saddle. The man she’d thought she loved until that night on the floor in her father’s hall.

  Yet Dudley was well past his fiftieth year. Indeed, she’d heard his health was said to be failing. But she’d discounted the rumor. How not, when he’d commanded the land defenses at Tilbury not two months past?

  Groping for her wits, she said inanely, “The Queen must be distraught.”

  “Forsooth, there was no consoling her.” He sighed. “When she heard the news, Elizabeth locked herself into her chamber and took neither food nor drink for three days running. In the end, Lord Burleigh ordered her Yeomen to break the door down. But she has since returned to her senses, I am relieved to say.”

  “Poor Elizabeth,” Jayne murmured. To her surprise, she felt a flicker of compassion for her cousin’s heartbreak. She herself, after Calais and the nightmare months that followed, knew what it was to survive a broken heart.

  If she could forgive even Elizabeth for her past misdeeds, could not Elizabeth someday forgive her?

  “I must say,” her father went on, looking aggrieved, “I have never understood the sway that strutting peacock held over the fairer sex—but never mind that now. Jayne, I�
��ve wanted to seek you out since I spoke to Kinley, as I said. He gave me to believe the overture might not be unwelcome. Still, faint-heart that I am, I feared to do it—until Lord Calyx arrived on my doorstep to collect me at the Queen’s command.”

  “The Queen?” Jayne divided a puzzled gaze between them. Now both men seemed brimming with some shared secret, a sense of suppressed excitement radiating between them. “Pray, do not keep me in suspense.”

  “Child,” Gifford Carey said proudly, “I bring you a royal apology, which is something not many men or women have received from this monarch or any other.”

  At this empty gesture, impatience rose within her. “That is all very well, Father. If she wishes to make amends, she knows what I would treasure above all. Until she is willing to—”

  “Jayne,” Calyx murmured, bringing her hand to his lips. She nearly melted at the love and understanding that burned in his dark eyes. Even now, before her father’s mild-mannered gaze, tendrils of heat unfurled from the brush of Calyx’s mouth on her skin.

  “Belleza,” he said tenderly. “Go into the house.”

  “What, have you some other surprise for me?” Gently she curled her hand against his cheek. “I have you, my love. I even have my father back, it seems, and you to thank for bringing him. What bridegroom could bring a better gift that that?”

  “This one can.” He smiled against her fingers. “Go inside.”

  Still puzzled, she felt nonetheless an odd sense of expectation bubbling up. Obediently she turned toward the house. Her father had stepped aside, leaving the door to the sunny dayroom ajar. Within, the sweet fragrance of applewood rose from the cracking hearth.

  Slowly, she moved toward the door, heart beating hard and fast in her chest.

  A small figure stepped into view. A sturdy lad dressed in doublet and trunk hose of russet velvet, like a miniature lord, plumed cap pinned over glossy black curls, round cheeks suntanned and rosy with health. She gazed into the bright turquoise eyes of a Carey, eyes sparkling with intellect and curiosity—the same eyes she saw in her own mirror.

  She’d seen those eyes in the babe at her breast, the toddler who’d clung to her and cried when they came to take him away.

  Jayne felt her legs fold beneath her. As she sank to her knees in the grass, Calyx’s quick hand closed beneath her elbow and caught her.

  “Steady,” he murmured at her ear, strength flowing from his body to hers. “Don’t frighten him.”

  “Ryder?” she breathed, terribly afraid the solemn boy before her would say, No, I am someone else.

  Instead he made her a careful leg—so beautifully mannered, and he was graceful too, with the natural athleticism of his father.

  “God save you, my lady mother,” he said in his clear voice. “I have heard of your sweet beauty and kindness from Lord Robert all my life. When I learnt his final testament called for your return, and Her Majesty said I might live with you, it was the best surprise.”

  He hesitated, uncertainty surfacing for the first time in his bright gaze.

  “Grandfather was not certain we ought to surprise you this way. But Lord Calyx said you like surprises. Is it true? Do you like surprises, Mother?”

  “I love surprises, Ryder,” she said tremulously. “Will you—will you give your mother a kiss?”

  Her son came readily to her outstretched arms and raised his face for her kiss. The healthy odor of horses and outdoors rose from his black curls. Behind her, Calyx gripped her shoulders to steady her. Her father beamed and pressed his hands together, as though he silently thanked God for the scene before him.

  Once more, Jayne overflowed with joyful tears. She leaned into Calyx’s strength and smiled into her son’s shining gaze.

  This time, her happiness was complete.

  * * * * *

  Loyalties are tested as two very different worlds collide!

  Find out how it all began with Magick by Moonrise and Midsummer Magick—available now!

  Magick by Moonrise

  Half mortal, half Fae princess, Rhiannon le Fay is a healer trying to broker peace between the Faerie and mortal worlds. The Convergence is approaching, an occurrence every thousand years where the Veil that separates the two realms temporarily dissolves. Without her help, war between the two is inevitable.

  After meeting Rhiannon, Beltran knows he must bring her to justice, but he’s instantly attracted to the ethereal beauty. She forces him to confront his beliefs and introduces him to the Faerie world, and in the process he discovers a haunting truth about himself.

  Midsummer Magick

  The Virgin Queen’s Court whispers about shy scholar Lady Linnet Norwood, who spent a year and a day trapped in the Faerie realm and returned as a ruined woman. Linnet, however, is not yet free of magick. Otherworldly forces plot to use her to incite a bloody uprising that will twist the fates of mortal and Faerie realms alike.

  Exiled angel Zamiel wavers on the edge of accepting an offer from his fallen father to become Prince of Hell. Lucifer knows Lady Linnet’s significance, and urges his son to pursue and protect her for sinister ends.

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  About the Author

  In her other life, Laura Navarre is a diplomat who’s lived in Russia and works on weapons of mass destruction issues. In the line of duty, she’s been trapped in an elevator in a nuclear power plant and has stalked the corridors of facilities churning out nerve agent and other apocalyptic weapons. In this capacity, she meets many of the world’s most dangerous men.

  Inspired by the sinister realities of her real life, Laura writes dark Tudor and Renaissance romance with fantasy elements. A member of Romance Writers of America, a Golden Heart Award finalist and winner of the Pacific Northwest Writers Association award for romance, Laura is the author of The Magick Trilogy, a Carina Press series of dark and sensual Tudor romances with elements of Arthurian legend and fallen-angel heroes. The series launched with the award-winning Magick by Moonrise and continued with Midsummer Magick in August 2013.

  Living on an island in the Pacific Northwest with her screenwriter husband and two Siberian cats, Laura divides her time between her writing career and other adventures for government clients.

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  ISBN-13: 9781426897795

  MISTRESS BY MAGICK

  Copyright © 2014 by Laura Navarre

  Edited by Charlotte Herscher

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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