But nothing happened.
My wand hand lifted again and his hands were suddenly bound to his sides as though by invisible cords, his mouth full of horrible writhing things that began to pour out furiously, leaving me shocked and silent, staring at him.
I stood watching, amazed by my own power.
Marcus Dent was choking and retching, stones and frogs falling from his mouth, a spell I had certainly not intended. They littered the path, the vomited stones glossy, small and black, the green frogs hopping indignantly away to vanish into the grass as though they had never existed.
I was stunned. Not that I regretted what the wand had done. But it was disconcerting that it could make decisions for me.
‘Hurry!’ I urged Alejandro, who was scrambling to his feet, unsteady, his face dark with fury. ‘It’s Marcus Dent. He put a spell on us all. We have to get back inside the house. I can protect us far better there.’
But Alejandro was too quick for me. His eyes met mine and I saw an unspoken apology there. Then, in a flash, he grabbed up Marcus’s dagger and turned, thrusting it deep into the witchfinder’s side.
Marcus made a strange noise in his throat. He stared at me past Alejandro, wide-eyed, his mouth still bubbling with green frogs, then collapsed, sagging against Alejandro. He grabbed Alejandro’s shoulder, muttering a few words hoarsely into his ear. Then his eyes closed and his fair head fell back limply, the witchfinder’s mouth open, empty at last, his lips glistening with what looked like frothing green bile.
I stepped back, watching in horror as Alejandro tilted Marcus back onto the grass, then straightened, looking down at the blood on his hands.
The silence was terrible.
Alejandro turned to me, his expression agonized. ‘Get back inside, Meg. I will take care of this.’
‘Let me help you.’
‘Look, la princesa is at the door. She will come outside if you do not reassure her that it is over. That Marcus Dent is dead.’
‘Forgive me, Alejandro,’ I managed, my throat suddenly clogged with unshed tears. ‘This is my fault.’
He held out his arms. ‘Come here, mi querida.’
Not caring at that moment what anyone might think, I burrowed into his shoulder, and breathed in his heat, the masculine smell of his body. I felt no triumph. Just an intense weariness, and a nagging fear that the Lady Elizabeth would order me to leave her household again.
Marcus Dent was dead.
Alejandro had killed him.
But could it really be that simple . . .?
As though sensing my mood, a cloud darkened the face of the sun. The shadows of the beech and oak trees around us seemed to grow longer, stretching cold black fingers towards us across the lawns.
‘Alejandro,’ I murmured.
He drew back and looked down at me. His face was a bloodied mess, one of his eyes swollen. ‘Meg.’
It was a measure of our topsy-turvy love that this struck me as one of the most significant exchanges we had ever had.
‘The prophecy said Marcus Dent would die at the hands of a witch who had raised a dead king.’
Alejandro nodded. He met my gaze thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps it was more of a curse than a prophecy.’
‘What now?’ I asked simply.
‘Now you go inside.’ Alejandro kissed my forehead. ‘I will say the last rites for Master Dent. Then Richard, William and I will bury him together. Somewhere discreet in the woods. Not on consecrated ground. He does not deserve a holy burial.’
I nodded my agreement. Turning, I glanced reluctantly towards the body – and froze in horror.
The dead, wide-splayed, motionless monster that had been Marcus Dent was stirring. A leg jerked, then an arm. Slowly the fingers of his right hand groped at the grass, as though searching for the bloodied dagger which had dealt his death-blow. Then his eyes opened, and the dead white eye swivelled round to stare at us, sinister and unearthly.
‘Alejandro,’ I whispered, my fingers gripping his arm. ‘Look at Marcus.’
Alejandro spun on his heel, staring back at the man we had both thought dead.
I heard a sudden thud of hooves and turned in search of the sound, my breathing constricted. The black stallion had reappeared, galloping swiftly out of the trees and back across the lawns towards us.
The horse circled Marcus, who had staggered to his feet now, dagger in hand. The witchfinder’s face was white as his collar, and withered too, like that of a very old man, his one blue eye the only flare of colour left. His black doublet was horribly stained with blood; I could not bear to look at it.
Richard too was on his feet again, groping his way up the house wall. He called hoarsely, ‘Meg, don’t let him escape!’
But it was too late.
Marcus had already gripped the horse’s long mane, and with a muttered enchantment was transported onto the animal’s back. His arms clutched the strong neck as the stallion reared, dangerous hooves flashing out, then the animal galloped away with him.
I raised my wand to strike Marcus down as he fled, but Alejandro was running after him. I lowered my arm slowly; I could not risk hurting Alejandro by mistake.
A moment later, the stallion had vaulted the boundary wall and disappeared from sight, thundering across the fields with Marcus on its back.
Alejandro gave a gesture of despair and came limping back to me, his chest heaving.
‘Forgive me, Meg. This is my fault. I thought him dead.’
‘So did I.’
‘I don’t understand it. The wound should have been fatal.’ He looked down at his blood-stained hands, a kind of horror on his face. ‘Though I am glad, in a way.’
I nodded, understanding what he meant. There was always a darkness out there, ready to swallow us if we made a mistake. It had taken the witchfinder long ago. To have killed Marcus might have driven Alejandro into the darkness too.
The Lady Elizabeth was outside, administering to Richard with Kat Ashley at her side. The conjuror’s apprentice looked badly hurt, his face creased in pain, and I felt suddenly ashamed. I had not realized until that moment that he had been injured, not simply knocked down.
I ran across to my friend, who had sagged against the wall again, unable to walk. There was blood on his face, perhaps from a bump on the head, but otherwise I could see nothing.
‘Where are you injured?’
He had closed his eyes, but opened them again. ‘My back. I had a rough landing when Dent threw me backwards.’
‘But you can walk? You can feel your legs?’
‘Aye, a little.’
William lifted Richard as though he weighed nothing. ‘I will carry Richard up to his room,’ he announced unsteadily, not meeting my eyes. I guessed he was a little afraid of my power. ‘If Alice could fetch hot water and cloths, we can make him comfortable at least.’
When they had gone, the Lady Elizabeth rounded on me sharply. Her face was pale, her small dark eyes fixed on my face. ‘Did you know Master Dent was coming here today?’
‘No, my lady.’
‘Kat was right,’ she said abruptly. ‘You bring this house more trouble than I can afford.’
‘Forgive me—’ I began wearily, guessing that she was about to dismiss me.
She held up a hand, interrupting me. ‘But you have done me good service too. And we Tudors do not forget loyal servants.’ She met my eyes, her look stern. ‘I will not send you away, Meg. You have caused a mess here, and it is only by remaining that you can protect me from it.’
‘My lady?’
‘It is time you rid the world of this Master Dent. The man has become troublesome, and his testimony alone could damage my reputation a thousand-fold.’ She shook her head in disgust. ‘Vomiting frogs? The whole sky turned black as night in the middle of the day? Our minds and bodies taken over by a spell? If my sister were to hear of these happenings, I would face torture at the hands of the Spanish Inquisition until I confessed myself a witch too.’
‘I will do my best to pre
vent that, my lady.’
‘See that you do. For I will give them your name first if I am arrested. And keep out of my way until the thing is done.’
The Lady Elizabeth swept away into the house, her back very stiff, Kat Ashley and Blanche Parry following her with fierce looks thrown back at me.
I thought of what Marcus had said. A virgin queen. Was that what lay ahead for Elizabeth, a reign without a husband? It seemed unlikely. I could not imagine such a passionate young woman welcoming a chaste existence. But then, none of us were privy to the secret workings of the Lady Elizabeth’s heart. Perhaps she would rather be alone than marry a man for whom she had no love, as many noblewomen were forced to do.
And who was Dent’s ‘excellent informant’?
‘Meg?’
I turned.
Alejandro was waiting, the cut on his face weeping blood again. Impatience, love and frustration all surged inside me as I examined his battered face.
‘You’re so stubborn. Will you at least let me tend that cut before it gets infected?’
He nodded, his eyes very dark. ‘But only if you let me come to your bedchamber first, mi querida.’
FOURTEEN
Like the World’s About to End
Five minutes later, I closed the door to my bedchamber and turned, only to find Alejandro a few inches away, watching me, his face bloodied and raw.
‘Alejandro?’ I whispered, my eyes widening at his intent expression.
His hands came down either side of my head, pressed flat against the wood of the door. I stared up into his face, astonished and a little afraid of this new Alejandro, so serious and determined.
‘May I kiss you?’ he asked.
‘Th . . . that would hardly be right . . . or fair . . . to either of us,’ I stammered, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. ‘I have already told you we will not be getting married. And the Lady Elizabeth . . . it is her household . . . she forbade me to be alone with you . . .’
‘I do not care about that. Well, I care. But not at this exact moment. Right now all I want to do is take you in my arms, mi querida, and kiss away the memory of what just happened.’ His eyes flickered, and suddenly I saw the emotion raging inside him, emotion he had been struggling to suppress.
I was hardly breathing, still as a mouse. Something in me had latched on to the emotion in him, and was driving us both forward, inexorably, towards the one thing we most certainly should never consider.
His finger brushed my cheek, feather-light, and I realized that he was trembling. Then his thumb dragged slowly along my lower lip, his dark gaze following the movement.
‘Alejandro, what . . . what are you doing?’
‘Something I should have done a year ago.’ His look was savagely hungry as he searched my face, hunting for some sign that I felt the same. It took every ounce of my strength not to kiss him there and then. But that would be madness. I still knew that, at least. ‘Meg, I love you. I would die for you. I hope you know that.’
‘I don’t want you to die for me,’ I whispered. ‘Alejandro, please, we can’t do this. It’s not what you want. Not in your heart.’
‘Then order me to leave your bedchamber,’ he challenged me. ‘Slap my face. Throw me out. I will not argue with you, mi alma.’
I could not take my eyes off him. ‘Listen, this thing between us . . . you know it will not end well. It never could. That’s why you must give up on me, Alejandro.’
‘I will,’ he promised, lowering his head with painstaking slowness. ‘But not yet.’
His kiss burned me up from the inside, like setting a torch to stacked brushwood that had stood too long in the sun. Our mouths and bodies met at the same time, pressing intimately together, and then it was too late to stop.
I felt my heart take off, racing alongside his as we forgot sanity and discipline, and kissed like lovers.
Alejandro made a rough noise under his breath, then slammed his fist against the door as though suddenly furious with himself. ‘Dios!’
Yet he did not pull back as I expected.
‘Si, mi amor,’ he muttered.
His mouth worked more hotly against mine now, tempting me like the Devil, persuading my lips to open. Utterly lost, I kissed him back, thrusting my hands into his short dark hair, forgetting everything except him.
Suddenly Alejandro groaned, then lifted me in his arms, turning to lay me on the narrow bed. He came down beside me on the mattress, throwing one possessive arm about my body, his gaze locked with mine as we stared at each other, both trying to read the other’s secrets.
I could see from his face that he too felt dazed and off-balance, as though something between us had shifted, tilting us both into more dangerous territory. Had coming so perilously close to death done this?
‘Meg.’ He bent to kiss my throat, his lips warm against my skin. ‘I must tell you something important.’
‘What?’ I murmured, my face flushed with heat.
‘What you saw of me today, I am sorry for it . . .’
I thought he meant being taken over by Marcus Dent, and tried to reassure him. ‘It was a spell. He controlled all of us – it was not your fault.’
‘No,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Not that. When I opened my eyes, and saw what was happening . . . I knew I had to finish him, or he was going to kill you.’
‘Hush,’ I reassured him, stroking my hands through his thick black hair. ‘I understand, you wanted to protect me.’
‘Back in Spain, we were taught to fight as young novices, permitted to wear a sword and dagger, even to ride into battle if the King ordered it,’ he told me, his voice muffled against my neck. ‘But we were still training to be priests, members of a holy order, and so the taking of a man’s life must always be a last resort. What I did today, it was not easy for me. I have not trained to be a priest so that I can kill. That is not the man I want to be.’
‘I know,’ I whispered.
He lifted his head, and I was shocked to see tears in his eyes. I wanted to kiss them away, to make everything better. But I knew it would take more than kisses – more than my love – to heal whatever was hurting him so badly inside.
‘Is there something you have not told me, Alejandro? Some secret you are keeping from me?’
He said nothing, shaking his head, but his smile was bitter. I was right; he was hiding something from me. But what? He would tell me when he was ready, I told myself feverishly, and hoped I was not mistaken.
I stroked his cut face, my heart aching to see him so hurt. ‘You are injured. Let me clean this for you.’
‘It’s nothing, leave it.’
Alejandro bent, touching his lips to mine, and my heart began to thud again. He leaned above me, pressing close. I could feel the hard line of his body against mine and it lit a fire in me that I could not quite control.
His hands played with my hair, breathing in the pale strands, then he cupped my face, holding me still while he kissed me so deeply I thought I would faint.
There was no doubt in my mind that he wanted me, nor that I wanted him just as badly in return.
He rested his forehead against mine, the veins in his throat standing out with the effort of not kissing me. ‘Meg, Meg, I’m drowning.’
Daringly I kissed his throat and heard his muffled protest. But we had nearly died out there today. How could it be wrong to want to love him, to celebrate with our bodies that we were alive, that we had survived Marcus Dent’s assault?
Suddenly Alejandro pushed me back against the mattress and kissed me hard, pinning me down with his body. I was breathless and trembling by the time he raised his head again, shocked and more than a little excited by the raw emotion between us.
‘Forgive me,’ he managed hoarsely. ‘I should not have kissed you like that. But I’ve held back so long, it was hard to stop.’
I was so breathless and dizzy, my lips still tingling from his kiss, it took me a moment to respond. ‘There’s nothing to forgive. I was not unwilling.’
‘I think it may be in mine too,’ I whispered.
‘Ah, don’t . . . please.’
The muttered words sounded tortured. I touched him lightly, one hand brushing down his body, and his jaw clenched hard.
‘Would it be so very wrong?’ I asked quietly.
‘You know it would. And why.’ His face was stiff. ‘You said it yourself when you allowed me in here.’
Because I had refused to marry him. But did that mean we could not love each other? Bitterness and despair coiled inside me. Of course it did. It meant the end of everything between us. He was not the kind of man to take advantage of a woman like that.
And yet I still wanted him. ‘Alejandro . . .’
He rolled over onto his back, shaking his head, but stayed close beside me on the narrow bed, our bodies astonishingly hot where they touched.
He sounded almost furious. But not with me, I realized. ‘There’s plenty for you to forgive, Meg. You don’t know the truth.’
‘Then tell me.’
‘Ay, Dios mio!’ Alejandro fell silent for a moment, then replied unsteadily, ‘No, some things I cannot tell you. You must trust me to do what is right for you. My silence will keep you safe.’
‘I can keep myself safe.’
He gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Is that so, my love? Because you did not look very safe, facing Marcus Dent out there with nothing but that crooked old wand in your hand. You looked about a hair’s-breadth from being annihilated.’
My love.
I savoured the sound of those words in my head.
‘My mother’s wand may be old, but I can assure you it is not crooked,’ I corrected him, my voice dignified, but my hand wriggled down nonetheless to seek his and squeeze it. ‘Alejandro, will you always kiss me like that?’
‘Like what?’
‘Like the world is about to end.’
He turned his head, smiling at me wryly. ‘It does feel that way, mi amor. And that is why we must take care never to be alone together again. Because this . . . this is rapidly becoming the thing I cannot live without.’
Witchrise Page 16