Lightning Unbound: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 1

by Lynne Connolly

  Sometime in the night Faith turned over in bed and reached for him. He wasn’t there. She woke at once and sat up to see Gerard standing by the window. He’d drawn back the shutters and was staring out into the shadowed garden.

  Faith climbed out of bed and went to the window. Without looking around he held out his arm and she walked into the shelter of his body. He drew her close. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She stayed close, and let him hold her. “Second thoughts?”

  “Not about you.” He turned his head and she saw his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “Never about you, love.” He turned the rest of his body and put both arms around her. He kissed her forehead.

  They were both naked, but it didn’t seem to matter. They knew each other inside and out, so this was as natural as breathing. After just two nights. “A new set of troubles?” she said, guessing at his problems.

  He chuckled softly. “Yes. Something like that.” He held her gently, but close. “Perhaps if we stay here it might all go away.” After another minute or two he leaned back and looked at her upturned face, his eyes warm and loving. “All I wanted was a reasonable lifespan, and if I was lucky, a wife and children. I was given that in full measure. Now everything has changed and I don’t know what I should do.”

  Faith knew it took courage for a man as strong as Gerard to admit his confusion. She loved him the more for it. “Shall we wait and see what happens?”

  He shook his head. “No. That would show weakness. I have to think of my father as a possible enemy. Although he brought us, gave us everything, and treated us with kindness, he might have done it all for a different reason.” He sighed, his bare chest heaving against her. “I knew he was fond of power and control. He did it for the good of the country, he said. It’s only recently I’ve begun to wonder. I’ve been blind, Faith.”

  She lifted her hand to stroke his broad shoulder. “No. You thought you were dying. Who could see beyond that?”

  He smiled. “Sweet love. I was too wrapped in my own troubles, too concerned with self-pity. It’s unforgivable. When I realized how ill I was, I promised myself not to succumb to self-pity. I think he fostered it. There’s still no excuse. It was worse after I found you. Even if I could make you my own, I wouldn’t have you for long, and I knew I couldn’t bear to subject you to that, especially if you returned my feelings.”

  She moved close, and felt the smooth skin of his chest against her cheek. “You would have given me security for George. I would have taken that.”

  “And kept the rest locked inside?” His hold on her tightened. “Sweetheart, rather than that I would have given you money to go away. You wouldn’t have known. And my father would have had everything his own way.”

  At the mention of Boscobel she drew a breath. “What do you think he wants?”

  “Total control.” Gerard answered without hesitation. “I’m sure of it. He’s bought many votes in the House, he has vast tracts of land. He wants it all. And he wanted me to make an heir, so he had someone to hand it on to. He wanted an heir with the woman of his choice. He’s given me a small concession, allowing me the wife I want. Except I don’t think he would have handed anything on.”

  “What?” She drew back and met his eyes. The moon was full tonight, the light silvery bright. She saw determination. “Do you think Stretton is right?”

  “If he is, it would make perfect sense. If he isn’t, my father is making a dynasty to rival the Royal Family. Either way, it cannot be allowed.”

  “No.” Britain prided itself on its freedom. No other country in the world had such equality under the law, no other country had the same freedom of expression. If Boscobel had his way all that would cease. “You’re not alone, love.”

  “I know.” He drew her close again. “It’s all a little too much just at present. I’m sure in a day or two I’ll be back on level ground again.” He grinned down at her. “Shall we go back to bed?”

  She smiled back. “Yes, please.”

  Before they left the window something caught her eye, a movement in the garden below. She stopped and held him close. “There’s someone out there.” Her voice lowered, as if they would be overheard.

  He turned his head to stare out of the window, moving his body to shield her. Faith moved so she could see around his bulk to the garden.

  There was someone there. A man, walking slowly through the garden. He stopped by one of the trees and looked, to the side of the window where they stood. They stayed perfectly still.

  Gerard opened his mind to her. Faith responded. Do you know him?

  I’m not sure. He looks familiar, but I don’t recognize him.

  They watched. The man seemed in no hurry. He was of medium height, with dark hair. When he looked up, his eyes glinted in the moonlight, but there was no way of telling what their colour was. He was leanly built, but moved with an ease that spoke of athleticism and grace. He hadn’t Stretton’s height nor Gerard’s bulk, but Faith felt she knew him.

  The man turned towards the house and his shoulders heaved as though he was fetching a heavy sigh.

  The clear moonlight illumined his face clearly. The young, handsome features began to change in a way Faith would have doubted if she’d seen it alone. The hair gleamed in the moonlight, and at first Faith thought she was seeing things, but it gleamed brighter as she watched. It was turning grey. The face, turned to the moonlight, began to pale even more, and lines appeared, grew on the previously smooth surface. She glanced at Gerard and saw his Adam’s apple move in his throat when he swallowed. The figure, previously so upright, gained a slight stoop and the figure was lost to view.

  It was unmistakably Boscobel. He’d changed from a young man to an older one before their eyes.

  Gerard gripped Faith by her waist and drew her back into the shadows. They listened and heard the thud of a door in the distance. He heard Faith inside his head. Why was he so reckless?

  That was what he wondered. Boscobel must have done this before, but in his whole life Gerard had never known him appear in that way. Was it a challenge? He met Faith’s gaze with a bewildered one of his own.

  Faith spoke aloud. “He’s testing you. If you were watching, would he know?”

  Gerard swallowed. “I thought I could hide most things from him. Perhaps I’ve been deluding myself.” His head spun with new knowledge. He couldn’t take any more. “I need to think. Come back to bed.”

  When he touched her, Faith’s skin was chilly beneath his hands. Gerard cursed under his breath. He was hardly taking good enough care of her. They must have stood together for twenty minutes, and while spring was on the way, the nights were still too cold for her. He drew her towards the bed and would say no more until he had seen her safely bestowed between the covers. He climbed in after her and pulled her close.

  “Well, that takes care of one concern,” he murmured. “He’s an Ancient.”

  A message sliced through them. You saw it?

  Yes. We both saw it.

  I saw it too. I knew it. He’s coming out into the open, making his move. I’ll call on the others, but I fear most of them won’t be able to get here in time.

  We’re agreed. We will do what we have to.

  Gerard had made his decision. Stretton’s ideals were his, to peacefully co-exist, even if it meant concealment. He wanted none of his father’s ambitions, ambitions that now were only too clear.

  Gerard woke wrapped around Faith, but when he moved back, trying to give her more space, she snuggled closer. Happily he gave in to what she clearly wanted and pulled her closely into the warmth of his body. He loved waking with her. He decided never to sleep alone again if it could possibly be avoided. This was too good to lose.

  He felt her wake, the gentle stirring against his body and her mind coming to life. He entered her mind, warmly welcoming her to the world. When she opened her eyes, she was smiling. “Good morning.”

  For answer he bent his head and gave her a gentle kiss.
She lifted her arms to curl them around his neck. “Are we staying here for much longer?”

  “Why? Don’t you like it?”

  She chuckled, moving closer. “You know I do. I’ll probably be very sorry when we do leave. It seems—not real, as though I’ll wake up.”

  He smoothed his hands over her back. “I’ll feel the same way. But I don’t want to wake, ever, if it means losing you.”

  She glanced at his face, almost shyly, a strange thing to do when they were both as naked as babes. Although his body was behaving in a most unchildlike way. Gerard felt vague astonishment that he could react in such a way after spending the last two days doing little but making love.

  He drew her closer, so she couldn’t mistake his desire, and took her mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Faith responded eagerly, but when he drew back to drop small kisses on her face, she said, “We won’t marry, will we?” Putting her hands on his chest, she drew back. “Your father won’t allow it. He’ll never allow it.”

  “Hush.” Desire temporarily forgotten, he drew her close to nestle against him. “It will happen. We’re not alone. We have friends. I don’t yet know how we’ll manage, but we will.” He brought his hands around to the front and cupped her face in them. She stared at him trustingly, her mind, her body, all open for him. “Before we leave this bed, I’d like your promise, love. Will you promise to marry me?”

  A slow smile widened her mouth. “Yes.” She drew breath to say more, but he covered her mouth with his, kissing her with all the expertise he had learned over the past few days, giving her all she wanted. She stayed close, her legs tangled with his, her body close, soft and warm.

  A soft knock on the door drew them apart. “Breakfast,” he murmured, his lips touching hers. He gave her a swift, closed mouth kiss. “We need sustenance.”

  There were two notes waiting for them at the breakfast table. Gerard opened the one from his father first. He read it through, frowning. “Father has arranged a ceremony. It will take place in the small salon at noon.” He looked. “That’s it. No special arrangements, no ball. Just the bare necessaries. Do you mind?”

  Faith shrugged. “It means we can get back to bed quicker.”

  Gerard laughed, the easy sound surprising him. “Wicked woman. Have I completely dulled your sense of propriety?” When she nodded, he added, “Good.”

  The second note was from Stretton. Faith looked when Gerard crowed with laughter. He met her questioning gaze and allowed himself a moment to drown in her blue eyes. “Stretton has made good the omission. There’s a large ball tonight, at Lady Buckfast’s. She’s holding it to announce her arrival in town, but at Stretton’s gentle persuasion she’s invited us to be her guests of honour. It will serve as an announcement to society and shame my father to boot.”

  He chuckled. His father wasn’t going to have it all his own way. It would be difficult, but already he had begun hardening his heart, erecting a deliberate barrier between them. His chuckles faded into frowning concentration.

  “What is it?”

  “Deborah. I can’t reach her.”

  “Oh, dear. Do you think your father has done something to her?” Immediately Faith stretched her arm across the table. He put his hand in hers, squeezing it slightly in reassurance. “No, I don’t think so. I would have known that for sure. She would have called out to me. Perhaps she just wanted to give us some privacy.”

  He watched Faith blush, delighting in the delicate colour that spread from her neck to cover her face. Now he knew she could blush all over. The thought sent his body stirring, but he ruthlessly repressed it. Her voice came in a whisper. “Have we been broadcasting to everyone?”

  “No, love. Stretton showed me how to channel my thoughts, and I’ve been helping you to do the same. It’s easy, once you know the trick of it. I’ll show you.” He released her hand after a brief caress.

  Faith’s colour subsided and she was able to approach her breakfast with more equanimity. She would need it. She glanced at Gerard, similarly occupied. It would be wonderful to breakfast with him like this for the rest of their lives.

  At the thought, she was reminded of their other problems. Thinking Gerard’s advice good, to cope with it later, she tried to put it to the back of her mind, but she couldn’t help remembering. He could live for a very long time. She could not. He had said he was happy to spend a single lifetime with her, but she couldn’t help but think of it as a sacrifice. Who would give that? Perhaps, after thinking of his life in terms of months, this was as much as he could bear at the moment. But they had to talk about it sometime.

  When she stood and walked to his end of the table, he reached out a hand and took hold of her forearm. She felt the thrill through the thick satin of her loose gown and bent, smiling down at him. “You have the first bath, sweetheart. I’ll send your new maid to you, since I won’t be there to wash your back. I’ll see you at the altar.” Drawing her down, he pressed one swift kiss to her lips and then left her.

  She had a bare two hours.

  The bath this time was a swift cleansing. The new maid was efficient and unobtrusive, doing what was needed when it was needed. Her name was Baker. After the bath, Baker wrapped a towel around Faith, and they went through to the countess’s chambers.

  The room was now Faith’s, but most of the things she saw strewn on the bed and over the dressing table meant nothing to her. An elaborate dressing set, all silver gilt and crystal, adorned the flat surface and the bed was covered with glistening silks and satins, thrown in an ordered heap.

  “Deborah.” Faith went forward to embrace her lover’s sister, soon to be her sister-in-law. “Gerard was worried about you.”

  Deborah grinned, a smile reminiscent of her brother’s mischievous smile. “I’ve been busy. Cerisot’s girl is on her way with another armload of things. We’ve chosen some gowns for you, and she’s bringing some samples so you can choose some more. You only had a few when you were Lady Bradley. Lady Ellesmere will need more.”

  “Good Lord.” Faith went over to the bed and fingered the garment at the top of the pile, a delicate jonquil silk. She had never owned such beautiful garments. The carelessly piled clothes showed some breathtaking embroidery, peeping out from lace that would have cost a king’s ransom. She swallowed, overwhelmed by the largesse. How could she ever pay them back?

  Gerard’s voice was in her mind. You already have. Shall I go, sweet, would you rather be alone?

  No. The response was instinctive. Now that she had him, she wanted the constant reassurance of his presence, even when he wasn’t in the same room with her.

  She heard the amusement in his voice. I won’t close to you unless you ask me to.

  She sent him waves of love in gratitude. Now she was out of his presence the sheer enormity of what she had done began to overwhelm her, but she felt him, a steadying presence in the back of her mind. It helped more than she could say.

  Cerisot and her assistant arrived, swamped in yards of cloth. This was a magnificent creation, in rose-coloured silk, embroidered with knots of rosebuds, each one with a brilliant at its centre. Faith knew it was her wedding gown. It was the one.

  Before her maid gowned her, her hair had to be dressed and powdered. Baker achieved this, and while she was pushing in the pins Cerisot showed her the gowns. There seemed to be far too many, but Faith knew she would need them all, if she was to do her future husband proud in public, something she was determined on.

  For that reason she allowed them to persuade her. Deborah seemed to find pleasure in helping her choose, and for the first time in her life Faith knew what it was like to have a female to talk to. Deborah was already gowned in a fresh apple green and promised to stand witness for Faith and Ellesmere. She seemed in high spirits.

  “Not everyone can bear such a colour,” she said critically, touching the folds of a deep amber velvet. “You can, Faith, dear. It’s perfect.”

  Faith happily nodded her agreement and the gown was put aside, replace
d by a riding habit in deep wine red. It was gorgeous, sumptuously cut, and the jacket would fit her curves closely, flatter her as no other gown she’d ever owned before.

  She sat enthralled, watching the gowns displayed before her. Cerisot, who had followed on the heels of her burdened maid, assured her that she would attend to any alterations directly.

  “I have no time today,” she said. “May I come and see you another time?”

  Cerisot bowed. “I am at your disposal, my lady.” Faith realized Cerisot was flattering her. She had been “my lady” for some time, but as the wife of a knight, not of a peer, courtesy or otherwise. Cerisot’s bow was lower, her more deferential demeanours all spoke of the change in her status. Faith didn’t like it but was wise enough to know she couldn’t do anything to alter it. She’d have to accept toadying as part of her new station in life. People would certainly not stop doing it because she asked them to. Her patronage would do Cerisot’s business good, as it would never have done before.

  If it happened. Doubt and nervousness twisted her stomach into painful knots.

  Deborah stood next to her while Baker put the finishing touches to her hair. She had threaded a few ribbon rosebuds into the style. It looked charming. The powdered hair made Faith appear ethereal, otherworldly. She grimaced at herself, pulling a comical face. Appropriately ethereal for the wife of a god.

  Just a man with a few differences.

  Sharing her mind was difficult, but the advantages outweighed the problems thrown by it. If she closed her eyes, she could see him, and so vivid was the picture she didn’t know if it was true or her own imagination. She knew him intimately now. She could bring him to mind without a great deal of effort.

  Thinking of the woman next to her, Faith tried something else. Deborah?

  Yes?

  The voice was clear, a little deeper than Deborah’s spoken voice. Faith’s eyes snapped open and she met Deborah’s friendly gaze. “Goodness.”

  “Indeed.” Deborah raised a brow and smiled, as if the communication came as no surprise to her.

  Their attention deliberately turned away, to the mantua maker and the maid.