Lightning Unbound: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 1

by Lynne Connolly

  D’Argento held Deborah to one side, his hand firmly in control of her horse’s bridle. Other riders had spurred their mounts, riding quickly to the scene, as it was now obvious something was wrong. Gerard saw Deborah’s whip hand descend, bringing it down on d’Argento’s deceptively slender wrist. His hold didn’t budge.

  Gerard turned back to his father.

  Boscobel sat rigidly on his horse. As Gerard watched, he realized the man was no longer in control. His father stared in front of him, his eyes wide and unblinking, his jaw set hard in resistance to whatever was happening in his mind. Gerard directed his thoughts.

  The duke’s mind roiled in turmoil. Whatever Stretton had done confused him, brought him to a complete standstill. A spark of reason, like a fortified keep, remained in the middle of it all, but Gerard saw, felt, the defences weaken.

  Leave us. Stretton’s command was clear and open.

  Gerard felt himself getting closer and knew his father was drawing him in, determined not to go alone. He saw the soft sleep of the dead, knew it was what he wanted, what he really wanted above everything else.

  No! Despite everyone’s orders, Faith opened and pleaded with him.

  Gerard withdrew, giving his wife his complete attention. She came first. She always would.

  He heard calls from the stray riders, prevented from coming any closer from an invisible barrier, set by Stretton and d’Argento. It made them afraid to come closer, mortally afraid, but they shouted. Gerard only heard them dimly, his whole world centered on his wife.

  Faith sent him a caressing, reassuring wave and made to close, but something prevented her.

  It couldn’t be.

  It was. Deborah, in full force, streaking through all Faith’s barriers, holding her still. Gerard reached for her, but he was too late. Deborah lunged from the back of her horse, using a power Gerard had never known in her before, hurling herself across the small space between herself and Faith. Deborah caught Faith full in the chest and the impact threw them both off her horse.

  All Gerard could do was reach for the reins and draw the animal away from where Deborah lay over the supine body of his wife. D’Argento was only a fraction behind him. When Gerard hauled his sister off Faith, he saw his love, lying pale and cold, blood trickling from a wound in her head.

  “Faith, Faith!” He heard the words as though someone else said them. Ignoring Deborah, he touched his wife’s chilly face and called to her, using everything he had. “Faith, my love, my own.”

  Curving his hand around the back of his wife’s head, Gerard felt for the wound. It was shallow, but with a head wound that meant nothing. It could have gone deep.

  With a great sigh, Faith coughed and Gerard’s heart began to beat again. Alive. He drew his hand away and made to pick her up, no longer caring about anyone else. Then he saw it.

  He must have grazed his hand when he fell. Oozing from a shallow cut was his blood, clear and sparkling in the early morning sunshine. He’d just touched her wound.

  His blood. His lethal blood.

  With a cry Gerard let Faith fall the short distance back to the ground and pulled his hand away. Just as quickly d’Argento sprang forward to take her. He pressed his ear to her chest, listening intently. He drew back, but did not release her.

  “She’s alive.” His voice was soft. “We have to wait until the ichor has penetrated her system. There’s no stopping it now.”

  Gerard felt agony pierce him, worse than anything he’d felt before. The spectators to the scene would break their silence soon and he so wanted his last moments with Faith to be private. He had killed her. The least he could do was die with her.

  Having bound his handkerchief securely around the graze, he dropped to his knees and scooped Faith into his arms, uncaring of who heard him or what they thought. “Faith, you are the love of my life. I meant my promise. When you go, I go. So together we will wait, and together we will go forward.”

  He heard Stretton muttering something to the spectators. He didn’t care. All his attention focused on Faith. When he touched her mind he felt it quiet, as though she slept. The test they had proved them incompatible, but he had hoped and prayed they could have a long life together. It was not to be. He’d experienced the greatest joy any man could ever have, the felicity of loving the woman meant for him, and he would have to be content with that.

  He waited to die. If that didn’t work, he’d take steps to ensure he went with her, because after her, nothing mattered.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Faith heard herself groan when she turned her head. A sharp pain shot through her skull, but under her head she felt softness. Greatly daring, she opened her eyes.

  Her husband sat on the edge of the bed. She lay in her bed at Boscobel House, in the magnificent suite of rooms set aside for Lady Ellesmere. Someone had stripped her and put her into a clean nightgown. She lay under a single sheet, all she needed in this warm spring day. If it was a spring day. If this wasn’t an illusion.

  She moved again, bracing herself for the pain, and Gerard was immediately there, lifting her and heaping pillows behind her back. She settled against them with a sigh of relief, then smiled at her husband.

  “Thank you.” When she licked her lips, dry mouthed, he held a glass of water for her. All in silence, with a look so warm she could not fail to interpret it. She drank thirstily, then he put the nearly empty glass aside and reached for her hand. “What happened?”

  He swallowed. “Deborah is dead. She broke her neck when she leapt for you. Do you remember?”

  Faith closed her eyes, then opened them again. She remembered very well. “She tried to pull me off my horse, and we fell together.”

  “Yes.” His voice was low, devoid of expression. “Furious, forgetting to consider her own safety or the powers she had. And the powers she didn’t have. Ancients can die, just as anyone else can, from severe injury. She perished instantly.”

  “And I bumped my head.”

  “Cracked it, more like. D’Argento has examined you and wants to see you when you awake, but he has told me what to look for. Are you dizzy? Do you feel sick?”

  “No. I feel remarkably good, in the circumstances.” Even the pain in her head had subsided a little. She managed to return the pressure of his hand, where it lay in hers.

  To her surprise he hung his head for a moment, and when he lifted it again his eyes were suspiciously bright. “I nearly lost you. I nearly killed you.”

  “You?”

  “My blood,” he explained. He paused and took a deep breath. “When you fell I was so eager to reach you I hadn’t noticed that I’d grazed my hand. Our blood connected.” He swallowed. “Faith, when we took the test, it must have been false. D’Argento says my father or through him, my sister, affected it.”

  “Yes?” Faith could see he needed encouragement but could hardly bear to hear what he was about to tell her.

  “You were compatible after all. Our blood connected and you took some of my essence into you. That means you’ll live as long as I do, gain some of the powers I have.”

  Faith gasped. Even suspecting the truth hadn’t prepared her for the reality. “Shouldn’t it have been painful? Shouldn’t I feel different?”

  “You will, love. It’s now Friday, my sweet. You’ve missed a day while your body assimilated the change.” His smile was tentative. “I’ve been frantic, but d’Argento assured me all would be well, as soon as he realized you weren’t going to die. I wanted to wait until you did and then join you.”

  Faith sat up and pulled on his hand. Gerard lost his balance and fell on to her, but turned her so they lay side by side in a tangle of bedding.

  He took advantage of their closeness by pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “You’re here, and we’re both alive.”

  “And Boscobel?”

  “Not dead. Very weak, though. Stretton rendered him harmless. He’s raving mad.” A note of regret tinged his voice, but in his mind now, Faith knew it was his natural hu
manity and sorrow for anyone who was suffering.

  “How long will Boscobel live? Will he continue?”

  Gerard shook his head and lowered his gaze. “His powers have been permanently removed. He is raving and weak. Stretton says he may not last the year, but he wants to try to keep him alive.”

  “Oh God, Gerard, I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “He was less a father, more a puppet master. But Stretton says that if we can keep Kronos trapped inside a worthless body, it will prevent him moving on. That was probably why he kept me alive but crippled in mind until I fulfilled the only destiny he considered appropriate for me. He knew where one of the Olympians was—that was me—and he tried to control me or, if he couldn’t do that, keep me under his control. My sister too.”

  “Gerard, I’m sorry.” Faith knew Gerard must mourn his sister’s death. Even though she had turned out his enemy, he had thought her his friend for many years. To lose her so finally must be a blow.

  He took her hand again and rested their joined hands on her stomach. “Thank you. I had suspected her before, but she was my sister and I forgot the time she fell from her horse and bled clear. My father probably aided that forgetting. How could I imagine she was hiding so much?”

  “She must have been very clever.”

  “Taught by my father.” He must have seen Faith’s tension, because his hand gripped hers and a new wariness came into his face. “Stretton has done his work, and Boscobel is destroyed. We’ve agreed on a plan of action.” He released her hand to trace a pattern on the palm with his thumb, a characteristic Faith had learned to love, the gentle caress soothing them both. “We’ll put your father and mine in the same house, one of mine in Cumbria, with qualified keepers. They may be kept in peace and safety, without concerning anyone else. Your brother Simon has been sent for, to care for Fordhouse and your father’s estates.”

  “But I love George.”

  “Nobody will expect you to leave him. We will visit often, but he needs to be under someone else’s care for a while, because you have a new life to live.” She saw the sense in that. Simon loved George as much as she did, and if she had to relinquish daily care to anyone, it would be him. “It isn’t that you want me to myself, is it?” Gerard asked.

  Reaching behind him, Faith pulled the ribbon fastening his hair so it came loose and she could push her hand into the silky warmth. She loved his hair. “It could be,” she purred, drawing him closer for a more satisfying kiss.

  She felt him chuckle. “You have to rest for a while, sweetheart.”

  “You weren’t thinking of sleeping somewhere else, I hope.”

  “Not a chance.”

  The next few moments were lost in an ecstasy of kissing and reacquainting, but when Faith tried to pull Gerard’s neckcloth away he resisted her and pulled back. “No, sweetheart. I meant it. You must eat and rest. Later. We have all the time in the world, now.”

  “Have we?”

  He nodded. “You’re like me. Not dying, not aging. We’ll have to work out a strategy, but not here, not now. First, we have to learn to live. I thought I was dying a few short weeks ago. It’s been hard enough turning that around, without accepting that I can live for a very long time. One thing remains certain.” He lifted himself on one elbow, gazing down at her with love open in his eyes. “I still don’t want to go on without you.”

  “Nor I you.”

  They shared a smile, as sweet, as intimate as a kiss. “The world thinks you’re ill after a fall from your horse. We have said that when Deborah’s horse stumbled, she lost her balance and fell on to you, but you are more shaken than hurt.”

  She nodded. The excuse would give her a chance to recover.

  “If you have no objection, we’ll go to Hill House and live quietly for a while. It wouldn’t be thought proper for us to be seen in society after such a tragedy. And I would like some quiet time with you.”

  “Yes.” It sounded like heaven. “We have a lot to accustom ourselves to, don’t we?”

  “Mmm.” He seemed intent at gazing into her eyes. With a shock she realized she hadn’t opened to him. She rectified that at once.

  It made her feel complete. Together they seemed to make one entity, one being. She let all the love inside flow into him and felt his response, instant and generous. Everything was going to be all right. They were together, and together they could face anything.

  Author’s Note

  The gods of the Greek pantheon were adopted by the Romans, and then adopted by the followers of the Norse religion, so their identities become somewhat confused, since each civilisation alters them to suit their needs.

  That was one of the things that gave me the idea for this series. What if they were different people but the attributes live on?

  However, it does lead to a confusion of names when Zeus is Jupiter is Wodin—with, obviously, some differences. That’s why I decided to keep to the Roman names for each Olympian god, although the Titans are usually in their Greek form, to help differentiate them. In some cases the Greek and Roman names are similar or nearly identical, and this is the case with Bacchus.

  About the Author

  Lynne Connolly says she has the best job in the world. She writes historical, paranormal and contemporary romance and she doesn’t seem to be able to stop. She has won a number of awards, including two EPPIES, and she lives in damp, rainy England with her family and her mews.

  Once a year she crosses the ocean to visit friends, attend conventions and other shindigs, and promote her books, so watch her blog if you want to meet her. She loves travelling and meeting people who she will then use in her books, but then, authors are like that.

  Her website is at www.lynneconnolly.com

  You can email her at lynneconnollyuk@yahoo.co.uk or lynneconnolly@lynneconnolly.com

  She tweets @lynneconnolly

  Her Facebook is at www.facebook.com/lynneconnollyuk

  And her blog is here: lynneconnolly.blogspot.co.uk

  One day she’ll grow up and get a proper job, but not just yet!

  Look for these titles by Lynne Connolly

  Now Available:

  Triple Countess

  Last Chance, My Love

  A Chance to Dream

  Met by Chance

  A Betting Chance

  Secrets

  Seductive Secrets

  Alluring Secrets

  Tantalizing Secrets

  Richard and Rose

  Yorkshire

  Devonshire

  Venice

  Harley Street

  Eyton

  Hareton Hall

  Maiden Lane

  Lisbon

  Coming Soon:

  Even Gods Fall in Love

  Mad for Love

  They can escape winter’s cold, but their nemesis has a long, icy reach.

  Lisbon

  © 2012 Lynne Connolly

  Richard and Rose, Book 8

  On a ship bound for Portugal with her children and the man she loves, Rose should be blissfully happy. Except Richard treats her like she’s made of porcelain. She’s recovered from the childbed fever that nearly killed her, yet he won’t share her bed and it’s driving her mad.

  To win him back body and soul, she resolves to use every wicked, seductive trick he’s taught her. Until a possible attempted murder on board puts them both on alert for the trouble that seems to dog their every move.

  Richard is almost relieved to have something to investigate. He loves Rose too much to risk losing her—which is exactly what could happen if he gets her pregnant again. When it becomes clear a series of accidents is no such thing, they realize an old enemy has caught up with them.

  It’s imperative for Richard and Rose to work together to defeat this foe, but their new distance could prove their undoing. Especially when Mother Nature conspires to make them endure one last, desperate test of their love…

  Warning: The earth is moving for Richard and Rose, but this time it’s not enti
rely their fault.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Lisbon:

  Richard’s scolding continued as he undressed me. I still loved his voice, the quiet cadence, the rasp hidden under his customary congenial tones that grew pronounced in the throes of physical ecstasy. I wanted to hear that again. So much. Feel the touch of his hands, hot on my body, the soft, moist movement of his mouth on my skin, the hard suction when he sucked my nipple—I had to stop. I could feel the moisture forming at the top of my thighs. I let his voice float over me, listening to the tone rather than the meaning.

  “You have to preserve yourself, let me care for you—”

  But I had to respond to that remark. I snapped, “Like veal in aspic?” I hated veal in aspic. Slimy and cold. “You want to keep me wrapped up against all danger? You can’t, Richard, it’s impossible.”

  A small pause, then, “I know.”

  His hands left my body and the stays fell away. I caught them and dropped them on the chair, then bent to retrieve my gown and drape it over the chair too. I unfastened my petticoats myself.

  I stood in shift and under-petticoat, still wearing stockings and shoes and my hair pinned up in its knot on the top of my head. Keeping my gaze on his face, I reached up and took out the pins, one by one. I knew the action lifted my breasts. It would make the nipples press against the thin lawn fabric. I would force him to suffer.

  Because of my earlier thoughts, my nipples had peaked, and as I moved, the extra sensitivity made me shiver. He stared at me, his eyes cool but a small frown furrowing his brow. At least I’d had some effect. Desperation filled me.

  “Do we stay like this forever?” I asked. “Do we draw further apart until you can’t bear it anymore and search for something outside the marriage bed?” He opened his mouth to protest, but I wouldn’t let him speak yet. “It would be meaningless, and that’s what you’d tell me when I found out. Because I would find out, you know that, don’t you? There are people longing for it to happen, for you to stray, people who will run to me to see how I’m taking your betrayal. And I’ll have to smile and pretend I don’t care, just as other wives do. You’ll be sparing me, you’ll say, stopping me from bearing more children, wearing me out with childbirth. During my time in society, I’ve heard it all, Richard, and the excuses, and I’ve seen the hurt in their eyes.”