The Fire Rose em-1

by Mercedes Lackey

  There was no mistaking the fact that Sunset was looking for her; she caught sight of him before he spotted her, for the stallion was hanging about the house-end of the paddock, occasionally draping his head over the top of the fence to stare longingly at the house. And when he saw her, his ears went straight up, his tail flagged, and he actually whickered a welcome, pawing the ground and tossing his head a little as she neared.

  She found herself smiling as she walked up to the fence. He put his nose into her hand immediately, and whuffed into it, without any hint of wanting to use his teeth on her. Stupid man. Poor Sunset probably just wants to bite him because he senses du Mond is not to be trusted. She scratched his brow-ridges, then moved her hand to scratch under his chin as he sighed in pleasure and tried to rest the weight of his head in her hands.

  "You only love me for my apples," she told him. "It's pure cupboard-love, and don't think I don't know it."

  He whickered, as if agreeing with her, and she chuckled. "It's all right," she told him. "You're so beautiful that it doesn't matter. That's what happens when you're beautiful, you know, you can do anything and people will forgive you because they don't want to believe that anything so pretty could be bad." She sighed. "But of course, when you're as plain as I am, they're perfectly willing to think you'd do quite vicious things out of pure mean-spiritedness. And every pretty girl is quite certain you are ragingly jealous of her, and envious of her good looks." She reached into her skirt pocket for the apple. "That was why they hung women as witches, you know", she told him. "They were probably all plain and hadn't a chance in the world of getting a husband so they could be proper ladies, so of course they must have turned to the Devil for consolation."

  She fed him his apple, but he didn't seem disposed to leave when he'd finished it, so she lingered with him, scratching him and saying baby-nonsense into his ears.

  "You're spoiling the brute," said du Mond, startling her so that she jumped. That startled Sunset as well; the stallion jerked his head up, his eyes rolling wildly as he danced in place. Then he caught sight of du Mond, set his ears back and bared his teeth for a moment, then shot off across the paddock to the opposite side. There he trotted in a small circle, watching du Mond as if he expected the man to jump over the fence and beat him.

  "You frightened him!" she said, taking care to put a little whine into it, and when she turned to face the man, she managed a little pout as well.

  "Not I. That beast isn't afraid of anything or anyone." Du Mond stared sourly after the trotting stallion. "He just doesn't like me, and it's mutual. Animals should be made to earn their keep-people certainly are. I think he's a waste of money; if Jason isn't going to ride him, he should at least be sent off to stand at stud somewhere. With his lines, Jason could command enough fees to at least pay back what he's costing to keep."

  She blinked, and tried to think of an appropriately silly answer. "I suppose so," she said vaguely, "But he's very pretty. I like seeing him here; he makes me think of all kinds of things that are wild and free. It wouldn't be the same if he was gone. Is having him here any sillier than having those birds in the conservatory?"

  Du Mond simply shrugged. "The birds eat the insects that get into the greenhouses, not that it matters. What you or I like does not matter, dear lady. It is what Jason Cameron likes that is important, and he does not want his precious horse out of his sight."

  Suddenly he was all charm, turning it on as if he were lighting one of the new electrical lamps. "But I did not come down here to talk about Sunset; I came to find out how you were faring. Is Jason treating you decently? Don't be afraid to tell me if he isn't; he is inclined to run rough-shod over his employees unless I remind him that this is not a medieval castle and he is not a feudal overlord."

  She was startled to hear an echo of her own words to Cameron coming out of du Mond's mouth. It was positively uncanny; she'd have suspected he had been spying upon them had she not known he was in the city at the time. But she managed a weak laugh, and waved her hand. "Oh, how could I not like this job? It is much better than having to teach two children! I have everything I want, and all the time I wish in which to read!"

  Quick. Now is the time to say something that will make him disregard you. "There's a lovely lot of books in the first case in the library," she continued hurriedly. "I didn't get much chance to read that kind of book when I lived at home, I-Father made me spend so much of my time studying."

  Du Mond gave her a peculiar look. "You were going to the University to please your father?" he asked carefully.

  She nodded, making things up glibly as she went along. "It was what he wanted-I always did what Father wanted. He said if I was going to be a spinster I might as well be a scholar so he would have someone to talk to."

  She watched du Mond's eyes flicker as thoughts passed behind them, and tried very hard to read his expressions. He was making no attempt to guard himself with her, which argued that he already was underestimating her.

  He's looking at my face-evaluating how plain I am, and thinking that I'm very obedient, very pliant, and don't have much in the way of a will of my own, I expect.

  Perhaps that was a better ploy than playing stupid.

  "Father always had my best interests in mind, and I was very glad to be able to help him," she continued softly, knowing that this, at least, was the truth. "For some reason I have always been good with languages, so I was able to serve him in the same capacity that I am serving Mr. Cameron."

  Du Mond smirked. "Indeed. Well, don't let him bully or frighten you, my dear. You're too pretty a girl to have to languish in a room, ruining your eyes to read to him for days at a time."

  She almost laughed, and held it back only with a great effort. He really is spreading the flattery on a bit too thickly! I suppose I'll have to play up to it, though.

  She fluttered her eyelashes and dropped her gaze modestly. "It's really not at all bad," she murmured. "I could be cooped up in a stuffy old office or library somewhere, working from dawn to dusk. At least here I get to go outside every day for a little."

  He moved forward as if he was going to try to touch her; she managed to move away from him without she hoped-making it obvious that she was avoiding his touch.

  "What if I found another option for you?" he asked, and frowned, his concern so patently feigned that she wondered how he ever thought he fooled anybody. "I don't want to alarm you, but Cameron's not entirely sane, you know."

  "The-accident?" she faltered. He shrugged, scarcely wrinkling his suit. "It might have been. He has always been ruthless, but since the accident he's become quite callous about anyone and anything other than himself. I think he's dangerous, frankly. I don't worry about myself, but I'm not sure a woman is safe around him."

  She made her eyes go wide and put her hand up to her mouth, hiding the grimace of distaste. "Surely you don't think he would-that I-"

  "I think he would not trouble himself to keep you safe, although I doubt that he himself is any danger to you," du Mond told her, with false sincerity. "He never comes out of his own apartments, after all. But I have several friends in the city, and I might be able to obtain an alternate position for you if you wished to find other employment. The circumstances would not be as pleasant as these, perhaps, but at least your employer would be sane."

  She dropped her eyes again and shook her head. "I cannot imagine leaving this position," she said. "I gave my word."

  "At least keep it in mind if you feel Cameron is growing unpredictable," he urged.

  She nodded, and put her hand to her temple, making a face. "This is all so-unpleasant. I believe one of my headaches is coming on, Mr. du Mond-"

  "Paul-" he said, warmly, once again attempting to touch her.

  "-this is all very upsetting, and if I do not go and lie down, my head will be splitting shortly," she continued, turning, as if oblivious to his outstretched hand. "You really must forgive me." And with one hand pressed to her temple, she gathered up her skirts in the other, and hu
rried back into the house before he could offer to escort or assist her.

  She felt altogether unclean, as if she had brushed up against something slimy. The nerve of that man! Ugh! I would rather have the company of a hundred frogs than his!

  She was just glad that Cameron could not possibly have overheard this conversation. He might not have put the best interpretation on her responses.

  I think I will spend the rest of the day right here, she decided, opening the door to her room, and closing it firmly behind her. I have had more than enough fresh air for one day. Or rather-given that I had to deal with du Mond, perhaps the air was not so fresh after all.

  Cameron stared deeply into the mirror, his jaws clenched so tightly he expected to hear some of his teeth snap at any moment. Just what is he up to? he snarled savagely and silently. Who does he think he is, lording it as if he is the master here! That interloper-I'll tear his heart from his body-I'll rip his treacherous little head from his shoulders-

  His thoughts dissolved into pure and incoherent rage; the scent of musk and blood filled his nostrils, and bile rose, acrid and sour, in the back of his throat. He began to pant and his vision darkened, narrowed to the mirror before him. He wanted blood, blood and the death of this would-be Master who dared to undermine him within his own territory-

  The splintering of wood shocked him out of his madness.

  He looked down at the desk, stunned, to see that he had rent the wood in four long parallel gouges on either side of the blotter, where his claws had dug furrows into the maple in his rage.

  That brought him to his senses. Icy calm flooded over him, replacing the hot anger.

  Du Mond is just being himself-I know his pattern, I saw it often enough with the pretty maidservants. He's no fool, he can see how attractive Rose is for himself. His "friends" don't exist; he just wants to ingratiate himself with her and get her to trust him, get her to leave my protection and put herself into his hands-

  That made du Mond a bounder and a cad-which Cameron already knew-but nothing more sinister than that.

  What was sinister was Cameron's own instant reaction, immediate rage in response to a perception that a rival was trying-trying-

  Trying to what?

  Trying to take over my "property," trying to challenge my authority on my own ground. I reacted, not as a man and a Firemaster, but as an animal, an animal being challenged for his territory and his females.

  To be precise, I reacted as a wolf. A shudder convulsed him, as he realized just how close he had come to going over the edge. Is the wolf taking over the man? Shaken, he dropped back into his chair and stared at the eight furrows in the top of his desk. For many long minutes he was unable to move or even think, sunk in a paralysis of shock.

  Then he shook his head-Like a dog shaking himself dry-

  No! That way lay madness! Wake up! he told himself angrily. There is no point in looking for more signs of something you might well be able to control with a little exertion of will! He sneered at himself. You do remember using your will, don't you? You were ready enough to boast to Rose about it!

  No, the important thing now was to exert his self-control and that so-vaunted Will. He must immediately bring things back to normal. He must immediately begin to analyze matters as he would have in the past. Think, man! What else about that conversation was important?

  He felt anger begin to rise again as he recollected du Mond's impertinence, but he throttled it down successfully.

  What was important?

  Then he had it. Rose's reaction. She didn't act as if she believed him. She didn't act as if she was coming under the spell of his rather dubious charm. In fact, unless I miss my guess, she fled him as soon as she could.

  Suddenly he felt much, much better; felt tension simply draining out of him. Rose Hawkins was too clever for du Mond; she saw through his blandishments, and she did not trust him. That meant he need not look for treachery on her part. Whether or not she believed du Mond's claim that his Master was mad-which, unfortunately, I cannot honestly ignore-at least she had the sense to see why du Mond was attempting to charm her.

  He spent several minutes in a deep-breathing exercise, calming himself, regaining complete control of himself, and only when he was certain of his own inner state did he call up Rose's image in the mirror.

  She was reading; to his pleasure and gratification, she was reading one of the Apprentice-texts he had recommended. So, her suggestion that she at least engage in the theoretical side of an Apprenticeship so that she could help with research had not been a ruse. She really did intend to follow through on the idea, at least for now.

  We will see what happens when she encounters some of the more difficult books. Then again ... they couldn't be any more abstruse than some of the medieval texts she had already mastered.

  She had arranged herself in a pose which would have driven a teacher of deportment to distraction; sitting sideways on the upholstered, high-backed divan, her back against one arm, with both feet braced against the opposite arm-cushion, knees bent, and skirts modestly tucked around her legs. No properly-bred young lady would ever have taken a seat on a divan like that! And no properly-bred young lady would ever slouch the way she was now. She frowned a little as she read, rubbed her eyes now and again, and adjusted her eyeglasses from time to time as if her eyes were bothering her. While this was a printed book, the print was very fine; he hoped she was not having too much trouble with it. Perhaps I should suggest she visit an occulist in San Francisco at my expense? I doubt that she had the wherewithal to have glasses properly fitted these past several years-not with the state her wardrobe was in. That was probably one more economy she was forced to bear with.

  Then he snorted at his own naivete. Of course she hasn't seen an occulist; everything else in her wardrobe came out of the Sears, Roebuck catalog, so her eyeglasses probably did, too. He clearly remembered his amazement at the pages devoted to eyeglasses and spectacles, complete with a so-called "test" to determine which of the eighteen available strengths one should order. She tested herself, no doubt, with that same exact care she uses for everything else. The only problem is, the test itself is hardly exact, and what they offer even less so.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, and made some mental calculations. Useless to send her there before Thanksgiving; no one will be able to fit her in, even with me as her patron. Besides, if she's going into the city, I want her to have some time to enjoy herself a little. If I have her read some of the more important works this week and next, I can send her in for three days in the second week of December-and that will give me three days in which to put some of that to the test. Hmm. Thursday through Sunday, I believe. There should be something playing at the Opera House, and I'll arrange for something on whichever weekend night the Opera isn't. Is she frivolous enough for an operetta at the Columbia Theater? Perhaps a recital, instead...He started to summon his secretary, then realized his agent in the city could take care of everything. Somehow, he did not want du Mond to know precisely what his arrangements were going to be for her... I could use a Salamander to write the letter for me. No, wait, I have a better notion.

  So he reached instead for the telegraphy machine, and began tapping out his orders to his agent at the railhead. Have the apartment opened for her ... notify the servants ... appointment with an occulist ... tickets ... She didn't know her way around the city; he added another order. Snyder to have a carriage or cab and experienced driver for her. While she might well enjoy the cable cars, he had better warn her to either take Snyder or the maid with her on any excursions, and confine herself to the paid conveyance after dark.

  He felt altogether like an indulgent uncle arranging a holiday treat by the time he was finished. And he couldn't wait to until after dinner to tell her; he had to see her reaction now.

  He reached for the speaking-tube, and cleared his throat, remembering to act as if he did not know she was there. "Ah ... Rose? Do you happen to be there?"

  She jerked her h
ead up at the first sound of his voice, and with a look of guilt, swung her feet to the floor, put the book down, and moved to the speaking-tube in her room. "Jason? Yes, actually, the weather is not as pleasant as I would like, and I stayed here. Can I help you?"

  "Actually," he responded, his jaw dropping open in the lupine equivalent of a grin, although she could not see it, "I thought I might help you. You're going to be working very hard for the next few days, and I had promised you periodic rewards for hard work. What would you say to an excursion into the city in about a fortnight?"

  Her face lit up with pleasure and an emotion he did not recognize. "Oh, that would be absolutely splendid!" she exclaimed. "There are some things I did not like to ask anyone else to get-"