by Claudy Conn
The blue of the chipped sarsen began to glow. The glow filled the room.
Lamia stayed within the circle, softly chanting the forbidden words, softly calling Julian Talbot to herself. Soon she would be able to see and touch him.
She let her nightdress slide down her body and ran her hands over her full breasts, pinching at her nipples in anticipation. An image of him started to form. “Oh! Darling, beloved Julian…” she murmured out loud.
All at once the glowing sarsen burst into flame. The room seemed to shake all around her, and a flash of heat struck the center of the circle. She felt the heat envelop everything around her, scorching her skin as it closed in and covered her with its flame. Fear raced through her body. What was happening? She had used the sarsen in this manner with other men, even kings, and nothing like this had happened.
Suddenly, the fire was gone; the room cooled into a haze of gray. Particles of light surrounded her form and held her in place. She couldn’t move.
Lamia was stunned. Her mind couldn’t work. And then all at once she felt herself pulled along by a force that held her firmly, unwaveringly, and she discovered her will was no longer her own….
~ Thirteen ~
MAXIE LAY IN bed and remembered Julian’s kiss with a shiver as her body burned with arousal. She crossed her legs and squeezed as she thought of how it felt to take his cock into her hands. How it felt when he responded to her touch. She could feel his tongue dancing with hers, promising so much.
She was not going to get any sleep this way.
She turned over and attempted to put his kisses, and his touch out of her mind, but another sensation intruded on her peace.
She remembered the people around the Standing Stones. She remembered Madelyn and Jehu. What had the ghost said? Sister of the body, soul of the heart, forever one. What did that mean? What had that to do with her and Julian and Lamia DuLaine?
Well, clearly there was one last thing she had to do before she could sleep.
Over her bed hung a small blue rock fragment on a gold chain. Her mother had put it there when she was very small, telling her it was magical and would protect her. Maxie took it up now and held it tightly to her lips. It was magical. Somehow she knew this was more than just a story a parent told a child to calm them in the night.
Now, all she could think was that she had to get it to Julian. Two words resonated in her mind: Julian, danger!
Once again, Maxie scurried down the long hall, and without hesitation she entered Julian’s room.
Her unsuspecting beau had been lying in a sprawled position, his naked body only half covered by the quilt, and she took a moment to stare at his big, bold muscles gleaming in the soft firelight. He was a beautiful man, and she sucked in breath as she wondered what it would feel like to have him sprawled out all over her, inside her…
He felt someone in the room and sat up with a start. Rubbing his eyes with disbelief as he peered through the darkness, he found Maxie less than a foot away.
This was impossible. If they got caught together in his room, in her father’s home while her father was away…. he would feel and be nothing more than a lowly cad. He should be protecting Maxie and her mother, not seducing the child. What an awful scandal would result. Her parents did not deserve that. Maxie did not deserve that.
He was just a touch angry. “What in blazes are you doing here, my mad love? And you are mad, mad as a bedbug! I am thoroughly convinced of it. Lord…and I must be as well, for a sane man would withdraw his offer of marriage and save himself…”
She plopped on his bed and pulled the covers up over them. Her foot meandered down his leg. Oh yes, he was totally naked. She leaned into him and threw her arm over his chest. “But you don’t want to be saved, do you? Besides, how does one know that bedbugs are really mad?” She pursed her lips and waited for a kiss.
He held her at arm’s length, ignored this last question, and offered, “While I may not wish to be saved (only convincing myself that I am as mad as my future bride), I do want you out of this bed and on your way back to yours!”
She snuggled and started kissing his neck and his chest, licking at his nipples. He drew her up with force. “I am telling you, your father will demand my head, if not worse, if he discovers this night’s business.”
“Papa will not discover us, for happily he is not here,” Maxie responded with glee while returning to his chest, this time licking and kissing her way to his belly before he was able to draw her back up to his face.
It was more than he could momentarily control. He was burning for her, and before he could stop himself he was pulling her into his arms and his mouth was taking hers with pent-up passion. His tongue played with hers as she responded in kind. His hand found her bare breast beneath her white linen nightdress and fondled her fullness. And then she was pressing herself against him, and his throbbing rod was pulsing against her thigh.
He groaned out loud almost in agony. “Maxie…I love you, woman. I want you, now, right now, but…I am honor bound…” His voice was anguished.
She didn’t want him to have such control over his passion for her. She wanted, as all women want, to be irresistible.
She wanted him, she wanted him to want her, and she wanted that immediately. She didn’t wish to wait till her wedding day. She wanted him to drive himself inside her long before that, before it was too late… However, perhaps he was right and this would hurt his sense of honor. Good men were all about honor and such, so she relented. “Very well. I shall go, but not before you make me a promise.”
“I promise,” he answered immediately.
“No, you are just trying to hurry me along. I want a serious promise, Julian.” She held out the pendant. “You must wear this, especially when you are sleeping. It is very important to me. Even if you do not believe in such things…I do. This will protect you, for someone, I am sure of it, means you harm.” She smiled softly and touched his cheek. “Do not take this lightly, Julian. This stone, this stone is a sarsen blue. It diverts evil, especially when you are asleep and more vulnerable.”
Julian should have thought all this talk very strange indeed, but he did not. Sarsen was a sacred stone, and he knew quite a great deal about the sarsen.
Furthermore, his heart told him that Maxine was right. The world had gone off kilter. Something was amiss. All the same, he could not resist a tease. He touched the stone hanging from the gold chain and grinned. “What? A rock? You want me to wear a rock even when I am sleeping?”
“I do. I want you to wear it always. It is a token of my great…” Her hands were on the move once more, seeking out his flat belly. “…great…affection.”
He grabbed hold of her fingers and drew them up to his lips. If he didn’t get her out of his bed soon, it would be to hell with his honor, for he would be ramming himself inside her and making her his once and for all!
“So be it,” he answered with something of a growl. “And now, if you don’t run out of here this very minute, I shall not answer for the consequences, m’girl…propriety be damned!” His hands had her rump tightly in his hold, and he pressed his hardness against the tuft between her legs.
“Oh yes, please, propriety be damned,” she returned on a soft whisper, instantly aroused as she gave in to his embrace.
He gave that same rump a swift swat. “To your room, tart!”
* * *
Lamia was held in place by a force that was out of her control. She felt as though she were held in a bubble of light particles. The voice that spoke from the center of the bubble was male, hard, and authoritative. Such a familiar voice, like an acquaintance from the past. No, more than an acquaintance, so much more, but whose voice was it?
He called her name. “Lamia DuLaine, only child born to Martha and Arklow DuLaine. Come, it is time.”
Lamia recoiled from the command. What was this? How dare he command her? Was she perhaps hallucinating? By all that was unholy, the flower girl’s blood must have been tainted! She tried t
o pull out of the grip of the bright force that held her. She would go nowhere she did not wish to go! Hers was the power. She was Lamia DuLaine.
How did he know she was the only child of her beloved parents? Her father had few options when he had made his choice. Her mother, no choice at all. Lamia, however, was a product of her own choice. She had known where it would lead. In the end, she had known. She had embraced the new road; at first she had been moved by vengeance and then by lust.
A mist filled the bubble that held her captive, and she felt herself float as though into eternity. Her will was naught against the unknown force. She began the ancient chant. It was the holy chant she had defiled so long ago.
A thunderous voice, the voice of many, railed against her. “Shame, Lamia DuLaine! Shame unto thee!”
She ceased the chanting, though she felt no shame. She had to remember—there was something she had to remember. She felt a cold breath beside her cheek, and it seemed to sting as the words were hissed at her. “Lamia, now is the moment that won’t be denied. You have stepped into the Realm! The ancient bonds shall hold you.”
“Nothing can hold me!” Lamia shouted. “I am what I am, and I am outside your damned Realm!”
“So you were, but no longer.” The male voice faded with each word.
“Why? What has changed?”
“You have been warned,” the disembodied voice whispered.
The bubble of light was gone. The bonfire she kept seeing in her mind was gone. She had been released to herself.
What did it mean? She was warned? Who was it that was warning her? The Realm? She was beyond the damn Realm… She had been beyond them from the day she had been banished. They could do nothing to her—could they?
Then all at once knowledge flooded her mind. The voice was that of the Keepers. Why? What had she done to draw herself into the hateful Realm? She had always been careful of the laws. She had never strayed beyond the ones she had originally broken.
Daylight? It was coming. She could feel it coming. She had not yet visited Julian in his dreams. Soon he would be awake. Had the Keeper stopped her? No, that was not his power. He had naught to do with such earthly matters.
Things were out of rhyme. Somehow she had made a misstep and bumped into her most hated enemies! She needed answers. She would not allow the Realm to do this to her after all these years!
She had been too careful never to break anymore of their damned laws.
She must reach her home, her sanctuary. She must.
* * *
The sun’s radiance was hidden by the drawn burgundy velvet drapes. Even so, the strong rays burned in her mind, seemed to scorch her flesh. Lamia paced to and fro and in restless abandon. Her mind and her body were at war with one another. A sinister sensation had been creeping through her veins, unsettling her abilities.
Her need to sleep during the daylight hours was a serious necessity, yet she could not. She sorely needed the rest. Just as humans needed to sleep during the night, she needed her sleep as well. Humans. It was how she thought of them, apart from herself. It was not a complete truth, and it had not always been this way.
She suffered dreams with her eyes wide open. Dreams she did not understand. Fire burned in her veins. She needed to get home, but for the moment she needed a diversion.
Lamia stopped her pacing. Her tongue traveled over her lips. She looked at herself in the long mirror and touched her breasts. At times like these, transitional times, she needed to explore her senses. Caution, however, wagged its hoary finger.
One did not leave a trail so close at one’s heels. A simple maxim that kept her out of harm’s way. Should she send for Shamon? Shamon could relax her in that gentle style he had with his hands. Could he assuage her growing need? It would be difficult. Shamon usually did not attend her in her room at the various posting houses. It would occasion remark. Remarks would lead to rumors. Too much talk, too many eyes, too much attention. Her comfort zone required a guarded privacy.
A knock sounded at her door, momentarily halting further speculation. She knew; all at once, she knew. Dearest Shamon. He always understood her needs. Unconsciously, Lamia once again licked her sensuous lips. Another knock, and a young, throaty female voice called uncertainly, “M’lady?”
“Come in.” Lamia moved into the shadows. She could feel her body tremble with anticipation.
The girl was, even in her simple gray working dress, quite attractive. Her hair was a loose tumble of yellow beneath a white mobcap that was pleasantly askew. The buttons of her bodice were undone from her collar down to the square bodice of her white apron. The apron was tied tightly around a small waist. More than her prettiness, there was a look in her dark eyes…
Her name was Nell, and she had always liked working at the Red Bull Posting House and Tavern. She liked being a chambermaid; it often allowed her to use certain skills she had learned when she was scarcely fourteen years old. That was three years ago, and since that time, that first time, she had discovered the gentry had quite a penchant for discreet chambermaids. Nell earned and stored away a goodly sum of money that had naught to do with her official duties and pay at the Red Bull.
Her intention, when well heeled enough to leave, was to set up a sweet shop in London. It was her dream, and she was very nearly there. In the meantime, she had to admit she didn’t mind her work. No, she didn’t mind at all. She had a healthy appetite for sex and got to choose, didn’t she? Yes, indeed, she had told herself, she got to choose.
Nell dropped a quick curtsy and smiled coyly at the DuLaine. All the male servants below were itching for a peek at the beauty. Even in the dim light, Nell could see that her ladyship’s provocative body was very nearly exposed in her clingingly thin nightgown. Nell felt a stirring in her loins.
Oh, Nell liked the boys. However, in her short career she had also learned how to appreciate her own and another woman’s body.
The aristocracy was ferocious about their privacy. Nell understood that. The gentry wanted what they wanted but had a need to appear finer and more respectable than they were. They watched their backs and treasured their secrets.
Nell got on with the gentry. She had learned just what they liked, just what disgusted them, just what they fantasized and obsessed over. She quickly learned the advantage of discretion. Thus, when Shamon approached her, she had a ready smile.
“Sech a pretty child ye be, Nell,” Shamon said quietly as he sized her up and made his decision. This one would do. He could feel Lamia’s mood; she was a danger to herself when she was like this. His mistress needed an immediate diversion. “Would ye be interested in earning a coin then?” He held up a gold guinea.
“Aye, that oi would,” Nell replied with a saucy eye. She reached for the coin.
“So then, missy, mind though…discreet ye must be. I’m thinking ye should take a tray of refreshments up to m’lady.” His eyes said a great deal more than his words. He continued softly, “Mayhap, she might be liking a bit of pleasant company by now.”
Nell snatched the coin out of his uplifted hand and then squirreled it within the pocket folds of her gray dress. She had no doubts about just what she would be doing for his mistress. It didn’t surprise her, for it wasn’t the first time a gently born and bred lady had required her ‘company’.
“No one will know when oi go up or come down.” She reached for Shamon’s hand because she liked the look of him, and she put his palm against her full breast. She whispered, “…and oi know how to please, oi do.”
“Aye, that’s a lovely girl then.” Shamon smiled softly as he fondled her, exposed her breast, and bent to drop a kiss on the sweet, pert, pink nipple. “There now, best be going up.”
So here she was, and all at once, Nell felt the heat of Shamon’s kiss on her nipple sizzle through her body and tickle between the apex of her thighs. Ah yes, Lady DuLaine was a beauty, she thought as she moved further into the room.
“Come closer, girl…” Lamia was purring with anticipation.
And then something other than sexual anticipation tickled her senses…something close to fear…
~ Fourteen ~
MAXINE SLOWED HER horse to a walk. It was time to look inside herself. Some answers were there, that she knew, if only she could unravel them into perceptible order. Somewhere in her dreams was the key to everything. Yes, but those same dreams also seemed to create new questions, and those questions were taking over her life!
Julian was back in London attending to business, getting his estates in readiness for their upcoming wedding. While he was arranging the details of their honeymoon she was in a mire of confusion and couldn’t even talk to the best of her friends. They would think her mad.
She couldn’t discuss her dreams with her mother and father. They were not being helpful—quite the opposite. Danny was in New York…so far away…but her dreams were with her and so very real.
It was as though she were watching an enactment of a play with her the star performer. Only, she played the role of another. She watched knowing it was very nearly her twin that she played. This Madelyn was her double, so much like herself and yet very different as well.
The woman looked exactly like her, moved like her, spoke in her voice, but was definitely someone else. And the language, another language…Gaelic—Scottish Gaelic. Maxie absolutely knew this, and although she did not speak Gaelic, she understood every word…even words she knew would turn out to be archaic.
Maxie realized that although she had never learned French well, in her dreams she could speak and understand it fluently; then when she awoke, she knew it as well. It was the ‘Power of Tongue’. Somehow, when she awoke, she understood that it was this ancient power…
The woman in her vision, Madelyn, was older as well, more mature than she. She was already married…married to Jehu, who was Julian’s twin.