His warm hand slipped into hers and gently squeezed her fingers. “Don’t you want to work your charm on their uncle, too?”
Amy stared at their hands, at his large fingers, which easily engulfed hers. But a charm is already working on you, she thought miserably. And I haven’t the slightest idea when it will wear off or how to shake you out of it right now. I don’t even know how to cleanse myself of its influence. And I no longer know what is real and what is not. If only there were a possibility to contact her family!
Fox turned her hand, cupped the back of it, and drew his thumb in fiery circles over her palm, skin gliding on skin without even the flimsy protection of gloves. Despite herself, her breathing quickened.
She didn’t need to look at him to know that his mouth curved into the small smile she so liked. His hand drew back, his fingers spread wide, inviting her to twine her fingers with his.
She should have resisted the temptation. Yet her stomach was hollow with longing and worry, and she missed the closeness they had shared, and so, in the safety of the drawing room, where enough people were present that nothing else could happen, she allowed herself to brush her hand against his until their fingers were firmly entwined, palm pressed against palm.
For a short moment Amy closed her eyes and allowed herself to forget everything but this: his warmth and strength and the love that poured from him.
But as she looked up again, she caught Isabella watching them, her mouth curled into a sneer, and abruptly all feeling of remembered bliss fled. A sliver of ice touched Amy’s heart.
She was certain that Isabella knew about the charm and the potion. Yet what purpose did the magic serve? To what end had it been planted? And what sort of man was Bentham to embroil the niece of a friend in such an intrigue?
She must warn her uncle. Indeed, the fact that she had not received any sort of reaction to her engagement from Aunt and Uncle Bourne should have alerted her much earlier. What if Bentham had never sent a letter to them to inform them about the engagement in the first place?
Amy tried to remember whether anything about the upcoming nuptials had been put into the papers. But she had spent the days and weeks after Fox’s proposal in such a state of bliss she wouldn’t have noticed even if the Thames had suddenly changed its course, and so she couldn’t be sure.
That evening she therefore tried to pen another letter to her family in her room. Yet as before, the ink melted away and left the paper creamy white and pure. Tears of frustration burning in her eyes, she laid her head on the table.
She was alone, all alone, and there was nobody in whom she could confide.
She was never more happy than when Isabella finally left Rawdon Park at the end of the week. As they all stood on the front stairs and waved at the carriage that would take the young woman home to London, Amy couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped her.
Whatever putrid influence the young Miss Bentham had brought to Rawdon Park, it was gone now, and with luck all danger to the Stapleton family was removed as well.
Amy threw a last look at the carriage before it disappeared behind a group of trees. “Good riddance,” she murmured. And never come back again!
Chapter Eleven
The weeks passed and there was still no news from Amy’s family. Several times she had now tried to write letters to them, but it was all in vain: her uncle’s spell was still firmly in place. If the Ladies Rawdon ever wondered why she received no notes or mail, they never commented on it, even though Amy now spent more time with them in an attempt to avoid Fox as much as possible. Fortunately, the winter weather presented her with a perfect excuse to stay inside.
November brought ever more snow, and the temperatures steadily dropped. Soon an icy crust covered the lake and began to thicken, much to the children’s delight. The gardeners now daily checked the ice to see if it would carry weight. And then, one day, it did.
Mist had risen that morning and wrapped the world in clogging white. When it receded sluggishly, reluctantly, toward midday, it revealed trees and bushes white frosted, looking as if they had been transformed into fragile confections. Young Baron Bradenell, his ankle all healed, climbed onto the window seat in the library where Amy had settled with The Horrible Histories in hand. For a moment or two he stared critically out of the window, before he turned around to announce to the world, “It’s perfect for skating!”
“Hm,” Amy said, for just then the Wicked Sorceress Jewellyn had bonked her wand on Maid Maiken’s head and dragged her off to drink the virgin’s blood to be granted everlasting youth. Who would save the fair maiden from a most gruesome death? Only one man…
A thud. “You said you would go skating with us.” Baron Bradenell’s voice reflected lordly impatience.
The brave Gilldan!
Amy looked up.
Dick had jumped from the window seat and now stood, arms akimbo and his head thrown back so the cowlick over his forehead appeared even more pronounced than usual. “You promised!”
She suppressed the urge to smile. Instead she raised her eyebrows and asked, her voice tinged with slight incredulity, “Did I?”
He gasped, clearly outraged. “You did!”
“Hm. If you say so.” She turned her attention back to her book and pretended to read on.
For a moment silenced reigned, then a step sounded on the wooden floor. A small hand tugged at her sleeve. “But you promised! You did!”
Indeed she had. Take them skating, only this once, a tiny voice whispered in her mind. What harm can come of it? And so, with a laugh, Amy snapped her book shut. “If I did, then I guess I must keep my promise, mustn’t I?”
Realization dawned. “Oh,” Dick muttered, “you pulled my leg.”
“And a real lordly leg it is.” Teasingly, she tugged on his cowlick. “So, where is your entourage, my lord?”
His face lit up. He leaned back. “Downstairs.” His arms flailed about with his eagerness. “They’re already waiting downstairs. With the runners.” He gave her a mischievous grin.
“All bundled up against the nip of the frost?” She tapped on his nose. “You, my Lord Bradenell, should learn to be less sure of yourself. It’s unbecoming in a man when he deals with a lady.”
He made a face.
Putting her book aside, she rose. “Besides, I’ll need to change first. Surely you can’t expect me to let myself be dragged onto the ice in all my finery?” She grinned. “So run and tell your brother and sister to wait outside so they won’t stew in their own juices.” Lightly, she clapped his shoulder to send him off.
Half an hour later, the small skating party frolicked along the white-dusted paths in the park, their faces glowing beneath woolen caps, their breaths little clouds of white. Annie’s mitten-covered hand rested securely in Amy’s while they traveled through a wintry world that had been robbed of all color. Against the dull, gray sky, the trees seemed to be transformed into pale, still ghosts.
“It’s spooky,” Annie whispered.
Amy attempted to shake her own uneasiness off. “It’s winter.” Then, more cheerful: “Look, your brothers are rather un-spooked indeed.”
At this moment Dick broke into howls of delight, as he had just managed to hit one of the statues straight in the face with a snowball. The stony face disappeared behind a crust of snow, which the boys apparently thought endlessly amusing. Not even Pip could contain his giggles.
Amy looked down at Annie and arched her brow. “Boys.”
The little girl joined the giggling and started to skip along the path.
Soon they reached the lake. Glittering like a diamond it lay before them, the ice thick and white. The boys already sat on one of the stone benches and wrestled with the runners, which they strapped under their boots. Pip looked up and gave Amy one of his wide, gap-toothed smiles.
“See? The gardeners have removed the snow this morning.”
“Perfect.” Amy swung a squealing Annie up in the air and sat her down on the bench. “Hold still, swe
etheart,” she instructed the child while she fastened the set of smaller runners under Annie’s boots. “So you had it all planned?” she said to the boys.
“Because you promised,” Richard reminded her.
“I did, I did. Wait!” She checked woolen caps, mittens, scarves, and bootlaces. “All righty, off you go.”
Shrieking and laughing, the children dashed off onto the lake. Amy hastened to strap her own runners on, adjusted her scarf, and flew after them. Exhilarated, she laughed as the cold air prickled on her skin and her runners glided smoothly over the ice. Oh, it was indeed wonderful! Flying couldn’t be better than this!
Yet the next moment, her steps faltered for—oh, how she would have wanted to share this experience with Fox, to have him by her side…
She shivered a little.
During the day she tried to be reasonable and stayed away from him as much she could so she wouldn’t be tempted to blurt out secrets that had better remained hidden. And during the night… He would come to her in her dreams, torture her body with the memory of the passion they had shared, of the sweet pleasure of sweat-slickened flesh sliding against her, inside her.
And each night she would awake, gasping, her body burning with unfulfilled longings.
Then she would stare into the darkness and wonder whether the love potion still continued to work on her. Were the dreams only the aftereffects of a spell?
Amy sighed. She didn’t know. Her emotions were all tangled: she didn’t even know whether she could trust the affection she still felt for him. When she thought of the happy, blissful days when they had been so close, she could have wept. It was only the aftereffects of the potion; they would vanish in time, she tried to tell herself. Think of how boorish you thought him at the beginning of your acquaintance! But nothing quelled the longings of her heart.
A small body bumped against her legs. With a surprised “Uff,” Amy sat down on her behind, hard. Giggling, Annie straddled her legs.
Ah yes, little girls—the best thing to expel dark thoughts.
Amy made a suitably dark and horrible face. “You little devil,” she growled. “Wait till I get you!”
With another loud shriek, Annie scrambled to her feet and dashed away. Amy followed hard on her heels, but made sure Annie always remained in the lead.
The boys gave up chasing each other and came over to circle around Amy and their sister. “Did you fall?” Pip asked.
“No,” Amy said.
“Yessssss!” Annie squealed.
All in all, Amy mused, it was a good thing they were skating at the far end of the lake, well away from the house. That way, the others would still be able to enjoy their peace and quiet in the drawing room over there.
“I did not!” she huffed.
“Ha! You did!” Dick crowed. “I saw you! You sat down on your butt!”
Amy made a grab for him. “Really, Lord Bradenell, what a terribly impolite word!”
He stuck out his tongue and, grinning, skittered away.
“Oh! Oh!” Annie shouted and pointed. “Fish! B i i i i g fish!” She flung her arms wide, lost her balance and fell.
Amy slid toward her and put her back on her feet. “Hurt, sweetheart?”
“Big fish!” The little girl wriggled away. Her eyes shone with excitement. “Oooh, so big!”
“Yes! There!” Pip spun around. “Wow! That’s a big one indeed!”
“Must be a carp.” Dick gave his expert opinion with all the earnestness that became an older brother.
“Where?” Amy turned. She just caught a glimpse of a large shadow briefly brushing up against the ice before it disappeared again into the darkness below. She frowned. “Gosh, that’s not a carp. No, it must be"-she waited a moment, then whirled around to make a snatch at the nearest child-"a whale!”
Laughing, the children fled from her.
“A whale! A whale!” Annie shouted.
“Ha!” Dick shook his head. “A whale would never fit into our lake! A whale is way bigger than the lake!”
Pip flashed Amy a grin over his shoulder. “You don’t know much about whales!”
“Pah!” Amy snorted.
As if it knew they were talking about it, the large fish brushed against the ice once more. It appeared to have swum in a circle and was now drawing closer to the children.
“Whoo!” Annie’s eyes glowed with excitement. The shadow was almost underneath them. “Big fish! Look, Amy, look! Biiiig!”
It bumped against the ice.
Pip laughed. “And definitely not a wha—”
With a screeching sound, the ice under him cracked and plunged him into the water. His shrill scream was cut short as his head went under.
“Pip!” Richard’s horrified shout echoed across the lake. Annie burst into tears.
Coughing and spluttering, Pip reappeared, his face white with cold and fright. His arms flailed wildly.
“Pip!” Dick leaned forward and made as if to dash to his brother. Amy could only just grab the back of his coat.
“No! Richard, no!” He fought against her, his little boy’s fists already hard. “No! Get your sister off the ice!” She shook him. “Get Annie off the ice!”
From the corner of her eyes, she saw the dark shadow of the fish under the ice. A moment later, Pip screamed even louder than before. “Help! It’s dragging me down! It’s—”
Only then did Amy see how the ice had broken. Not in sharp cracks and pieces, but with smooth lines. Unnaturally smooth. As if it had been cut with a knife—or with magic. She felt her face go numb with shock. “Oh my God.” Roughly, she shoved the two children toward the bank. “Get Annie off the ice, now!”
When Richard finally obeyed, she flung herself onto her belly and crawled toward the hole. Pip still hung on to the edges of the ice for dear life.
“You have to stay still, Pip.” His lips, she saw with worry, were already tinged with blue.
“It’s dragging me down,” he whispered, his eyes wide with fear.
No, this was not a fish at all. Yet she was helpless. Would more ice break if she tried to pull Pip out? Oh dear God, if only… “Give me your hands.” She tried to keep her voice calm, even though panic clutched at her heart. “I will not let you go down.” She risked a glance over her shoulder. Richard and Annie had just reached safe land. Good. She focused her attention back on their brother and gripped his hands hard. “When you feel it coming, kick at it, Pip. Can you do that?”
His teeth had started to chatter, but he managed a small nod.
“Good. And now let us get you out of there.” Carefully she pulled him toward her and, crawling backwards, managed to get his elbows to rest on the ice.
“It’s coming again,” he whispered.
“Kick at it, hard,” Amy said firmly.
Pip started struggling, his breath coming in agonized puffs. Amy gritted her teeth and held on tight. “Kick it, Pip! Kick it!” She thought of the metal runners on his feet—twin weights dragging him down, but on the other hand fearsome weapons as well. She watched the water whirl as the small boy pumped his legs. The hateful dark body pressed up against the ice, vanished again. “Harder, Pip!”
Then, finally, bubbles rose, and the stink of rotten eggs, which made both of them cough. But the dark shadow, Amy saw with relief, swam away.
Her lips lifted. “Well done, my boy, and now let us get you out of there.” She risked a glance over her shoulder and hollered, “Dick! Run to the house and get help!”
His boots crunched on the snow, then the sound of his steps receded into the distance.
Amy gripped Pip’s hands, then his elbows, hauling him toward her until she could slip her hands into his armpits. He kicked and struggled, and together they somehow managed to haul him fully onto the ice. Gasping, they lay side by side. The ice creaked ominously underneath them, but held; for all around the hole it was still thick and strong, not yet touched by whatever evil lurked in the depths of the lake. But who knew for how much longer?
; “Come,” she gasped, and crawled away from the hole, dragging the boy with her.
Their runners scraped across the ice, an angry, screeching sound that made Amy’s hair stand on end. She scrambled to her feet and, with her arm around his waist, managed to pull Pip upright. “Come!” She took most of his weight and, stumbling and skidding, they slid toward the bank.
Some distance away, Annie sat on the stone bench, her little face blotchy with tears as she watched them, wide-eyed. And then her shrill little girl’s scream: “The fish! The fish!”
“Damn!” Amy swore. The beast was coming back. The kick had been only a feeble distraction after all. “Damn!” The words of a protection spell whispered through her mind, but she could not speak them. Her tongue remained paralyzed. “Damn!” Tears burned in her eyes. Pip’s fearful whimpers nearly broke her heart.
She drew him tighter against her body. “Faster, sweeting. We have to go faster.”
It was awkward. Pip could hardly keep himself upright, and she feared they would lose their balance any moment. And then she felt it: the bumps of a large body beneath them. The fish that wasn’t a fish had caught up.
“No!” Amy yelled. “No! Go away, you beast! Leave us alone!”
They had almost reached the shore, almost—
Another bump made the ice tremble. A dry sound came as it cracked.
“No!”
Amy summoned all her remaining strength and propelled Pip towards the bank, then flung herself after him just as the sound of splashing water arose behind her. She came to rest with her face lying in the snow, her feet dangling in the water. Annie knelt beside her and tugged at her brother’s hair, tears streaming down her face.
Amy shook herself and came up on her hands and knees. Bright red dropped into the snow. She shook her head to clear her brain before she turned to Pip. The boy was unconscious, his skin almost as white as the snow.
Quickly, she unfastened the clasps around her boots, then those around Pip’s, and left the runners lying in the snow. She dragged him up the small slope toward the stone bench, where she sat him down. She sank down next to him and her arm went around him to hug him against the feeble warmth of her body. He seemed colder than a block of ice. “Pip, sweetheart, you have to wake up.”
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