“Yes, sir. I sent most of your things ahead with the coach, so there was very little to pack. Just enough changes to get us back to London, barring any delays.”
“God help us, we had enough of those on the journey here.” He gazed back at the road, where the dust from Lady Alice’s coach had now settled. “But, I confess, Abercraf, that this was the most enjoyable journey of my life.”
Ffinian wouldn’t let him leave until after they’d enjoyed a hearty afternoon meal, and then his relatives delayed him further by treating him to the same sort of send-off that they’d given Julia earlier in the day.
“Will you be staying at Tylluan long, Steffan?” he asked as they clasped hands.
“Only the night, cfender. My men and I depart for our own dwellings first thing in the morn. We must be well in place before the season ends and travelers begin to leave town. There are always plenty of good potential victims on the roads then.”
“I wish you’d stop robbing people. It’s going to get you hung one of these days.”
“Never,” Steffan said with a laugh. “Malachi would save me first.”
“Malachi needs to put a stop to your chosen vocation.”
Steffan shrugged lightly. “He says it keeps me out of trouble.”
“Keeps you out of—” Niclas gave up. “It sounds like his line of logic.”
They rode away well before sundown, their saddlebags heavy with the food Loris had insisted upon sending with them.
“Is there any hope that we might return to this part of Wales during the summer months, sir, rather than going to Tawel Lle?” Abercraf asked as they guided their horses down the mountain with care. “I don’t mean to speak out of turn, of course, but I should like to see Miss Jane again, if it would be at all possible.”
“I’ll make certain that you see her before long, Abercraf,” Niclas vowed, making a silent note to see that all of his servants, especially Abercraf, were financially well settled before being released from his employ. “In truth, I believe I can promise that it will be well before summer arrives.”
“Are you quite settled in now, dear?”
Julia turned to see her aunt coming out to the terrace on which she stood. It was growing dark, and the cold night mist was beginning to fill the valley and cover the stars in the sky.
“Yes, Aunt,” she said. “Quite settled, thank you. I had forgotten how lovely Glen Aur is.” She looked out across the estate to where a wide river flowed. A mountain rose above it, and near the top she could see the lights of Castle Tylluan, seeming very far away in the gathering mist.
“I stood at one of the castle windows last night and looked down into the valley,” she said. “It was raining so hard, but I could see the lights of Glen Aur and thought of you here, and of the time I would spend in this beautiful place. Now I look up and see Castle Tylluan’s lights, and think of a day when I might visit there again.” She smiled at her aunt, who was gazing at her with understanding. “I never knew I was so fickle,” Julia murmured.
“Those who love Tylluan and its occupants can’t help but be drawn to it, my dear,” Lady Alice said gently. “I believe that may be part of its magic. But the rest of it is simply the people. I always miss Ffinian terribly when he’s there and I’m here, and I often stand in just this same spot and gaze up to see where he is.”
“If you love him so very much,” Julia asked, “why will you not marry him? Surely you don’t mind about the money, and he truly loves you.”
“I know he does, dear. But I could never live at Tylluan, and he hasn’t yet come to accept that he must give it up. When that day comes, I’ll welcome him here at Glen Aur and we shall see what kind of relationship would suit him best. I don’t require marriage, you see. Only his company.”
“But could he leave Tylluan?” Julia asked. “He’s the baron, after all, and will be until he dies and Kian inherits.”
“Ffinian isn’t truly Baron Tylluan, though he calls himself by the title. Kian is, and has been since his mother passed away. Both the title and the estate are his.”
“But how can that be?”
Lady Alice made a waving motion with one hand. “Seymours do things in their own peculiar way, and that includes the matter of inheritance. Ffinian’s wife inherited the estate from her mother, and when she died it was passed down to her oldest child—Kian. Ffinian understood that he would never inherit when he married her. Such arrangements are often made when these unique families are involved. Kian has no interest in shouldering such responsibilities yet, and thus is content to let his father continue as he is. But the day will come when Ffinian must step down and let his son take his rightful place. And I shall be here, waiting, when he does. Though,” she said, as she moved to sit upon the nearest bench, “I do hope it will be soon, for I’m not getting any younger, and I should like to do a bit of traveling before many more years pass. We should have such a lovely time traveling, Ffinian and I. Can you not imagine him charming women all over Europe?”
Julia smiled at the thought. “He’ll have them swooning. He is indeed the most charming man. All Seymours seem to be,” she said, her smile fading. “At least the ones I’ve met.”
“As are those that I’ve known,” said her aunt. “But I confess that your Niclas may be the most charming of all. He has such a thoughtful, gentlemanly manner, and is so very handsome. Were you able to settle the problems between you, my dear? He didn’t give me a definite answer when I asked him to visit us soon.”
Julia looked up at Tylluan again. “Yes,” she said. “Everything has been settled.”
“That’s fine, then.” Lady Alice pulled her shawl closer. “My, it’s growing cold, isn’t it? I believe we may have rain again tonight. Come, my love, and let’s go in beside the fire. Dinner will be served soon, and then I’m sure you’ll want to retire. You must be weary after the long day we’ve had.”
A storm came up in the middle of the night. A fitful, thunderous storm that made the windowpanes rattle in their fittings.
A vivid bolt of lightning woke Julia, and the furious clap of thunder that followed had her sitting up and clutching the bed linens.
“Niclas,” she murmured aloud, praying that he and Abercraf were safe at some wayside inn.
She lifted a hand to touch her neck, feeling the loss of the Tarian’s weight there. It had been uncomfortable to wear while she slept, yet she missed it now. It had changed her in ways that she’d never known, being merely mortal, and now that it was gone she could feel those changes slipping away. Yet her senses were still heightened, as they’d been when she had worn the necklace, and as she slowly cast her gaze across the dim, fire-lit room, she knew that something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
Run, she thought. Scream. Now.
She tossed the covers aside and, careless of her bare feet, ran to the bedroom door. But the handle refused to turn, and the key was frozen.
“Oh, no,” she said, and lifted a fist to pound on the heavy wood.
A strong arm stopped her, and a large, gloved hand slipped over her mouth to quiet the scream she’d been about to emit. Even as she was lifted from the floor and pressed against the length of a tall, hard body, she knew who it was.
“Why, Miss Linley, were you going to run away so soon after my arrival? How unforgivably rude. And I thought Linleys were such pillars of society. I shall have to inform your aunt of your terrible failings as a hostess.”
She fought with all her strength as he dragged her back across the room and flung her roughly onto the bed. Julia landed on her back but quickly scrambled upright, holding the neckline of her white cotton gown firmly in place.
The earl of Llew loomed over her, far taller than she had remembered but just as dark and frightening. He was clothed all in black, with a black multi-caped cloak sweeping from his broad shoulders almost to the floor. His hair was unbound and fell wildly about his dimly illuminated face, making him look fierce and even demonic. His black eyes pinned her with a penetrating
stare, moving slowly from her face down the length of her body. He did nothing to hide what he was thinking, and Julia began to tremble.
“Such a pretty little gown you’ve worn to greet me in, I see.” Reaching out a gloved hand, he stroked the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder. “It makes me think of all the things I should like to do to you, dearest Julia. And that would serve him especially well, would it not, to rape his lover while her sweet aunt sleeps but a few doors away?” He leaned closer, gripping Julia’s chin between the vise of his forefinger and thumb to force her near. “But I’ll not enjoy you just yet. We might be interrupted, and then I might be obliged to harm someone you love. And that would make you unhappy, would it not, dearest Julia? Not to mention that it would be a terrible way to begin our new life together.”
She tried to scream, to twist away, but he held her tight. The vise on her chin squeezed so painfully that tears filled her eyes.
“What? Have I taken you by surprise, my sweet? Did you believe you would marry? Perhaps become wife to Niclas Seymour? Did you?” The fingers tightened and she groaned in pain, bending beneath his force. She was certain she was going to faint, and struggled to maintain her senses.
“I’m afraid I could never allow it,” he said, bringing their faces so close that she could feel the heat of his breath as he spoke. “I want vengeance on Niclas Seymour. On all Seymours. They have denied me the wife I desired, and now I will do the same. Niclas Seymour shall not have you. He must live, instead, with the knowledge that his beloved Julia belongs to another man, is lying beneath another man and receiving his seed and pleasuring that other man in every way that he commands. And not as a cherished wife. No, not that. She will be my mistress. My whore. And all of society will know of it. Not that I care for that. I only care about making him suffer. And he will, my love. Oh, yes, he will.
“He’ll know very well how I’ll use you, and that your life will be a misery and a hell because of me. And he’ll know, too, that you can never leave me, for I can force you to love me with sick desperation. I can. You’ll soon discover that I speak the truth.”
She reached up to grasp his hand with both of her own, digging her fingers into the leather of his glove and pulling hard in a bid for release. With an angry grunt he flung her back, and Julia crawled farther away, gasping for air and rubbing at the sharp pain in her face.
“I won’. . . t love you,” she managed to say. “Ever.”
He chuckled with dark amusement. “You’ll do whatever I tell you to do, Julia, just as you did once before. And if you struggle against my power, I’ll make you very sorry. But come, my blushing virgin. It’s time we’re away.” She felt a hand close over one of her ankles, and with one powerful tug she was dragged across the bed and onto the hard floor. The next moment he had taken a fistful of her hair and pulled her upright, holding her up just high enough that she had to stand on her toes to keep the strands from ripping out of her scalp. Using both fists she struck his chest and shoulders and face, whatever she could reach, but it had no effect whatsoever.
“Now, Julia, you’re going to stop this foolishness and obey me,” he said, and gave her a shake that sent rivulets of pain streaming over her scalp and face. “You’re going to stop fighting and collect your shoes and a coat. We’ve many miles to journey until we reach Llew and I don’t want my cherished mistress arriving in naught but her sleeping gown, pretty as it may be.” With his free hand he reached out to caress her breast through the thin cloth, squeezing lightly and then a bit harder, and all the while Julia flailed at him, using both arms and legs now. And still it had no effect on the man. It was as if he were impervious to pain.
“Delightful,” he declared with satisfaction, moving his hand lower, along the curve of her waist. “I believe you’ll do quite nicely, Miss Linley. I shall soon have your belly swelling with child. My child. My bastard. And then I’ll get you with another, and more after that, until we shall send half a dozen or more of our odd half-breeds out into the world to worry the Seymours.”
She finally managed to land a solid blow to his face, smack on his cheek beneath his left eye. He gave a grunt of pain, which filled Julia with intense satisfaction for the moment she was allowed to enjoy it. With an oath he yanked her upward off her feet and sent his own hand flying toward her face. She saw it coming, but could never afterward remember receiving the blow.
Seventeen
It wasn’t a clap of thunder or a bolt of lightning that woke Steffan. It was a dream—the kind that meant something particular to a mystic.
Within moments he was on his way out his bedchamber door, running barefooted down the hall toward his uncle’s room. Half an hour after that he and his men were on their way, riding through the rain to find Niclas, while Ffinian, Kian, and Dyfed were readying their men for the long ride to Castle Llew.
“We’ll have our dear Julia safely back, my lads, never fear,” Ffinian declared over the noise of the rain as they made to mount their horses. “I only hope Steffan can run Niclas to ground before too much time has passed.”
“We gave our word to Steffan that we’d wait for Niclas to arrive before we did anything, tad,” Kian told him, “and we’ll keep to that.”
“Only for as long as we must, my boy,” his father said, spurring his horse forward. “And after that we’ll be fetching her out of Castle Llew on our own, and waiting be damned.”
The storm didn’t disturb Niclas, either. He’d been sitting in his room at the modest inn where he and Abercraf had settled, staring into the fire. Lightning illuminated the room from time to time and thunder filled the air with its ominous rumblings, but he paid little mind to either.
He was thinking of Julia and wondering whether she was sleeping and, if so, what she was dreaming of. Did she miss him as much as he already missed her? Was she afraid, as he was, of the days to come? Of the loneliness?
He would go back to London to settle matters and make plans. Malachi would agree to keep an eye on Julia, to make certain that she was well. He’d pester her into going out into society, even if she didn’t wish to. The earl of Graymar was good at that.
Then Niclas heard something over the rain, and lifted his head. It was vaguely familiar. A sound? A voice?
Earlier, the inn had been loud with the noise of merrymakers in the tavern, but that had died away more than an hour before. This voice was different, urgent and angry . . . and
Niclas bolted out of the chair and fumbled for his shirt, which he tossed on without buttoning.
“Steffan!” he shouted, throwing his bedchamber door open and racing into the hall. “Steffan! I’m here!”
Abercraf’s door opened across the hall, and the manservant stood there in his nightgown and bare feet, his hair all askew.
“Sir! Is something amiss?” he cried, but Niclas had already run past him toward the stairs.
“Steffan!”
“Niclas! Cousin!”
Steffan was at the entryway, barred by the innkeeper who held a gun aimed at him.
“Let him in!” Niclas demanded, rushing down the few remaining steps and physically pushing the innkeeper aside. “Get back. Put that thing away.”
“Niclas,” Steffan said, striving for breath as he and his men pushed their way inside. They were as wet as they could possibly be. “We’ve come to fetch you. It’s Cadmaran.”
Niclas knew that the silent moment that passed was much shorter than it seemed: shock made it feel as if it were an eternity.
“He has Julia,” he said, the strained sound of his own voice foreign to him.
Steffan nodded. Reaching out, he clutched Niclas by the arm.
“He’s taking her to Llew. Our uncle and cousins are already on their way with all their men. They believe it will be enough, but you and I both know the truth. We’ll need Malachi if we’re to get her back. Kian can’t fight against the earl of Llew. He’s simply not strong enough.”
A particularly loud clap of thunder exploded above their heads. Niclas closed h
is eyes.
They needed Malachi. No one else could wrest her from Morcar Cadmaran’s clutches.
“Can you call him?” he asked Steffan. “Is there any way at all to reach him?”
Steffan shook his head.
“I’ve been thinking on nothing else during our ride here. If I could send word through the water faeries, or if I only had time to read the bowl and send word from the spirit realm—but even then there’s no assurance that he would know quickly enough and”—he squeezed Niclas’s arm so hard that it hurt, and rare desperation filled his voice—“there simply isn’t enough time. I dreamt of what was happening to Julia, and of what is to happen. We can’t delay, and we can’t wait for the Dewin Mawr.”
“There’s a way yet left to us,” Niclas murmured.
“No,” Steffan replied forcefully. “No.”
“It’s out of your hands,” he said sharply. “Innkeeper!” he shouted, and that man appeared with his gun still in hand. “Put that away,” Niclas said again, then waved a hand at his cousin and his men. “Give these men something to eat and drink. Quickly. We’ll be leaving within fifteen minutes’ time.”
“But, sir,” said the innkeeper, “you can’t mean to go out in this storm? That’s not at all wise, sir.”
“Fifteen minutes,” Niclas repeated as he made his way to the stairs. “I’ll pay you twice what it’s worth to make sure they’re well filled by then.”
“I don’t like it,” Ffinian said, giving a shake of his head. “I say it’s best if we attack with full force, using all our men. If we can but overwhelm Cadmaran’s forces—and keep him busy with defense—Kian might be able to take him by surprise.”
“It won’t work,” Niclas said, accepting the cup of wine that Dyfed pressed into his hand. “Cadmaran’s men outnumber us fivefold, and even if they didn’t, he might very well use Julia as protection against whatever magic Kian might attempt. And don’t forget that if we attack first, Cadmaran will gain the advantage. His powers will increase and Kian’s will be lessened. Worse than that, Malachi will be able to do little to help us.” He gazed solemnly at those assembled. “Cadmaran must be forced to attack, and there’s only one way I can think of that he might be lured into doing just that.”
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