Susan Spencer Paul - [Enchanter 01]

by Touch of Night

  “His powers?”

  “They remain undimmed, so far as I can tell, which perhaps isn’t what either of us might have wished, but it is far preferable to his gaining the Tarian.”

  Niclas came awake more fully. “The Tarian,” he said anxiously. “I had forgotten. Is it safe?”

  Malachi smiled. “I have it. Morcar couldn’t have taken it from you unless you were dead, and thanks to Miss Linley”—he set an approving hand on her shoulder—“he wasn’t able to accomplish the deed. He did, however, get close enough to cause the curse to be lifted. The guardians were clearly convinced that you were ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for Miss Linley’s sake.”

  Niclas looked back into Julia’s face. “You broke the spell,” he said, and was struck anew by how much he loved her. “You fought him.”

  “It wasn’t like the last time,” she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I heard your voice so clearly, and my own longing gave me the strength to follow your urging.”

  “You are my unoliaeth now,” he murmured, ignoring the interested sound that his cousin made in the background. “We will always be able to hear each other, no matter how far apart we may be.”

  “But I should have fought harder, for then you might not have been so terribly wounded.” A sob escaped her trembling lips. “He almost killed you, Niclas. I would have I-lost you forever.”

  He did reach up then, damning the bandages on his arms, and pulled her down to lie—very carefully—upon his also bandaged chest.

  “Hush, love. It’s over now, and though Cadmaran never would have wished to do us good, he was the means through which the curse has been lifted. We will never be parted again, in this world or the next. We’re going to be married, and you will be my life. You and whatever children God may bless us with.”

  He looked at Malachi, who was gazing down at them with a very large smile upon his face.

  “What?” Niclas said suspiciously.

  “I had a feeling, even before you left London with Miss Linley, that this would be the outcome. Not about the curse being lifted, of course, but that Miss Linley was your unoliaeth.”

  Niclas didn’t know why he was surprised, for since they’d been boys Malachi had known everything. Julia, however, stiffened and slowly sat up, wiping her face and turning to look at him.

  “What do you mean, my lord? How could you know?”

  “Niclas told me that he couldn’t feel your emotions,” Malachi explained. “And there could be only two explanations for that. Either you possess magic in your blood, even a little, or you were always intended for him. Predestined, you might say.”

  “And there is no magic in my family,” Julia said.

  Malachi shook his head. “None that I can find. And that leaves only the unoliaeth to explain why Niclas can’t feel your emotions. He cannot feel anyone to whom he is related—and he is already, in a manner, related to you. I suspected that this was the reason even before you left London together.”

  “Yet you saw fit not to say anything to me about it?” Niclas asked.

  “What could I have said?” Malachi asked. “And if I had, what would you have thought? You wanted a chance to lift the curse, and if I’d told you of my suspicions, you might not have gone. And, although I had my reservations about the wisdom of your escorting Miss Linley in my place, I felt that I had to give you the opportunity you sought.”

  “But—”

  “And I couldn’t be sure, yet. It was something only you could discover, for such a predestined union is very rare among lesser wizards, as you know. I saw that you were attracted to Julia,” he said, “but that wasn’t proof enough.” He held his hands out in a gesture of resignation. “I sent you off to Wales knowing what might happen, and having already determined that if Julia was to be your wife, I could do nothing but accept it. But you must believe me, Niclas, and dear Julia,” he added, smiling warmly at her, “that I am not unhappy about this turn of events. Indeed, quite the opposite. I am most pleased, especially to know that Julia will be one of us, and my new cousin.” Bending, he kissed her cheek.

  Niclas smiled. “Thank you, Malachi. We shall be married as soon as possible, if that pleases Julia.”

  “It pleases me very much,” she told him. “Though I fear my family will give us a good deal of trouble. My aunt Eunice—”

  “Leave it to me, why don’t you?” Malachi suggested. “I’ll call upon my, ah, particular talents to convince her of the rightness of the union. I believe I can assure you that Lady Eunice will not only agree to the marriage, but be utterly delighted with it.”

  Niclas and Julia exchanged looks. “I’m not certain we should ask it of you.”

  Malachi waved the words away. “Consider it a wedding gift. I shall be glad to do it, if only to see you safely wed. Now, as to the elders—”

  “I’ll speak with them,” Niclas said.

  Malachi’s eyes widened only slightly at the words, but enough for Niclas to see that he’d surprised him.

  “That has always been the task of the Dewin Mawr,” Earl Graymar said. “I don’t know what they would think if you were to approach them. Or what they would say.”

  “It doesn’t really matter,” Niclas told him. “I’m not going to ask their permission. I’m only going to tell them, as a courtesy, that Julia and I are to wed.”

  If it was possible, he had managed to surprise his cousin even more. Malachi looked, for a moment, as if he would argue, but after a few silent seconds, he said, calmly, “I see. Well. I perceive that Julia has had a more positive influence on you than I had hoped. If I ever meet such a woman who can have a like influence on me, I shall count myself a fortunate man.” He set a hand on Julia’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “I’ll leave the two of you alone, then, to make your plans.”

  “You look more exhausted than I feel,” Niclas murmured once his cousin had departed. “Have you slept at all since Castle Llew?”

  “Enough,” she said, and he knew she was lying.

  “Lie down with me here.”

  “Oh, no, dear. There isn’t enough room.”

  Niclas stared at her for a blissful moment. “You called me ‘dear,’ ” he said.

  She looked at him fondly, a little amused. “Does that mean you liked it? Or would you prefer me to call you by some other endearment?”

  “I liked it. But feel free to call me any and every endearment that you can think of. I shall like all of them. Lie down, love. There’s room enough for us both.”

  She did, but slowly and with great care.

  “Am I hurting you?” She gingerly rested her head on the pillow and clasped one of his hands.

  He closed his eyes with pleasure. “You make me feel wonderful. Having you here makes me want to get well more quickly. I think we may spend the first year of our married life more in bed than out. Sleeping a good deal, I grant you, but many other things, as well.” He turned his head to smile into her eyes. “Julia, are you quite certain that you want to wed me?”

  “Niclas, darling,” she replied calmly, “do you want me to get up and hit you very hard?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t ever ask me such a foolish question again. Dear.”

  “I only want to make certain that you’ve considered what it means to marry into a family such as mine. There are challenges to face that you’ve never had to think about before. Above all, to keep anyone from discovering that people like your own husband and children are incredibly different.”

  “It sounds much more delightful than accompanying my aunt Eunice to card parties. I wonder what sorts of gifts our children will have? Won’t it be wonderful discovering their unique talents?”

  If Niclas thought he had loved her before, his heart swelled painfully with the feeling just now.

  “It isn’t a simple thing for a child to discover that he’s different from the vast majority of others. For most of my life—from the moment I realized just how unusual I was—I’ve longed for something that co
uld give me peace. Not just in the way of my gift, but from all that I am, all that my family is. I dreamed of it, but my life hasn’t been such that fantasies could play a part. After a time,” he said, “I had to put all dreams aside. Until I met you. It sounds trite to say it, but it’s true, Julia. You’ve made my dreams come true.”

  Her slow smile warmed him all the way through.

  “I haven’t dreamed all my life,” she murmured, “or even for much of it. My people have always been terribly sensible, and dreams were strictly discouraged. The truth is, I’ve only ever had one dream, and I’ve been careful to keep it very secret in my heart since it came to life on the night when I first saw you. There was never any hope that it would come true, but I kept it all the same. And then, a wonderful thing happened.”

  “Your dream came true?” he asked hopefully, thinking of kissing her.

  “Magic came into my life in a most unexpected way,” she replied. “And because of it, my dream came true.”

  Niclas thought a moment, then met her knowing smile.

  “Yes,” he said, “that’s true, isn’t it? I believe this must be the first time in my entire life that I’ve been truly thankful to be a Seymour.”

  She laughed merrily and leaned to kiss him, promising, “I shall do everything possible to keep you, and our children, feeling that way.”

  And then, lying close, hands entwined, they did the most wonderful, pleasurable thing that Niclas could think of, at least until his bandages came off, and, wishing each other pleasant dreams, they went to sleep.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at the next thrilling book

  Touch of Passion

  Coming soon

  from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

  He would come tonight. Loris knew he would, regardless how she locked her doors or windows. He would find a way in. He always did.

  The question she wished she could answer, as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, was which feeling was most prominent in her heart—fear, or anticipation?

  Lifting a hand, she touched her lips with her fingertips, remembering the way he had kissed her the night before. No one had ever kissed her like that. Not even Dyfed. Kian . . . Kian had sometimes kissed her in a similar manner, but with a good deal more difficulty, for she’d never received his attentions willingly. At least not initially. Much to her annoyance, she never seemed to be able to keep her senses for very long once he’d set his mouth against hers—due, most likely, to some magic he used. But even those kisses hadn’t been like the ones she’d shared with the strange young man who came to her at night.

  She didn’t know his name, wasn’t even precisely certain what he was, whether angel or demon, and yet when he’d taken her into his arms and kissed her, she’d felt as if they were connected in some unfathomable way. They had become one—it sounded foolish now to think such a thing, but there was no other way to describe it. There had been a feeling of wholeness, of rightness . . . and of intense pleasure.

  “God forgive me,” Loris whispered, her hand moving to cover her heated cheek. She was ashamed to think now of her response to him. And a little frightened. She hadn’t been able to stop him, and hadn’t wanted to.

  No, she silently chided. That wasn’t being honest. The truth was that she hadn’t wanted to stop him. If he hadn’t left her chamber by his own determination, she surely wouldn’t have made him do so.

  “You’ve got to do better tonight, Loris,” she instructed her reflection firmly. “He’s a complete stranger to you, after all. It’s terribly wrong. All of it.”

  She believed herself, and vowed to resist him better. But in her heart she knew she wouldn’t.

  Moonlight streamed through the open window, giving enough light for Kian to see himself in the full-length mirror. As many times as he’d made the transformation before, he hadn’t yet grown bored of watching the changes that came over his face and coloring and clothes. It was so odd, becoming someone who didn’t exist. But it was necessary.

  He had to be near Loris. No, not just near her, for he was close enough each day to feel the hatred for him that the curse had placed in her heart. But she was his unoliaeth. His oneness. They had been fated, and could never love another. If the curse kept her from recognizing him as her true mate while he was Kian, it didn’t seem to stop her from at least liking him in another guise. For more than that, he didn’t hope.

  She’d let him kiss her last night, and, better still, had kissed him in return. Kian had thought he might reel from the sheer wonder of it. That was how it would have been between them if the curse had never been placed. Her love was his by right, and if it wasn’t precisely noble of him to take it by deception, then nobility would have to go by the wayside. His need for her smile, her touch, was akin to obsession.

  The change took but moments. His lengthy blond hair grew shorter and darkened until it was almost black. The lightness of his blue eyes darkened, until they were the same color as his hair. His finer features grew bolder, his nose lengthened slightly, and his shoulders widened a fraction. He looked a little like one of his dark-haired Seymour cousins. His garments took a few moments longer to complete the transition, taking on a mien similar to the fair folk who dwelled in the woods. It had seemed a good choice when he’d first decided to make these secret visits to Loris. It wasn’t unusual for faeries to sneak into the dwellings of mortals at night, either to take something they desired or to lay blessings or curses upon the family within. Or even to simply cause mischief. Unfortunately, Loris wasn’t yet familiar enough with the magic folk who lived in and around Tylluan to identify the garments. She had no idea what to make of him, save that he was a stranger who couldn’t stop visiting her at night, and who, when he was with her, couldn’t keep his hands off her. Or his lips, either.

  He thought of the embrace they’d shared the night before, and imagined what the coming hours would bring. Expectation made his breathing quicken—and that made him smile. How incredible that he, Kian Seymour, who’d bedded his first female before he’d reached the age of thirteen, should feel so foolishly light-headed at the mere idea of being with a woman. He’d been warned that love was like that, and had scoffed. But Loris made him believe. She’d changed everything for him.

  The night was dark and cold as he made his way to the small balcony outside his window. A fitful wind lifted his hair at the ends and fluttered the edges of his tunic. Kian took a deep breath and let the anticipation within him rise.

  She was waiting for him. He could feel it.

  She had locked the windows and bolted the doors, but Loris knew it wouldn’t do any good. He would come, and apart from running away, all she could do was wait. Minutes passed, and then an hour. She was weary from a day filled with keeping the castle, and longed to lie down upon her soft bed. But she couldn’t bring herself to do so. It would make her feel too . . . vulnerable. Apart from that, it was disturbing to drop into a restless slumber, only to be wakened by a stranger standing over her bed. She knew because he had wakened her in such a manner before.

  Weariness at last won out, and she settled into one of the large chairs near the fire. Leaning her head against the cushions, she closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift. Sleep beckoned, but she was too wary to follow.

  “When will he come?” she murmured aloud.

  “I’m here.”

  Loris opened her eyes and saw him standing there, having suddenly and silently appeared, as he was sometimes given to doing. He was leaning in a relaxed pose against the mantel, gazing down at her.

  The stranger was darkly handsome, tall and muscular. His demeanor, as she had discovered during his previous visits, was charming, thoughtful, and well-spoken. He was sometimes somber, often amused, always gentle and considerate.

  And yet she knew almost nothing else about him.

  “Why do you come here?” she asked, looking fully into his dark eyes. “Why to me?”

  He smiled. “You know why,” he said, and pushed from the mantel. “You’re t
ired, Loris.” Slowly, he moved to kneel before the chair, and took her hands in his own. “You’ve had a difficult day?”

  She ignored the question.

  “No, I don’t know why you come,” she said, searching his face by the dim light of the fire. “I don’t even know who you are. Or what you are.”

  “Is it Kian Seymour who wearies you so?” he asked. “He’s cruel and unkind. I know how greatly you hate him.”

  “I don’t hate Kian,” she told him firmly. “He can be difficult and obstinate, but I don’t hate him for it.”

  “Then perhaps it’s his brother, Dyfed. His attentions are too demanding.”

  “It isn’t any of them,” she said impatiently. “But if it were, at least I would have a name to accuse them by. Why do you come here and . . . and spend time with me, yet not tell me who you are? Do you live at Tylluan? In some secret room in the castle that I’ve not yet found? Are you a Seymour? Are you even human?” She pulled her hands free and set them on either side of his face. “You feel real enough, but there are spirits who can take on the form of mortals. But if you were not welcome here, if you were an intruder or an enemy, Kian would surely know. Unless you’re as powerful a wizard as he is.”

  “I’m not your enemy, Loris,” he said, lifting one hand to stroke the backs of his fingers gently down her cheek. “And I’m not Kian Seymour’s enemy. I mean no harm to anyone at Tylluan. Most especially not to you.”

  With a sigh she pushed his hand away and stood, pulling her night robe more tightly about her waist and stepping around the stranger’s kneeling form.

  “You should go,” she said. “And never come back.”

  He didn’t move. Didn’t rise to his feet. Didn’t even look at her. Loris bit her lip and turned away, toward the fire, and prayed that she wouldn’t start crying.

  “Do you want me to go?” he asked in a low voice.