Marissa Day

by The Seduction of Miranda Prosper

  “Darius!” she cried out. “Darius!”

  And he thrust in once more and she did come. Unbearable waves of pleasure poured through her, racking her whole body, but even then Darius did not stop, but fucked her harder and faster, his hips spanking hers, and even that only added to their pleasure. After a searing eternity she felt him tighten inside her and she called his name again and he slammed into her and she arched her hips.

  Miranda!

  And as he cried her name into her mind she felt his pleasure pour through her, felt the liquid heat of her own body surrounding his cock, felt the power and pleasure of the wild rhythm of his climax and how it drove him mad. That divine madness filled her and she was coming again, soaring on the storm of Darius’s pleasure mixed and redoubled with her own pure pleasure of mind, burning pleasure of body, locked in a single ecstatic embrace.

  Fifteen

  “Where is your wife,Sinjohn?”

  Sinjohn Thayer bowed, keeping his eyes averted from the shining figure in front of him. In the darkness the greensward of Hyde Park was a place of shadows and mystery. In the heart of London the unwary could be lost if they trod here at the wrong time. This was one of the thin places of the world, one of the ancient places where the Fae could walk easily because Smith and his fools did not believe that such a place could exist right under their noses.

  “Lady Thayer is leading one of Smith’s fools through a dance,” he said. “It will end with him dead and another Catalyst in our hands as part of our gift to Their Glorious Majesties.”

  “Well-done.” The voice poured into him sweet and strong as heady wine. The figure in front of him was slender and suffused with a beauty that went beyond the merely human. He knew not whether it was male or female, and it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he had done well, that he proved himself to be a true servant of Their Glorious Majesties, unlike his traitorous father.

  For generations the Thayers had secretly served the Fae court and held Hallowgate in trust for them. But his father, the previous Lord Sinjohn Thayer, had broken that faith. Sinjohn would never forget the day his father had brought him into the study and tried to tell him that he’d been wrong. The Fae were not worthy of their worship and loyalty. Their immortality, their beauty, their power, were but disguises. He had gone so far as to blame the deaths of Sinjohn’s mother and sister on the attentions the Fae knights had condescended to show them.

  Sinjohn had not been glad to kill his father. Indeed, had it not been an order from the Fae Queen Herself, he might not have found the nerve. But so severe had been the treason that even kneeling before her with his hands still red with his father’s blood had not been enough. She had demanded sacrifice.

  Thirteen Catalysts, alive and in good health, to be delivered to her on Midsummer’s Eve. Miranda Prosper would be the thirteenth. He and Viola had searched carefully for one as powerful as she was. Miranda would be the brightest jewel in the trove he would lay at Their Majesties’ feet.

  “And this Miranda Prosper is the lady I am to woo at Hallowgate?” inquired the knight before him.

  “If your lordship would deign to offer your assistance, we cannot fail to ensnare her,” said Sinjohn humbly.

  “Their Majesties are uncertain,” drawled the Fae knight. “They argue that it is your sacrifice to make, not ours to aid.”

  Sinjohn bowed his head. “We are Their Majesties’ true servants, and shall do as we are required. This pair of Sorcerers, however, have proved themselves to be deadly to Fae and mortal alike, and it seemed prudent to have a second net in place should they slip the first.”

  “Yes, we know these two.” Anger turned the beautiful voice into a blade, and it slid beneath Sinjohn’s skin. “A full dozen of my brethren have they captured or killed, and as many of our allies among your kind. You are wise to be cautious, Sinjohn.” The knight’s approval went straight to his center. His heart and cock swelled with the pleasure of it.

  The Fae took note of his pleasure and smiled, and for a moment Sinjohn could not breathe for the rapturous sight. “Besides, I have not seduced a mortal woman in several of your lifetimes. We shall hope it does not become necessary, but if it does ...”

  As he spoke, the light that shone so gloriously about the Fae dimmed and dwindled. The figure itself shrank and filled at the same time, until a slender man stood in front of Sinjohn. A man with pale hair and green eyes, dressed impeccably in green coat and white breeches. “If it does, she shall find Robin Summerfields quite at her service.”

  Sinjohn bowed again. “It will be my honor to host you in my home, noble sir.”

  Amusement flowed from the Fae, but all at once he went very still, like a hunting cat suddenly catching a new scent.

  “We are observed,” hissed the Fae, outrage filling his mellifluous voice.

  Sinjohn lifted his own head, straining his senses. Yes, there. Two human presences on the very periphery of awareness, detectable only because of the veneer of magic crackling around them.

  It worked.

  “Forgive me for not informing you before this, noble sir,” murmured Sinjohn. “I thought you might enjoy a little entertainment this evening.”

  The Fae raised one perfect brow. “This is your doing?”

  “A Sorcerer and Catalyst. Two of the enemy. I arranged for Lady Thayer to drop a few ... hints in a literary salon she attends to bring them here tonight.”

  “A most dangerous plan, Sinjohn,” whispered the Fae.

  It had in truth been a serious gamble, but if he was truly to regain his family’s position in the Fae court, Sinjohn knew he had not only to impress Their Glorious Majesties, but to make friends among the knights and the nobles, most especially those sent to keep watch on him. “I thought only to provide sir with a worthy hunt to pass the time you must walk our dull Earth.”

  A slow, cruel smile spread across the otherworldly knight’s face. “Well, then, since you have taken such pains, how can I refuse? Lead on, Thayer. By all means, lead on.”

  Thayer bowed once more, and set off down the gravel walk at a stroll. Behind him, he felt the Fae and the Sorcerer follow him more deeply into the dark.

  Sixteen

  “You love Corwin, don’t you?” whispered Miranda. “It’s not Yjust ... just desire for a man’s body.”

  Miranda and Darius lay in each other’s arms on Miranda’s bed, snug under her sheets and counterpanes. Louise had come in with a tray, which now waited by the window. Miranda had almost panicked then, but Darius had made a small gesture, and Louise had seen only Miranda lying down for an afternoon nap.

  Poor Louise. I will have to find some way to tell her the truth as soon as possible.

  “Yes, I do love Corwin.” Miranda heard the defiance underneath the plain statement. “Does that shock you?”

  “No.” She drew her fingers down his chest. The touch of his crisp, curling hairs was fascinating. “Once, perhaps, but not now.”

  His mouth brushed the top of her head. “Are you jealous?” he asked softly.

  The question stilled her restless fingers. “I have no right to be.”

  “That is not what I asked.”

  Miranda paused, searching her heart to the limit she could sense. All within her had changed, was changing, and would change again, but she still had to find the honest answer.

  “No, I’m not jealous,” she said, and it was both a relief and a wonder to be able to do so. It also raised the one question she must ask but did not want to. “Are ... are you?”

  “I don’t know what I am yet.”

  “Ah.” She thought to pull away then, but Darius held her close.

  “I do know this, Miranda,” he murmured as his arms tightened around her. “When I am with you it is a feeling I’ve known in the arms of no other woman. I never have ... never would permit myself to desire a woman for her own sake, not since I met Corwin.”

  Abruptly, the vision of the woman she had seen through Darius’s eyes while they were in the park filled Mirand
a’s mind; her angry face, the ringing slap. One glance at Darius and she knew he could guess her thoughts.

  “Her name was Agnes DeLancey,” he said. “She and I were engaged.”

  “Oh.”

  Darius smiled grimly and reached across her to tuck the covers around her more securely. “It was something my father arranged. After he dragged me to several whorehouses to attempt to ... force me into more normal sorts of perversions, he decided to set me up with a wife so there’d at least be some cover if I ... strayed.”

  “Darius, you don’t have to ...”

  “I do,” he said. “You need to know. It turned out for once my father made a good choice for me. She was a widow and she’d used her widow’s privileges. She enjoyed ... an adventurous life but knew how to be discreet, something I’d never bothered to learn. We ran riot together and no one in the drawing room set suspected. I was dazzled the way one is by any beautiful danger. I believed I had at last found the woman I could live with, and perhaps love.”

  “But she found you with a man. Corwin?”

  He nodded. “I was fool enough to think she, who enjoyed such varied exercise, would understand. But I’d assumed too much. She struck me, and she left me flat. Which would have been enough. But she came back, this time with a blackmail threat.”

  “Oh, Darius.” Sodomy in England was a hanging offense. Darius and Corwin could die for what they did with each other. “But, surely, you’re a Sorcerer; couldn’t you ...”

  “Bespell her? Yes. And we did. But it was not easy, or pleasant.” He shook his head. “I was a fool. A careless, raw fool. I had sought to use her, and I deserved what I got.”

  “No. That’s not true.”

  “It is, Miranda. There is no greater crime than to use another human being for your own ends without their knowledge.”

  Miranda pushed herself up into a sitting position so she could meet his gaze more easily. “Is that why you wanted Corwin to tell me the truth about the other Catalysts?”

  He nodded. “Whatever else I thought, whatever else I felt or did not feel, I wanted you to know the truth. You deserved that much.”

  Miranda leaned forward and kissed him softly, almost chastely. “Thank you,” she breathed.

  He smiled and fingered the elfin locks that tumbled about her bare breasts. “You’re welcome, Miranda.”

  Her kiss, his tender and intimate touch, threatened to reignite the fires he had so lately satisfied in her. Miranda reined her desire in ruthlessly. She did not know when Darius would be so disposed to talk again.

  “You stayed with Corwin after that. Even though he ...” She took a deep breath. “Shares his love with others?”

  Darius brushed her hair back, his fingers grazing the soft skin of her sloping shoulder. “Corwin has great faith in his own heart. He believes he can apportion his love freely according to the circumstances and feel all the more deeply because of it. I ... have rather less faith in my own abilities.” He kissed her brow once more. “But the moment I took your hand tonight, I wanted you, Miranda Prosper. All of you.” He reached beneath the covers and ran his hand across her thigh. Miranda shivered at his touch but it was not entirely with desire. This time that desire raised fresh, unwanted doubt.

  “And now you’ve had me, what do you feel?” she asked.

  Darius did not answer, not directly. His hand stilled, resting against her naked thigh, as if waiting permission to move farther. “Do you fear me, Miranda?”

  She shivered again. “I fear what I feel for you,” Miranda whispered. She did not want it to be true, but it was. “For both of you. I fear what I’m doing and what I’ve discovered I am. I am trying not to, but it is all so much and it is happening so quickly.”

  Darius said nothing but drew her closer into his strong embrace and kissed the top of her head again. She laid her cheek against his chest, letting the warmth of him soak into her skin. His heart beat directly beneath her, strong and steady. She felt safe in the circle of his arms. Safer than she could have imagined just scant hours before. He stroked her hair gently, and the motion of his hand soothed her now as it had excited her before. Her eyes fluttered closed and Miranda slept.

  Miranda’s dream began slowly. At first, there was only the sensation of motion. This shifted into an understanding that she was walking, quickly, down a narrow street. Every sense strained and gradually she became aware that she was being followed. She couldn’t catch any glimpse of her pursuer, and this filled her with cold worry. She should have been able to. She was certain of it.

  She slid forward through the shadows, treading carefully on the loose, treacherous cobblestones and skirting pools of mud and muck. If she could get around the corner, there was a doorway on the other side, conveniently located, where she could duck into darkness, and catch her pursuer as he passed by.

  But the corner was too far away, and no matter how fast she moved, it got no closer. The pursuer followed, steadily, getting no closer, but getting no farther, and her heart began to hammer in her chest. Why couldn’t she see, damn it! Why was it so dark?

  There! The corner. She ducked around, and immediately came upon the deep, arched doorway. She pressed into the shadows. For a heartbeat she was safe.

  The blow fell sharp on her skull and stars exploded in front of her eyes. She tried to turn, but her legs gave out from under her and her mind reeled. In the manner of dreams, she felt herself falling, then saw herself falling.

  But it wasn’t herself she saw.

  “Corwin!”

  Miranda shot bolt upright in bed, clutching the sheets to her. Her eyes darted this way and that, and she half expected to see the cobbled street and the building walls looming close around her, but there were only the familiar confines her own room.

  “What is it?” Darius sat up, fully awake, and gripped her arms. “What did you see?”

  “A dream.” Miranda’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Just a dream.”

  But Darius took her chin and turned her face toward him. His blue eyes stared deep into hers for a long moment, and she could feel him stirring restlessly inside her mind. His eyes widened, and he withdrew, but not before his fear and anger rushed into her.

  “No dream,” he croaked. “Corwin’s been attacked.”

  Miranda’s hand flew to her mouth. “Get dressed,” Darius barked as he scrambled out of bed.

  Darius threw on breeches and shirt while Miranda struggled with chemise and shift. As he pulled on his coat, he made one impatient gesture and Miranda found herself neatly and completely dressed.

  “I am going to draw on your power to try to locate Corwin wherever he is now. We will be linked, so whatever I see, you will see. But you must not let it distract you. You must keep the channel open. Without the magic you can bring, I will soon weaken.”

  “Yes.”

  “We shouldn’t be attempting this yet,” Darius told her with that hard honesty she had come to understand was part of him. “You need much more training than you have had, but I cannot do this alone.”

  Miranda stiffened her spine. “I am ready.”

  Darius touched her cheek. “Corwin was right. You are exceedingly brave.” He held out his hands and she laid hers into them.

  “Now,” he said.

  It was easier this time, for Miranda knew how it would feel when she opened her spirit to the outer vitality that was the magic of the natural world. Power flowed into her easily. She was able to focus on her palms where they pressed against Darius’s, and let the power pass through her into him. She felt him embrace the magic, felt his mind and will impressing form upon its shifting presence, but it was not a form to which she could give any name. It was as if he were spreading it out, both broadening it and sharpening it somehow. She felt him reach for her along the stream of power that flowed between them, and she did not resist. He touched the memory of her nightmare, and it washed over her afresh: the fear, the blindness, the pain. These too were spread out and refined until they merged with the greater magi
c. Miranda felt Darius tremble. She drew up more power, opening the stream wider, and he steadied.

  And in her mind, it was as if a curtain fell away. She could see.

  She stared up at a steeply pitched ceiling smeared with dust and cobwebs. A filthy skylight with a rusted latch showed the clouded sky brightening with the slow dawn. She felt pain, and thirst, and Corwin.

  Corwin. His wrists and ankles were weighted down with heavy manacles, and their edges cut into his flesh. A cotton cloth had been wadded into his mouth. He was furious, with his situation and himself, and he most definitely did not like the look of those rust-colored smears on the wall.

  Then he lifted his head. Darius?

  Corwin, Darius answered. Where are you?

  Cut this off. Back away. It’s a trap!

  Of course it is. But where are you?

  Darius, don’t do this! Take Miranda to the captain. Tell him what’s happening.

  Darius ignored him. Where are you?

  I’m in a goddamned garret! Where do you think I am?

  Let me see.

  Darius! A wave of fear and fury accompanied the cry, so strong Miranda staggered. But she righted herself and held steady.

  I’m not going to stop, Corwin. Darius’s reply was implacable. So you might as well help us see.

  Us? Miranda? Can you hear me? Cut him off!

  Miranda understood she would be able to answer and she bolstered her reply with Darius’s unyielding strength. No. Why can’t you free yourself?

  They’ve bound me with cold iron. The metal is impervious to magic. They know what they’re doing. You must—

  We’re wasting time, Darius cut him off.

  The stream of invective Corwin released was truly impressive. But Darius did not flinch.

  This unleashed another series of oaths. It was so strange for Miranda to see them this way. She had come to think of Corwin as the leader of the two of them, but now she understood their true balance was much deeper and more complex than that.

  Can you reach him, Miranda? Darius asked her.