He groaned as he crawled from the bed. "You're exhausting when you're increasing. I shall have to get us both a snack just to keep up!" He tied his dressing gown and dashed off, returning moments later with a tray of food for them to share.
Setting it on the table, he sat down and patted his thigh. With a wicked grin, he said, "Come here, pet."
She was there in an instant, her knees resting on the soft carpet at his feet, with her head laid against his muscular thigh. Though she wore no collar or chain, she loved being his most cherished pet when the house was asleep. He fed her a bite of ham from his fingers, and she sucked the salt from them before he could give her another morsel.
Life was indeed sweet.
Epilogue
He settled himself into the nursery rocker, holding the infant girl on his lap. Amelia nuzzled and rooted at his jacket, and he smiled when her gray eyes flew wide and filled with black. She opened her mouth to cry out.
“Ah ah, little one.” He tapped her lips sternly. “We must be quiet or we shall wake your delightful mother. Surely, you do not wish to see me meet the countess’s wrath.”
Pursing her rosebud mouth, the child stayed quiet, but kept her irritable gaze focused on him. Her eyes were so much like her mother’s, though the color was different. They spat the same angry fire as Elizabeth’s even when concealed behind the black of Angeline’s stray magic.
The witch had done sloppy work indeed. No spell of his would go so awry.
“Now, you have taken something that does not belong to you, my dear, and I must return it to whence it came.” When Amelia whimpered, he patted her back softly and shushed her. “It will not be bad, and I promise you will feel no discomfort, sweeting. You were not meant to hold it, you see. Such acts are how witches like Angeline are formed. Your ill-gotten magic is like a cancer, and will take everything from you until you are forced to replace it with another life. I would see that you do not meet such a dismal fate.”
He stood, holding Amelia to his chest as he paced, crooning softly as he wove his spell around her. He would not harm her, but she neither deserved nor needed such power. He’d tried to protect both children while they’d been inside Elizabeth’s belly, but had been too late. Amelia had already snatched up the small bits of magic left over from Angeline’s spell, secreting them away as an oyster hides a pearl.
Amelia would match her mother in intellect someday, and perhaps even surpass Elizabeth’s prodigious gifts. She was meant for better, greater things than a life as a succubus. Elizabeth would never know her daughter had been the only reason she’d been able to defeat Angeline’s spell without assistance. It suited him to let her keep her illusions.
In seeking to grasp the magic for her own, Amelia had weakened the geas enough to allow Elizabeth to break free of its entanglement. Such a clever little thing, though Amelia knew not what she’d done. His spell settled around Amelia’s tiny body and he lowered his lips to her forehead. The foul magic left the infant in a rush, its dark touch making him nauseous before he could lock it away where it would harm no one. He would dispose of it in a safe place, returning it to the earth as was proper and necessary. Over time, the foulness would be cleansed and rendered inert.
Amelia blinked wearily and smiled, her toothless grin cheering his wicked old heart. Her eyes darkened to a charming bluish hazel and he stroked wispy hair away from her unlined brow.
“Sleep, sweet girl. You’ll remember nothing of this, and live a fulfilling life of beauty and enlightenment.”
When Amelia’s eyes closed and her lips parted on a soft snore, he chuckled and laid her in her cradle next to her brother. His hand hovered over the infants one last time and glowed a soft white as he bestowed a blessing upon them both. The church might have its christenings and ceremony, magic of faith and belief to comfort the powerless, but he could give the children gifts far surpassing those meagre offerings.
To Gabriel, he gifted a pleasing form, endurance, and wisdom. Such things would be needed in the dark days to come. Gabriel would, during his middle years, have a role to play in the governance of England, though he knew not how or why.
Amelia would have her mother’s astonishing beauty, and he gave her things her mother did not have; empathy, kindness, and charm. Amelia would combine them with her intellectual gifts and walk the path of enlightenment and science to the betterment of mankind. She would have ample help in that endeavor. Elizabeth would educate both children, while he provided counsel and guidance.
Nodding in satisfaction, Michael, the tenth Duke of Denforth, left the house in the same manner he’d arrived. None saw the shadowy figure, save one elderly gypsy who took his hand before pulling him into a tremendous hug.
“Is it done, Master?”
“You need not call me that, old friend. I am simply a hedge wizard, bent on making his way as best he can.”
Roland chuckled. “Hardly, but we forgive you your self-deceit, my lord Merlin.”
“I haven’t heard that name in many a year,” Michael said, his voice soft and wistful. Indeed, it had been nearly a millennium since he’d been called by that Anglicized moniker. “Thank you for observing the goings on here, and for straightening out the mess near the folly. Have your people kept watch over Lily Archer as I asked?”
Nodding, Roland said, “Yes, my lord. She is as well as can be expected, though her mother seeks to match her with the village innkeeper, who is thirty years her senior with four brats from his deceased wife.” Grimacing, he added, “I think one of them might even be older than Miss Archer by a few years. I don’t see this ending well.”
Michael winced. “It can’t be helped, I suppose. I handled that situation badly, indeed.” The thought of the ethereal Lily matched with a middle-aged innkeeper did not sit well with him. She was too kind and elegant for that dismal fate. Such a delicate creature would be swallowed alive in drudgery.
“Yes, my lord.” Roland was silent for a moment. “You could offer for her yourself, you know. My daughter thinks she has the makings of a familiar. She’s wasted on a ham-handed oaf like that tavernkeeper.”
“What does Esme know of such things? She makes lovely charms with her small bit of power, but can do little else.”
Roland winked and turned to walk back to the stables. “She senses magic. How do you think we knew you when you visited all those years ago?”
Michael barked out a laugh and shook his head. The old Roma would catch the lie, but there was no sense in allowing rumors to persist. “Poppycock. No such ability exists, and I should know it.”
Giving him an enigmatic smile, Roland said, “Go look, my lord. Attempt to bond with Miss Archer. If it doesn’t work, you may have the satisfaction of telling Esme she was wrong.”
The End
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Turn the page for an exciting preview of Wicked Truth, the next installment in the Wicked Magic series.
∞∞∞
I’ve made more mistakes in the last two years than I have in nearly two thousand. My carelessness has cost an innocent young woman her reputation, and might cost her life. I know I should make amends.
I am Myrddin, and under normal circumstances, I care nothing for such things. When one’s life is measured in centuries instead of years, it is difficult to attach importance to the mundane. Yet when I gaze into her exquisite face, so pure and sweet, I take her for my own.
I tell myself it is to protect the world from those who might use her to their own ends, but I am entranced by her, addicted to the power she offer
s. For better or worse, Lily Archer is mine.
Excerpt from Wicked Truth
There was a problem with barricading one’s door. When her maid knocked, Lily had to get up and remove the obstacle before Margaret could enter without causing a commotion.
“A moment, please, Margaret! I shall be right there!”
“Yes, miss. A gentleman has come to call. He says his name is Lord Denforth.”
Lily tied the sash of her dressing gown and moved her chair aside before opening the door. “Did he say what he wanted?”
Margaret went straight to Lily’s wardrobe, choosing the best of her day dresses. “No, miss. He has asked to speak with your mother as well. I will try to make her presentable after I dress you.”
Lily allowed Margaret to take her dressing gown and assist her into her corset. She held out her arms, allowing the maid to pull the pink frock over her head. “I do not know him. And the Denforth estate is quite a distance away, if I recall.”
“I’m sure I don’t know, miss. Let me dress your hair before I tend to Mrs. Archer.”
“Of course.” Lily sat while Margaret brushed her hair, the blonde tresses falling to her waist in a wavy curtain. With deft movements, Margaret soon had the mass pinned into an elegant chignon.
Her belly growled, and she laid a hand over her abdomen, knowing there would be no time for breakfast while a bloody duke sat in their parlor.
She’d forgotten her stockings, but had no time to bother with them. One did not keep a duke waiting. Hoping he wouldn’t notice, Lily settled for slippers, donning them as Margaret hurried away. Taking a deep breath, she wiped her sweaty palms on her dress and went downstairs.
As she entered the parlor, Lord Denforth turned away from the window to face her. He looked vaguely familiar, though she could not place where she’d seen him. His brown hair was untidy, as if he’d been outside in a gale. His nose was straight and perfect over full lips, and his jaw had just a hint of stubble. He smiled at her, flashing straight, white teeth. He was not particularly tall, but his carriage and bulk under his coat suggested a much greater stature.
Yet it was his eyes that caught her attention. She’d never seen such a startling hue before. Pale almost to translucence, the green was otherworldly. She saw dew freshened leaves in his gaze, or perhaps new spring grass. Those eyes held such wisdom, and perhaps a bit of mischief.
She dropped into a curtsy, nearly forgetting her manners. “I am very sorry to keep you waiting, my lord. Will you sit?”
“Do not apologize, my dear. It is very early, and I have arrived unannounced. It is I who should be giving an apology.”
“Dukes do not apologize.” She slapped a hand over her mouth and her face grew hot. “I do beg your pardon, my lord. I have no idea what came over me to say such an impolite thing.” Despite her embarrassment, his laughter charmed her and she smiled as he bent over her hand, helping her to the low chaise longue.
He waited until she sat down before joining her. He settled his large body rather too close to her, but no impropriety could occur with the parlor door open! The situation was so disconcerting. Lily had no idea why he would visit her, nor did she remember ever meeting him. Why, such a man should not have known of her existence, much less called on her at such an unseemly hour.
Knowing she had a very short time before her mother appeared, she gathered her nerve and asked, “Why have you come to call on me, my lord?”
“I will discuss it when your mother arrives, dear child. As you do not have a male relative, it is her to whom I will direct my inquiry.”
Lily could think of only one reason a man might make such a statement, but could not fathom why a duke would ask for the hand of a ruined girl with no title and a miniscule dowry, not to mention the fact that the banns had already been read for her marriage to Caine. As her friend Elizabeth had once said, marriage often involved men of middle age with bad breath and worse habits. All of those things were true of Caine Martin.
Settling back against the cushions, she breathed out a relived sigh. Lord Denforth’s visit must have something to do with her late father’s work. Papa had been a gifted scholar of plants and natural remedies for illness. Many of his experiments still grew in the kitchen garden and in the tiny greenhouse abutting the garden wall. Lord Denforth surely meant to purchase plants, or perhaps one of her father’s books.
Truly, she wasn’t sure whether to be sad that she’d found a reasonable explanation for Denforth’s presence. She’d quite liked the idea of a handsome duke rescuing her from the distressing fate awaiting her. She smiled and looked down at her hands. Those fanciful tales never came true except in stories, though Elizabeth seemed happy enough with her handsome earl.
When her mother tottered into the room, leaning heavily on Margaret’s arm, Lord Denforth stood and helped her into the overstuffed chair in front of the fire. Turning to Margaret, he asked, “Will you bring us tea and perhaps some scones if they are available? I find I’m a bit famished this morning.”
“Yes, my lord.” Margaret curtsied and scurried away.
He returned to his spot on the chaise next to Lily and rested his elbows on his knees. “Thank you for accepting my call so early in the morning. I am sorry to disturb you, but there is a matter I wish to discuss, Mrs. Archer.”
“I can’t imagine what interest we would hold for you, my lord. My late husband had very few debts, and I’m sure they’ve been paid off.” Grimacing, she adjusted the black scarf covering her gray hair. “Did Mr. Archer owe money to you? He did nothing aside from putter in that abysmal garden of his, though he kept us fed with his tinctures, I suppose.”
“No, he did not. May I also add my condolences for your untimely loss, dear lady.” Standing, he went to Lily’s mother’s chair and knelt in front of her. “I wish to contract a marriage with your daughter, Lily Rose Archer.”
Her mother barked out a laugh, sounding much like a hyena Lily had once seen at the zoo in London. “She is already engaged to the innkeeper. Besides, she’s ruined for a decent marriage. As much as I love my daughter, I’m afraid that’s the best she’s likely to get.”
“You would sentence her to a loveless marriage with a man who hits her?”
“She would have better choices had she not…” Lily’s mother sighed and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I’m afraid the matter is already done, my lord. She will be married to Caine Martin next week. It will be a fitting fate for a girl with loose morals.”
Lily bit her lip to stifle her tears at her mother’s words. She’d thought her mother loved her, but she planned to force the marriage to punish her for something she hadn’t done! Once again, she wished she’d stood up for herself all those months ago, but looking at her mother’s judgmental face, she didn’t think it would have helped.
He got up and shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re wrong about that, Mrs. Archer.”
“I beg your pardon?” Her mother tried to stand, her face red with fury. “How dare you!”
“I am the man who was in Lily’s bedchamber that night. I can also tell you that Lily is as chaste and pure as the day she was born, and I have enough money to prevent that farce of a wedding you have planned.”
He tossed a piece of parchment into Lily’s mother’s lap. “The contract with Caine Martin is dissolved, and I have a special license signed by the Archbishop. Miss Archer will not suffer from abuse, nor will she suffer your vile innuendo any longer. You may keep her damned dowry, and I’ll throw in another twenty thousand to cheer your wicked soul.”
Lily stood, though she knew not what she intended to do. She’d always wished to see the man who had violated her so thoroughly without ever touching her, and she considered the words she’d wanted to give him.
“Excuse me.”
Lord Denforth continued to trade barbs with her mother, so she got between them, facing him. “I said, shut your bloody mouths!”
Her angry screech brought dead, blessed silence and she took a deep breath be
fore addressing the rake in front of her. “Did you just say you were the man in my room?”
“Yes, my dear, I will—”
“And you admitted in front of a witness that you did not touch me?”
“No, of course not! Please, let me explain–”
“You let me suffer ruin. You let me get engaged to that foul innkeeper, and you let me debase myself. Why do you come forth now?”
“I will explain everything after we are–”
Something energized her, a glancing touch of power that coursed through her veins. She tried to grasp it, but the energy escaped her, and she was too furious to chase it. With a scream of rage, she balled up her fist and planted a facer right to Denforth’s nose.
Blood spurted and she backed away before facing her mother. “I will accept Lord Denforth’s proposal. We will be married as soon as he cleans up his face, and I will make his life a living hell for the next three hundred and thirty-two days.” She stomped her foot and shook out her sore hand. “That is the precise amount of time I have suffered from his carelessness.”
Ignoring their shocked faces, Lily yelled for Margaret to fetch Vicar Reynolds and went to the kitchen to eat one of Margaret’s delicious scones. She no longer cared what her mother thought. It was most likely true she would have gotten no better offer, but that did not excuse her mother’s behavior. What mother purposely pushed her only child into an abusive marriage? Even if she had done what the townspeople accused her of, there was no excuse for such treachery. Why, her mother had even said she should share Caine’s bed before their marriage!
As if she would ever do such a thing. She said a prayer of thanks that her father wasn’t alive to witness her mother’s behavior. He’d been such a kind and gentle soul, and would have been horrified by the situation. The thoughts brought a pang of sorrow. Her father would have believed her. He would have protected her.
Wicked Deception (Wicked Magic Book 1) Page 23