Loris had been a little irate with Dyfed herself, for he’d foolishly stayed too long in the village, worrying both her and his brother, and when he’d at last come home it had been in a completely disheveled condition. He was wet to the bone, and his clothes were thoroughly soiled with mud. She hadn’t even wanted to contemplate how he’d gotten into such a state and preferred to tell herself that perhaps he’d simply tripped and fallen while walking through the village rather than that he’d come to such ruin at the hands of one of Neli’s girls—all of whom Loris hoped to never think or speak of again, certainly not to Kian.
But poor Dyfed. He’d looked so pale and weary that Loris hadn’t had the heart to let Kian keep shouting at him, especially as she suspected he did it because he was still overset more by what had transpired with her than by anything Dyfed had done. She told Kian in as many words to leave his brother in peace and then had taken Dyfed by the arm and escorted him up to his chamber, ordering that a hot bath and food be brought at once. She’d practically undressed him herself, then pushed him into a chair by the fire and covered him with a blanket. He’d insisted that he must speak to his brother, but Loris had countered that she would only allow it after Dyfed had some food and a warming drink in his stomach. Then she’d taken the clothes and left, wondering how she would ever get the stains out without ruining the fine cloth.
Kian had gone up to Dyfed’s chamber an hour later, promising Loris that he’d not lose his temper again, and the brothers had spent most of the remaining night hours locked up together. Loris had twice sent food to them, and both times the trays had come back empty, with no word from either man.
At last she’d given up hope of discovering what was afoot and had gone to her own chamber. Not to sleep but to listen to the storm raging outside her window and to toss and turn and wish that she could forget everything that had happened the night before. She wondered if she would ever be able to lie in a bed again and not think of what it had been like … the feel of his hands and mouth on her body. Kian’s hands. And Kian’s mouth. Her body ached shamefully as Loris remembered it all in detail, and when she at last fell into a fitful slumber, she dreamed of him.
Now morning had arrived, and she couldn’t decide who looked more grim among the three of them: her, Kian, or Dyfed. What a merry journey this was going to be.
“You’ll want to get to Shrewsbury as quickly as possible,” Kian said, showing little interest in the platters of egg tarts and sausages that the footman had offered. He was pale this morning and looked as if he hadn’t slept. Loris wondered if he had gone out to guard Tylluan after he’d finished talking with Dyfed.
Dyfed nodded but said nothing. His gaze was fixed on the tablecloth, and he seemed to be thinking of something other than the journey. He sighed aloud, a sad and mournful sound.
“I’ve made all of the arrangements for your stay in Shrewsbury and Coventry,” Kian went on. “You might possibly make London in less than three days, but if the rain continues, it will likely be necessary to stop more frequently. Loris isn’t used to traveling. She won’t wish to spend so many hours inside the coach. You must be certain to stop at every opportunity and let her have a cup of tea and a bit of a rest.”
Loris was slightly insulted by the words. She was a fairly hearty female, used to a great deal of daily exertion in both the castle and the garden, as Kian very well knew. She doubted that sitting in his comfortable traveling coach would be very trying.
“Of course,” Dyfed replied, pushing his plate away. “I shall take excellent care of our darling Loris. That’s what you’re sending me along for, isn’t it?” He flashed a curiously bitter look at his elder brother and stood. “I’m going to my chamber to pack a few more books for the journey.” Looking at Loris, he asked more gently, “Will you be ready to leave soon, sweeting?”
She nodded and said, “I suppose so. Everything has been packed, but I should like to have a last word with Cook and the upstairs maids.”
“Will half an hour suffice?”
“Yes,” she said, and watched as he walked away. As soon as he’d gone, she turned back to Kian. “What in heaven’s name has happened? You both look as if a death in the family had occurred. Has there been another attack?”
“No, thank God,” Kian said. “There’s nothing to worry over, Loris. Save getting to London. I pray the rain won’t follow you throughout the journey. I had hoped for you to enjoy seeing some of England. I doubt you remember much of the journey from ten years past, when we first brought you to Tylluan.”
“I recall every moment,” she countered. “Ffinian spent each mile making me laugh with his stories and telling me everything about Tylluan. I thought he must be making it all up, for it sounded so wonderful,” she said wistfully, her voice softening, “but it was everything that he said it was. And much more.”
“I’m pleased that you love Tylluan so well,” Kian said, watching her closely. “I hope you’ll come back to it.”
Loris drew in a breath and released it slowly. She didn’t look at him. She’d been considering all that had taken place in the past two days. Her feelings and memories were still raw, but she wasn’t so foolish as to deny the truth. What had happened between them in her chamber had changed everything. She simply wasn’t certain yet in what way.
“I can’t imagine being away from Tylluan for long,” she said at last. “I’ve told you so before.”
His hand, which she saw out of the corner of her eye, relaxed the grip it had been holding on a cup of hot tea.
“I’m glad,” he said. “Everything will be just as you wish when you come home.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, wishing that they wouldn’t speak as if they were strangers. But that was partly her fault, she knew. He felt too badly about what had taken place to be comfortable so soon. It would be up to her to make him act like himself again. She considered trying to aggravate him into making one of his mocking statements but decided that the time wasn’t right. Loris straightened in her chair, instead, and said, “Tell me what happened between you and Dyfed last night. What kept you in company so long after he came home?”
Kian sighed wearily. “I cannot tell you everything, and you must promise me that you’ll not press Dyfed with questions, for he cannot speak of it yet, either. Will you give me your word, Loris? You know that I’d not ask it of you if it weren’t important. And yes”—he held up a hand when she started to speak—“I will tell you everything as soon as it becomes possible for me to do so.”
“Of course,” she said, though her interest was only far more piqued. “I shouldn’t wish to upset Dyfed. He looks so unhappy already.”
“Aye,” Kian said, and, sitting back in his chair, rubbed both hands over his face. “God, I’m so weary. When this is all over I’m going to sleep for a fortnight.”
“You’ll find a way to be rid of the troubles soon, Kian,” she said. “Once Dyfed and I have gone, you’ll be able to fix your mind on the matter, just as you wish to do.”
He dropped his hands and gazed at her. “I don’t know if I will,” he said. “But I suppose I must, as the duty is mine alone. There is something else I must ask of you. A great favor. Not for my sake, but for Dyfed’s.”
Loris looked at him curiously. “What is it?”
“Yesterday—no, the day before that, when I went to Llew. The day we quarreled over—”
“Yes, I recall it very well,” she snapped, irate that he should remind her of the foolish things she’d said.
“I mentioned to you—before we quarreled—that Desdemona Caslin is betrothed to the Earl of Llew.”
“Yes.”
Kian leaned forward, looking at her very directly. “You mustn’t say anything to Dyfed about the betrothal. Or tell anyone of it once you reach London. Not even Niclas or Malachi, should they ask you what you know about Miss Caslin. And don’t tell Julia, either, for she’d certainly tell Niclas and then Dyfed might hear of it.”
“Dyfed can’t know of the Earl of Ll
ew’s betrothal?” Loris asked slowly. “Don’t you imagine that all of London knows of it already?”
Kian shook his head. “I don’t believe so. Cadmaran has always embraced strictly formal methods in regard to such matters. Desdemona Caslin must be properly introduced into society before Lord Llew will make the betrothal known. The ton will first learn of it when they read the announcement in the papers.”
“But I still don’t quite understand why Dyfed can’t know about it,” Loris said.
Kian’s expression grew particularly bleak. “He believes he’s in love with her. No, it’s worse than that. He believes they are unoliaeth—that she’s his fated one.”
Loris blinked at him, stunned. “Dyfed and … Desdemona Caslin?”
Kian nodded. “He didn’t go to the village last night. He met Desdemona Caslin, instead. Evidently he didn’t tell me everything that occurred between them during their first encounter several nights ago. They arranged to meet secretly upon his return from Fynnon Elian, and—well, in part, she told him those things that I’ve already said I can’t tell you now. She also made Dyfed believe that she loves him. But from all that he told me last night, she said nothing of her betrothal to Cadmaran. Which was likely wise on her part, for Dyfed might attempt to challenge Lord Llew for her hand otherwise.”
Loris still couldn’t get beyond the idea of Dyfed being in love. Or at least thinking he was. He’d never even been infatuated with a woman before. “Dyfed’s far too sensible to do such a foolish thing,” she countered. “And he couldn’t have fallen in love with her after only two meetings.”
“It happens among our kind quite often,” Kian told her, looking at her in a meaningful way. “We are easily susceptible to the forces of nature. From what Dyfed told me last night, and by the manner in which he said it, I am absolutely convinced that he has fixed his heart solely and completely upon Desdemona Caslin, and intends to have her as his wife. The only thing that’s keeping him from going to Llew at once and demanding her hand is the trouble that’s been taking place at Tylluan. She is, for the time being, inextricably bound to Cadmaran and the destruction that’s been occurring, and she must remain at Llew until I’ve found a solution for the problem.”
“But if she knows something of what’s been taking place—” Loris began.
“Not only knows of it,” Kian broke in, “but has been part of it. Dyfed assures me, however, that Miss Caslin will do what she can now—for his sake—to lend me her aid. But she must do so in secret, without letting Cadmaran know, else he’ll stop her from helping at all, and possibly imprison her at Llew. I pray that Dyfed is right in trusting her. I’m not entirely certain that I do, yet.”
“Oh, heavens,” Loris murmured unhappily. “She’s filled with dark magic, is she not? She must be, if she’s been helping the Earl of Llew. And an American. Could it possibly be any worse? Are you quite sure Dyfed’s in love with her? Perhaps he was only enchanted by her beauty. She is very beautiful, you said. Or perhaps she put some kind of spell on him.”
Sighing, Kian rose from the table. “I argued much the same with him last night, but he was able to convince me that his feelings are quite real. But getting her away from Cadmaran is going to be a tricky business. Until I know exactly what transpired between Miss Caslin’s father and the Earl of Llew, and what vows were made, I won’t know whether she can easily be stolen away or not. If she and Dyfed are truly unoliaeth, then nothing can keep them apart, not even the most solemn vows given by those outside the union. The Guardians will hold the unoliaeth above any other claim. But if they were not fated and Cadmaran has obtained a promise from the father for the daughter’s hand …” Kian shook his head. “I don’t know what can be done, save to offer Lord Llew whatever price he desires in order to free her from obligation to him.”
“But Dyfed won’t care about any of that,” Loris murmured. “If he’s truly in love with her, he’ll not accept defeat.”
“No, he won’t,” Kian agreed. “And that’s precisely why he mustn’t know of the betrothal between Lord Llew and Miss Caslin. He’s content to let her remain at Llew for now only because he thinks she’ll be free to come away with him once the troubles have been dealt with. But if he discovers that she’s bound to Cadmaran by a betrothal … I greatly fear what he would try to do.”
Loris shivered at the thought. “If Dyfed challenges the Earl of Llew,” she said, “he will give up all of the protections that keep wizards from killing one another.”
Kian nodded grimly. “To issue a challenge is to leave yourself open to death,” he said, “and to give the one to whom the challenge was issued an advantage. Which is why our kind has always been so careful about such things. Cadmaran could kill Dyfed and never be punished for it. At least not by the Guardians. And I doubt any prison made by mere mortals could hold so powerful a wizard.”
“Dyfed is usually so calm and logical,” Loris murmured, unable to keep the worry from her tone. “But there’s no denying that when he’s overset, he can be terribly foolish.”
“Dyfed is a man in love,” Kian stated. “And I can tell you from experience that there’s no more foolish man on earth.”
Loris looked at him in silence.
“You’ll say nothing to Dyfed of the betrothal, then?” Kian asked. “Or to anyone else? I believe that you and I are the only two who know of it outside of the Cadmaran clan.”
“I’ll say nothing to anyone, Kian. Certainly not to Dyfed. I give you my promise.”
“Thank you. I won’t worry on the matter, then, for I know your word is always certain. I’ll leave you to have your chat with the staff. I’m sure they’re very well prepared for your absence, though I believe they’ll miss your guiding hand almost as dearly as I will.”
Again, she made no reply. They gazed at each other, and then Kian turned and left the room.
Half an hour later, they took their leave of Tylluan. Dyfed helped Elen into the carriage and prepared to hand Loris up, as well, but Kian stopped him.
“I’ll help her,” he said. “In a moment.”
Dyfed looked from one to the other, then nodded and walked away to mount the horse being held for him by one of the servants.
Kian took Loris’s hand and pulled her a few steps away from the carriage and all those who were watching them—the entire castle staff, who had come out to bid her farewell, and most of Kian’s men, whose jobs were to guard Tylluan and keep it secure. When they were just out of earshot he stopped, released her hand, and turned to face her.
“I realize that you haven’t yet forgiven me for what happened,” he said in a low voice, gazing very directly into her face, “and that you’re still very angry. It will likely take a great deal of time before you feel any charity with me at all—”
“Kian,” she said, her heart constricting painfully at how deeply he was suffering for what had happened between them. “Please, don’t.”
He looked stricken. His handsome face was already so drawn and pale, and, gazing at him, Loris wondered whether Cook or any of the maids would be able to convince him to eat as he should or get the rest he needed. It hadn’t been easy for Loris to make him take care of himself these past many months, but, then, she never minded bullying him when it was necessary.
“I don’t wish to speak of Liw yet,” she said. “I confess that’s too painful. But as to the other”—she swallowed before going on—“you were not the only one who wished to … participate.” Her face felt as if it were on fire, and Loris had no doubt it looked that way. “You asked me if I wanted to, ah, proceed, and promised that you would stop, and I never … ahem”—she cleared her throat and looked down at her gloved hands—“I didn’t wish to. Stop, that is. And so I don’t want to leave Tylluan … and you … without letting you know that I’m not s-sorry about … about that. Nor am I angry,” she added quickly. “Nor, if I would be perfectly honest, do I, ah”—here her voice fell to a whisper—“regret what we … what I … that is to say, the knowledge that I … gaine
d.” Then, thoroughly embarrassed, she added, in a rapid tumble, “I only thought it right to let you know.”
She looked up to find that he was staring at her hands, too, his face tautly set and the muscles of his cheeks and mouth working to keep some manner of emotion at bay. She thought for an awful moment that he might laugh at her—typical Kian, making light of her foolish words—but in an instant she realized that he was struggling to hold back tears.
“Thank you,” he bit out at last, his voice husky and low. He appeared to want to say more but didn’t.
Loris swallowed again, her own throat suddenly tight. Kian never wept. Never. He covered his feelings with mockery and sarcasm and laughter.
She reacted instinctively and took a step forward, lifting her hands to fuss with his wrinkled cravat, which looked as if he’d thrown it on while half-asleep. She hoped that the servant who put Kian’s clothes away would make certain they had been properly pressed before he let the baron put them on, as Loris always did.
“I shall be receiving reports from Cook as to how you’ve been eating,” Loris informed him sternly, looking into his face, though it was still lowered and she was obliged to bend a little to see his eyes. “And I shall write to find out whether you’ve been getting enough rest, as well. If I discover that you’ve been so foolish as to fall into a decline or make yourself sick, I shall return to Tylluan immediately, whether I’ve had the opportunity to meet Lord Perham or not.”
Kian laughed then, just once, but it was enough. Loris could see that he’d regained his balance.
“That’s scarcely an incentive to make me desire food or sleep,” he said, lifting his head to meet her gaze at last. Then his smile died away. “I’m going to miss you, Loris.”
She stepped away, managing a wry smile. “If I come back to Tylluan to find either you or the castle or my gardens in disorder, Kian Seymour, I promise that you’ll very much wish that I was on the other end of the earth.”
Touch of Passion Page 18