While holding the supernatural shield in place with his left hand, George placed his other palm on the blacksmith’s forehead, calling the demon forward in the old tongue. A growling rolled from the man’s chest, then his head snapped to the side. Black smoke hazed the man’s form as a second head—hideous and malformed—popped out of his neck. George snatched it by the skull and ripped it straight out of the host. The creature was all jagged bones, sagging gray skin and gnashing, serrated fangs. He clawed at George’s arms, tearing the sleeve of his coat to shreds.
“Back to hell, my ugly friend.”
Midsqueal, the beast disintegrated into a pile of charred bones. Ash and smoke swirled in a small circle around the heap.
George heard the commotion at his back, where Jude must’ve expelled a demon of his own. Finally dropping the barrier, George guarded himself as the wheat farmer lunged forward. It took no time at all to subdue him, yank another gangly demon from within, a creature more pitiful than the first, and send him back to hell in a cloud of powdery smoke. George turned to assist Jude but found all three of the other attackers unconscious at his feet and three piles of ash nearby.
Barely out of breath, Jude said, “That was too easy.”
“Agreed,” replied George. “These were newly made demons, barely strong enough to hold their hosts.”
“How could any master believe these pathetic minions could subdue you?”
Jude’s indirect compliment gave him pause as he stared down at the unconscious wheat farmer, an expression of peacefulness having replaced the menacing mask of the demon who’d held him captive moments before.
“They didn’t. This was a message.”
“What kind of message would that be? Hello there, Slayer, we’re horrible demon lords who are weak arses. That’s quite a message.”
“No.” George stepped over Daniel, anger burning once more in his belly. “This is Damas saying I know where you live, and I know who is important to you.”
The golden-haired Katherine flashed to mind, and the way Damas had looked at and spoken to her. George wanted to stab himself through the heart. Without meaning to, unable to control his protectiveness of her well-being in the prince’s presence, he’d shown her special attention. By doing so, he’d put her directly in the line of danger, singled her out as a target for Damas, who played the game of souls all too well.
Jude dusted demon ash from his trousers. “What shall we do with them?”
“I’ll sift them back to their homes.” George knelt by Daniel, readying to sift him to his quarters above the stables. He glanced up at Jude. “I hope you brought proper clothes.”
“These are proper clothes.”
“No, Jude, they are not. You’ll need attire for a walk in Hyde Park tomorrow.”
“Hyde Park? Why on earth would I possibly go there? That’s where the ton wander about and gossip and flaunt their God-given fortunes of wealth and beauty.”
“Exactly. I imagine that’s where I’ll find Katherine tomorrow. I must speak with her.”
“Katherine?” Jude combed a dirty hand through his dark hair. “Oh, the one who has your heart in a vise.”
“She does not have—”
“Does she have something else in a vise?” Jude arched a brow.
“I bloody hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Jude, be cooperative for once, will you? Prepare your arse for a gentleman’s stroll in the bloody park tomorrow.”
“Well, if you put it so politely, I suppose. But why must I be there at all?”
“If my knowledge of elegant females is correct, and I believe that it is, she will be in the company of her best friend. I’ll need you to entertain the friend.”
“Entertain?” His smile turned wicked.
“As a gentleman, Mr. Delacroix.”
Jude swept a deep, regal bow. “But of course.” With a wink, he sifted away.
George leaned over the stable boy and lifted him in his arms, then sifted to the second floor above the stables. The boy’s candle still burned. His bowl of lamb stew, crust of bread and serving of custard pudding had been left half-eaten. Cook had been generous. But she favored the skinny lad, an orphan who’d come to think of Thornton as his home.
It was true George had settled at Thornton only a fortnight ago. But in that time, he’d taken great care to know the people in his charge. He was of no blood relation to the former earl at all, as was believed. William Lockwood had been a sentinel for the Flamma of Light. Sentinels were humans who were chosen and who accepted the duties to battle the evil set on this earth. William had chosen to live his life a bachelor when he dedicated his life’s work to being a protector for the Light, to offer a haven when needed and to be George’s informant for this part of the world.
A month ago, William had sent word to George, then residing in Paris, that London was swarming with demon activity. By the time he’d received the letter and sifted back to Thornton, William was dead. The local doctor said it was a heart attack, but George knew otherwise. He was sure a Flamma of Dark had discovered William was a sentinel and dispatched him straight away. To George’s surprise, the honorable man had named him his sole heir, falsifying his genealogy to insert him as a distant cousin living abroad. William charged him to protect those in his care. “The only true family I have” were the words inscribed into the will, words he knew George would not take lightly and would gladly honor.
And so here was Daniel, enjoying the reward of a hard day’s work when a foul demon from Hell climbed into his room and crept into his soul. George cringed at the fear the boy must have felt. Thankfully, a human host rarely remembered anything about his possession. He placed Daniel in his bed, noting his coarse woolen blanket was hardly enough to keep him warm through the winter. He tucked the blanket over him. He must tell the housekeeper, Mrs. Baxter, to give him more suitable bedding. As he snuffed out the candle, he made a silent promise to set wards around every home, farm, inn and tavern in town. The problem was, he couldn’t protect the people once they stepped outside the wards. With one last glance at Daniel, he closed the door.
His thoughts strayed to Katherine again. The sorrow in her eyes was a beacon to the damned, particularly a certain demon prince. Demon lords were drawn to those whose souls radiated pain, loss, heartbreak…and innocence. George would simply have to save her from the well of despair she was swimming in before Damas could lure her into his dark embrace.
If she would let him.
Chapter Three
The sun was mockingly bright, Katherine thought as she shaded herself with the parasol. Jane strolled alongside her, beneath her own parasol, happy to finally be out of earshot of her lady’s maid, who lagged behind a few paces.
“So what has you so giddy?” Katherine asked.
“Truly, Katherine, you must be joking.”
“I am not. I wouldn’t have asked if I had any idea why you were grinning like a girl who’d sampled her father’s port.”
Jane laughed. “Don’t be coy. Tell me.”
“Tell you what, dear? You’re under the assumption I know why you’re behaving as if you have a secret.”
“I don’t have a secret.” She arched a delicate brow at her friend. “But you do.”
“I do?”
“Come, come. Tell me about Lord Thornton.”
Katherine’s heart immediately plunged into her belly. The very mention of Lord Thornton created all kinds of wondrous and terrible sensations in her body.
“Lord Thornton and I shared a dance. A waltz, to be more specific. There’s nothing to tell.”
“You must think I’m blind or brainless or both. I saw you, Katherine Elizabeth, and I know you better than anyone.”
“Oh, really? And what is it you think you know?”
“I think Lord Thornton is attracted to you, and I believe you
share the same attraction for him.”
“Really, Jane. You know how I feel about women who engage in such extramarital affairs. And I’m a—”
“Oh, don’t start with I’m a married woman. You don’t love Clyde. No woman could possibly love him.”
Katherine kept her mouth shut, for Jane was absolutely correct. Katherine confided enough in Jane for her to despise Clyde for all eternity. Still, it nearly knocked the wind out of Katherine to hear Jane say so aloud.
“I’m sorry,” Jane said more gently. “But you don’t love him.”
“That may be, but it doesn’t mean that I would entertain the idea of a tryst, if that’s what you’re insinuating. And I shared only one dance with the man. That is hardly enough to induce me to fall in love.”
Jane jutted her chin forward, her in-deep-thought expression.
“Besides, I’m not so sure Lord Thornton showed more particular attention to me than he would any other woman who struck his fancy. And if you really must know, he had no significant effect on me whatsoever.”
“Truly?”
“Yes. Truly.”
“It would not bother you to be in his company, then?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, that is a relief—for he is walking this way.”
Straight ahead, the man himself strode directly toward them, accompanied by a brooding fellow. Lord Thornton wore all the trappings of a proper gentleman; however, the slant of his mouth, the intensity of his blue eyes, and the way he moved with agile grace and determined steps gave him the air of a fallen angel. His dark-haired, dark-eyed friend looked more like the devil himself.
“Oh my,” whispered Jane.
Katherine nudged her with her elbow. “Be good.”
“Always am.”
“Liar.”
Five steps more and they were standing directly before them in the shade of an elm with rustling green leaves.
Lord Thornton tipped his hat with a small bow in greeting. “Lady Katherine, Miss Karroway, what a pleasant surprise.”
Katherine suspected it was no surprise at all. When Lord Thornton gave her a secret smile, she knew she was right. And damn the man if this one simple act didn’t spin her insides into a maelstrom of chaos.
“Wonderful to see you again so soon, Lord Thornton,” said Jane. “And who is your friend? I’m Miss Jane Karroway,” she said, offering her hand to the brooding one.
Katherine’s jaw dropped. Jane spoke out of turn, ignoring proper etiquette as usual. She never had patience for the tedious bore of propriety. “This is Mr. Jude Delacroix, my friend visiting from Paris.”
Mr. Delacroix took Jane’s hand and bowed with a sweeping kiss. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a thick French accent and a knee-buckling smile. Her first impression was correct. He was the devil himself.
“May we escort you on your stroll?” asked Lord Thornton.
Before Katherine could politely protest, Jane replied, “Of course. I’ve always wanted to travel abroad, Mr. Delacroix. Would you tell me about the beauty of Paris?”
“I’d be delighted,” he said, offering her his arm. “Though there is much beauty to be seen here in London as well.”
Jane took his arm with a girlish giggle but sauntered ahead with him like a lady.
“Lady Katherine?”
Katherine turned from the couple to see Lord Thornton offering his arm. She laid her hand in the crook and let him lead her slowly behind the other pair. Neither of them said a word as the other two spoke incessantly.
“How are you today, Lady Katherine?” he finally asked.
“Very well, Lord Thornton. How should I be?”
Her voice did not give her away, but the nearness of him, her arm held securely between his own and his rib cage, his leg brushing her skirts with each step, the lovely, masculine scent of him swirling in the air, sent her emotions reeling. And she had no idea why. She’d met the man once. Shared one dance. That was all. Why should she be affected so? This was absurd.
He glanced at her, then faced forward again. “By the pinched look of your brow, I’d say you aren’t very well at all.”
“What? Oh, it’s nothing. Simply the heat.”
“I see. Would you like to sit down and rest a moment?” he asked, gesturing to a bench.
“No.”
So they walked on. She felt wound as tight as a clock, ready to spring loose.
“Tell me, Lady Katherine. What are the things in life that bring you joy?”
She flinched and turned her face up to him. “Pardon?”
He kept his focus ahead on the path. “I merely would like to know what it is that makes you happy.”
Made her happy? What an odd question. No one had asked her such a thing before.
“You do know what makes you happy, don’t you?” he teased.
“Of course I do.”
“Is it a secret you’re willing to part with?”
“It isn’t a secret at all. Don’t be impertinent.” She jerked her gaze forward, realizing Mr. Delacroix and Jane were farther ahead. Lord Thornton’s slow pace had widened the gap. On purpose?
“Seems to be a problem I have.”
“Yes, it appears so,” she added, her lips lifting into a smile.
“Still…I’d like to know,” he said gently, melting away her irritation.
Katherine pondered his question. He waited patiently for a reply.
“Riding, for one. Reading. Seeing new places.”
When she said nothing more, he remarked, “I enjoy riding as well. Something freeing of the spirit when galloping on horseback.”
“Yes,” she agreed, glancing up at him.
“A smile? I am a fortunate man indeed.”
“Don’t tease me, sir. We finally agree on something. I’d say it is cause enough for an amiable expression.”
“True. You enjoy reading, which is certainly a positive attribute. And do you sing or play the piano?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I’ve never played an instrument, though I do love listening to fine performers.”
“What about art? It seems so many ladies fancy themselves masters these days.”
“No. I don’t draw or paint either, though I appreciate the art form.”
“So. A lady who doesn’t draw or paint or sing or play the pianoforte. But she enjoys riding.”
“And reading.” Katherine smiled.
“Now who’s teasing?”
“And wildflowers. I forgot that on my original list.”
“That one is rather important.”
“Seems rather small, actually,” she said, stealing a quick glimpse up at him, admiring his profile.
“Not at all. It is the small things of beauty that make life worth living.”
Then he caught her with his brilliant aquamarine gaze. She felt as if he’d never let her go. Swallowing hard, she broke the brief trance and aimed ahead.
“Well, if you’re trying to discover the dark mystery of why a lady such as myself has no affinity for the talents a lady should have, there is no great mystery, I’m afraid.”
“But there is a reason.”
“Of course. My mother died of a fever when I was very young. When my governess, Mrs. Ashburn, insisted upon my learning all the arts of an accomplished lady, I told my father I had no desire to be an accomplished lady.”
Lord Thornton laughed. A very pleasant sound. Katherine smiled again. Mr. Delacroix and Jane had stopped at the end of the path, where their carriage was waiting for them. Katherine’s heart sank. She wasn’t ready to leave Lord Thornton’s company.
“My father loved me dearly.”
“And so he spoiled you.”
“Yes. Most assuredly. So it was that Mrs. Ashburn was handed her wages and seen to the door, and my fath
er took up responsibility for my education.”
Lord Thornton grunted.
“What? What does that sound mean?” she asked.
“Nothing at all. Only I’m surprised. Few men would take on such a challenge.”
“Few men were like my father.”
“Were…? He is no longer with us?” he asked gently.
Katherine shook her head.
“I am sorry.”
“Thank you. But it is all right now.” Though it certainly wasn’t. Nothing had been all right since her father had left this earth.
“And what of travel?” he asked with lightness. “You said you enjoyed seeing new places. Where have you been most recently?”
“I’m afraid nowhere recently.”
“Oh?”
“My—” She paused, loathing to take ownership of the man as her husband even in conversation. Especially in conversation with Lord Thornton. “Lord Blakely prefers that we stay here. I have not traveled since my father took ill almost three years ago.”
“How terrible for you.”
He placed his hand over hers at the crook of his elbow, his fingers heavy atop her own. Her heart raced away again, and she wished she could ask him to take her once more around Hyde Park. But the gossipmongers were always watching, waiting for someone to step out of line. She curled her fingers and gripped him a fraction tighter. He noticed. His gaze dropped to hers. She gave him a genuine smile for the first time, appreciating his company more than he could possibly know. She hadn’t thought of those happy days with her father in such a long time. And Lord Thornton, with his gentle inquiry, had brought forth more genuine joy than she’d felt in ages.
“There’s one more thing that makes me happy, Lord Thornton.”
The Deepest Well Page 3