Shivering, she peeked into the corridor. There was a chance that Donnington had already gone to claim his husbandly rights, but she was prepared to take that chance.
She pushed Mariah’s door open without knocking. The girl was standing by her window; even when she heard the door, she didn’t move.
“Donnington,” Mariah said softly. “I thought we had an agreement.”
“Mariah.”
The girl turned, her face an almost frightening blank. “What do you want, Vivian?”
There was not an ounce of respect or courtesy in Mariah’s tone, but Vivian found she couldn’t blame her. “I must speak with you.”
Mariah glanced toward the door that opened to the small room connecting her chamber with Donnington’s. “What can you possibly have to say to me?”
“Is Donnington in his room?”
“I heard him come up.”
“Then we cannot speak here.”
“You wish to keep secrets from your own son?”
“Please. Come downstairs to the kitchen.”
Mariah searched Vivian’s eyes. “If you still expect Donnington to seek an annulment…”
“I know he will not. But there are questions only you can answer.”
With another glance toward Donnington’s room, Mariah followed Vivian out the door, down the servants’ staircase, through narrow corridors and into the deserted kitchen area. Mariah stopped just inside the door.
Vivian was too unsure of her legs to remain standing. “Forgive me,” she said, seeking a chair, “but I have heard disturbing things that I must discuss with you.”
A spark of interest—or perhaps concern—lit Mariah’s eyes. “What have you heard?”
“How did you first meet Mr. Cornell?”
A look of distress wiped the calm indifference from Mariah’s face. “What does that matter now?”
“You did not first meet him when he came to Donbridge, did you?”
“Why should you care about the truth?”
Vivian clasped her hands, hoping that Mariah would not detect their weakness. “I know I have not treated you well. I believed you responsible for my son’s disappearance. I am no longer so certain.”
“Why?”
“Please. Answer my question.”
Mariah leaned heavily against a worktable. “I found him imprisoned in the folly by the mere.”
Sharp lights whirled about in Vivian’s head. “Imprisoned…how?”
“He was in a small cage, barely clothed and fed. He could hardly speak.”
“And he…he told you that my son—”
“Yes. He said that Donnington imprisoned him, though he has never told me the reason why.”
“But Mr. Cornell claimed to be my sister’s child!”
“He had lost part of his memory. Given his resemblance to Donnington, it was the best explanation we could find.”
Vivian found a mote of courage. “Donnington said that Cornell tried to kill him.”
“So he claims.”
“You don’t believe him.”
“No.”
“Then why are you staying with my son?”
“Because he threatened to hurt Ash if I didn’t.”
“How can I accept any of this?”
“You don’t have to.” Mariah started for the door.
“No. Wait!” Vivian tried to stand but sank back into her chair. “You love him, don’t you?”
“I will never love Donnington.”
“Cornell. You love Cornell.”
“Yes.”
“You would do anything to protect him.”
“Yes.”
“I…” Vivian closed her eyes against the swaying of the room. “I do not know if you were unfaithful to my son. But I know that Donnington intends to harm your lover.”
“We struck a bargain. He will leave Ash alone as long as I stay with him willingly, as his wife in every way.”
Vivian’s eyes filled with tears. “I do not think that will stop him.”
In an instant Mariah became one of the Grecian Furies, her slender body shaking with anger. “How do you know?”
“I heard him…speaking with another man. A man called Cairbre.”
“I don’t know the name.” Mariah advanced, hands clenched into fists. “Tell me what else Donnington said.”
How could she, when she still only understood a fraction of the conversation? “They spoke of ‘this world,’ as if there were another one.”
Mariah stopped, looking as though she had just found herself on the edge of a precipice. “Another world?”
“They called it…Tir-something. And this Cairbre said he wanted to take you from my son.”
“Did you see this stranger?” At Vivian’s nod, Mariah asked, “What did he look like?”
“He was like an angel…or a devil. Beautiful, wearing rich clothing of a type I have never seen before. And he was…” She drew in a breath. “Floating above the ground.”
She watched Mariah’s eyes, waiting for a disbelieving laugh or an accusation of madness.
But Mariah only felt for a chair and sat down near Vivian.
“Just as Ash showed me,” she murmured. “But why should Cairbre want me?”
“I don’t know. I only know that your Ash is in danger, and so is my son.” Vivian paused, struggling to fill lungs that seemed to have shrunk to the size of walnuts. “Whatever he may have done, I have come to believe that my son truly loves you. But you could never make him happy. And I will not permit him to commit an act that he will regret for the rest of his life.”
Mariah met her eyes. “I’ll go to Donnington,” she said, rising abruptly. “I’ll make him tell me—”
“No. You must leave, Mariah.”
“And let him hurt Ash? Never.”
“I will tell him that I know what he plans. I can stop him.”
“That’s not good enough.” Mariah charged for the door and strode through it before Vivian could find her feet. Panting, Vivian followed her up the stairs. At the last minute Mariah entered her own room, and Vivian went after her.
“You were right,” Mariah said. “I can’t let him know.” Her gaze turned inward. “Vivian, you must help me get Ash away. You and Sinjin. You must act immediately, while I distract Donnington by whatever means necessary.”
“Yes. Of course. But—”
The fury was back in Mariah’s eyes. “Swear to me that you’ll keep silent and help Ash.”
“Yes. I swear it.”
A rush of cool air swept into the room. As Mariah spun to face the window, a dark figure pushed his way through the casement and dropped to the floor.
“Ash!”
Vivian pressed her hands to her mouth. Cornell gave her the barest glance before snatching Mariah into his arms.
“You are safe,” he said, cradling her head between his hands.
“Yes.” She returned his frantic kisses. “How did you get away?”
“That is of no importance.”
“Are they after you?”
He kissed her again. “They will not find me. I am here to take you away.”
“No.” She pulled back and curled her hands around his shoulders. “You must leave. Donnington intends to kill you. Go to America, where you will be safe.”
“Not without you.” Once again he looked over her shoulder, pinning Vivian with his stare. “Where is Donnington?”
Vivian was afraid, as afraid as she had ever been her life. “In the next room,” she said. “And if you do not leave immediately, he will hear us.”
“I already have.”
Donnington walked through the door of the dressing room, fully dressed and bearing a rifle. He pointed the weapon casually at Ash’s chest.
“I thought I was finally done with you,” he said. “But I see you are like the proverbial bad penny.” He smiled. “There is only one way to dispose of a housebreaker who threatens one’s wife.”
ASH MET DONNINGTON’S cool gaze and saw in thi
s human his greatest enemy, the man who had believed Lady Westlake’s lies, who had taken Mariah away, who had nearly succeeded in confining him to yet another cage.
But he saw his enemy through eyes that were no longer entirely human. He was no longer weak, no longer a victim to be used for the purposes of others. The men who had tried to hold him had ample cause to regret their actions. And just as he had defeated his captors, he knew that he could defeat Donnington, as well.
Donnington would die, as he deserved.
Just as Ash readied himself for attack, Mariah walked directly in front of the muzzle of the rifle.
“You may kill me if you choose, Donnington,” she said, “but you will not lay a finger on Ash.”
Donnington grinned. “I don’t intend to touch him, my dear.” He jerked his head toward the dowager. “Mother, take my wife downstairs. I should not wish either of you to witness what is about to happen.”
The old woman remained still. Ash’s vision went red.
“Stay where you are, animal,” Donnington snarled, “or my dear wife may meet with an unfortunate accident.”
“I will kill you.”
“I fear you will never have the chance.”
“No!” the dowager gasped. “Donnington, don’t be a fool!”
Donnington continued to stare at Ash. “Don’t you see?” he said. “I have been a fool. Not anymore.”
“You cannot commit murder!”
“It is self-defense, Mother. I caught this madman attempting to assault my wife. Naturally I had no choice but to defend her.”
Mariah pushed the rifle barrel toward the floor. “Are you so certain that your mother will defend you, Donnington?”
Donnington blinked. It was the moment Ash had been waiting for. He charged, but the human was astonishingly fast. Donnington pulled a smaller weapon from his trousers and fired. Mariah screamed. Ash stumbled as the bullet grazed his shoulder and pierced the wall above Mariah’s bed.
“No!” The dowager rushed toward Donnington as he prepared to fire again. “You will destroy yourself!”
He pushed her aside with a sweep of his hand. She fell against a chair and slid to the carpet.
Ash roared. Mariah crashed into him, sending them both tumbling. Ash threw himself over her, bracing himself for the killing shot.
“I’m afraid I cannot permit this, your lordship.”
Mariah tensed, and Ash felt her amazement. The voice belonged to the servant girl, Nola. But the sound of it was different—low, calm, confident, not the voice of a servant at all.
Donnington’s astonishment was almost palpable. “Get out of here!”
“I cannot do that, Lord Donnington,” Nola said. “I had hoped it would not be necessary for me to interfere again, but I fear you have gone too far.”
“Nola?” Mariah whispered.
Her bewilderment and Donnington’s disbelief were as nothing to Ash’s. He had seen this girl a hundred times before. She looked the same: plain, unremarkable, hardly worthy of notice. Yet now he saw her as she really was, and he cursed his own blindness.
“Please put down the guns, Lord Donnington,” she said.
He laughed. “Who do you think you are? Get out!”
She raised one work-roughened hand. The earl stopped in mid-motion, the pistol clenched in his fist. He dropped the rifle from slack fingers.
“That’s better,” Nola said. “Lady Donnington?”
Ash helped Mariah to her feet. “Nola?” she said. “What…what have you done?”
“What I should have done long ago.” Nola glanced from the dowager, who was staring with her mouth half-open, to Ash. “I cannot maintain this spell for long. My abilities are no longer as great as…” She shook her head. “I have called the earl’s brother.” She looked again at the dowager. “If you do not wish your son to commit an act he will regret, you will aid Mr. Ware in restraining his lordship until the next moon’s rise.”
“You never truly worked for me, did you?” the dowager asked.
“I did what was necessary. Will you help?”
The dowager nodded slowly. “Who are you?”
“My name doesn’t matter. Your son has broken his agreement with Lady Donnington. He has forfeited his right to her loyalty.” She lifted her head, haloed by light only Ash could see, and gestured toward him.
“Mariah, do you trust this man?”
She met the younger woman’s gaze. “With all my heart.”
“Will you go with him, wherever he leads you?”
“I will.”
“Then leave us for a moment.”
“But I…”
“Go.”
Mariah left the room, compelled by the power of Nola’s words. Nola waited until the door had closed and stared at Arion. Her eyes were full of sad wisdom, neither Fane nor completely human. Those eyes said what her lips would not.
Be worthy of her.
He lowered his head. “I will keep her safe.”
“Do you understand what you will be sacrificing, Arion?”
“Yes.”
“Then be warned. Cairbre will not surrender his purpose, neither here nor in Tir-na-Nog. Take Mariah to London. It will be more difficult for Cairbre to find her there.” She hesitated. “You must travel by train. You will be surrounded by Cold Iron, there and in the city. Can you bear it?”
Ash met her gaze. “Yes.”
She inclined her head briefly. “You have until the next moon’s rise.” Her gaze lighted on the dowager. “Have you funds?”
“Yes, and Mariah has her own fortune. Most of it is in the bank, but I know she has kept some of it on hand for her personal use.”
“Then she must take all she can.”
Donnington tried to speak, but his mouth was as frozen as his body. His cold eyes promised vengeance.
Ash moved toward him. “You will not harm these other mortals,” he said. “Or I shall return and find you.”
Nola silenced him with a gesture. “He will harm no one if you leave England and never return. Go and fetch Mariah.”
A moment later Mariah followed Ash back into the room, worry in her eyes. Nola repeated her instructions, leaving out all mention of Cairbre.
“Do you understand?” she asked.
“Yes.” Mariah frowned at Nola in confusion. “I don’t know who or what you are,” she said, “but I trust you. Have I time to pack and change before we go?”
“If you are quick about it.”
Mariah turned without a word and began to remove clothing from her wardrobe. She selected a plain brown riding habit and entered her dressing room to change.
Nola glanced toward Donnington.
“You will return to your room,” she said, “and wait quietly.”
Stiff as a wooden doll, Donnington backed toward the door, pushed it open with the weight of his body and passed through. Ash turned the key and locked Donnington out as Mariah emerged from the dressing room and finished gathering her things. Within minutes she had placed a small collection of garments and several books in a neat stack on the bed.
“I assume we shall be riding to the station,” she said.
“That would be wise,” Nola said.
Mariah added another book to the stack and removed a satchel from under her bed. “What of the servants?”
“They are asleep and will not awaken until morning.”
Mariah circled the bed and offered her hand. “We have much to thank you for.”
“It is not yet finished.” But Nola took Mariah’s hand, short calloused fingers around fine slender ones, and pressed something hard and smooth into Mariah’s palm. “My powers are no longer reliable, but if you are in desperate straits, simply hold this talisman and call my name. I will do what I can.”
Ash saw the object in Mariah’s hand: a tiny piece of carved bone, the markings on it too tiny even for him to read. Mariah wrapped the bone in a handkerchief and began to pack the bag, each movement steady and precise.
Ash stared a
t her…at her grace, her composure, her faith in the face of so much that must be beyond her ken.
Be worthy of her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ASH CLOSED HIS EYES, suddenly afraid. When he opened them again, both Nola and the dowager were gone, and Mariah stood waiting with the bag in her hand. He took it from her, and they descended to the entrance hall.
No one stirred. The night was lit by a nearly full moon as they hurried to the stables. Even the horses were quiet, making no sound as Ash spoke softly in their ears. Once the animals were saddled and bridled, he and Mariah rode at a gallop away from Donbridge.
Moonlight flowed over on his shoulders like the rays of the sun. He felt the horse’s muscles bunch and release between his thighs, the animal’s energy flowing through his body like the near-magical invention humans called electricity. He became one with his mount, the barriers falling one by one until it was his hooves beating the earth, his ears pricked for the slightest sound, his tail a banner flying on the wind.
No human thought told him where to go. One moment he and Mariah were headed toward the train station, and the next the horses were standing before the scattering of stones and small, circular wood that marked the Gate.
“Ash?”
He woke from the dream. His sweat-flecked horse stamped the ground as if to remind him that he was human again.
But he was not.
“Ash, where are we?”
Her voice was strained…perhaps from fear, or the exhilaration of the escape. But he thought it was something else. He saw the pupils of her eyes shrink in spite of the darkness, her gaze fix on the cluster of stones.
“I know this place,” she whispered. “I have seen it before.”
Ash clenched his fists in the coarse strands of his horse’s mane. Was she beginning to remember that day when Donnington had dragged her before the Gate, intending to give her to Cairbre? Arguing over the part he himself must play in her capture?
She dismounted and took a few dazed steps toward the Gate, almost as if she were inexorably drawn to it. Cairbre could not make her enter, Ash thought. But what if she did so herself?
The very thing he had sworn she must never do. The human half of him. The half that now came up with a dozen excuses for why he should take her through.
I cannot lie to her anymore. She can never know me until she has seen what I have been. If she sees, she will know she is not mad, that her mother was not mad.
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