Lust (17 page)

“Of course,” she said, bowing into a polite curtsy. What else was she to say?

“Excellent.” He flashed a brilliant smile, then motioned to where Prue was sitting on a bench, and Arawn was standing beside her. They were deep in conversation.

“I sense that there is something on your mind,” Crom said.

“No, nothing.”

“You know what I am.”

Chastity looked up sharply. “I beg your pardon?”

“You know I'm a fey.”

She swallowed hard. There was no point in denying it. “Yes. I know.”

He sat down beside her and gazed straight ahead. “It makes matters much easier, doesn't it? There is nothing to hide.”

She could only nod. How strange it was to talk to a faery. “I must caution you that while my intentions are most honorable, others of my kind are not so principled.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Dark Fey, my opposite. They are unscrupulous. They take mortals, trusting and innocent, like yourself, and ruin you.”

“You're warning me.”

“Yes. You must be careful.”

“If it makes matters easier between us, I have not come across these Dark Fey you speak of.”

“But you will.” He reached for her hand. “I know they will come for you.”

She thought of Thane—why, she didn't know. Perhaps it was because she thought of the way he had made her feel while in the perfumery. Warm and fuzzy, with the very great desire to see him again. She never felt this for Crom. Never had the butterflies, or the urge to feel his touch.

“You will come to me if any of the Dark Fey come to you.”

She didn't understand his warning, the importance of the Dark Fey. But she nodded her agreement, if only to put an end to their intimate tête-á-tête.

“Of course, I shall inform you at once, if I ever come across one.”

“You make a jest of my warning, but soon you will understand.”

She was about to ask why the fey were all of a sudden in her and her sisters' existence, when Prue and Arawn came up to them.

“We are raising suspicion.”

Chastity saw that Lady Sefton's guests were taking a great interest them, and not the lavish luncheon the servants had brought out.

“Well, then, shall we? I have no wish to put a black spot on your reputation,” Crom said.

No, indeed, she thought sourly. He wanted her virtuous. Spotless.
Perfect.
Chastity knew what he wanted of her.

She had always hated her virtue. But never more than now as she looked down the long road of her future path. It was cold. Filled with duty and expectations. She would never break free of the morality that chained her. Would never be allowed to break the bonds. She was horrified by what she knew would be her life. And she felt reckless. Wild. Inside, she revolted. She wanted at least one moment of excitement. One wild interlude of abandon. Like last evening, she had stared deeply into her looking glass and imagined Thane's hands all over body.

That had been wicked. Wild. Wanton. And she so desperately wanted to find that woman again. Somewhere deep inside her, that woman was locked tightly away. But Thane had found her. Had used the key to unlock her. But he was not here. She had sent him away. And now she was utterly imprisoned.

ABOVE THE TREETOPS, THANE AND KIAN
hovered. He was mist, his preferred form when not in his own skin. Kian was shadow.

He saw his twin hanging between the leafy canopy of two ancient oaks. He was not completely gray, but a mixture of black and green. A clear sign that his sin was ruling him.

Thane knew what had prompted the beast. It was the same as what had awakened his. The Lennox girls, talking to two Seelie Fey.

The site of Chastity's hand on Crom's arm infuriated him. Made him want to lash out and pull her to him. But his sin could not rule. Lust must be shoved aside and fed later. He must learn, for the sake of the other princes and their dying court, what deviousness the Seelie were up to.

Beside him, he felt Kian stir, saw the shadow move
and grow ominous. He hoped that his twin could control Envy. It would not do to engage the Seelie. Especially Crom, Niall's twin. Their king was powerful, and Thane believed that his brother was, as well.

No, their war could not be brought out now. Not in front of the mortals, or the Lennox girls.

“I think a storm approaches,” the one named Prue remarked as she looked up into the trees where he and Kian lurked. “That shadow is rather dark. There must be a thundercloud forming behind the trees.”

When the Seelie glanced up, Thane was relieved that they paid little attention. They had no idea that their dark counterparts where there, listening to them. Fortunate for them, the Seelie magic did not enable them to shift their shape. That was a dark power, and one he and the other princes reveled in. In their altered shapes, the Seelie were as ignorant to their presence as the mortals. But Crom was part Unseelie, Thane reminded himself, and none of them truly knew what Crom was capable of.

“Oh, indeed,” Chastity murmured as she glanced up at them. “That cloud is rather menacing. I've never seen green before in a cloud.”

Thane was about to remind Kian of their mission, to warn him to control the jealousy he felt, when his twin suddenly left the safety of the trees, only to spread in a wide arc across the open expanse of grass to a pond. And to the form of a woman whose fingers were grazing the still waters.

Thane supposed he could not fault his brother for
wanting to meet his virtue. Thane wanted to meet with his, too, and ravish her on the forest floor.

“I suppose,” the other fey, who Thane did not know, murmured, “we must be on our way. We've occupied your time for far too long. I see a few knowing glances being cast our way.”

“Of course.”

“Tomorrow then?” Crom asked. “We shall pick you up at five for the fashionable hour in Hyde Park.”

Prudence seemed all enthusiasm. Chastity, however, was anything but.

“Good day to you,” Crom murmured in a silky voice that was designed to enthrall. “I shall be counting the minutes until tomorrow.”

Thane wanted to choke the bastard, or better yet, run him right through with his sword. But the Seelie would hear the singing of the faery blade slicing through the air. It would alert him to their presence, which was counterproductive. But it would be damn satisfying to watch the golden bastard die by his blade.

As the Seelie left them, Prudence and Chastity were left alone on the bench. Thane knew he should follow the Seelie, to learn of their plans, but he could not force himself to leave. He was above Chastity, and he wanted to drink her in. To use these minutes to settle the tumultuous feelings that ripped through him at the sight of her with his enemy. Any other man with her would have angered him, but the sight of a Seelie touching her sent him into a blind rage.

“I believe I will take a stroll amongst Lady Sefton's
lavender garden. Will you join me?” Chastity asked her sister.

“No, I'm afraid I see Mercy with a stranger. I think I shall go and rescue her. Enjoy your walk.”

This was the moment he had been waiting for. A chance to come to her. Would she welcome him? Or would she remind him of his vow to leave her be?

As mist, he followed her to a secluded path, and slowly allowed the iridescent droplets to form into his shape. He would have much preferred to come to her in the moonlight, but the daylight would have to do.

Who said that one must be seduced by the light of the moon only?

 

Mercy watched as her pale fingers glided through the still waters. Her gaze was still fixed on the elegant, yet strangely formed, lotus flower. Her sisters had thought it a strange thing. Had thought her little story behind the flower even more bizarre.

Perhaps it was really herself that was odd. For she had warmed to the story, her insides doing a strange flipping sensation. But it was not only her belly that had reacted. But her breasts and her own intimate parts, as well.

Sighing, she enjoyed the warm breeze as it ruffled through her hair. She was hot, sitting in the sun with her heavy afternoon gown and the layers of petticoats beneath the full skirts. How she wished she could lie in the grass in only her chemise, feeling the wind caress her body.

Wicked and wanton thoughts. She had many of them,
but she kept them well hidden from her sisters. Mary had little time for her. And Prudence and Chastity would not understand. As the virtues of temperance and chastity, their thoughts were pure and innocent. They would be appalled to know that Mercy harbored fantasies that no lady of breeding should even know about, let alone dream of.

The heat and the sun were suddenly blocked by the passing of a large cloud. Mercy tracked its progress over the grass, and then as it drifted over her. She took respite in its coolness, in the way it blanketed her. She followed the path of shadow as it snaked its way across the pond. Gazing at the water, she gasped as she saw the image of a man reflected in the water.

Her head came up and she squinted as sunbeams out lined the breadth of the stranger's shoulders. He was bathed in shadows and sunlight, the effect breathtaking.

“One must be careful when one gazes into the still waters, for it is said that the image you see is that of your future.”

Mercy's attention drifted to the water. She saw the outline of the man. Then the image was replaced with a man who was bent on his haunches, staring at her from across the small, ornamental pond.

He was stunning. Breathtaking. His eyes were blue, the color of ice, his hair long and black and silky as it blew in the breeze. He was well muscled. Despite his frock coat, Mercy knew that his shoulders and chest were broad and that beneath his linen shirt, and the lace jabot he
wore, his skin would be smooth and warm, and infinitely seductive.

“I am Kian.”

“Mercy,” she replied. Swallowing hard, she forced her gaze away from him. She was being too bold in her perusal, but she could not stop looking at him.

“Kindness,” he whispered. Their eyes locked, and Mercy felt a jolt of some foreign, but not unwelcome, sensation pierce her. “I could use some of you,” he said thoughtfully as his cool gaze devoured her. “Most definitely I could use you.”

He rose and walked around the pond, perusing her body as he came to stand beside her. “The milk of human kindness, how sweet the taste.”

He actually licked his lips and Mercy shivered, her core heating and wetting. Then he lowered himself until they were eye to eye.

“I believe I could drink you dry.”

Her heart was beating too fast. She couldn't catch her breath. And when his hand came out and his fingers trailed along her cheek, she closed her eyes, marveling at the sensations his touch induced.

“Look upon me,” he whispered, and she did, allowing her lashes to flutter and her eyelids to slowly open. “The water doesn't lie. I am your future. Your destiny lies with me.”

She nodded, blindly accepting his words. She could hardly process what he was saying. All she could think of was how astonishingly perfect he was. No man could be
this beautiful, this sensual and engaging. As she looked deeply into his eyes, she knew him for what he was.

A fey. An Unseelie. A creature of darkness whose intrinsic ability to seduce and entice called to any woman who crossed their path. If his looks were not enough to disclose what he was, his words were. So darkly direct and erotic. She knew what he had meant by drinking her dry, and suddenly she felt like offering herself up to him.

“Mercy.” He murmured her name like a caress as it whispered against her ear. “I shall show you none as I pursue you. I will spare none to any of your other suitors. I
will
possess you.”

She swallowed hard, and his finger left her cheek, only to trail down the column of her throat.

“You know what I am. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I do. That is, I know.”

“And do you fear it? Fear me?”

“No.” Her answer had been quick and utterly truthful. All her life she had been told stories of the fey. She had been fascinated by them, by their power and their beauty. But nothing had captivated her fancy like the Unseelie. She'd always wanted to see one. To gaze into their eyes knowing what sort of sensual creatures they were purported to be. And she was elated to discover that none of it had been exaggerated. For the fey who stood before her was not only beautiful but dangerous, as well. There was a barely controlled darkness about him. She felt it. It seethed from him. Yet his touch was gentle.

“Let me in,” he whispered, “and I vow to show you
pleasure you could never dream of. Come to my world, and you will never want for anything.”

“And what will I have to trade for this…gift?” She knew no faery gift came free. There was always a tithe to be paid.

“You will leave this world and come to mine.”

“I cannot,” she replied. “To live in your world is to give up my life. My family. My sisters. I cannot, for one night of forbidden pleasures, toss away everything. I thank you for the offer.”

“One night?” His grin was slow and sensual. Heart-stopping. “Oh, no, I will show you no clemency in that, either. I will have you over and over, until the nights melt with the days and you are no longer cognizant of time or place. You will know only me. The pleasure of our bed. The hours of endless ecstasy.”

Said like that, how could she resist? But one glance at Prue charging across the grass, preparing to defend her honor, was all it took. “You will only take from me, leaving me an empty husk. Your pleasure comes with a price that is too steep for me to pay.”

His blue eyes turned to a most astonishing shade of green. The color of jade. “We're not done, Mercy Lennox. No, indeed, your path with me has just begun.”

Mercy watched as he stepped back. Shadow engulfed him, and she saw how he stared at her. She shivered. He was far too dangerous. She could never manage him. The thought thrilled yet frightened her.

“We will meet again,” he said, “and when we do, I
will show you no leniency. No kindness. Only a single-minded pursuit. I
will
have you.”

Mercy hoped with everything in her heart that this particular fey was true to his word. She was already thinking of the next time their paths would cross.

 

Chastity strolled along the manicured paths of Lady Sefton's perennial beds, fanning herself against the heat of the afternoon sun. She had left her bonnet on the bench, and now regretted it. The sun was much too bright. She could feel the warm beams on her face. Mama would be livid with her if she allowed herself to burn. It was gauche to have tanned skin. Pale and flawless was the mark of exceptional beauty.

She should go back and retrieve it, but she had no wish to leave the path or to make idle conversation. So, instead, she strolled on, enjoying her solitude.

The garden was hot and sticky, the paths full of elegantly dressed couples—the cream of London society, all turned out for the Seftons' annual garden party. The scent of roses and lavender assailed her senses, and she stopped to inhale the heady fragrance of a blush-pink damask rose. Smoothing her finger over the velvety petals, Chastity flushed, remembering her fantasy of Thane, and the way his fingertips had felt very much like the petals, soft and velvety, as they brushed her skin.

Chastity shivered despite the warmth of the air. She'd acted wanton last night—more than wanton, she'd been sinful. What had provoked her to feel herself in such a manner, and to fantasize that it had been Thane's hands
touching her and not her own? She still couldn't fathom what had made her do it.

Feeling restless and just a touch unsteady, Chastity slipped behind an enormous oak tree, resting against its cool, rough trunk. Why was it that Thane was the only man to arouse her thus? What was it about his wickedness that called to her carefully suppressed wantonness? Closing her eyes, Chastity let herself relive those moments in her bedroom. She had wanted more. Was prepared to think of the whole thing. But how could an innocent such as she be so in tune with her body? How could she dream of something she had never experienced? she wondered, continuing to fan herself, letting her fingertips graze the exposed skin of her breasts.

The sound of gravel crunching alerted Chastity that the couples were making their way back to the lawn for tea and cakes. Relieved to be truly alone at last, Chastity let her fingers move the air before her, cooling her neck and bosom.

A twig snapped, and her eyes flew open, greeting the dark blue eyes of Thane.

“Sir,” she huffed, blushing furiously, her skin instantly aflame with prickles of heat, of awareness.

“Good afternoon, Miss Lennox.”

Her body came alive at the sound of his voice. And the scent that suddenly surrounded them. It seemed to follow them wherever he went, and it had the strangest effect upon her. Thane… She was at once elated and dismayed by his appearance.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

She flushed. Had he seen the way she had allowed her fingertips to caress the swells of her breasts? Could he read her thoughts—the thoughts she had been having about him? She was mortified by the very idea.