The Matchmaker's Mark (13 page)

"I didn't 'send' him after anybody," Amy snapped. Guinness quietly positioned himself between them. "You said he was in jail."

Lily glanced from the Matchmaker to the dog to the bodyguard, unsure how to read the undercurrents. "Hang on. I don't know he was after me for sure. My mark's been acting up for a couple of days. Tonight he just showed up, marked and snarling."

"Those furry bastards are always snarling. We must get you out of here, Matchmaker."

"Amy."

"Fine. By any name, you must leave town."

"I've already said no."

Lily stared, fascinated by the exchange. Stories about the Matchmaker painted her in a mysterious, often ugly light. The elders of her house only spoke of protocols and tithes, rather than personality and preferences. Rumor said the Matchmaker demanded respect, knew great wisdom, and aged prematurely from the burden of her role.

Amy didn't look burdened or aged and she didn't seem to care for the elf guard's desire for protocol.

The disparity made Lily brave. Probably just a fool's courage brought on by hot salsa, cold beer, and adrenalin, but she knew better than to waste an opportunity. "Before you go, could you please tell me why I was marked at birth?" She pushed her sleeve high and moved her arm into the weak glow from the street lamp. "Why would you do this?"

Darian muttered an inventive curse as Amy leaned closer. She didn't touch the mark, though Lily could see she wanted to.

"I don't recognize anything about this. Dare?"

"Because you need – "

"I know, I know," Amy cut him off. "But I wonder…"

Lily felt like an aphid on a rose, under such close and dispassionate scrutiny. This wasn't Maeve's friend Amy, this was the rumor-causing Matchmaker. She wondered if Amy realized it.

"Listen to me," he said, stepping closer still. "If she's found us anyone can."

Lily bristled. "I beg your pardon." No, her magic wasn't that strong and it was hardly unusual to be sneered at by a full-blooded elf, but she'd hit her limit of insults for the night. "If you meant to hide the trail, you failed miserably."

"Trail?"

A thin trickle of pity went through Lily. He sounded agonized by the news.

"Nothing bad has happened," Amy pointed out.

"We're clearly operating with different definitions."

Amy's hands went to her hips. "Are you sensing any immediate danger?"

Watching them, Lily was reminded of many a conflict with her brothers. She wanted to laugh, but suddenly the air went cold and the Matchmaker closed her eyes. The ghosts were back and their silence blocked out all but the sound of her own heartbeat.

Dare reached for Amy, but Lily stopped him. "Don't interrupt her."

He scowled and tugged against her, but she had plenty of experience fighting dirty. She grabbed his ear and pushed her knee into the back of his. He went down with a thud, but it left Amy free to do her thing.

Sure as there was sunlight and rain, there was magic in Charleston she didn't see or understand as a mere half-breed, but talking to a group of ghosts didn't seem like something you just cut short. "You should know better."

"Let me up," Dare growled. "It isn't safe here."

"Guinness isn't nervous."

"He's a dog."

"He's a smart dog." She dug her knee deeper into the back of his, and tried to ignore the muscled shoulder under her palm. "They aren't hurting her," she whispered in his ear. "Lighten up already."

She couldn't believe she had Darian Knoll pinned to the cobblestone path in the Unitarian Churchyard. Too bad he wouldn't let her take a picture, not that anyone but her brothers would understand the significance. And they'd say things about chivalry and how she'd only gotten the best of the famed Elite Guard because he didn't want to hurt her. Brothers!

"Hey! If you want the ear so bad, I'll cut it off for you."

"What? Ewww. Sorry." She let go of his ear, but lightly pinched a pressure point in his neck.

"Where the hell did you learn that trick?"

"Brothers." The many humbling lessons had forced her to be quick and crafty. At the moment, she was fighting a losing battle with her foolish romantic notions as the scent of his skin had her feeling soft and dewy all over. "What do you think they're talking about?" She hoped the question would distract her as much as him.

"I don't know. That's what makes it dangerous. I don't know what they want from her. She hasn't been trained –"

She stopped listening as her mark flared up and the weird sizzle under her skin diverted her attention. It was worse than having an itchy nose when her hands were busy crafting the perfect bow. Except, here her hands were full of a sexy, handsome elf with a bigger than life reputation and she was itching to hold him in a whole different way.

"Did you really travel by – "

"No." He bit out. "Whatever you've heard, the answer is no."

She couldn't pursue her curiosity as the air rippled and warmed and Guinness led Amy back to them. "Let's get out of here," she said, taking in their awkward position.

Lily let him up, nervously falling into step between the Matchmaker and her guard as they all left the churchyard.

"We'll walk you home," Amy announced, at the street, holding up a hand to halt Dare's automatic protest. Turning to Lily she said, "You left your people and the protection of your house. Why?"

Lily gaped. How would the ghosts know to tell her that? "Well, yes and no. I live here, closer to those who accept me as I am."

"As they think you are."

"As I am," Lily insisted, Having magic was considered an elvish birthright, but without control, there was no community acceptance or trust. Understanding a society didn't make being an outcast easier.

"Lily, you need both sides of your family. You are important to both family trees."

She shrugged. What else could she say? She'd learned to soothe her magic nature with the small charms and the beauty of the flowers she worked with. The weekly visits from her brothers were enough to keep her content, more often irritated, with elves in general.

Or so she'd thought until tonight.

"I don't believe a matchmaker put this mark on you." Amy took Lily's hand and pushed up her sleeve. "But it is there for a good reason and valuable purpose. Keep careful watch, Lily, and you'll find what you seek."

"The ghosts told you that?"

Amy shook her head.

"This is as far as we go. We need to leave," Darian insisted, stepping between them and blocking Lily's view of Amy's face. "You need to leave."

"Fine." She wiggled her fingers in a silly, girlish wave. "But if I get mauled by a lovesick werewolf, it's on you."

~*~

The clever halfling still haunted Dare hours later. Finally, back at Maeve's house, Amy was safely tucked into her room and he'd charmed the doors and windows so he'd know if anyone tried to enter. He'd tried to reason with her, to get her out of town tonight, but the new Matchmaker refused to consider any kind of common sense until she had her day on the beach.

He swore again just thinking about it.

Amy was probably sound asleep, dreaming grand dreams of peace, love, and an idyllic high tide while he was fighting off panic over a rogue werewolf combing the city for a half-elf mate.

"Lovesick werewolf." The mental image made him chuckle.

Yes, Lily's parting words haunted him, forced him to consider how she might be protected. He knew better than anyone that if she was fated for the werewolf, he couldn't stop the match. Still, the other details of the evening were a sweet torture he'd gladly relive all night long. Her foolish bravery amid bizarre circumstance amused him, but her hands, oh God, her hands.

It had been too damn long since a female had touched him. He smiled, conceding that the element of surprise had made her simple move more effective. She'd wanted him in the dirt, but he'd felt that hum of attraction in the way her palm had splayed over his shoulder. Even now, he rubbed his shoulder as if he could keep the sweet spot warm.

Had he really offered to cut off his ear? He dropped his head to the cool glass of the window. She had been pulling the damn thing off his head at the time, but surely he could've come up with something more polite. Or sensitive. Or encouraging.

He used to be charming. He'd certainly had enough training in diplomacy while traipsing around the globe and through the various realms with Camille. Had he thought of any appropriate words, he might now be looking forward to the moment when those strong, graceful hands would hold him with intent to seduce rather than subdue.

Thinking of Camille doused his humor. She needed him to find her as much as he needed to do it. Not just to rectify his failure, but to save a woman who had been a true friend.

What he wouldn't give for a vase of sunflowers charmed with contentment about now.

Dare's thoughts spiraled around, each one wrapping and twining over and through the next, until Lily's face blocked his nightmares of the dangers hunting Amy and the memory of Lily's sweet touch drowned out the ache of losing Camille.

He turned on his heel and nearly crashed into Amy. Arms folded across her chest, eyes narrowed, feet planted, she was obviously not dreaming of peaceful, sunny beaches. "Why are you awake?"

"Because you were asleep."

She rolled her eyes, but held her ground. "That's ridiculous. We're safe here."

His own temper spiked and words flew from his mouth in his native tongue. He told her just what he thought of her, her carelessness, and her refusal to do the right thing.

Her mystical blue eyes blazed and her face registered first surprise, then humor. She actually laughed at him. "Are you done?"

"You understood me?"

"Not exactly word for word, but your point was clear enough."

He muttered another oath, and retreated to the couch to avoid the drill bit of her finger she'd aimed at his chest.

"Now you listen this time," she began, "in whatever language pleases you. I take my commitments seriously. I understand this Matchmaker thing is a commitment, but it came along during a prior commitment so it will wait its turn.

"Tonight has made it quite clear that whether I believe or not, this Matchmaking thing is very real. I even understand the significance of the book though I've never seen it. You can thank the ghosts for that."

"We'll leave in the morn –"

"Tomorrow is Saturday and I will go enjoy the sunshine and surf with my book." She raised a hand as if taking an oath. "I solemnly swear to steer clear of people so as not to cause riotous love scenes on the beach. I even checked with Maeve and got directions to the beach most likely to be deserted this time of year."

"Have you considered –"

"I've considered a great deal and I've concluded that you should do less considering." She reached out, brushing his hair away from his face, a move reminiscent of his mother. "Rest, Dare. I'm safe enough for the night."

With that, she returned to her bedroom, though his mind was still in a tangle.

She had a point, one Camille often made, that he spent too much time thinking. Of course Camille made it sound more complimentary when she let him 'percolate'. Being a Matchmaker's bodyguard required thinking for both immediate and long term plans.

Amy had no idea the troubles that could befall her while she slept. It was his job to keep the Matchmaker safe. Well, it had been his job with Camille. Having failed one, he certainly wouldn't be trusted with Amy.

His thoughts stalled as suddenly as Amy had stopped his pacing. It wasn't simply a matter of his choosing retirement. He recognized the new matchmaker needed a different staff to suit her clearly unique talents and styles.

The fiasco of recent days meant a disgraceful departure from service. Pride was a blurry memory.

Gods, could he be more melancholy?

At the moment, his job security wasn't the relevant point. Until relief arrived, he was the only protection standing between Amy and elements she could not yet imagine who wanted to use her or kill her to satisfy their own agendas.

He shifted and rolled to his side, punching a stupidly small pillow into submission under his head.

Amy, once she fully accepted the change in her life, would be as tough – probably tougher – than the Matchmaker her aunt had been. Maybe it was better, for him anyway, that Amy didn't yet know the power and influence at her disposal. He was ashamed at the swell of relief that he wouldn't be leading the security detail running herd on this new Matchmaker.

He closed his eyes. The ceiling wasn't going to reveal what the hell he should do with the rest of his life. There weren't a lot of choices. At the end of the day, at the end of years of service to the Matchmaker, he was still just a combat trained wood elf who'd left his house for an ambiguous assignment. They wouldn't throw a party for him if he had the guts to return. He'd be lucky if they didn't throw stones and knives.

"So don't go back," he whispered aloud, testing the sound of it.