The Fire Lord's Lover Part 12

Aggie raised a doubtful brow.

Viscount Althorp, his golden hair glittering in the glow of the fire-washed ceiling, had the temerity to c.o.c.k a grin. "Perhaps the general has already produced the child that his father so desires."

Dominic faced the shorter man, his face frozen, his voice quite calm and pitched so only the fop could hear. "Come near her again and I will kill you."

Ca.s.sandra stiffened in his arms. A flicker of something shadowed Viscount Althorp's pale eyes, but only for a moment, the smooth libertine quickly reappearing. "As you wish, General Raikes."

And Dominic swept his wife from the room-if not quite in the manner he had originally planned. He ignored the concerned queries from the n.o.bles, knowing Althorp would have spread the word about his lady's supposed condition soon enough. Although the falsehood would be revealed in time.

He stopped for no one, including her two little slaves as they met them at the door. He ordered them to their rooms, tossed his wife on the mattress, and slammed the bedroom door.

"Pray tell me what has brought on this fit?" asked Lady Ca.s.sandra.

"Be quiet. You will make your headache worse."

She frowned but said no more as he pulled the ties from the curtains surrounding the bed, blocking off the glow of the fire in the grate.

He pulled her into his arms and she allowed it, although her body felt stiff as a tree. Dominic placed his mouth very close to her ear and whispered, "How do you know that man?"

"I told you-" He caught her face and brought her lips to his ear. "Why must I whisper?"

Dominic turned her head and breathed in her ear. "It is... a precaution."

She stilled for a moment and he could feel her mind working. Then he felt her soft lips at his ear again. "Spies?"

How would she guess such a thing? He had sensed his innocent wife hid a part of herself from him and now he felt certain of it. Dominic clasped her hand, the pad of his index finger finding the carved rose of her ring, the petals twisted in a tight bud.

He turned her head with his other hand. "You hired the servants who listen through keyholes. Answer my question."

"May and Gwen would never do such a thing."

She was probably right. But he never dropped his reserve within the palace walls, and his questions would not be those of an unfeeling elven lord's b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"We shall argue in whispers?" she finally said in the taut silence.

This time she turned her own ear to his mouth and waited for him to speak. "So it seems."

"I told you, Thomas is an old friend of the family."

"You lie. He was too familiar with your person."

She caught her breath, as if she could feel his sudden rage. "He would come visit me at school sometimes."

Dominic waited, his finger stroking the still-tight bud of her ring.

"When I was very young, I thought I might be in love with him."

This sounded like truth and the slight unfurling of the rose ring confirmed it. He waited again.

His wife huffed. "He asked me to run away with him but I refused."

"Why?"

"Because you were-you are my destiny."

Despite his intentions for her to reveal something d.a.m.ning, he could not deny she spoke the truth, for the petals of the rose blossomed beneath his touch. Faith, he hadn't expected such an answer. He'd expected another lie-perhaps that she was in love with him, perhaps that she admired his features so much she wanted to be with him. He'd even hoped she might reveal the true reason she had married him.

But. Destiny. That was a powerful thing.

His rage faded as quickly as it had come.

"Now it's my turn," she softly whispered. "Tell me of Mongrel."

Dominic started. "How do you know of my dog?"

"Cook told me-nay, do not be angry. She sought only to comfort me with a bit of knowledge about the stranger I married."

He ran a hand over his forehead. Cook had known him since he was a lad, and although they treated each other with indifference, he'd always suspected that the redhead had a softer heart than she revealed. And Mongrel... just the name brought a memory of shared warmth and unquestioning loyalty. Words flowed from his mouth without thought. "The stable master tried to drown the runt, but he had more will to live than anyone credited. I found him on the bank of the Thames, weary and half-dead, and could only admire his spirit. I nursed him back to health and he shadowed me from that day on, until he died..."

The vision of fire blackening fur and the sound of Mongrel whining in agony brought Dominic back to himself. But too late. For his wife held his cheek in one soft hand, and the sound of her sigh held too much empathy. "I'm so sorry. You must have loved him so."

Dominic jerked away from her touch. This unpredictable creature had managed to warm his human heart, and he feared he'd revealed too much to her. Ador might be right. If he continued to spend time with her he might not be able to prevent himself from falling under her spell. Even now he felt... he felt... No, he would not admit it, even to himself. For if his father discovered the truth of his feelings...

He leaped from the bed as if she had the power to burn him and stormed from the room, heading for Ador's tower. The general took the stairs two at a time, not pausing for breath until he burst onto the tower roof.

The dragon snorted a noxious stream of smoke in his direction.

Dominic coughed.

Ador snorted again.

Dominic paced the length of that large black body, his hands curling into fists. "d.a.m.n. d.a.m.n. What do I do? How could I have let this happen?" He looked up at the star-sprinkled sky. "I cannot care for her! I don't have the power to protect her! Yet I find myself drawn to her again and again. The scent of her hair, the touch of her hand, those warm brown eyes fixed upon mine. I want to tell her all my secrets... and therein lies disaster. For my selfish need will only imperil her life."

The dragon stretched one black leathery wing, the tip of it grazing the general's shoulder, propelling him head over heels across the stone floor. Dominic flipped to his feet, shaking the hair from his face.

"When you were a child," Ador rumbled, "you forged a connection to the black scepter."

Dominic felt like he might still be tumbling. What was the dragon talking about? Yes, he'd touched the magical talisman, a forbidden thing he'd never mentioned to anyone. And whenever he'd looked at the scepter after that, he'd felt... odd. But he'd never even mentioned this to Ador.

"What does that mean?"

Ador opened his scaly lids, his eyes gleaming in the night, seeming to wash Dominic with a haze of their red color. "We were created from the scepters and still retain a link to them. They are more powerful than you humans have guessed and they have a will of their own."

The general struggled to grasp the dragon's words. "Are you saying the scepters are somehow alive?"

"Not like you and I. But aware, elven lord's son. And likely to destroy anyone who dares to wield them who is not of full elven blood. And yet it allowed you to touch it."

"Why?"

The red light faded as the dragon closed his eyes. "I don't know why it chose to protect you or to hide your growing magic of black fire from the mad elf."

Dominic stilled. It couldn't be. He'd thought he'd imagined the black fire magic within him. Thought it wishful thinking. A fantasy to stop his father's torture. "But... d.a.m.n you! Do you mean to tell me I have had enough magic to be sent to Elfhame and-"

Ador snorted, a burst of red flame that washed the stones an ugly pink. "You foolish b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Do you really believe that's where the madman sends those who threaten his reign?"

Dominic's anger turned cold and his mind began to work at a frightening speed, the way it did on the battlefield when faced with a new strategy from his enemy. "If I believe these confidences you're suddenly willing to share with me... then I can see how it would be easier for the elven lords to have the children brought to them for the trials, to weed out any half-breeds who may have inherited enough power to threaten the Imperial Lords' sovereignty. That's if I believe what you're telling me."

If the talisman indeed had some kind of awareness-some power greater than his father's-it made sense, for he'd touched the scepter before his first trial. Magical gifts revealed themselves at p.u.b.erty, but they could grow over time. The reason that his father kept his n.o.bles close. But anyone possessing the higher gifts-like that of black fire-would be sent to Elfhame. But such children were rare; perhaps one in a thousand of those possessing elven blood were born with the powers to become a chosen one.

The general closed his eyes, unwilling to believe this but trying to remember. Had he touched the scepter through sheer accident or had he been impelled to do so? d.a.m.n, he did not like this feeling of being a p.a.w.n in some game he did not understand. He slowly opened his lids and narrowed his eyes at the black snout and unreadable features of the dragon. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because soon-ah but not yet-your powers will grow strong enough to challenge the madman, and you need to know the truth." Ador yawned, as if he hadn't voiced words that could change lives. "That is, if you survive long enough. But if you manage it and succeed in the coming battle, the scepter is one step closer to returning home... although it will be long and long before the gate to Elfhame can truly be opened."

Ah. Dominic caught a glimmer of understanding. So the dragon thought to use his human weakness just as his father did. Ador offered him the bait that Dominic did indeed have the power to protect Ca.s.sandra. But to what purpose? How could he discern the truth?

"Prove it."

"You humans are tiresome, half-elven or no," responded Ador, eyes still closed. "Very well, then. Your powers have at least grown strong enough to dispel the wards on Mor'ded's supposed door to Elfhame. The mad elf leaves the palace on the morrow. Go see for yourself."

Dominic rubbed his brow. Could it be possible Ador spoke the truth? The thought that he might have the power to protect Ca.s.sandra filled him with a savage elation. But it was tempered by the worry of what he might find behind that heavy oak door. It made him wish his wife had never awakened his human feelings again, and he stood for a time, staring at the stars in the cold night sky.

Ador finally succ.u.mbed to sleep, his rumbling snores s.h.i.+vering the stones beneath Dominic's boots.

Eight.

Ca.s.s woke the next morning still in her golden gown of the night before. A haze of silver powder covered her pillow and memories came rus.h.i.+ng back. She pulled open the curtains surrounding the bed, not surprised to find herself alone. Of course he had not returned.

She rang for Gwendolyn and May, and they helped her perform her toilette while her thoughts spun with the events of the evening. It had been so grand to see Thomas again, looking so handsome in the latest mode of dress. Faith, he played the part of a mindless c.o.xcomb even better than he'd played a priest.

"How about this one, my ladys.h.i.+p?" asked Gwen, holding out a fine wool mantua.

Ca.s.s sighed. She might as well give up on insisting that Gwendolyn choose the plainer pieces in her wardrobe. The girl had such a flair for the dramatic. And last night... yes, the general had certainly appreciated the way she'd looked. His face, as usual, hadn't revealed a thing, but she'd felt him staring at her far too long.

"It's not quite appropriate for a walk on the grounds."

Gwen's face fell.

"But I suppose if you pin up the train, it shall suffice."

The girl nodded with enthusiasm and chose a soft leather girdle tooled with fanciful flying horses to belt the burgundy gown. She dithered over the choice of stays for they would show through the open bodice, but finally settled on an embroidered stomacher to cover it, heavily inlaid with garnet stones.

May had almost finished brus.h.i.+ng the powder from her hair, and Ca.s.s closed her eyes at the heavenly feel of the older girl's gentle strokes. How would she find her husband today? She didn't know what to expect after his show of jealousy last eve. Her eyes flew open and stared at her reflection in the dressing mirror. Had he indeed been jealous? He'd certainly acted like it, and if she'd had any doubts, their whispered argument proved it. And when she'd asked him about his dog his voice had shaken with emotion. Only a man with a human heart could care for his pet the way Dominic had. But why had he left her bed and not returned? He had not finished telling her about Mongrel. How could she gain his trust when his actions were always so at odds with his feelings?

For she felt convinced that despite his elven blood, he had feelings just like any other human. He'd just become exceptionally skilled at hiding them. She could understand why, when he had such a horrid father.

May began to weave her hair, an intricate twining that Ca.s.s's eyes couldn't follow. Her new servants would never spy on her and if they did happen to overhear something, she did not doubt their loyalty. She wondered who would be interested in spying on the general. And then she flushed. Little did he know he harbored a spy in his very bed.

May positioned a pinner on her head with long lace lappets, and Gwen helped her into her mantua, the burgundy wool so finely combed it felt like velvet against her skin. The girdle unbuckled in front, and it made Ca.s.sandra feel much more confident as she left her apartments. The belt would make a fine garrote.

She intended to go for a walk about the grounds to consider her own feelings for her husband. Ca.s.s rejoiced that Dominic had shown jealousy over Thomas, for her goal had been to make her husband regard her enough to trust her. But did his possessiveness truly mean he cared for her?

For she cared for him. Despite knowing how foolish it would be, she might even have fallen in love with him. General Dominic Raikes had allowed her to glimpse his true heart once too often. And Ca.s.s hadn't been prepared for the beauty of it.

Consumed by her thoughts, still unfamiliar with the sprawling palace, Lady Ca.s.sandra soon managed to get lost.

A long hallway stretched before her, medieval armor flanking the walls as far as she could see, a glow of green fire within every faceplate, emanating through the links in the chain mail. Ca.s.s took a step into the hall and suddenly the armor came to attention, spears lifting and swords saluting. Her heart flew up into her throat and she froze.

A profound sense of relief swept through her at the sound of voices behind her. She whirled and went back the way she'd come, slowing as a couple approached her.

"Lady Ca.s.sandra," said Lady Verney. "How good to see you again." She nodded at her companion. "Have you met Sir Robert Walpole?"

The heavy man bowed his wigged head. "We haven't had the pleasure, my lady. But having met her husband, I have been looking forward to it." He looked quite somber in his gray coat next to Sophia's peac.o.c.k-colored gown.

Ca.s.sandra dipped a quick curtsy, her eyes on the leader of the Rebellion. Had she heard something within his words? Her heart still fluttered with excitement. "I'm honored to make your acquaintance, sir. I got lost again, you see."

Lady Verney raised her elegant brows. "There are some rooms it's not wise to enter, Ca.s.sandra. You must allow me to show you a map of the palace. If I had known your servants failed to give you such instruction..."

Ca.s.s flushed, wondering if Sophia was truly unaware that she had hired slaves and not some of the castle staff.

"Capital idea," agreed Sir Robert. "Although I must say, we might not have had the pleasure of crossing paths today so fortuitously. But now that we have you must join us for tea, my dear."

He held out his arm and Ca.s.s took it without hesitation. She hadn't thought she'd have a chance to talk with him this soon. Perhaps they could find a moment to speak in private.

Her hopes were dashed as they entered a cozy parlor, nearly filled to bursting with the king's court. Some worked on their embroidery near the windows, taking advantage of the sunlight and the constant glow from the yellow fire outside the walls. Several tea trays lay scattered about the room, chairs cl.u.s.tered around them. The parlor lacked any magical enhancements and Ca.s.s wondered if that's why the court had chosen this small s.p.a.ce.

Sophia and Sir Robert led her to an empty table, but it soon filled up with gentlemen and ladies. Most of them sent her glances of curiosity but Ca.s.sandra made herself as small as possible and managed to fade a bit into the background.

"The other court," commented a gentleman with a striped red coat, "is woefully in need of our guidance. Did you see what they wore to the ball last night?"

Another gentleman took a pinch of snuff. "I daresay they haven't the slightest idea that solid colors are not the mode. But don't worry; we'll set them to rights."

Lady Verney stiffened in her chair, teacup poised near her thin lips. "Although solids are not the rage, I heard that King George complimented General Raikes on the cut of his suit."

"That b.a.s.t.a.r.d could wear a gunnysack and manage to carry it off," replied the gentleman, then glanced at Ca.s.s and flushed. "Begging your pardon, my lady. But it's what they all call him."

Ca.s.s shrugged as if unperturbed but caught the sharp look from Sir Robert. As the conversation continued in a similar vein, mind-numbing in its inanity, she watched the leader of the Rebellion as he watched the others in the room. He listened more than he spoke, and at one point he got up and left, and Ca.s.sandra would have followed him but decided it would look odd. Instead she waited, hoping he would return and that the room might have cleared by then. But the n.o.bles appeared to be engrossed in their conversations, speculating if black would be in and how their wigs would look with braids added to them.

She grinned as she imagined what Dominic would say about being an inspiration for fas.h.i.+on.

She'd just decided to leave when Sir Robert returned, a fold of paper in his hand. "Please accept this map, Lady Ca.s.sandra. It would be wise for you to know your whereabouts." This time she felt certain of the hidden meaning in his words.

"Oh," gasped Sophia, "it slipped my mind. I do have one in my room and will be happy to fetch it-"