Guardian - Stolen Magic Part 13

"Only that he had overlooked my potentials. But . . . the way he looked at me!" She shuddered. The more she thought about being touched by him, the more she loathed the idea.

Simon swore and caught her left hand in his. "He can't take you against your will, Meg. You have too much power. No matter how much he l.u.s.ts for you, he won't be able to break through your s.h.i.+elds."

She sighed and rested her cheek against the back of his hand, soothed by his touch. "What if he manages to activate the spell that takes away my mind and will?"

"He will not get that chance."

She appreciated the rea.s.surance, although she knew that even Simon could not absolutely guarantee her safety. "I shall have to continue practicing my s.h.i.+elding and defense techniques."

His fingers tightened around hers. "No matter how much I want to protect you, there is no subst.i.tute for being a fierce fighter yourself. Jean Macrae speaks highly of your defensive skills."

"I hope I never have to use them against Drayton." She hesitated. "He had such power over me for so long that it's hard not to become paralyzed when he looks at me. I have a horrible fear that if he came after me when there was no one around, I might not be able to lift a hand to him."

"I understand how he has that effect on you, but I think that if such a situation should arise, you would surprise yourself." With his other hand, he caressed her head, his touch gentle. "You survived meeting him today with colors flying. Next time it will be easier."

She sighed. "Given how small society is, I suppose there will be a next time."

"Probably it will be at Lady Bethany's ball." He smiled. "Invoke the lioness energy before you go, and he will shrink like a terrified mouse."

She had to laugh. Releasing his hand, she said, "You give me strength, Simon. I know that you must have faced much worse than Drayton."

"There is more than one way for a situation to be difficult." He began to pace around the room, his restless power blatantly visible under his well-tailored surface. "It's d.a.m.ned unnerving to know that if I can't get my temper under control, I'l turn into a wild beast."

She relaxed into the sofa, tired now that her tension was unwinding. "I a.s.sume the damping spell is what has spared you from transforming into a unicorn?"

"Yes, which is why Lady Sterling will ensure that the spell is maintained until I master my anger." He stopped to stare out the window at the mews behind the house, his hands locked behind his back. "Which will take time. I am furious with Drayton for the damage he has done and his insults to you and Lady Beth. I am almost equally angry with myself for how I presented the evidence, and for losing my temper. I had thought the effects of the unicorn form were wearing off, but apparently not. My judgment and self-discipline have both been weakened."

Though his voice was expressionless, she could feel the bleakness in his soul, as well as his suppressed fury. "You are too hard on yourself. Drayton is wickedly clever, and Guardian law makes it difficult to condemn a rogue to the maximum punishment. You are not to blame for either of those things."

"I am to blame for being a man that some people prefer not to believe."

"As you said once, those who enforce the law are not always popular. The experienced councillors all supported you." She frowned, sensing that there was more to this discussion than was obvious. "I have trouble believing that you have ever done anything to cause other Guardians to condemn you."

There was a long silence before he replied. "I haven't. But an old scandal has tainted the family name."

She studied his broad shoulders, rigid under the subtle s.h.i.+mmer of his brocade coat. "That's not your fault, either."

"Perhaps not. But there are many who believe that the sins of the fathers are visited on their sons."

Guessing that he hadn't used that phrase by accident, she asked, "What did your father do?"

After another silence, he said flatly, "My esteemed sire murdered my mother, then killed himself. I was sixteen."

Meg gasped, understanding that this explained much about Simon. "How horrible! Why did he do it?"

"Among Guardians, adultery is rare unless the marriage is a complete failure. Intimacy makes such emotional demands on us that it is not done lightly. There are exceptions. My mother was one. She liked the casual immorality of aristocratic society. My father was . . . old-fas.h.i.+oned and possessive. Finally he stopped her in the only way he knew, and could not live with the consequences."

"H . . . how did he do it?"

"By magic. A wicked perversion of all his great talents."

An image flashed through Meg's mind of a man and a woman making love, the man with Simon's silky fair hair, the woman voluptuous and provocative. In a way impossible to describe, the image contained pa.s.sion, fury, death, and soul-destroying despair.

And Simon was the one who had found his parents' lifeless bodies. The scent of twisted magic had hung over them.

Aching, she rose and came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his shoulder. "How d.a.m.nable it was to leave you to face those consequences when you were only a boy."

"The madness that drove him to murder was not the product of a rational mind." He turned and enfolded her in his arms. "It was a long time ago. Lady Bethany took me into her household. Lord and Lady Sterling and Sir Jasper Polmarric were particularly kind. As I've said before, the Guardians take care of their own."

She wondered if he had seen the ghosts of his parents, but it wasn't a question she could ask. She had admired his strength before. Now she admired it even more.

And her admiration wasn't only of the mind. The physical pleasure of his touch loosened her badly strung nerves. Perhaps the effect could be mutual. "I know that we can't make love, but I want to feel your hands. I want you to take away the memory of the way Drayton looked at me." Rising on her toes, she brushed her lips against his.

His embrace transformed from comfort to pa.s.sion as his fierce kiss tilted her head back. She responded breathlessly, whimpering with pleasure as his hands slid over her with leisurely thoroughness. Every fiber of her came alive as sensation drowned all memory of Drayton's fetid l.u.s.t.

"You're not quite tall enough," he murmured as he drew her across the room. He sat on the sofa and pulled her onto his lap. "Isn't this better?"

"Much," she breathed. As their kisses deepened, she s.h.i.+fted position so that she was straddling him, her skirts s.h.i.+mmering around them. Their bodies pressed together in a wickedly provocative imitation of intercourse. Intoxicated, she leaned into him, hardly noticing as they sank down until they were lying along the sofa, with her on top.

Hazily she wished that there were no garments between them, but mere fabric couldn't block pa.s.sion. She rolled her pelvis against him, unconsciously longing for more. He began driving his hips against her. Panting, she matched his rhythm as flesh called to flesh.

This time when her body convulsed she recognized what was happening. He groaned and caught her hips, thrusting against her over and over until the tension suddenly rushed from his body.

Meg gasped for breath as she lay sprawled along his hard, muscled body. If a simulation of lovemaking could be so intense, what would the real thing be like? The question brought an image of lying skin to skin with Simon. She s.h.i.+vered with delight at the thought.

"Are you cold?" He caressed her back and hips with both hands, spreading warmth and contentment.

"No." She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "I was just wondering what it would be like to be lovers in truth."

"I think we already are, even though we have not been fully intimate." He smoothed back her hair, which was tumbling down from its formal arrangement. "I tell you things I tell no one else. When you are not near, I wish you were."

She kissed him again, her lips clinging with lingering sweetness rather than pa.s.sion. "If lovers speak private words meant only for each other, then lovers we are." She smiled, liking the sound of that. "I have a lover. That makes me sound terribly grown-up."

Her comment was a mistake-she knew it when his lips tightened. "I am not fourteen, Simon," she said firmly. "I may not have the experience of most women my age, but that is being remedied quickly."

"That does not change the fact that I am taking advantage of your innocence," he said, his eyes troubled.

"Nonsense. It was I who took advantage of you," she said briskly. "And if what we did was less than wise-well, I'm no longer bothered by the thought of Drayton's l.u.s.t, and you no longer feel angry."

"Point taken." He levered himself up, keeping her within the circle of his arm. "But I hope we don't have to find out if you are still virgin enough to save me from being trapped as a unicorn. The answer is getting more doubtful."

"I have trouble worrying about that now." She rested against him, eyes closed as she wondered if she had ever been happier. Not that she could remember. "Why does the idea of being lovers feel so right when the idea of marriage feels so wrong?"

"Because marriage is a commitment till death does us part. You're not ready for that now. I don't know if I will ever be ready." His fingers skimmed her cheek with gossamer tenderness. "And yet-after Drayton is vanquished and you leave London to find your family . . . I hope you'l come back."

"I will," she whispered. She was beginning to suspect that she would always come back to him, and that was a thought as alarming as it was irresistible.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

David's gaze roamed over the newly outfitted shop, from the tools hanging on the wall to the cabinet holding small bits of hardware to the long table where components for his new model engine rested. Along the wall stood working models of three engines that he'd painstakingly built. "Isn't this the prettiest sight you've ever seen?"

Sarah laughed. "I wouldn't go that far, love, but it's a splendid workshop, to be sure. And outfitted at a bargain price."

"I didn't want to waste Lord Falconer's money." He grinned. "I want his lords.h.i.+p to be willing to give me more later."

Sarah laid a hand on his arm. "All well and good, but now it's time to come to the house and have a bite to eat. You should start work with a full stomach."

"As my lady wishes." Laughing, he slid his arm around her waist and gave her a kiss. "You're right-the shop isn't the prettiest sight I've ever seen. You are."

His wife's eyes sparkled. "If you think such a foolish compliment will get you an extra egg for your tea- it will."

He rested a hand on her still-flat belly. "You've always been lovely, Sarah, but now you glow, just like his lords.h.i.+p said."

She threw her arms around his neck with sudden fierceness. "We are so lucky! G.o.d grant that we always be so."

Silently he agreed as he hugged her back. Sometimes he dreamed that he would become a famous inventor and that he and Sarah would live in a fine house in the country, with children and grandchildren underfoot. Other nights, he had nightmares of dying suddenly, maybe a fever or run over by a wagon, and Sarah being left penniless to support their child. His wishes and his fears, both vividly expressed at night as he lay with his wife in his arms. He wanted to believe that the dream of long life and prosperity was the true one.

The door swung open. "Mr. White? Oh, sorry!" Blus.h.i.+ng beet red at the sight of David and Sarah, the young man pulled off his cap and backpedaled from the door.

Keeping an arm around Sarah, David said, "I'm David White. What can I do for you?"

The tall, gangling youth said with a Scottish accent, "My name is Peter Nicholson, sir. My cousin William, who lives just around the corner, said you are developing a new steam engine. I . . . I was wondering if you might need some help. Sir." He swallowed hard, a prominent Adam's apple bobbing.

David's brows arched. "News travels quickly. What is your experience?"

"I worked for an instrument-maker in Greenwich, sir. And my father was a blacksmith, so I know how to forge."

"Those are useful skills." David thought about it. An a.s.sistant would be valuable, but he hadn't planned on paying wages so soon. "I couldn't afford to pay much, nor can I give you an apprentices.h.i.+p since I have no Guild members.h.i.+p myself. Also, an a.s.sistant of mine can't be afraid to get his hands dirty."

The youth raised his hands, showing the calluses and ingrained soil of a working man. "I come of honest craftsmen, sir. My hands are my best tools."

David glanced at Sarah, who was the expert at judging character. She gave a slight nod. "Then we shall deal well together, Mr. Nicholson."

"You'l have me, then?" The youth's face lit up like a lantern. "Oh, thank you, sir! 'Tis said that you've solved the problem of Newcomen's engine."

"Not yet, but I hope to. His engine burns far too much fuel, so it's not practical for much more than pumping water out of mines." He waved at his row of models. "I have a model of Newcomen's beam engine. Shall I explain its flaws?"

"Yes, sir!" Nicholson crossed the workshop and reverently touched the scale model that had been David 's first serious attempt to understand steam engines.

"I'l bring over bread and ale and cheese," Sarah said philosophically. "I swear that if the house wasn't at the other end of the garden, you'd soon starve."

"You shall be my savior." David smiled, then turned his attention to his worktable and his new employee. With four skilled hands, they could work twice as fast.

Meg sat quietly in her favorite wing chair while she examined her surroundings with inner vision. She was practicing the detection of trace magic both old and new. She had no trouble locating the thread that bound her to Drayton, curse his black soul. She checked it daily to ensure that the block was still holding. So far, so good. Simon did good work.

Much more complicated was identifying other traces of magic in a house that had been home to Guardians since it was built. Her rooms had belonged to every Falconer countess, so she could clearly sense the energy of five or six different women. Strongest were the traces of Simon's mother. She seemed to have been a charming, lighthearted female. A pity those traits had contributed to her death.

After Meg scanned the sitting room around her, she moved mentally to the adjacent bedroom. Furious embarra.s.sment flooded her when she reached the bed. A lot of magic had taken place there, most of a highly personal nature.

One of her tutors had said that she was exceptionally gifted at detecting traces of magic. Meg supposed that there were times that would be useful, but now it was mostly a nuisance. She damped down her sensitivity so that she didn't feel all of the room's previous residents. With the tutor's help, she was seeking to find a level where she wouldn't be distracted by too many magical traces but would notice anything unusual that bore further investigation.

Jean Macrae was going to call at noon. Meg was glancing at the clock when Jean bounced into the room a few minutes early. Meg rose to give her friend a hug, glad to be distracted.

"Tell me about the hearing!" Jean said as she dropped onto the sofa. "Did you really slap Drayton?"

"Yes, and I'm not sorry. But it probably wasn't the wisest thing to do." Meg returned to her wing chair. "As a countess, I'm a failure."

"Did Simon complain?"

"He was rather glad I did it," Meg admitted. "Why do you want to know more about the hearing? You' ve had two days to tease details out of Lady Bethany."

"Her version is rather restrained," Jean explained. "How did Drayton react when he saw you? What did he say to make you slap him?"

Thinking about Drayton sobered Meg. After describing her view of events, she said, "My first instinct was to learn more defensive spells, but what I really need is the strength to use the ones I have. His presence turned me into a terrified hare. Is there anything I can do to prevent that?"

Jean frowned. "Though I don't know how to prevent the initial panic, it's possible for you to create a way to break free. I haven't had to do this myself, but I've read about the technique. The key is to choose some sort of charm. It can be physical, like a ring, or mental, like a word or image. Then you decide what spells you want to link to it. For example, you might want to combine a s.h.i.+elding spell, a self-defense strike, and a damping spell."

"Could I learn a damping spell like the one on Sterling House?" Meg asked, surprised.

"No one can match Lord Sterling for damping spells, but I'm sure that you could learn to dampen magic in the area right around you, at least long enough to reduce any a.s.saults from another mage."

Meg thought about snuffing Drayton like a candle. The vision was gratifying. "Where do I start?"

"You practice each spell until you can invoke the power without having to consciously construct the spell. Then you mentally attach each spell to your charm or trigger word. The goal is to know the spells so thoroughly that all you need do is think 'Protect!' or rub your ring or whatever method you choose to invoke the charm. Then all three spells will be cast. If you do this correctly, you can trigger protection even if your will is almost paralyzed. Once your defenses are activated, your willpower should recover quickly."

"This sounds perfect. Can you teach me the damping spell?"

"Yes, though I'm no expert. The other spells you know already. Just remember that it's not easy to link all these spells together and trigger them at once. It takes patience and a very strong mage to activate three at a time. Luckily you have enough power to do this, but a great deal of practice will be required."

"Then I shall practice." Meg looked down at the plain gold band Simon had given her as part of their marriage charade. Somehow it seemed wrong to choose a charm that was inherently false. A word would be better, and it couldn't be taken away from her. "Does the word need to be unusual, or will something as simple as 'protect' work?"

"I don't think it matters if it's a word that you use often, as long as it suggests protection to you. What turns it into a trigger is desperate need. Your thoughts have power, and that power is what will activate all the spells."

What meant protection to her? Meg thought about it for only a moment before realizing that the answer was obvious. Her protection charm would be the word "Simon." "Should the spells trigger at exactly the same instant, or one after another?"

Jean frowned. "I don't know-the subject wasn't addressed in the essays I've read. Now that you raise the subject, I suspect it would be better to trigger them one after another so that each gets a separate burst of power."

"The personal s.h.i.+eld should be first. Then what-the damping spell?"

"I think the self-defense spell. You don't want to risk the damping spell backfiring on your own magic."

It all made sense. "Then let us begin." Meg's mouth twisted. "I don't suppose I'l be lucky enough to avoid meeting Drayton again. Next time it happens, I want to be prepared."