Fair Maiden (27 page)

Jackson sank into the nearest chair, gratitude shining back
from his brown eyes.

But Jackson’s behavior had spooked Christian. “Both of you
stay here. Relax,” he said before exiting the room. He attempted to mask the
concern in his tone, but feared he hadn’t succeeded. Could highwaymen have
chosen to rob him? He didn’t think it was likely, but he did live near the
woods where they were known to frequent, so it wasn’t unheard of…. His momentum
had slowed, and he paused in front of the tall hutch next to him. It stood in
the hallway more for looks than function, but he’d made good use of his
mother’s decorative ways. He thought about the handguns he’d hidden on the top.
It was high enough to keep Emma from finding the weapons, but also within easy
reach for an emergency. Which this could very well be…. Or perhaps not. Why
would bandits bring a carriage with a crest displayed for any to see? Unless
perhaps they’d stolen that, too.

Before he made a decision, however, a loud crash sounded
from the entryway, and a current of air and shards of wood came flying at him.
He lifted one arm, and ducked, letting the splinters pelt his back. His coat
protected his flesh. It was as though the door had been shattered.

Realizing these were not ordinary callers, Christian reached
up and collected the guns. He checked the chambers to make certain they were
still loaded. Keeping one in his hand, he tucked the other into the back of his
trousers beneath his coat.

He heard boots crunching over what sounded like the remains
of his front door. Right now, he really wished he’d had the garrison of knights
Contessa had asked about when he first met her.

“What was that noise?” Tabitha asked from behind him.

When he looked back an unholy sound escaped him. Not only
was the fragile witch there, but Contessa, Jackson, and the maids as well.
Apparently none of them understood how to follow simple directions about
staying put. “Take them out the back,” he spat quietly.

“Where is she?” was bellowed from the entry in a deep angry
voice.

Christian’s heart sank. They couldn’t be speaking of Tessa,
could they? He pointed down the walkway, silently urging them to flee before it
was too late.

“Contessa!” again came the voice from the entry.

And Contessa paled.

“Take them to safety now, old man!”

“Too late,” Contessa whispered. “It is him.”

“I said leave! Now do it! I’ll deal with this damn prince.”
How
could he be alive? Could he really have been in her bedchamber?
He unlocked
his revolver and cocked the hammer, thinking Prince Dominic Renard wouldn’t be
consuming air much longer if he had anything to do with it.

He watched the maids scurry away as the others took slow
hesitant steps. While he appreciated the fact they didn’t want to abandon him,
he couldn’t hesitate any longer and turned toward the foyer.

Feigning a boldness he did not feel, Christian stepped into
view. His gaze first traveled the destruction, then to a large man who was
flanked by four others. All of them simply oozed menace. He suspected the
largest in the middle to be the prince. Dominic had sable hair, hazel eyes, a
long straight nose, and was dressed in the highest French fashion of their
times. His black coat was embroidered along the cuffs, and his silk cravat was
perfectly tied. The man was quite handsome, which was annoying. There was no
way in hell he was letting that lot anywhere near Contessa. He took another
step. “Tessa is my betrothed. I’ll kindly ask you to leave,” he said, leveling
the gun directly on Dominic’s heart.

The prince laughed. Actually laughed!

Christian swore when Tabitha came into view at his side.
“Christian, you may need my aid—” And as he thought more about it, perhaps
having a witch backing him up wasn’t such a bad idea.

Again Dominic bellowed with amusement. “I can hardly believe
it.” He stepped closer. His eyes were alight with intrigue as he twisted a
large ring around his finger. “You don’t know.”

“Know what?” Christian asked, irritated. Then he heard
Contessa arguing with Jackson and looked back to see her out-muscling the old
man. “Tessa, please, I beg you. You must leave.”

“Christian…” she said around Jackson’s shoulder.

The butler’s polished black shoes were sliding along the
floor as he kept working to keep Tessa safe. Bless him, thought Christian, he
was the only one trying to honor his advice, even if the elderly fellow was
failing at it.

Dominic’s chest bumped into the gun when he came face to
face with Christian. The guards, or whatever they were, fanned out, protecting
their prince. “She won’t leave because she belongs to me.” The prince cocked
his head to the side. “You don’t know who she is, do you?”

Sharing one look with her, he ground the admission with his
teeth, and then said, “Leave now.”

The prince merely raised an eyebrow in challenge, and said,
“She will come with me, and then I will kill her.” The words were spoken softly
enough for only him to hear—Christian pulled the trigger. This man was
trespassing and threatening everyone he cared about. He would not stand for
it….

Nothing happened.

Grinning down at the weapon, the prince waved his hand over
the metal. Christian felt something unseen slither over his fingers. Soon after
that the gun flew from his grip and skittered uselessly along the stone floor.
He reached for the other revolver. Again it was taken from him with something
that felt like…magic?

“Fool. Did you really think a weak human like you could
defeat me?”

Tabitha lifted her palms, muttered a collection of strange
words and Dominic’s shoulder jerked back with the force of some sort of power.

Yet Dominic was unaffected by that, too. His men didn’t like
it, though. They growled their protests and stepped forward. With one hand, the
prince signaled for them to stay back. He rubbed at his apparently bruised
flesh, popped his neck, and turned narrowed eyes upon Tabitha. “A witch,” he
murmured as though she
was
a curse. Then he squinted and Tabitha gasped
with her arms held down at the sides of her body. It seemed she’d been bound by
an incantation spoken inside the prince’s head.

Dominic’s gaze shifted and locked onto Christian once more.
Instinctively, he wanted to lift his hands up to claw at something invisible that
constricted his throat, but he couldn’t move.

“Christian,” said Tessa, much closer this time, “I remember
now…he is fey. He is magical. You cannot fight him.”

Well, that would explain a few of the things he’d just witnessed
in the last few minutes, and was that why she’d refused to wed Dominic? A whole
slew of curses flew through his mind. “Fey?” What was he up against here?

Apparently the prince didn’t like Contessa moving around, so
he did the same to her and Jackson as he’d done to the witch, physically
binding them by a force Christian could not see.

“Please spare them, Dominic! I will come with you.”

“Why should I believe you? When you fell down those stairs I
suspected you did it just to escape a marriage to me. I still do.”

From taking in her shocked expression, Christian could see
Tessa did not remember a fall. The blackguard probably pushed her.

Dominic went on, his tone imperious, “And to think, all this
time, I thought you were dead. How long has it been? Hmm? Four or five
centuries?” The Prince kissed her cheek. “I loved you. I suffered at your
loss.”

Anger rose like bile in Christian’s throat. Forcing a lady
into marriage does not speak of love. “You lie!” Christian croaked for lack of
air. “You’re the one who killed her!”

Leering, the prince shifted his gaze again. “And why would I
murder my own bride
before
the wedding?”

The question was exactly what he’d wondered himself, and a
hint of self-doubt set in. Had he been wrong about everything? No, he couldn’t
be, and he shoved the question aside without further reflection.

“Besides,” added the prince, “as we all can plainly see”—he
waved a hand in her direction— “she is not dead. You accuse me of a crime I did
not commit.”

He didn’t know what to think...someone had trapped her in
ghost form, someone had....

“I’ll marry you now! Just leave them be. We can go back to
your castle—” Tessa cried.

Christian struggled against his bonds. “No, Tessa, do not
say such things!” he barely managed, hearing his voice edge into desperation.

Dominic ignored him. “I will be taking you back with me.” He
paced around her. She trembled as tears leaked down the sides of her face. The
prince was unmoved by a sight that ripped a hole in Christian’s heart. “Of
course I’ve had a few other wives since you, and my holdings are now quite
vast. Luckily for you, however,” he lifted a lock of hair from her cheek and
smelled it, “I’m between wives, so we will be getting married.”

“She’s already betrothed to me,” Christian ground out, his
voice a scratchy noise.

Now the prince looked at him. “He doesn’t know the truth
about you, does he?” His gaze passed from her to him and back as a slow, wicked
smile curled the corners of his mouth. “Neither of you know.”

Silence fell, uttering the truth.

Dominic’s smile became even more evil and triumph flashed in
his gaze. He gathered Contessa’s chin between his fingers and kissed her,
obviously trying to prove to all watching that he claimed her for his.
Christian again wrestled against the spell holding him in place, but could not
budge. “Don’t touch her!” His chest expanded as he fought for air.

Dominic went on as though Christian had said nothing, “I do
not know how she came to be here with a human earl, but she does not belong
here. She is above you,” he said to Christian. “Did you truly think you were
worthy to wed the fey princess of the northern realm?”

Fey princess?
Oh, bloody hell
, thought Christian. She
wasn’t even human. His heart shattered right there and crumbled to his feet. He
looked at her and saw her heart was also breaking, that she truly had not
known. And…and…what did it matter? He loved her, and knew she loved him back.
He couldn’t let this evil cur take her. Dominic would hurt her, and, as he’d
just threatened, kill her.

“I’ll be good, Dominic. I will not argue or complain. I—”

“Silence, Tessa. And just to show you what a noble man I am,
I will spare them. For now.” The prince looked intently at her and uttered a
foreign word which apparently cast a spell causing her to faint, because her
eyes fluttered shut and she began to sink. Dominic caught her as she fell and
tossed her over his shoulder. “Stay away from us. Or, trust me, I will hunt you
down and kill you.”

Christian’s insides churned as he watched them leave—taking
her—while he remained completely helpless to do anything about it.

Once the villains were gone and the magic holding them
prisoner dissipated, a stifling and depressing loss descended upon the room.
Christian’s legs could not support him and he sank to the floor, gasping for
breath. He swiped at moisture upon his cheek, and looked at his wet palm. Of
course he wept for her, but it was quite apparent he wasn’t the only one by the
sounds of weeping that were not his. Those sounds reminded him of the others,
and he decided he’d spent enough time wallowing in his loss. Moving to Jackson, he bent down hoping the frail man had not been injured. “Are you all right? Were
you hurt?”

“Chris, I’m deeply sorry. I tried—” The butler cut himself
off with a bought of heavy sobbing. “That poor girl! What will be done with
her?”

Horrible things, Christian feared. “I know, Jackson, you did
well.” Christian patted him on the back and hooked an arm beneath his to help
him up. “Please do not blame yourself.”

Tabitha sniffled. “Be soothed by the knowledge that he would
have found her anyway. Escaping a fey prince is not easily done, if not
impossible,” she said. “If I’d only known what he was beforehand, I would have
tried a different spell before he bound my magic.”

“You are not to blame for this either, Tabitha, but we must
get her back. Are you saying you may know spells that would work against him?”

“I could teach you what I know, but we will never find his
castle.”

He didn’t want to hear that. Frustrated and worried,
Christian shoved debris from his trousers and then said he was going to the
library to research fey.

He went through his books like a madman, leaving volumes
strewn about the floor, tables, and chairs. Piled upon his desk was every book
with any mention of fey in them, each one left open to the pages noting the
most useful information.

After spending hours upon hours scouring every book,
Christian rocked back into his chair, raked fingers though his already
disheveled curls yet again, and groaned. All he’d learned was that, much like
faeries, fey were magical beings but without the wings, and while they were not
immortal, they lived for centuries instead of years. And for a moment he’d
thought that perhaps Tessa was right, perhaps they could not marry, but then
he’d found record of a human wedding a fey. In truth, he did not know what to
believe. He took in the state of the chamber surrounding him. Haggard was the
best way to describe his emotional and physical state, and disaster was the
best way to describe his library. Worry clawed at his insides. What could he
do? Where could he go? But as the prayerful pleas rose from his heart, no
answer came.

He yanked open the drawer containing his art supplies and
withdrew paper and a charcoal, then began sketching her face from memory,
cursing himself for not doing a recent portrait of her. He guided the charcoal
and watched, eager to see her, as her sweet innocent face emerged upon his
paper. Smudging shadow under the smooth planes of her cheekbones and over the
fullness of her lips, Christian vowed to himself that he would paint an
enormous one of her when...
if
he got her back.