Fascinated (11 page)

Damn.

Carstairs climbed the stairs, steeling himself to confront his abducted fiancée.

S
he could have run faster. She could have tried harder. She was certain of it.

Then why didn’t I?
Alicia ran both hands over her thoroughly disordered hair. Her mind was entirely in an uproar. She wanted to fly home to safety and normality, even if it meant having to endure the worst scolding Aunt Hester had to deliver. But part of her wanted to stay in this room; to be right here when Edward came through that door.

Ridiculous.
Lord Carstairs had proved himself to be nothing but a callous brute. How could she possibly want to remain with him?

Alicia surveyed the room, trying to formulate a fresh plan of escape. Under other circumstances, she would have found the apartment pleasant enough. More pleasant, certainly, than her own narrow chamber in Hartwell House. The walls were an attractive summer yellow with white trim. There was a fireplace that had comfortable chairs placed before it. There was also a
writing desk and roomy wardrobe. The four-poster bed had a snow-white canopy and counterpane. It looked very comfortable. Just gazing at it, Alicia felt acutely how tired she was. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest. But she couldn’t, because Edward was going to come through that door. What would he think she was about if he discovered her in the bed?

She would find a way out of this. She clutched her brooch. She was calmer when she touched it, and yet at the same time it reminded her that Edward didn’t like it. They had quarreled about it. She remembered that much, but the details of what they’d said floated away like dandelion seeds on the wind. Her head ached. Her breath was suddenly coming short. Alicia lurched to one of the chairs in front of the fire and sat down heavily.

I must think,
she instructed herself.
I must plan.

But before she could find a way to begin, Alicia heard the metallic clacking of a key turning in a lock. The door opened, and Alicia had to scramble to her feet.

Edward had switched his stiff morning coat to an older one of plain blue cloth and exchanged his Hessian boots for more comfortable shoes and stockings. In his hands, he carried an intricately carved wooden chest, about the size of a thick book. It was banded with black iron and an iron key had been left in its lock.

“What is that?” Alicia asked.

“Call it a wedding present,” Edward replied as he set the box on one of the room’s small tables. “I’ll show it to you later.”

“This is not a wedding. This is—”

“Unfortunate in the extreme,” Edward cut her off as he turned to face her. “I can only hope that before long, Alicia, you will understand I meant to help you.”

“How? By holding me against my will?”

She expected another one of his callous replies, but none came. Instead, he spoke softly. “Do you know what your will is, Alicia? Truly?”

This question settled uncomfortably in her mind.
It is just another of his tricks,
Alicia told herself. “You are trying to distract me yet again.”

“I assure you, I truly wish to know. What is your will, madame?”

“I…”
I want you to hold me, Edward. I want you to help me understand what’s happening.
Pain shivered through her mind and she backed away from that thought. “I want to go home.” Yes, that was better. That was safe.

“Very well.” Edward stood back. “There is the door.”

Alicia’s knees trembled. Edward left her a clear path past him to the door. He now stood by the foot of the bed. If she wanted to leave, that was the way. He would not prevent her, but he also would not help her. She must make the decision.

He’d done this before, Alicia recalled suddenly. She swung around and stared at him, memory and confusion swirling together in her mind.

“You’re remembering,” Edward breathed. “Tell me what you remember, Alicia.”

“This afternoon. You…We were together. You showed me…” No, no, not again. She could not rise to that desire and longing again. It would break her.

“What did I show you? What did you feel this afternoon?” Edward stepped toward her, each movement carefully controlled, as if he was afraid she might collapse, again. “Name it, Alicia.”

I can’t. Don’t make me.
Alicia cast about for some way to retreat, but there was nowhere to go. She had no way out of this deceptively pleasant chamber except past Edward. He seemed to
fill the room. There was no escape from his presence, because the moment she looked at him, she remembered his hands and his breath on her skin. She remembered his mouth as he kissed her. She remembered the lovers, Marcus and Freda, and Freda’s hands stroking that hard cock, and their cries of delight. She remembered how she had begged Edward to touch her.

“What did you feel this afternoon, Alicia?” he repeated, softly, firmly.

“Passion,” she heard herself whisper. “Desire.”

“Yes.” He was nearer now. If she stretched out her hand, she would touch him. He would close his fingers around hers and pull her to him, as if they moved together in a country dance. “You wanted to know passion, and you wanted to know me. I could not show you as much as I would have liked then, but I can now that we are alone in my house.”

“What is so very special about your house?” She meant to be haughty, like Verity when she was repulsing a clumsy beau, but to her own ears she just sounded breathless.

That breathlessness made Edward smile. “My house is special because you are in it, and there is no one else to see what we do. Here, I can give you all you may desire.”

His words seemed to caress her from the inside. He made her body into a traitor against her sense and safety. How was it possible he could arouse her without even touching her? She knew then if she stayed any longer she would give in to him and everything would end.

“Please. Stop this. Let me go.”

“I’ve told you, Alicia, you are perfectly free to go. But if you do, you will be beyond my power to help or hold. Go now, and you go forever.”

“You say that, but you don’t mean it.” As she spoke, Alicia realized she was hoping to find some anger toward him, but none came. Instead, the terribly comfortable mist rose up in her mind, tempting her as the bed had tempted her. It told her she could lie down and rest, and all this struggle would be done. “You will follow me.”

Edward shook his head. His face had gone tight, and the moonlight softness in his gray eyes had vanished so that only the gleam of polished steel remained. “Not again, Alicia,” he said, and she thought she saw a tremor cross his shoulders. “Whatever happens now, it happens forever. You come to me, or you go to the mists.”

Alicia’s ribs squeezed against her heart. “How do you know about the mists?”

“I’ve seen them.”

Alicia turned away from him. She could not look at him anymore. It was too disturbing. It was wrong that he should know of the state of her inner thoughts.

Why, then, did part of her feel so relieved to hear his words?

“You are laboring under heavy enchantment, Alicia.”

“Enchantment!” The word whirled her around. Edward had not moved. She walked toward him, searching his face and finding nothing. He must be mocking her, but she couldn’t see it. That precious moment in the park when she’d been able to read his face had vanished.

“Enchantment,” he repeated slowly. “Look inside, Alicia; look into your own mind. You know I’m telling the truth.”

He could not be. It was impossible. And yet…and yet…he knew about the mists. In the park, he had spoken inside her very thoughts, and she had been able to answer him. What could that be if not magic?

Alicia gripped her brooch. The edges dug hard into her fingers. The pain urged her to silence, to stillness. But she did not want to be still. She wanted to run; she wanted to fight. But fight what?

“I can prove what I’m saying.”

“How?”

Edward moved carefully toward her, as an experienced horseman might approach a skittish mare. He covered her hand where she gripped the brooch and the warm press of his palm reminded her sharply of all the ways he had touched her so far. Her fingers went slack and he pulled her hand away from her brooch. Locking his eyes on hers, he undid the button on her glove, and tugged at the fingers, drawing it off so the kid leather brushed slowly against her skin. He gently spread her fingers, so they could both see the angry red lines from where the edges of the cinnabar’s gold frame bit into her skin.

Edward bent his head over her hand. Softly, he kissed each finger, right over those red lines. Alicia’s mouth went dry and her heart fluttered wildly at the base of her throat. Edward took her bare hand and laid it against his chest, directly over his heart. The beat was steady and strong. The warmth of him slipped into her blood and she welcomed it, like the desert might welcome rain.

“Hear me, Alicia,” he whispered. She felt the words resonate through her palm.
Hear me.

Hear him. Hear. Here. Here in her mind. Hear him inside her, where he’d been before.
No. This isn’t possible.

It is. Let me come to you.

As these words sounded inside her, the everyday room with its everyday furnishings faded away until they stood in another place entirely. Edward had somehow moved yards away across a winter nightmare of emptiness. Alicia felt her familiar and awful
mists swirling at her back, filled with their numbing cold and implacable calm.

Edward held out both his hands.
Reach for me, Alicia.

I can’t. I can’t,
she answered, feeling herself close to panic.
There’s a wall. I can’t…

Show me. Picture it in your mind, and I’ll see it too.

How could she picture a glass wall? How was any of this even possible? It was so hard to think and it hurt so badly. The mists were rising now. She could feel them surging around her ankles, her knees. Their cold, familiar caress promised her comfort. They promised she would never have to fight or fear again if she just backed away from Edward and into their embrace.

Alicia stared into Edward’s eyes, and she remembered the conservatory with its high, mullioned windows where he had first touched her. As she thought of them, the windows seemed to take shape between herself and Edward.

That’s it, Alicia. I see it. That’s good.

How could this be good? This glass separated her from him. From everything.

Yes, that is exactly what it does. This is the enchantment that holds you. But your mind shows it to you as glass, Alicia. Glass can be broken.

I can’t. I’ve tried,
she answered him desperately.
I haven’t the strength.

But I have
. Was he holding her, away in that other, everyday place? She thought she felt his arms about her, his hand clutching hers, but she couldn’t be sure. Here it was winter and he was so far away, with the icy mists and her wall between them. He couldn’t possibly understand how dangerous this place was.

I can share my strength with you,
Edward told her.
If you’ll let me.

It was not possible. She could not think it. She had given up hope of changing herself years ago. It was far easier to accept her condition. And yet, when she looked at Edward in this strange dream world, she could see him clearly, as she had in the park. With Edward came warmth, hope and vitality. She wanted that. She wanted him.

That’s it. Now, reach for me, Alicia. Say my name.

But she was tired. Too tired to think, let alone speak. It was so hard to fight against the mist, and the cold glass pressed her back so heavily. She was sliding away into exhaustion, down into the misted dark.

Say my name, Alicia!

She wanted to. But each thought weighed a thousand pounds, and she must push them forward all alone. She needed to rest. Just for a moment.

Say my name, Alicia; then you can rest. Just say my name!

Ed…Edward.

Light. A quick flash, a spark of warmth, not enough to drive back the mists, but enough to show her the mists were not all there was. She could see Edward. Alicia laid her palms against the glass wall, instinctively reaching for him.

Again.
His presence was clear and calm, filled with strength.
Say my name again.

Edward!

Another flash of light. The mists recoiled. The cold glass shuddered. A crack appeared under her left palm.

Nearly there, nearly there.
Edward too laid his hands on the
wall. It shuddered again; the crack widened. She felt its jagged edges against her palm. The crack widened and spread, but it hurt, as if it was herself that cracked. She could not stand against the pain, the fear and the cold. Not alone.

Help me!
she cried.
Edward, help me!

Alicia!

She felt it then, a tidal wave of light pouring into her and out from her. The light rolled against the glass. The wall shuddered and the cracks radiated in all directions. She felt herself swinging her fists, pounding that glass barrier, screaming like a maddened thing.