Fascinated (27 page)

Alicia groaned and stirred. Slowly, her lids fluttered open and he saw her eyes, dazed but clear of glamour’s clouding influence.

“You’re back.” He tightened his arms around her, as if he had to still convince himself it was Alicia he held. “You’re truly back. God in Heaven, I thought…” He did not complete the sentence. Alicia lifted her hand to his cheek, brushing her fingers against his skin. She smiled, and her lids slowly closed. She nestled against him, settling into natural sleep.

Carstairs’s head fell back against the seat. His strength was gone, drowned by relief. He could only hold Alicia against him. There was nothing else in the world but her warmth and her deep, steady, breathing.

He lost track of time so far that he was startled when the carriage’s rocking slowed and stopped. A moment later, Rathe opened the door. Carstairs waved the Sorcerer off, and himself carried Alicia inside and up to her room. He laid her on the bed and pressed his hand against her forehead. She was warm, and not
fevered. Her pulse and breathing were both steady. She still slept, exhausted by her ordeal, nothing more.

Only then could Carstairs stand to back away. He ran his shaking hands through his hair.

“What happened in there?” asked Rathe from the doorway.

Carstairs started and turned. He hadn’t even noticed the other man had followed him inside. He must have been white, because Rathe cursed mildly and pulled on the bell.

“Brandy,” he said to the maid who answered. “And whatever food Cook has on hand.”

She curtsied and hurried away. “You’d better sit down before you fall, man,” said Rathe.

Carstairs’s first instinct was to refuse. He was, however, none too steady on his pins, and so sank into the chair beside the fire. His gaze would not leave Alicia. She turned restlessly, her hand reaching out in her dreams. But who did she seek? Him? Or that…other?

“Do you know which of the Fae came calling?” Rathe asked.

Carstairs nodded, his jaw clenched. “The king.” He did not speak the name. The house was warded, but if His Twilight Majesty, King Oberon, actively sought after Alicia, his name could summon him here no matter how powerful those wards might be.

Rathe sucked in a breath. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Carstairs’s fist clenched on his knee. It was Queen Tatiana who most frequently disturbed the peace of Britain with her ambition to conquer and rule. That the king was here now…Carstairs couldn’t even begin to guess what it foretold. “You’d better go alert the captain that he’s taken a direct interest in events.”

“Events and Alicia,” said Rathe quietly.

“Yes. And Alicia.”

Rathe rested a hand briefly on Carstairs’s shoulder, and then left the room. He’d go at once to Smith. Smith in turn would sound the alarm. The other agents of the Service in London would go on high alert and then…and then…and then what?

A knock sounded on the door and Carstairs almost snapped for them to go away. In time, however, he remembered Rathe had sent for food and called for them to enter. His footmen brought in a platter holding what Cook had surely intended for luncheon. There was a raised pigeon pie, a cold lobster salad, boiled potatoes, and a bottle of claret. Seeing the strained expression on their employer’s face, the servants retreated hastily. Edward downed a hasty glass of the claret, welcoming its steadying heat. Then, more because he was painfully aware of his own weakness than because of any appetite, he cut himself a piece of the pie and wolfed it down.

All the while Alicia slept. Carstairs watched her, and cursed himself for a selfish fool. How much time had he wasted gratifying his desire for her? He should have been training her to the use of her powers, and instructing her about the dangers of the world in which she had found herself. He could have helped her delve into her own memories for what clues they had to offer. Then she would have been forewarned and forearmed when the Fae King came to her.

But no, not he. He’d seen her beauty, felt her fresh and ready passion, and behaved like a careless youth. He’d convinced himself there would be plenty of time to attend to business once pleasure was done. In so doing, he’d endangered Alicia. He was worse than a fool. He was the same weakling he’d always been. Just the same.

Bleak memory wrapped about him. He felt the weight of Nick’s body in his arms, heard him croak out his final warning. Edward spun around, to meet the Fae woman’s attack. He grabbed it with his own power, twisted and hauled, and hauled again, binding them together so tightly, she’d had no choice but to continue pouring her magic into him. He’d drained her dry and left her dead on the floor. But Nick was dead as well, rendering it the hollowest of all victories. Edward had let himself be deceived, and let Nick down, fatally. And he’d almost done the same to Alicia.

On the bed, Alicia stirred again and murmured his name. Edward was at her side in an instant, kneeling on the carpet and taking up her hand.

“I’m here,” he breathed. “Alicia, I’m here.”

At the sound of his voice, her eyes snapped open and she struggled to push herself upright.

“Gently, gently, love.” He helped her sit, wrapping his arms around her for support and comfort, but whether it was for her or himself, he could not tell. “It’s all right. You’re safe home.”

Her eyes darted around the room, and he felt her mind doubting, searching, and finally accepting.

“Thank God.” She sagged against him. “Oh, Edward…I was so afraid.”

“I know. I know.” He cradled her against his chest once more and kissed the top of her head. “But it’s over—do you hear me? Over.”

She shook her head and the pain that creased her features cut into him swift and sharp. He kissed her. He had to. He felt her yield and open to drink in the reassurance and need he pressed into that single kiss. She believed. She trusted. He felt it, and he was not sure whether his heart would sing or break.

When at last Carstairs could bear to break the kiss, he had to stand up and back away. Otherwise he would begin to caress her. He’d lay her down and take her, right here and now, all resolve forgotten in his need to prove that Alicia was indeed whole and well and with him.

“You should eat something.” He poured a scant measure of claret into the second glass and brought it to her along with a thick slice of the pie and a dollop of potatoes. “Sip it slowly.”

She did, and she ate the food in neat bites, demonstrating to him that she was no more than ordinarily hungry. Another cause for relief. Despite this, when she had finished and handed him back the glass, she dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap and he saw her cheeks turn pale.

“He’s still out there, Edward,” she whispered. “He’ll never stop searching for me.”

Edward set the glass aside and settled onto the bed beside her. “Tell me what happened.”

Her brow furrowed. “I…It’s hard. It’s like I was dreaming.”

“I know. But you must try.”

He felt her struggle, but slowly she began to recount what had happened to her, first in her aunt’s room and then in the maze. Each word stabbed deep into Edward’s soul. When she finished, Carstairs wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close once more.

“I’m so sorry.”

For a moment, he didn’t think he’d spoken aloud, but Alicia turned her questioning face up to him. “It’s not your fault, Edward. I knew I was taking a risk, but I let Aunt Hester goad me into it. She promised me answers.”

“And if I’d been less of a fool, you would have had those
answers before I took you back into that house.” Alicia opened her mouth to protest, but Carstairs shook his head at her. “I knew the Fae had made you a target, and I didn’t take proper precautions. It is my fault.”

“But why me?” Her palm pressed against his chest, seeking the place over his heart. “Why is any of this happening to me?”

“That bargain your ancestress made to try to protect her family from Matthew Hopkins was the beginning. It should have also been the end,” he added as much to himself as to her. “But the Hartwells carried the tokens forward. That could have tied them to
him
.” He frowned. “That gate—the labyrinth you passed through—was created as much to keep anything from getting out of the Twilight lands as to prevent people from going in. But why? Why would he take such an interest in the Hartwells?”

They sat in silence for a long moment, with his arms about her and her hand against his chest. Slowly, her fingers curled into a fist and she sat herself upright. Reluctantly, Carstairs let her go.

“We have to know, Edward.” Alicia met his eyes. “And not just about that bargain or the Fae. I have to know what was done to me and why.”

“Yes. Yes, you do.” He pushed himself to his feet and stalked away from her. “Without a full understanding of what’s happened to you as well as your family, the…White Knight might be able to use your questions to lure you back under his enchantment.”

Alicia’s jaw hardened. “No. That is never happening again.”

Edward tapped the back of one hand against the palm of the other. He had to master himself. What he truly wanted to do was spirit Alicia away to some safe fortress. He’d lock her tight within and stand guard over the door. Nothing would ever harm her again
while he lived. The wish was both futile and foolish, but it was a hard moment’s struggle before he could banish it.

“I was hoping we could do this gradually, but Alicia, we are out of time.”

“I understand.”

“We must find out what happened to you as a child. You must remember how you first met the White Knight and what happened afterward.”

“I did know.” She rubbed her temple. “In the maze, with him, I remembered it all again. But it’s gone now.” She gazed up at him in bewilderment.

“That’s the nature of Faery glamour.” He sat down on the bed beside her and took both her hands. “What they do and say to you only feels real in their presence. But now we must try what we can find.” He saw the determination gathering in Alicia’s eyes, and Carstairs’s heart swelled with pride. A lesser woman would have been in tatters by now. But not Alicia. She would always fight. “You remember how you used the magic I channeled for you to reach outward and brought out the history of the statue and your aunt’s ring? Now you must use it to reach inward, to bring out your own history.”

“Very well.” She tightened her fingers around his. “I will try.”

“I will be with you, Alicia. I will be there every moment.”
I will not leave you alone again,
he vowed in the depths of his private mind. But even as he did, he wondered if it was a vow he could keep.

“Let us begin,” Alicia said.

Edward put his fingertips under Alicia’s chin and tilted her face up so her gaze met his own. Her eyes were so beautiful, filled
with amber and gold, like the sun rising in springtime. She met his gaze without fear, opening herself to receive the power he drew up for them. The current of it flowed into his soul, and he focused his mind on where his hands held hers, willing the power from himself into her. He felt her gather up its strands and draw them deep into herself where she twisted them into a thread for her mind, a thread she could follow deep into her past.

Go on, Alicia. I’m with you.

Carstairs had walked in the thoughts of others before, but never had he gone directly into the mind of the Sorcerer for whom he was acting as Catalyst. Those other times had been like navigating a crowded ballroom while searching for a single person. This was like walking beside Alicia down a long corridor lined with windows. Each window looked out over a different landscape. There, Morris and Gavin Hartwell explained the terms of her marriage contract. There, Verity fell into a fit of giggles over something she’d heard at a party and puzzled jealousy at being able to laugh so easily filled Alicia. There, Aunt Hester looking down on her from a great height and spoke in a voice like stone and iron.
You are a wicked child! Just like your wicked mother!

Alicia hesitated by the window of thought, and drew closer to him.

It is a memory only,
Carstairs assured her.
It cannot hurt you.

No. But, we’re close. Do you feel it?

Yes.

I’m afraid, Edward.

Don’t be. We’ll look at it together. Nothing will harm you here.

The sweetness of her trust was nearly unbearable. He felt her move closer to the memory, and slowly the scene blossomed around them. There was a green wood and a running beck, ice
cold against bare feet and soaking his skirts. Her skirts. He was remembering as Alicia remembered. This was Alicia before the enchantment: the defiant, confident, adventurous, merry child filled with mischief. Edward found himself torn between delight to discover this part of her, and agony at the realization of all that had been lost. As Alicia, he ran up the grassy bank to the hill. This was her favorite hill, smooth and green and crowned by a single oak tree. Mama said she mustn’t come here. Papa said it could be dangerous. But Alicia did not care. She wanted to climb the tree and look out across the country. It was like she could see the whole world from its branches.

But today was different. Today, somebody stood under the tree. He was a tall man dressed in white armor and a white surcoat, like one of the knights in the book Mama had been reading her at bedtime.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Alicia with all a child’s outrage at finding a good game interrupted by a clumsy grown-up.

“This is my hill.” The man had a nice voice and his eyes sparkled. He was very pretty. Not handsome like Papa, but pretty in a strange and wild sort of way, like a bird or a stag.

“Your hill? I’ve never seen you here.”

“Ah, but I’ve seen you. Many times. You climb my tree and steal my acorns.”

Mortified at being caught, Alicia dug in the dirt with one toe. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know they belonged to anyone!”

“Don’t worry, little thief. I’m not angry with you. In fact, I’ve brought you a present.” He made a turning gesture with his hand, and his gloved fingers which had been empty a moment before now held a flower. It had petals the color of living flames and leaves that sparkled like emeralds. It smelled of summertime.