Fascinated (9 page)

They hurt you!

Only when you came! You should have stayed away!

Oh, God, oh, God! What do we do! What do we do!

Hold her down!

No! I want to go with the White Knight!
The voice that shouted from distant memory was a child’s voice. Her voice. She remembered. She remembered the burn in her throat from shouting those words. She was a little girl. She faced a man and a woman. Her parents. But she was screaming at them. She hated them. She hated them so badly she wished they were dead so then she could run away, run away back to the White Knight…

You’re an evil little demon and you must pray to be made good.
You must wear this ribbon or all the evil in you will come pouring out and the devils will come and take you away again!

Lord Carstairs’s hand jerked back like he’d been burned.

“By all that’s holy…” he whispered.

“What’s happening to me?” Alicia backed away, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. She couldn’t see straight. The world was spinning all around her. “What is this?”

“You’re remembering,” Edward said through gritted teeth.

“Remembering?”

“Your memories have been taken from you, along with your heart and passion. They’re being held away from you by enchantment.”

His words rang in her ears, as if he’d shouted them in a closed room. She felt her eyes widen. “You’re mad.”

“No, Alicia. You know I’m not, and neither are you.”

“I…I don’t know anything.” The mists of her mind beckoned, offering her rescue from this sudden boiling emotion, the bright light, and the horrible, horrible words she had screamed to her lost parents.

“No, Alicia!” Edward caught her up in his arms, holding her hard against him. “Don’t let it take you.”

But he didn’t understand. It was too terrible. Too dangerous. She needed shelter.

Then come to me. Come to me, Alicia. I will shelter you.

Edward?

Yes.
His mouth pressed against hers in a hot, hard kiss. His earlier touches had more than readied her body for this kiss. Even through the fear and the tumult, she could feel its sweetness. She leaned toward it, pressing her breasts and hips against his hard,
strong body. Alicia opened her mouth, hungry for this sensation that had nothing to do with the fear boiling up from the depths of herself.

Hold on, Alicia,
he commanded her.
Hold tight.

But the wall was too strong, and the mists too close. They rose to engulf her, to keep her away from him.
I can’t. I can’t!

Fight, Alicia! Your heart has been taken from you. You can win it back, but you must fight!

Fight. Break the wall. See Edward clearly again and feel more than just this brief, torturous burst of passion. She wanted it; she needed it, as badly as she had needed his touch. But already she was slipping away.

Edward, help me!

I will, Alicia, I swear it. They will not keep hold of you.

Those words were the last she heard before darkness overwhelmed her.

A
licia crumpled against Carstairs’s chest in a dead faint. Cursing, he lowered her to the grass. She was pale, and her skin felt cold and damp under his fingertips as he searched for the pulse at the base of her throat, right below the white velvet ribbon with its bloodred amulet that was the token of her enchantment.

“They’ll not keep you,” he whispered as he laid his hand across her too-cold brow. “I swear it, Alicia. I swear it.”

“Damn, Carstairs, you need to learn when to give over,” came a voice behind him. Bracken rustled as Thomas Lynne pushed through the thicket.

Like Carstairs, Lynne was one of Smith’s agents. Lynne was not himself a magic worker, but he had intimate knowledge of the Fae and their plans. He also had a strong back and a sailor’s ability to take orders, so Carstairs had asked him to come along as lookout and backup.

Lynne crouched down beside Carstairs and Alicia, his sharp, green eyes darting from her still face to the screening trees. But
Carstairs didn’t give him any time to voice an opinion of the situation.

“We need to get Miss Carstairs to my house immediately,” he said, scooping Alicia into his arms. “Is the carriage ready?”

Lynne nodded. “Rathe’s minding the horses. How does Miss Hartwell?”

“Just unconscious,” he said, but uncertainty coiled in his gut. He did not like either her pallor or the chill of her skin. She felt far too light as he scooped her into his arms, and her head lolled loose against his chest.

If Alicia died, he would be the one who killed her. He was a fool, a greedy, lust-filled fool. He’d felt her fighting her confinement, and in his desire to help her win her freedom, he’d forgotten she’d never before made a trial of her own strength. He’d gotten careless, pushed her too far, and this was the result.

Lynne, displaying the casual chivalrousness of his buccaneer past, reclaimed Alicia’s bonnet and pin before leading the way through the trees. Cursing himself in all the languages he knew, Carstairs followed.

Just as Carstairs had instructed, his compatriots had a closed carriage waiting with the horses harnessed and ready. Corwin Rathe had the lead horse’s head. Lynne held the door while Carstairs laid Alicia on the carriage’s plush seat. He climbed in beside her and arranged himself so he could hold her and prevent her from slipping off the seat.

Rathe climbed in and latched the door. “Ready?”

Carstairs nodded. The carriage rocked slightly as Lynne clambered onto the box and touched up the horses. They started forward at a pace slow enough to be inconspicuous. That was the right choice. They did not want to give any passersby cause to
remark on their passage. At the same time, Carstairs had to grit his teeth to keep from calling out to Lynne to hurry. He needed Alicia safe in his house, where he could help her.

As they trundled forward, Rathe slipped off his seat and knelt at Alicia’s side. Like Carstairs had, he took her pulse, and laid a hand across her forehead, feeling the chill.

“Tell me what happened,” he said.

Carstairs did. Rathe was not a man to be shocked or embarrassed, and he understood how sexual passion could help to make or break an enchantment. He was also able to keep strict confidence, so Carstairs felt no compunction at telling him about the snatches he had learned of Alicia’s past.

When he’d finished, Rathe remained silent for some time. Then the Sorcerer took hold of Carstairs’s arm with one hand and laid the other on Alicia’s forehead. Carstairs felt Rathe’s internal senses open, and he opened his own in response, as if he were opening his eyes to darkness. Rathe would now be able to feel what Carstairs himself had experienced when he touched Alicia’s mind—the crawling gray mists that stifled her mind, the cold, glass coffin that confined her spirit.

“Damn it all, but somebody took their time with this,” said Rathe through gritted teeth.

“Can you do anything?”

Rathe was silent for another long moment. “No,” he said at last. “If I try to break this from outside, I’ll hurt her. I might even kill her.

“One thing we can say for certain, however,” the Sorcerer went on as he settled back into his seat. “Whatever this is, it’s got nothing to do with you personally. This was not the work of a moment. She’s been laboring under this enchantment for years.”

Carstairs found that very cold comfort. Although Rathe had withdrawn his magic, Carstairs again cast his senses over that cold evil surrounding Alicia, searching for some seam or crack, any weakness he could call to the Sorcerer’s attention. But there was nothing. The wall was solid, and the mist beyond engulfed Alicia’s spirit. The carriage jounced over a pothole and Carstairs tightened his arm more firmly around her. Alicia didn’t even stir. It barely seemed possible that just moments ago she had been so aroused and responsive, watching Freda and Marcus take their pleasure in each other. Carstairs kicked that memory behind him. He needed to focus now on Alicia’s safety, and her freedom. This was his mission as an agent of the Crown, and his duty as a gentleman. But even as he schooled himself to consider his next steps with logic and detachment, he knew the sensations of holding Alicia Hartwell and feeling her rise to her first tastes of pleasure would not be quickly banished.

“It’s a fiendishly well-thought-out prison; I’ll give the maker that,” Rathe was saying. “If I had to guess, I’d say it can
only
be broken from the inside. To do that, the prisoner has to have the desire to escape, but what would she be escaping to? From what you said, what she remembers of sense and feeling is a child’s terrors. Why would she want to return to that?”

“But she does want to escape,” insisted Carstairs. “I felt it.”
I felt her passion, her desire. I felt her wanting to be whole.

The carriage turned a corner. The rocking motion caused Alicia’s hand to slide from her belly and dangle loose alongside the seat. Carstairs reached for it and laid it gently on her breast. She was still too cold. He should have stocked this carriage with thick quilts. She might take a chill.

Rathe was watching him closely. “You need to take care here, Carstairs.”

“Why? You just pointed out this enchantment could have nothing to do with me.”

“But that doesn’t mean it has nothing to do with
us
, with the Service. An ensnared woman would be an enticement to any of our people. But you especially.”

“You can’t have it both ways, Rathe. Alicia’s enchantment can’t be both a trap for anyone and a trap for me in particular.”

“Are you sure?” replied the Sorcerer mildly. “Since the Fae killed your brother, you’ve made sure you had nothing but duty in your life. You were even planning to marry for duty. Now, that’s no bad thing and I’ve always admired your commitment. But the combination might leave you especially open to…the allure of a beautiful and helpless maiden thrust suddenly into your care.”

Carstairs knew his anger flashed in his eyes. If Rathe thought him unable to complete this assignment, he was much mistaken.

“Then we must consider the danger you pose to the girl herself,” Rathe went on before Carstairs could formulate a reply that was not directly insulting.

“What do you mean by that?”

Rathe smiled tightly. “I mean you’ve chosen a…singular way to raise her feelings against her enchantment. If you needed to rouse emotion in her, you could have picked anger, or even simple happiness, but you chose passion. If she does successfully break free of this thing…she’ll be brand-new to her own feelings. She may become dependent on the person who freed her. She may even believe herself to experience deeper feeling than truly exists.”

“You’re saying she might believe herself in love with her rescuer? With me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. By her age most of us had been in and out of love a dozen times, but not Miss Alicia Hartwell.
Not only does her enchantment isolate her from strong feeling; she’s been lodged with a large, careless family. She’s been contracted into a carefully arranged marriage with a stranger, the sort that will at best yield cordial friendship.” Rathe paused, letting that sink in. Edward’s thumb brushed restlessly against the back of Alicia’s gloved hand. He could not seem to stop himself. “If you’re the one who frees her, Edward, particularly if you persist in using the strength of desire to do it, you will be responsible for her in more ways than one.”

Carstairs knew he should listen to Rathe. After all, he had been warning himself against the dangers of too much feeling. Hadn’t he carefully avoided attachment for years? Oh, he sought the pleasures of the flesh readily enough, and he did his best to treat his partners with respect and consideration. But they had all been fully grown to their experiences of pleasure and never expected anything lasting from him. He’d never found virgins a source of fascination as some rakes did. But then, he’d never met a virgin who was excited or emboldened by the sight of erotic play. Abruptly, he found himself wondering how far she would be ready to travel passion’s journey with him. What would it be like to have Alicia naked under his gaze as he commanded her pleasures?

The very idea caused his cock to stir under his buckskins. Carstairs cursed his traitorous member. Could it be just the simple allure of unexpected lust that drew him to her? He’d meant his marriage to be a business relationship, a mutual fulfillment of social necessities. That was why cool, practical Alicia had seemed so ideal for him. In their first—call it “encounter”—in her uncle’s conservatory, he’d thought he’d tumbled on a pleasant secret that could be enjoyable for them both. But if she might actually fall in
love with him, when he could not return that love, he would be hurting her in a way he had never intended.

Rathe was right. He should give Alicia over to another’s care. In getting her away from her family, he had done enough. Rathe’s Miranda was a strong Catalyst, and with their partner, Darius Marlowe, the trio was truly formidable. They would not only break the enchantment but care for Alicia kindly afterward. As he thought this, though, Edward’s hand tightened over Alicia’s. He remembered her as she had been in his arms, flushed and animated first with desire, and then with anger. When their minds had touched, he was the one she’d cried out to for help. How could he abandon her?