Susan Spencer Paul - [Enchanter 01] (14 page)

“Miss?”

Abercraf lowered the tray, and Julia gave her attention to it.

“Miss?”

She blinked. And tried to focus.

Where was she?

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I . . . forgive me.” She looked about to find that she was sitting at a table set with what looked to be dinner. Niclas Seymour was sitting to her left, and his manservant was standing on her right. They were both peering at her anxiously.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said, feeling unaccountably foolish. Had they been eating? Conversing? She couldn’t remember. The food on her plate appeared to be as yet untouched, but she couldn’t even remember sitting down to it. Or being in the room. Or much of anything beyond arriving at the inn some hours earlier. Everything past that was a blur.

“Did I faint?” She set a hand to her head and shut her eyes, striving to make sense of her surroundings. “I must be more weary than I imagined. I’m so very sorry.”

“Fetch a glass of sherry for Miss Linley,” she heard Niclas Seymour command sharply. “At once.”

“No, thank you,” she protested, though Abercraf moved quickly to fulfill his employer’s bidding. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I don’t know what came over me. You must forgive me.” She didn’t think she’d ever felt more embarrassed, or baffled, in her life.

“Please stop apologizing, Miss Linley,” Mister Seymour said. “There’s no need. If anyone should apologize, it’s I. The fault is mine entirely.”

Dropping her hand, she opened her eyes and looked at him, just as Abercraf returned from the sideboard bearing a small glass of sherry.

“It isn’t,” she said. “You’re very kind, sir, but I can scarce allow you to take the blame for my own human frailty. It’s not as if you poisoned the food.” She smiled, and was disconcerted to see him grow pale and rather alarmed.

“I’m fine now,” she assured him quickly. “Just a little weary, that’s all. Thank you,” she added, accepting the glass that Abercraf insistently held out to her. She took a small sip to mollify him, then set the glass aside and
straightened. “Well, let’s put the unfortunate occurrence aside and enjoy our meal. It does look delicious.”

“Are you sure you wish to do so?” he asked, concern yet stamped on his handsome features. “Would you perhaps prefer to return to your room and rest?”

“Yes, miss, that might be best,” Abercraf agreed, still hovering over her. “You do look pale.”

“Very well,” she said slowly, still trying to put her muddled senses in order. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Niclas Seymour stood and helped her to her feet as Abercraf carefully pulled out her chair.

“Please allow me to escort you, Miss Linley.” He offered her the steadying comfort of his strong arm, which she gladly accepted.

“I’ll prepare a tray with dinner and bring it shortly,” Abercraf promised as they moved to the door. “I do hope you’ll feel better in the morning, miss.”

Niclas Seymour half escorted, half carried her up the stairs, clamping his own hand over the one she held on his arm and walking so closely to her that she could feel his warmth.

It was a narrow staircase, and he was so much bigger than she that she was obliged to bump up against him every step or so, his firm grip making it impossible for her to move even a polite distance away. To her shame, she discovered that she didn’t particularly want to.

His body was hard and masculine—Julia had never been so close to an unrelated man before, not even when dancing—and he made her feel safe and protected. An unaccountable flush of heat suffused her limbs, and she was thankful that the dimness of the stairs and
hallway hid her face, which was probably as red as a beet.

What on earth was wrong with her?

“You must instruct Jane to prepare your bed right away,” he said. “A good night’s sleep is what you need. Are you quite certain you feel all right? Does your head ache? Your eyes?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Please don’t worry over me.”

They stopped at her door, and with gentle care he turned her to face him.

“Miss Linley, please tell me. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“About dinner, do you mean?”

“No, I mean . . . do you know where you are?”

He had such wonderful features, she thought, gazing up into his blue eyes. And he looked so terribly tired and worried. She longed to reach up and touch his cheek, to soothe his fears away.

Instead she smiled and nodded. “We’re at the White Horse in Coventry. We left London this morning, and tomorrow we should be in Wales. The day after that we hope to achieve my aunt’s estate.”

He released a taut breath. “Thank a merciful God for that.”

“Please don’t worry, Mister Seymour. I’m fine. But I do thank you for your concern. And I apologize again for ruining your dinner.”

He gazed into her face, his expression inscrutable.

“You didn’t ruin my dinner, Miss Linley. Not in the least. I’ll bid you good night. Abercraf will be here soon with a tray. Sleep well. And have no worries over our
journey on the morrow. We’ll go in easier stages and have longer stops so that both you and Jane will be quite comfortable.”

“But I don’t wish to delay our journey,” she told him. “Achieving Wales and my aunt’s estate is of the greatest importance. Jane and I will hold up much better tomorrow, now that we’ve had our first day on the road.”

“We’ll reach Wales in good time,” he said in reassuring tones. “As long as the weather doesn’t turn, we shall make excellent speed on good roads and find ourselves safe in Wales long before nightfall. So you must be easy on that account above all things. I do hope you’ll sleep soundly, Miss Linley.”

He was so close to her that she almost thought he might lean down to kiss her cheek—or perhaps even her lips.

“Good night, Mister Seymour,” she said nervously, embarrassed at the wobbly sound of her own voice. “I shall sleep very well, and wish you the same.”

She moved to open her door, but he stopped her before she could do so, grasping both her hands and raising them to his lips. He kissed the tops of her fingers, lightly, and then released her and stepped back.

“Good night,” he murmured.

Niclas stood where he was until she went into her room, and even after she had closed her door he remained, listening to the faint sound of the women’s voices as she and Jane spoke. Soon, he thought, she would begin preparations for bed. Jane would help her to remove her clothes, and then she would brush out her mistress’s long hair, and, finally, Julia Linley would lie down upon a soft
mattress, a soft pillow, and close her eyes and drift into a deep and blessed sleep.

He hoped it would be pleasant and dreamless; a dark, peaceful slumber to refresh body and soul.

Abercraf’s footsteps called him to his senses, and Niclas looked up as the other man appeared, bearing the promised tray. He looked at his employer inquiringly.

“I’m going out,” Niclas said. “I’ll use one of the other horses, for I doubt Enoch will want to be called upon to suffer my foolishness.”

“But sir, it may seem very odd to the innkeeper and the other guests for you to leave the inn at this late hour. And you’ve had a long day. Do you not think it might be best for you to lie down even for a few hours?”

“Not tonight,” Niclas said. “Don’t worry about my cape and hat. I’ll fetch them before I go out.”

“But sir,” Abercraf protested again as Niclas began to walk toward the stairs. “I feel quite certain that Lord Graymar would wish you to take your potion and—”

“Not tonight, Abercraf,” Niclas repeated as he began to make his descent. “Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back in time for you to make me presentable for breakfast.”

I
t rained the next day. All day. In truth, it poured. Relentlessly.

The roads had turned to mud, making progress slow at best and impossible at worst. Niclas had lost count of the number of times that he and the footmen had had to dismount and push or pull the coach out of a rut.

He was soaked to the bone, along with the coachman, stableboy, and footmen. Abercraf, wiser than they, had pleaded his delicate health and joined the ladies inside the relative comfort of the coach.

“Delicate health,” Niclas grumbled, glaring at the curtained coach door, where he envisioned Abercraf warm and dry, enjoying the pleasant company of the two women. “He’s never been sick a day in his life, the damned liar.”

It was most unusual for an unrelated man, to say nothing of a servant, to ride in an enclosed carriage with a female of high birth, but Abercraf had looked so pathetic, and Miss Linley and her maid had pleaded so on his behalf,
that Niclas had allowed it—on the strict promise that Lady Eunice was never to find out. Besides, Niclas had reasoned that morning when they’d first set out, the rain would let up soon, and then Abercraf would be back on his horse.

But that had been eight hours ago, and with the increasing darkness Niclas finally had to admit defeat. The rain wasn’t going to stop, Abercraf wasn’t going to get on a horse that day, and they weren’t going to reach Wales that night. If they simply achieved Shrewsbury without damage to the coach, he’d be the happiest man on God’s earth. Already he was dreaming of a hot bath, dry clothes, a warm fire, and a good, hot meal. Such luxuries could never replace the benefits of slumber, but they would help to take the edge off his weariness—which had been made worse by both today’s endless rain and the long night of riding that he’d undertaken in an effort to empty his mind of memories.

He was filled with self-loathing for what he’d done to Julia Linley the night before. He couldn’t forgive himself. She’d been so trusting, had spoken to him so freely. She hadn’t even evinced any of the alarm or disgust that he’d expected when she’d learned about the Seymours and their odd ways. And about him. Then Abercraf had distracted her and Niclas had thrown a pinch of powder at her. It had sparkled and fizzed like all of Malachi’s mixtures did . . . and then, even before she could so much as blink, she had frozen, as still as a statue, staring at nothing, utterly silent.

He’d been terrified that the pinch had been too much, and even more terrified that it had been too little. If she turned to him of a sudden and asked him what on earth
he’d done, he’d have no answer. But long seconds passed and she stayed as she was, immobile, silent.

“Julia.” He’d heard himself saying her name, but had scarcely recognized his own voice.

She didn’t respond. It took Abercraf’s firmer tone to bring her back. And then she’d been so innocent and completely unsuspecting of what had been done to her that Niclas had absolutely hated himself.

The fierceness of the emotion still surprised him. He cared for Julia Linley—regardless of how foolish it was. He wanted desperately to keep her safe. Yet the very person she needed protection from was him.

A clap of thunder overhead heralded a fresh, heavy downpour, and Niclas closed his eyes with resignation as new streams of water poured over him. It wasn’t unlike standing under a waterfall. He had probably never been, or would be, so well washed in his life. Over the sound of the rain he heard a now familiar thud, and with a sigh looked to see that the coach had once again come to a halt at a somewhat tilted angle.

Another rut. God help them.

He pulled the ever-patient Enoch to a stop and slowly dismounted, and saw Ioan, Gwillem, and Evar doing the same. They didn’t say a word as they took their places around the heavy coach and, waiting for Frank the coachman’s word, pushed. Niclas wasn’t always glad to be a wizard, even a lesser one, but one thing he had often been thankful for was the ability to tap into supernatural strength when necessary. He did so now, just as he had at all the previous ruts that had snagged a coach wheel, and with relatively easy effort the four men pushed the coach
free. If it wasn’t such a wet, muddy task, Niclas wouldn’t have minded it so much.

“Thank God that’s done,” Niclas muttered, trudging through the mud to reach one of the coach’s windows. Miss Linley was already rolling it down.

“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry. I do wish you’d let us step out to make the load lighter.”

With water pouring over the brim of his hat like a small river, Niclas felt rather silly saying, “Not in this weather, Miss Linley.” He’d said the same thing after each of the last ten such stops, and imagined she was growing as weary of it as he was. Polite society demanded such niceties, but Niclas was just about ready to condemn all niceties to eternal damnation. What he really wanted to say to her was more along the lines of, “I don’t mind you ladies staying in the coach, but kick that blasted manservant of mine out here where he belongs, suffering with the rest of us.”

Instead, his upbringing reared its prominent head and caused him to add, “We should reach Shrewsbury soon. We’ll stop there for the night.”

Even through the veil of water pouring down he could see her pretty features fill with worry and regret.

“We won’t be able to reach Wales, then? I’m sure it can’t be helped, considering the weather, but I know it isn’t what you had planned. Please don’t worry over the matter, Mister Seymour. It will be wonderful to be out of the rain.”

“Yes,” he replied with complete honesty. “It will. I hope you’re comfortable?” Another clap of thunder obliged him to shout the rest. “I apologize that we’ve not been able to stop for you to stretch your legs today.”

“Oh, no, we’re fine,” she shouted in return, and even so he could scarcely hear her. The wind had begun to gust, as well. “Mister Abercraf has shown Jane a simple exercise to perform whenever she feels a cramp coming on. It’s been most effective.” She smiled. “And he’s been keeping us so well entertained that we’ve not even noticed the hours passing by.”

Peering into the dimness of the coach, Niclas could just make out Abercraf’s smiling face.

“I can well imagine that he has,” he said irately, then gave Julia a slight nod—which sent even more water pouring off the brim of his hat—and strode back to where Enoch stood waiting.

“Ioan!” he called as they set out once more.

“Yes, sir?”

“Ride ahead to Shrewsbury and find an inn to lodge us tonight. With this weather every traveler on the road has probably sought refuge there. Do your best to find a reputable house and make arrangements for our arrival. I want a hot bath, and I’m sure Miss Linley will want one, too.”