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PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE Cambridgeshire, 1885 IT HAD BEEN no marriage at all. Mariah crossed the well-groomed park as she had done every day for the past few months, her walking boots leaving a damp trail in the grass. Tall trees stood alone or in small clusters, strewn about the park in a seemingly random pattern that belied the perfect organization of the estate. Donbridge. It was hers now. Or should have been. No one will ever know what happened that night. The maids had blushed and giggled behind their hands the next morning when she had descended from her room into the grim, dark hall with its mounted animal heads and pelts on display. She had run the gauntlet of glassy, staring eyes, letting nothing show on her face. They didn’t know. Neither did Vivian, the dowager Lady Donnington, for all her barely veiled barbs. Giles had left too soon…suspiciously soon. But no one would believe that the lord of Donbridge had failed to claim his husbandly rights. Was it me? Did he sense something wrong? Sh
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO FOOTSTEPS SOUNDED IN the corridor outside, and Nola leaped from her seat. “Begging your pardon, your ladyship,” she gasped. “I must go!” She was out of the room before Mariah could rise from her own chair. She listened for a moment, hearing the rapid patter of Nola’s feet as she hurried toward the servants’ stairs. There would be no more questioning her today, that was certain. But she’d confirmed what Mariah had already surmised; the prisoner’s captivity was not a complete secret. Was it possible that she’d been too hasty in assuming that Vivian didn’t know about it? Could she have kept such a secret from her own daughter-in-law for the ten weeks since Mariah had arrived at Donbridge? A secret her son must share… Mariah shook her head. She was jumping to conclusions, which was a very dangerous habit. She had no evidence whatsoever, only the prisoner’s reaction to Donnington’s name. And confronting Vivian directly was unthinkable. Mariah could only hope that Nola wouldn’t g
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE ASTONISHED, SHE JUMPED up, nearly upsetting the chair, tripping on her skirts and stepping on the fruit that still lay on the towel. “You…you can speak!” she stammered. He lifted his head and tossed his hair out of his eyes. “I speak,” he said. His voice was a lilting baritone with a slight English accent, unmistakably upper-class. “I…” He hesitated, gathering his words. “I speak now.” Now. Which implied a before, a time…when? Before she had come? Before he had been confined to this tiny prison? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you answer my simple questions? But she didn’t ask aloud. She had made progress. If he had deliberately deceived her, it must have been because he hadn’t trusted her. All she’d done was read a fairy tale, and yet… “Why a bear?” he repeated. A whole army of questions marched through her mind, but the situation was far too chancy for her to ask them. The best thing she could do was play along. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s simply part of the stor
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR “WHY DID THE countess take Lord Donnington’s clothing from his room?” Nola shivered, afraid—as well she might be—to have been summoned into her former mistress’s presence, but Vivian was in no mood to salve the girl’s anxiety. “Come, girl. I know you spoke to Lady Donnington privately. Why did she ask you to attend her?” The maid gulped audibly. “My…my lady…the countess only wanted to ask about the coal and…she said she had taken a chill and would like a bit more to—” “You are not a practiced deceiver, Nola, I can see that well enough.” “I beg your pardon, your ladyship.” Nola straightened, and Vivian almost wondered if she were attempting some pathetic sort of defiance. “The countess only wanted to talk.” “To a chambermaid?” “She was very kind to me, your ladyship. I didn’t know the countess took any of his lordship’s clothing.” This time Vivian’s well-honed sense for duplicity told her that the maid was telling the truth, however much else she might wish to conceal. “Mos
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE ASH SMELLED THE man before he walked into the room, his hand near his hip and the glitter of iron at his waist. He was dark-haired and brown-eyed, lean and well formed, and he wore a shirt, trousers and the overgarment that Ash remembered was called a “jacket.” He smelled almost exactly the same as the enemy who had put Ash in this place. Mariah blocked the stranger’s path, but he clearly saw Ash. His eyes widened in astonishment. “My God,” he said. “My God.” He stumbled into the wall, breathing heavily, and continued to stare. Ash flung himself at the bars, and the stranger jerked away. Mariah approached the cage, hand raised, the slim, straight lines of her brows drawn over her eyes. “Ash? Are you all right?” He didn’t know how to answer. “All right” meant feeling well, and he didn’t feel well. Mariah had been away too long. He was furious at the presence of the second human, who intruded with his Cold Iron and his thick male scent that was so much like Donnington’s. If
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX “I BELIEVE SHE has a lover.” Vivian, the dowager Lady Donnington, poured another cup of tea for Lady Westlake, who took the fragile handle between her elegant fingertips. “Of course,” the younger woman said. “I had assumed that fact was already understood between us.” Understood, indeed. Nevertheless, Vivian chose subtlety over Lady Westlake’s frankness. “She has only been married two months,” she remarked. “And has shown no signs of being with child.” Vivian found that her aching hands were remarkably steady as she offered Lady Westlake the plate of biscuits. “Although, if she were to become so now…” There was no need to finish the sentence. Both women knew the unwritten rules of high society. It was far from unusual for married ladies to take lovers from among their own kind—discreetly, of course, with an eye to never being caught in a public place—and with the tacit permission, if not approval, of spouses who were engaged in similar clandestine affairs. But this was only
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN FREEDOM. Mariah looked away. Of course. Freedom was the one thing Ash wanted above all else. The freedom to know who he was. The freedom to go where he chose, when he chose. And it was the one thing she could not give him. “It will come,” she said, and touched his arm. It was a grave error. Even through his sleeve, she felt his heat, his vitality, that ineffable quality of power and assurance that made him seem so much more than merely human. And he responded to her touch, his gaze striking hers with all the force of a freight train hitting a flimsy wooden railing. “Mariah?” She started at Sinjin’s voice and withdrew her hand. “I think we should take Ash away from here tonight,” she said firmly. Sinjin looked askance at Ash, deep lines etched between his brows. “I still think—” “The longer he’s in the folly, the greater the chance that someone will stumble across him.” “But if whoever put him here finds him gone…” “We shall find the means to deal with that situation when
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT PAMELA, LADY WESTLAKE, set her reticule on a side table and smiled at Mr. St. John Ware. “How delightful to see you again, Mr. Ware,” she said. He smiled in return, though there was a certain lack of authenticity in the expression. Indeed, one might almost have believed that Ware had no desire to see her. She, however, had a very strong desire to see him, though he must not under any circumstances guess just how strong. “Please be seated, Lady Westlake,” Ware said, indicating the most comfortable chair in his drawing room. The place was decidedly masculine; Ware was, after all, a confirmed bachelor whose numerous “lady friends” had no influence whatsoever on his life at Rothwell. Pamela had been certain to bring along a maid; though an established matron, she could not be too careful in the presence of one of England’s most inveterate rakes. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Lady Westlake?” Ware said, having rung for tea and taken his own seat opposite hers. “
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE “IT IS JUST AS I FEARED,” Sinjin said. “I’m convinced that Pamela suspects us. And I’ve no doubt that she’s reported her suspicions to my mother.” Mariah shivered, knowing full well what his statement meant. “What shall we do about it?” she asked as they rode together openly in the late morning sunlight. “We must be more careful,” he said. “And I must begin to show interest in another woman.” “Lady Westlake?” “I can’t think of a better. If I’m courting her, her little theory is apt to be ruined, don’t you think?” “How do you intend to engage her…affections?” He gave her a long, probing look. “I have my ways,” he said. And how could he not? He was astonishingly handsome, well formed, charming when he wished to be. Even Lady Westlake, with her apparent devotion to the earl, might easily fall when the right kind of influence was applied. A little flattery and flirtation… “You won’t be able to help me with Ash if you’re occupied with Pamela,” Mariah said. “Oh, I’ll manage to s
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN HE ROSE FROM HIS CHAIR and bowed far more deeply than was the current custom, sweeping his arm low and to the side as if he held the wide-brimmed, plumed hat of a cavalier . The gesture was that of a gentleman born, and the man before her, book still in hand, stood as easily in a gentleman’s clothing as if he had worn such things all his life. The change was not so much in his bearing, which had always been proud. Nor was it in his steady expression. But there was a new confidence in his eyes, an almost daunting certainty, and it chilled Mariah almost as much as the dangerous fact of his presence in the house. “Lady Donnington,” he said in a supple, seductive voice. He set his book down on the table beside his chair and advanced, matching the rapid pace of Mariah’s heartbeat. “My God, Ash,” she whispered. “You can’t be here.” She was still in the midst of her warning when Ash reached for her ungloved hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it. Not the air above it, as was th
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN IF MARIAH HADN’T taken Vivian’s arm again, the older woman would have fallen. Forgetting that the Prince of Wales stood on her doorstep, Mariah stared at Ash. The shock of seeing him in such a way was already passing, replaced by anger and fear. Anger that Ash had taken such precipitous action without consulting her—and before royalty, no less. Fear that he would make an even more foolish misstep. And what if this is no misstep at all? What if he truly has remembered everything? Yet if that was true, he had not seen fit to tell her. She pushed away the pain that came with that realization. “Cornell?” Vivian whispered, her arm trembling in Mariah’s grip. “I have never…Vicki’s son?” Ash bowed again. “Yes, ma’am. I do apologize for this untoward intrusion.” Mariah saw no alternative but to make the best of the situation. “Lady Donnington,” she said, addressing the dowager, “I am sure His Royal Highness would appreciate tea and cakes.” As if she were awakening from a dream,
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE SINJIN WAS STILL A LITTLE breathless when he took the letter from Hedley. He was aware that his tie was askew and his jacket creased, but far better to let any observers note his state of dishevelment than allow them to see Pamela in her present condition. Not that the servants didn’t know that their employer and the beautiful Lady Westlake were engaged in une affaire d’amour. There were moments when Sinjin almost forgot the initial hostility between himself and Pamela. But that was part of the charm of their relationship: neither one trusted the other. So far he seemed to have succeeded in putting any thought of Mariah from Pamela’s mind, and she was completely untroubled by her own infidelity to her ancient, ailing husband. Sinjin knew he was an excellent lover, considerate and tireless; his long string of former conquests was testament to that fact. The ladies enjoyed what he gave them, and he enjoyed them equally, with no expectation of loyalty. Already, so soon afte
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN ASH REMEMBERED READING about dancing in his books, but he’d never seen a detailed description of how it was done. Waltzes, polkas, quadrilles…all words to describe movements he could only imagine. “Will you teach me?” he asked. “Not here,” she said, glancing again at the prince’s party. “Not now. But…” She seemed to reach a decision. “Tonight, after everyone has gone to bed, we shall meet on the terrace. We can practice there, if we are very quiet.” Her words were guarded, but her scent suggested that she was not nearly so reluctant as she pretended. And he would be alone with her again. The hours passed too slowly. The prince and his companions talked well into the night, seeking their beds only as midnight approached. Mariah bade everyone good-night and went upstairs, leaving Ash to linger by the banked drawing room fire. In the dark square of the hearth, he saw himself as a glowing ember, a spark of swift light leaving the mortal world behind. Soon. Soon. The very t
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN CURED BERTIE? Mariah walked closer to the door and peered in over Sir Jeremy Ackland’s shoulder. The prince was sitting in a chair by the bed, clearly whole and hearty, his skin a normal color and his gestures vigorous. “Truly remarkable,” he was saying to someone just out of Mariah’s sight. “I had always understood that the Apache are the most bloodthirsty of all the American tribes.” “Not as bloodthirsty as one might suppose,” Ash said. “What skills I possess, they taught me.” “And those savage skills work damned well, by Jove,” Bertie said, then caught a glimpse of Mariah. “I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said with his usual courtesy. “Not at all, sir,” Mariah said. She glanced at Ash, holding pride of place in a chair opposite the prince’s. “I am grateful that you are recovered.” “So am I, so am I.” Bertie beamed at the room in general. “Ah, Sinjin. I trust that your chef is prepared to produce an excellent dinner tonight.” “I assure you that M. Mézières will be as p
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN MARIAH HAD TRIED not to think of the fairies since she had seen them at Donbridge after Ash’s kiss in the library. Once again she attempted to dismiss them as the creation of a mind disturbed by her indecent thoughts of him. And once again logic did her no good. The creatures followed her as she walked through the halls of Marlborough House, haunted her in her bedchamber when she tried to sleep, and tormented her during her strolls about the grounds and along the adjoining London streets. No one else seemed to see them, of course. Just as no one else had ever seen her mother’s visions. Nola noticed her perturbation. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but you seem upset,” she said one day as she was helping Mariah put on a morning dress. Mariah had become accustomed to Nola’s mother-hen concern for her and bore it stoically. “I am simply a little tired. Life at Marlborough House can be demanding.” “It can indeed,” the maid said, stepping back from her work. The fairies chose t
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN MARIAH SPRANG TO her feet. “Ash,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?” He closed the door and approached the bed. He was still fully dressed, but his warmth was like a blessing, his face filled with quiet concern. “I could not leave you alone,” he said. “You cannot be here,” she said. “Not alone with me, in the middle of the night.” “It is nearly morning.” He went straight to the chair beside the bed. “How are you feeling?” She twisted to face him, clutching her dressing gown closer across her chest. “Very well,” she lied. “Ash…” “You are not very well,” he said, leaning forward to look into her eyes. “What do you fear, Mariah?” She might have said she feared the rejection of the prince’s court, but that would have been a lie. There was only one person in the world to whom she could confess her greatest fear: the man who had known what it was like to suffer from madness. Still she hesitated, knowing that she would be taking an irrevocable step. She would be reveali
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN THE LAUGH DIED on Pamela’s tongue. “You?” He gave a shallow bow. “Lord Caber, at your service.” The very name Mariah had given to her invisible dancing partner. A man who didn’t exist. “No one saw you,” she protested. “How could you—” The stranger smiled, dazzling enough to make Pamela weak in the knees. “I simply chose to make myself invisible.” He lifted one languorous hand and was gone. Pamela blinked, and he was there again. “You see,” he said, “I am not really here. I have permitted my spirit to travel to your world. It was my desire tonight that no one else should see me.” Pamela wished that she dared to simply sit on the path and catch her breath. “What are you?” she whispered. “As I said,” he said sharply, “that is unimportant.” He made a graceful warding gesture, as if to toss her questions aside. “My spirit can somewhat effect the events of this world, but it has its limitations. Do you desire the man you know as Ashton Cornell?” She knew a sudden blinding f
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN MARIAH SAT ON THE edge of her mattress at the hotel. The unsigned letter lay open on the bed table. Come back immediately, it said. Mr. Cornell needs your help. She picked up the letter and studied it, as if it might give up its secrets. Who had written it, and why should Ash require her help? She had known she was a coward when she left Marlborough House. She had meant to stay. She had intended to face Ash again and explain, make him understand that what had happened between them could not be repeated. But she hadn’t been able to do it. Even when she chose to retreat to a London hotel instead of Donbridge, leaving herself the option of returning to Marlborough House at a moment’s notice, she had remained a coward. Thinking about Ash, about what they had done, left her weak and shivering with desire. If she were to go near him again, she might not be able to resist. She feared she would be paying for those few moments of pleasure for the rest of her life. And as for th
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN SINJIN WAS MOVING BEFORE Mariah could catch her breath. “Donnington!” he said, offering his hand to his elder brother. “For God’s sake, man, where have you been?” The earl offered no embrace, and his manner was stiff. He had not yet noticed Mariah. As the men exchanged a few brief words, Mariah was keenly aware that the men and women awaiting her departure had noticed Donnington’s arrival. If he hadn’t yet heard of the scandal surrounding his new wife, he soon would. Mariah braced herself and walked toward Donnington’s carriage. He saw her immediately. “Mariah!” he said, striding toward her. She expected him to seize her arm, but instead he stopped and glared at her from his dark, penetrating eyes. “I went to Donbridge,” he said, “and my mother informed me that you were here. What mad whim drove you to come to Marlborough House by yourself?” He continued speaking before she could answer. “By God, Mariah, I ought to—” “It was my doing, Donnington,” Sinjin said, stepping
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY “SHE IS QUITE MAD, you know,” Vivian said. At first she wasn’t certain that her son was listening. Then, abruptly, he turned toward her, morning sunlight streaming through the window onto his broad shoulders, his expression as closed as one of the books in his library. “Why do you say that, Mother?” he asked. “Has she done something to provoke such an accusation?” She quickly softened her tone. “She refused to fulfill her wifely duties,” she said. “She drove you away.” “She did not refuse. I had doubts about our marriage, and—” “As well you might! I have heard about her shocking behavior at Marlborough House. Surely there can be no better reason—” His stare was savage. “Mother,” he said, “it would be best if you stay out of such matters. The dower house is quite comfortable. Perhaps you would be happier there.” Even his threat of exile, frightening as it was, couldn’t silence her. “You doubt that she is mad? Perhaps she is not—at the moment. But her mother was quite insa
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE ASH CLOSED HIS EYES, suddenly afraid. When he opened them again, both Nola and the dowager were gone, and Mariah stood waiting with the bag in her hand. He took it from her, and they descended to the entrance hall. No one stirred. The night was lit by a nearly full moon as they hurried to the stables. Even the horses were quiet, making no sound as Ash spoke softly in their ears. Once the animals were saddled and bridled, he and Mariah rode at a gallop away from Donbridge. Moonlight flowed over on his shoulders like the rays of the sun. He felt the horse’s muscles bunch and release between his thighs, the animal’s energy flowing through his body like the near-magical invention humans called electricity. He became one with his mount, the barriers falling one by one until it was his hooves beating the earth, his ears pricked for the slightest sound, his tail a banner flying on the wind. No human thought told him where to go. One moment he and Mariah were headed toward t
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO MARIAH SWAYED. She was no longer in Tir-na-Nog but another place, a familiar place beside the stones in her own world. And others were with her: Donnington, his voice a roar in her ears; Cairbre, lips curled in anger…and Ash, bound, sprawled on the earth, his black eyes both bewildered and stark with the same rage she’d just seen in the beast he had become. She heard them speaking, Donnington and Cairbre, weaving their web as she lay at her husband’s feet. She heard them discuss their scheme for her, just as Ash had described: how Donnington had located a virgin girl of Fane blood to become Cairbre’s bride; how she had struggled against Cairbre’s attempts to carry her through the Gate. “But there is one thing you could not have heard,” Cairbre said aloud, cutting into the memories. “I gave Arion one chance to return to Tir-na-Nog. Since I could not compel you to enter the Gate, he was to win your affection and loyalty, so that you would willingly follow him wherever
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE TIR-NA-NOG WAS EXACTLY as Mariah had left it. The only difference was that Cairbre was no longer waiting. That fact left her in a desperate quandary. She was in a strange land she knew nothing about save through visions and a single previous visit; she had no idea how to find Cairbre in this vast and exotic world, and every moment she lingered brought Ash closer to death. She still didn’t know how much of what he’d said had been lies, but she didn’t believe for a moment that Cairbre would let Ash escape unless he was certain that Donnington could kill him, with or without the help of a virgin. She must convince Cairbre to call off his mortal hound. Convince him that she could still become what he wanted her to be…even if he chose to drive her mad. There was no more time for thinking, let alone regret. She looked in each direction, seeking some sign of where to go. To the east the meadows stretched endlessly to the horizon; to the west rose a range of mountains, vio
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
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