The Highland Dragon's Lady (18 page)

After, they didn’t have to move this time. It was one of many advantages to an actual bed. Another was that Reggie didn’t have hay in unmentionable places. When numb arms made it necessary to disentangle themselves, she stretched slowly, relishing the traces of sensation that still lingered in her body, and then rested her head on Colin’s chest. He didn’t make a bad pillow at all.

“I assume,” he said dryly, “that you’re feeling quite well.”

“Are you asking for medical reasons or looking for a compliment?”

He laughed, his chest vibrating beneath her cheek. “Well, yes.”

Reggie had thrown an arm across him, which put her in an excellent position to administer a pinch. “You know perfectly well I enjoyed myself. If you want more than that, I’m afraid I can’t help you. No basis for comparison, you know.”

“I suppose one could find that reassuring.”

“Do you?”

“It’s been over a century since I felt any need for reassurance,” said Colin. He stroked up and down her back, the touch of his fingers soothing now, rather than arousing. Reggie knew that she wasn’t keeping his mind out completely, but all the contact gave her was hazy satisfaction, almost an echo of her own emotions. “I wasn’t sure you
were
a virgin,” he said, “until the, ah, crucial moment.”

From a man of her time, that might have been insulting, but Reggie knew he didn’t mean it that way. Besides, he did have some justification. “The London crowd’s fast,” she said. “And I can’t pretend I’ve exactly been sheltered.”

“Yes,” Colin said slowly, “and—I had heard you were nearly engaged.” He hesitated, waiting for anger or at least for Reggie to pull away, but she didn’t. She waited. “You wouldn’t have been the first girl to anticipate a proposal or believe promises, and then find you’d set your hopes on a rotter. I’ve seen it happen more than a few times.”

“It wasn’t that,” said Reggie, and then she laughed. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

She could feel nothing from Colin now, which meant that he’d clamped down on some emotion, most likely curiosity. He didn’t ask, either. The room was dark, he was warm, and every muscle in Reggie’s body felt loose in the aftermath of pleasure. Besides, Colin was ancient and inhuman, both of which were bound to make his point of view different. She couldn’t imagine him gossiping. She wasn’t sure she could imagine him caring very much.

“When I was seventeen, I came out here to stay with Uncle Lewis. Well—I say Uncle Lewis, and he’s my blood relation, but mostly it was to stay with Aunt Claire and the other girls. Mater thought I could go to a few country parties, you understand, as a way to get my footing before I really came out. Might have been a good idea, at that—I liked the country, and I was enjoying myself. And then I met Jack. I suppose Mr. Kimpton now.”

Colin said nothing. The hand on her spine continued its steady sweep up and down. Reggie thought of the way one might gentle a horse or a dog, considered being insulted, and decided that it was too much trouble.

“He was—is—the son of a friend of Uncle Lewis. That’s how things work out here. He’d come back from university a year before, and he was a nice, respectable young man. Also handsome, especially when I was seventeen,” she added, shaking her head as she remembered her young self and the raptures she’d gone into. “There were calls and picnics and dances. We went riding quite a lot. He was a good rider. A good dancer too, and his conversation was interesting. I liked him.”

“Did you love him?” Colin asked, only curious as far as Reggie could tell.

She shrugged. “I was under that impression. Maybe it was even true. Love at seventeen’s a queer beast, though—quite different, I’d think, from love at thirty or sixty. Or a hundred and ten,” she added, looking up at Colin and smiling.

“I’d not know,” he said and shrugged at her frankly incredulous look. “Oh, I was infatuated quite a few times when I was younger—but as you say, that was infatuation. If age and a certain cynicism have any advantage there, it lies in knowing the true metal from the dross.”

“Why not?” She blushed a minute after she asked the question. It was hardly tactful—perhaps even inappropriate here in this most intimate of settings. Perhaps that was why her heart had started hammering. “I mean, you must have known enough women.”

“Not many who thought I was anything but human,” Colin said. “Love may not demand honesty about all things—I haven’t given it much study—but I think my nature would be too large a lie to ignore. With the women who do know…it simply never happened. The heart’s difficult to explain. I’ve never tried.”

“Wise of you,” said Reggie. “No dark secrets, then?”

“Only myself.”

“You’re not even dark enough to hide from a gamekeeper properly,” she said. As she spoke, she began to feel as if she approached a precipice, and backed hastily away. “I don’t really have any, either. Not the sort you were thinking of. Jack and I never really did anything much. He certainly never pressed me. He didn’t even kiss me until he proposed.”

“Quite the gentleman.”

“So I thought.” Reggie closed her eyes. It was late, she was tired, and she didn’t want to watch Colin when she kept talking. She didn’t even want to be tempted. “My aunt gave a party. We danced. It was all very nice. When he asked me to come out onto the balcony, I didn’t even hesitate.”

“And then?”

“He asked me to marry him. I said yes, of course.” Reggie sighed. “And then he kissed me.”

“I’ve heard that some men aren’t very skilled at that,” said Colin, a gentle joke that made Reggie laugh despite her memories.

“No, he was fine—or he wasn’t so bad that I noticed. I hadn’t kissed anyone before. I wouldn’t say that was the problem, exactly, but the rest probably wouldn’t have happened if I’d had more experience. It rather overwhelmed me, you see.”

“
Not
bad, then,” Colin said. He didn’t feel jealous, which was a relief. Possessiveness, particularly over a kiss years in the past, was the last thing Reggie needed. “I take it the problem was with your abilities?”

Reggie nodded, relishing, even now, the feel of his skin beneath her cheek. “I thought I was good at putting up barriers, but I didn’t know how much more effort it would take. And Jack didn’t control his thoughts as much as you do. Or he wasn’t as single-minded.” She managed a grin. “Don’t tell me which. I’d prefer to flatter myself.”

Colin tweaked her ear. “I’ll just say, then, that I’m a fair hand at living in the moment. And that you furnish some very easy moments to live in.”

“Thank you,” she said and then sobered. “I saw some of his memories. I’ve never been sure why I see what I see, but sometimes there’s a connection. There might have been this time. He was kissing me, he’d just proposed, and so he thought of, well”—she searched through the terms she knew, decided against both vulgarity and sentimentality, and went with the clinical—“sex. Only he was remembering it. With one of his housemaids.”

When Colin didn’t respond, she would have known what he was thinking even without her power. He was trying to find a diplomatic manner to phrase certain home truths that he was surprised she didn’t know.

Before he could embarrass them both, Reggie flicked her fingers outward, dismissively, and went on. “Oh, I know men do that sort of thing. I had guessed, even then. Maybe it would have upset me without everything else, but that wasn’t all. He wasn’t remembering the act. That had been months ago. She’d come to him a fortnight before that party, though, and told him she was in trouble.

“Like I said,” she went on, “I’d guessed about that sort of thing even then. And I’d overheard bits, either physically or not. I knew nobody could expect him to marry her, and I don’t think she was even asking for that—she was just hoping he’d provide for her and the child. I don’t know how much. I know he was angry at her, angry that she’d even dared bring the matter up with him. He talked about impertinence and he said he doubted it was even his, that she’d likely opened her legs for everyone from the butler to the boot boy. And he had her turned out. Without money, without even a character.”

“What happened then?” Colin asked. His hand had stopped moving in the course of Reggie’s story, and his arms were very tight around her.

Within the circle of their warmth, she shrugged. “I don’t know. The workhouse—the streets—dying in some back alley when she tried to get herself out of the fix she was in. The world doesn’t much like women in her situation. Jack didn’t care—he was just relieved she hadn’t shown up again, and thinking about how she might have spoiled everything if he hadn’t taken care of her.”

Colin kissed the top of her head. “I mean,” he said, “what happened to you?”

“Oh. I didn’t scream, I don’t think—nobody came out to get us, so I must not have—but I slapped him. And then I started talking about it: how could he have been so heartless, didn’t he care about the child at all, plenty of melodramatic claptrap,” she said and forced another laugh from her throat. “Stupid too. I’d mostly gotten past the babbling-everything-I-saw stage when I was thirteen. There’s just been that one time. And with you, I suppose.”

“Dragons,” said Colin, “are also quite startling. Though I hope not as appalling.”

“No. Not at all.” Reggie drew a deep breath and went on. “Jack went absolutely white, as I suppose one would rather expect, asked what kind of a creature I was, and fled the scene. Good riddance, really.”

“I was going to say something of the sort myself,” said Colin. “But it must have been hard on you at the time.”

“The scandal was. Young girls acting freakishly are always good for entertainment, and God knows the country needs that. I couldn’t explain my side of things at all, which probably made everything better for the gossips. The truth is never nearly as fun as speculation. Jack didn’t make up any stories to ruin my good name. He didn’t have to.”

“And your family?”

“I told Aunt Claire that night, when she asked. Not about my powers—that was a bit too far—but that I’d heard the story.” Reggie laughed again, although there was little humor in it even to her own ears. “She couldn’t deny it, not entirely—the girl in question
had
been turned off in what she called ‘a disgraceful state’—but she said that one couldn’t believe servants. And after all,” Reggie went on, falling into an imitation of Aunt Claire’s calm, sweet, poisonously reasonable tones, “even if it was true, it was nothing to get upset about. The girl was obviously no better than she should be. She was just sorry that I’d had to hear about such unpleasantness.”

“It’s not an uncommon way to think.”

“I know,” said Reggie. “She touched my hand when she was trying to comfort me. She believed everything she said. She was sure her friends did too—everyone worth knowing.
That’s
mostly why I stopped bothering with society. I could have lived with the scandal, but if everyone thought like my aunt did, then following the rules and marrying well and all of that…it didn’t seem worth the effort anymore. It had always been a trial, anyhow.”

Now that most of the story was out, it was better to get the rest over with before Colin could ask any more questions. “I didn’t tell my parents. I didn’t want to know how they’d react—or what they’d think—and they’ve always known just enough of my power to ignore it. I liked things that way. Edmund wanted to blacken everyone’s eye when he found out, but I was back in London by then. Thank God.”

“I’m surprised you came back,” said Colin.

“I do love my parents. And this visit was the first time the old business has ever come up quite so…vividly.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Ghosts and ghosts.”

“Aye,” said Colin. “The past clings, no matter how much we’d like to shake it off. I’ve regretted that at times myself. In some ways, the world never moves quite fast enough.”

“Imagine how we feel,” said Reggie.

“Bloody rotten luck about the horses,” said Edmund, glancing over his shoulder for one last glare in the direction of the forest. “Quincy was a top-notch jumper too.”

Hobb had found the bay the night before, after the doctor had come for Reggie and the household had mostly settled down. The horse had been in such condition that the gamekeeper had been forced to put him down. From what few tracks Colin, Edmund, and his father had been able to make out that day, one of the other horses had fled for the road, where its hoofprints had vanished into the general mass of traffic. Some farmer’s son a few miles off might have had a nice surprise.

Three hours of searching had shown no sign of the third horse. Either it had gone through thick enough undergrowth to hide its tracks, or the three men had simply been looking in the wrong places. Either way, the clouds overhead were closing in, and none of them had wanted to risk being in the forest during a storm. Janet Morgan might have temporarily expended all of her power in the previous day’s attack, but one didn’t gamble on lightning. By mutual agreement, they’d started back toward the house, Edmund looking uncommonly glum until he’d finally spoken.

Mr. Talbot-Jones shook his head. “Rotten luck about your sister, I should say, Edmund,” he chided his son, but his voice was mild and even amused, as if he knew what Edmund’s reply was going to be.

Sure enough, Edmund grinned sheepishly. “Oh, but Reggie’s got a skull like a block of marble. I could’ve told you that when I was ten. And she
is
fine now, you know—though I’m not sure it was a good idea to leave her in La Heselton’s capable hands.”

“Miss Heselton
is
a very skilled nurse,” said Mr. Talbot-Jones, though Edmund’s warning glance stopped him from pressing further.

“Yes, that’s what I mean,” Edmund went on quickly. “It’ll deprive the local populace of a great force for good if Reggie buries an egg spoon in the back of Miss Heselton’s neck.”

Almost hidden by his beard, Mr. Jones’s mouth twitched at the corners. “I doubt we have to worry much about that.”

“
You
weren’t around the nursery when she was getting over measles,” said Edmund, shaking his head. “This fortnight’s been a seaside holiday in comparison.”

“She may have learned some patience over the years,” said Colin. He flattered himself, too, that maybe his visit the night before had left Reggie less restless than she might have been otherwise. She’d been half dozing when he’d slipped out, her only response a sleepy complaint at losing the warmth of his body and an equally incoherent assent when he’d said he didn’t want to drive anyone into hysterics in the morning.

He hoped he hadn’t set her recovery back. She’d certainly seemed confident at the time, not to mention enthusiastic, and he trusted her judgment—but he’d been vastly relieved when Dr. Brant reported in that morning and said that she was progressing nicely.

“Stranger things have happened,” said Edmund, though he didn’t sound convinced, and he looked at Colin for a moment longer than necessary. He cleared his throat. “Any more progress on that translation?”

“Some,” said Colin. He bent and picked up a branch that had fallen across the path, then tossed it into the undergrowth. “Mostly, it only confirms what Mrs. Jones said. The brother was a spoiled wastrel—at least, Janet thought as much—and the girl he chose was common. And,” he added, tightening his lips, “the bargains she made would have called for human blood.”

“She truly was a witch, then,” said Mr. Talbot-Jones. “I’d thought that had all been hysteria and superstition—and the odd misunderstanding.”

“It was, mostly,” said Colin. He’d been too young to see most of the trials for himself, but he’d heard plenty from his family. Mortal mobs could be dangerous even to them, if they were unprepared and outnumbered. “Old women with bad luck. Young women who caught the wrong eye. That was lucky for the witch finders—something like Janet Morgan could have cut a bloody swath through most of them, and she was a rank amateur.”

Crows called to each other overhead, finding roosts before the storm hit. Colin realized that the other two were staring at him. He shrugged. “My brother’s interested in history,” he said, which was true enough. “It rubs off now and again.”

“Helpful in situations like these, perhaps,” said Mr. Talbot-Jones, Britishly polite even if he didn’t believe a word of Colin’s explanation. “Though hardly cheerful, considering that we—fairly rank amateurs ourselves—have her on our hands now.”

“Oh, chin up, Pater,” said Edmund. “Her sister very likely managed to put her down, since she vanished about when Janet stopped causing trouble in this life, and she was one woman. And we’ve got more assets than the old Puritans dreamed of,” he added, with another significant glance toward Colin.

“Oh?”

“Modern thinking, for one,” Colin put in, seeing that Edmund hadn’t expected his father to ask for specifics. “It’s the age of reason and discovery. I’m sure human innovation can come to our aid here.”

“Hmm,” said Mr. Talbot-Jones. They stepped out of the last clump of trees and began to head up a much broader and better-rolled path. “I wish I were as optimistic as you young men—and I hope you’re right.”

“So do we,” said Edmund. “Colin, could I have a word back at the house?”

“I’ll go talk to Boone about the horses,” said Mr. Talbot-Jones, politely stepping away. He didn’t ask what the prospective word would be about, because one didn’t, and neither did Colin, because he already knew.

* * *

The two of them went into the study, where Edmund sat down on the couch, stood up, poured two large brandies, and sat back down, while Colin seated himself in a chair, leaned back with his drink, and waited.

None of this was entirely new. Few mortals had learned his real identity, but there
had
been those few. Whether they’d been fawning, hostile, or simply curious, he knew roughly what steps to take. Still, he was glad of the brandy.

Edmund probably was, too, as he polished off half the glass with a swiftness that would have made a connoisseur wince. He set the glass on a nearby table and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, to look at Colin. “Yesterday,” he finally said. “With the horses.”

“Yes?”

“First off, we’re all very much obliged, you know,” Edmund said stiffly. “I’m sure Reggie will tell you herself, once she’s feeling more the thing.”

“I’m sure,” said Colin, waving a hand negligently. The brandy sloshed against the sides of the glass. He watched it, wondering momentarily how much gratitude had played a part in Reggie’s invitation the night before.

Surely not—he didn’t have her powers, but he could tell genuine female pleasure from an act, generally speaking. She’d come to him before too, or at least she’d been seemingly enthusiastic when he’d taken her in the hayloft.

He looked over at Edmund. “I’m glad I was able to be of assistance,” he said to move the conversation along.

“Yes. Well. Jolly good.” Edmund squared his shoulders. “Look here, there’s no delicate way to put this. What exactly
are
you?”

Pretending innocence was pointless, particularly with everything that had happened since Colin’s arrival. He
might
have been able to explain the whole thing away—the excitement of the moment, a trick of the light, even one of the ghost’s illusions. He could have kept Edmund from trusting his own perceptions. He’d done it before, with other men.

The thought made him feel grimy.

“Dragon,” said Colin, and he took a drink. “Partly, at least.”

“I—well, I’d thought
something
serpentine, at least—I suppose it stands to—” Edmund shook his head, cut off the flow of words, and then blinked at Colin. “
What?
”

So Colin explained. Leaving out specific names and details, he told Edmund as much as he knew of his history and his nature, keeping his voice matter-of-fact and his face composed. As he went on, the other man went from stunned disbelief to confused acceptance, which Colin supposed was the best he could expect under the circumstances.

Reggie had been much easier, but Reggie was one in a million.

“I’d transform here,” Colin said, winding his discourse up, “but I’d make rather a mess of the place.”

“I’d rather not answer to Mater for that, thank you,” said Edmund with a trace of his old humor, “and neither would you, dragon or not.”

“No, not at all,” Colin replied. “I like to think I was properly brought up.”

Edmund leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “A devil of a lot makes more sense now,” he admitted, “and I can’t really blame you for keeping mum, considering. It does upset one’s notions of the world, though. Even for me, and I’m used to a bit of strangeness now and again.”

“So I’d imagine,” said Colin, thinking of the crowds they’d moved in and then of Reggie.

As if he had his sister’s power to read thoughts, Edmund opened his eyes, looked straight at Colin, and asked, “I’m not the first one in this family to know, am I?”

“No,” said Colin. “Though Reggie found out rather by accident.”

“She would, poor girl.”

Changing topics before Edmund could ask about the exact circumstances of the accident, Colin said, “She tells me you know about her gift.”

“Oh, yes. Though I’d not call it a gift”—Edmund made a face—“except of the sort one gets from a tasteless great-aunt. I suppose she could make quite a go of detective work, if she was a chap. Or if the parents wouldn’t keel over at the thought of it. Otherwise, I don’t see much use in it. Life’s mostly trying
not
to know too much about others.”

Colin laughed. “Here and now, aye.”

“I’m glad she does know,” said Edmund. “I’d have wanted you to tell her, otherwise.”

“Oh?” asked Colin, lifting his eyebrows and trying to sound casual.

Edmund shook his head. “It won’t do, that face. Reggie may think I’m an idiot about women, and she might be right—but I’m not about her. Or you, I think.” Although his posture didn’t change, his eyes narrowed, and he spoke with a quiet and complete seriousness. “I don’t inquire much into her personal life and she doesn’t into mine—and I know neither of us runs with a very polite crowd—but she
is
my sister, Colin. I’d be obliged if you kept that in mind.”

“I’ve no intention,” Colin said, “of treating her shabbily.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Edmund said, and his face eased back into a smile, “but one does like to drop the word, you know. Reggie’s a sensible girl. She’s not the sort to expect anything grand just because a chap has a few dances with her. Just don’t offer more than you want to give her. She’s done a lot for me. I won’t see her hurt and take it lightly.”

Despite the smile, the warning in Edmund’s voice might have suggested that he’d forgotten what Colin had just told him and what he’d seen the day before. Looking into his friend’s face, though, Colin thought Edmund knew perfectly well who and what he was threatening.