The Lord of Illusion - 3 (15 page)

She left the apartments as abruptly as she entered them, trailing her servants and perfume behind her.

“Dear heaven,” said Augusta.

“Quite. She spares no illusions, does she?”

“When have those of the court ever done so? You had best go to his lordship.” She lowered her voice. “You do look lovely, Camille. Enjoy it while you can. If you can.”

Augusta surprised her yet again. The other woman sensed more than she let on.

Camille picked up her satin skirts and carefully walked to his lordship’s room, unaccustomed to balancing in such high heels, the clack of them across the floor a perfect accompaniment to her pounding heart.

How dare he try to buy her!

What would he say when he saw her?

Viscount Hawkes sat in a leather chair. He held in his lap a silver tray of invitations, frowning as he rifled through the pile of them. He had braided the hair at the sides of his face, with the plaits pulled backward and gathered behind his head, making his cheekbones stand out even more prominently. He wore black velvet from head to toe, with naught but a golden cravat about his neck to relieve the color. And bring out the golden sparkle within his eyes as he looked up at her standing in the doorway.

Time suspended for a moment as they gazed at one another, something crackling between them that pulled Camille into the room toward him, her hoops barely clearing the door frame.

Seven

Drystan blinked at the vision before him, uncertain for a moment of the reality of the woman. She looked exactly as she had in his dreams. He took a deep breath, the scent of her overwhelming his senses, and realized the descendant of the white witch did indeed stand before him.

He held out his hand to her. “You look beautiful.”

Her arm rose, as if to take what he offered. But those multicolored eyes suddenly clouded, and she stopped advancing toward him. Drystan tried not to scowl.

“Do I look the part?” she demanded.

“What do you mean?”

“For the role of your mistress. Surely that’s why you bought me this new wardrobe.”

She confounded him at every turn. Drystan knew she wanted him, her kisses confirmed it more than her words ever could. But still she held herself aloof from him. What would it take to tear down those walls she had built around her heart?

And yet, he knew those very walls had allowed her to survive her years of abuse. The woman of his dreams was nothing compared to the reality of her. Over the past few days he had come to understand her inner strength, and often glimpsed the core of softness that lay buried deep within her. Captain Talbot’s discreet inquiries on his behalf revealed the harshness of the life she had led, so like his own, and yet so very different.

That she stood so defiantly before him made his admiration for her soar to new heights.

“Would it be so terrible to allow me to love you?”

She gasped.

Drystan rose, scattering the tray of invitations onto the floor with nary a care. He closed the distance between them, until he fancied he could feel the beat of her heart in time with his own.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, tilting her head to look up at him.

Drystan drew a ragged breath. “What have I not made clear?”

“Who sent you the dreams of me? And why?”

She had every right to be suspicious of his motives, and deserved to be told it all. But Drystan still feared to tell her. Feared she would not believe that his only purpose in coming had been for her. Unless and until he managed to make her fall in love with him first.

He could not allow himself to doubt she ever would.

“You have asked me for nothing,” he finally said, changing the subject. “I thought you would be pleased with the clothes.”

“I—” Her eyes suddenly became calculating, and Drystan wondered what went through that beautiful head.

“I am sorry if I seem ungrateful. I should be thanking you for your generosity instead.”

Drystan frowned. Perhaps she should, but he knew her too well. “But?”

“Oh.” She gave him an artful smile, something he had
not
known she might be capable of. “It is just that if you had asked me…”

“Yes?” Drat his heart. He could not suppress his eagerness to find out a way to please her. “There is something you would desire even more?”

She nodded, a lovely flush to her delicate cheeks.

“Then name it, and it shall be yours, my lady.”

“You might think it rather odd…”

“Camille!”

“I would like a sword,” she blurted. “And a pistol. And I would like to learn how to use them. To defend myself.”

Drystan could have smacked himself over the head. Of course she would care little for the fripperies of a normal woman. She had not led a normal life. Survival had been her only goal for so long, he should have realized she would not abandon it so easily. Especially when she could not trust in his protection.

He would change her mind on that. But in the meantime…

“Of course you shall have a sword. And it must be enchanted, to allow you to wield it without too much training. And a pistol, yes. They defy elven magic for enchantment, as do so many of our human inventions, so you will need extensive training in the use of it.”

“Your man, Arthur, might be willing to teach—”

“I shall see to it myself,” he interrupted.

She gazed at him, and damn if he still didn’t see fear in those amazing eyes. Perhaps she did not trust him fully yet, but he had given her no reason to fear him.

He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. Ah, Gods. Softer than a rose petal. “You have been so brave your entire life, Camille. And yet you fear me. Why?”

Drystan suddenly smelled the sweet scent of apples. He did not know why that vision had sprung to his mind when he thought to first kiss her days ago. He supposed the orchard came from some long-ago memory as a lad. The surroundings just seemed to fit his desire for Camille.

She backed away from him, a rustle of lace and silk. “I fear the glamour you have put upon me, my lord—despite your denials to the contrary. My desire for a man died years ago, and yet your magic brings these unbidden feelings within me.”

Her honesty shook him to the core. And her words made such a joyful hope flare within his heart. The pitiable amount of magic he seemed to possess could not cast such a glamour over her, even if he tried. And he had not tried. So these feelings she feared… ah, those came from no unnatural source. It could only be her true heart opening to him. His courtship had not been in vain.

He needed only to figure out a way to combat her fear of wanting him.

“Lord Hawkes,” said Captain Talbot, suddenly appearing at the door.

“Damn it, Edward, I told you to never interrupt—”

“Unless it is urgent. This is urgent, my lord.”

“What is it?”

“A messenger from Imperial Lord Roden. Err, he is more harmless than he looks,” he warned.

Captain Talbot stepped aside. Camille started, and Drystan unconsciously put his body between her and what now stood in the doorway.

A large golden snake. With a fat sinuous body risen to rival a man’s height, black glossy eyes staring unwaveringly at him. A black tongue flicked out to test the air. “You have been absssent from court for too long,” said the thing. “So I have sssent my messenger to order you to come.”

And after speaking those few words, the snake slowly dissolved into thousands of sparkling golden flecks.

Talbot reappeared in the doorway, a smile on his face. “Scared me at first, let me tell you. But Augusta said it’s a common enough messenger the elven lord uses when sending a polite invitation.”

“I wonder what he sends with an impolite one? No, never mind. And stop laughing, Edward. You have an odd sense of humor.”

Captain Talbot shrugged. “It has managed to keep me sane. Will you go?”

“How can I not? To ignore such a summons will only make him suspicious, and it seems I can no longer use my injury as an excuse.” Actually, he had used it only as a ruse to spend time with Camille.

“I would go with you, my lord.”

“Can’t resist some more fun, Captain?”

“It appears not.”

Camille suddenly scrambled from behind Drystan, her new skirts almost tripping her up. “You cannot go, my lord!”

Talbot sighed. “I will await you in the hall.” And disappeared from the bedroom doorway.

Drystan looked down at Camille’s pale face. She had never looked so frightened before, even when she had been faced with a pistol, several wraiths, or the prospect of his naked chest. “Do not worry, Camille. It is high time I met with the elven lord.”

“But you do not understand. Since the overthrow of Verdanthame, Roden has been suspicious of all half-breeds, especially those who possess magic. If he thinks you might be the slightest threat to him…”

“But I am not—”

“I have seen what you can do. I have felt the glamour you have cast upon me. I assure you, weaker mages have died for less.”

“Camille, Camille.” Drystan took her in his arms; he could no longer fight the urge to do so. He could not bear to see her in such distress. She trembled within his embrace, and he smoothed her silken back. “I assure you my magic is no threat to the elven lord.”

And damn if that apple orchard did not suddenly spring up around them again. Drystan could smell the ripe scent of apples warmed by the sun, feel the slight breeze that swished through the brilliant green of the grass now surrounding his boots.

“See?” she muttered, her forehead crinkling at the soothing scenery. “Only someone who possesses strong magic can create an illusion with such vividness.”

“But only sometimes. I can rarely do this, and I doubt I shall be able to envision apple blossoms in the presence of the elven lord.” Drystan did wonder about his erratic magic, and he admitted that although he appeared to have no control over it, he had taken a risk by staying in the palace longer than necessary with Camille. Although he could not regret it.

“Will you kiss me good-bye? Just in case, mind you.”

“You cannot jest at a time like this.”

“I do not jest, my love.”

She caught her breath. Tears glistened in her eyes, and Drystan could only hope they were for him. And not from her fear of being abandoned to slavery once more.

“I told you,” he murmured, lowering his head to hers. “My men have instructions to take care of you in the event of my death.”

She made some sort of strangled sound in the back of her throat, and then threw her arms around him, pulling his face all the way to hers, covering his mouth with her sweet lips. He lost himself for a time in the feel of it. In the feel of the woman of his dreams.

When she broke away, her breath came in little pants. “Please don’t go. I will do anything. Anything to make you stay.”

Drystan straightened. Stepped away from her. His illusion faded once again, the world quickly turning back to the rather gloomy morning.

“That is not the way I would have you, Camille.”

He walked stiffly to the door, glancing back at her small form still trembling in her new lace and satin.

“I cannot fault you for not believing me,” he added, “but when I return, you will have proof that I do not have the power to cast any glamour upon you. You will be forced to acknowledge what you feel for me is real. Are you sure that is not what you truly fear?”

Her mouth opened as if in denial, but Drystan did not give her the opportunity to speak. He strode through the luxurious rooms and met Captain Talbot in the hall, the dark-haired warrior giving him a crooked grin as Drystan slammed the apartment door behind him.

“I would not have thought it possible, my lord. I do believe the lady actually cares for you.”

“I never doubted it,” replied Drystan, in no mood to reveal his insecurities to the other man. He spun to where his house guard had managed to hide within the shadow of a golden pillar. “Arthur.”

The old soldier stepped forward.

“Do not let anyone enter or leave these rooms until I return.”

“Aye, my lord.”

Drystan walked down the hall, ignoring the tapestries of death and animated statues. Odd, what one could get used to. His captain followed him in silence, his mouth still twisted in a half smile, his callused fingers caressing the hilt of his sword. They did not speak a word to each other until they descended to the ground floor, and heard the noise flowing through the massive doorway of the great room.

“It appears your summons has caused quite a stir, my lord.”

“They probably think the elven lord will kill me.”

The flecks in Talbot’s gray eyes sparkled, the metal color a testament to his elven blood. “He’ll have to get past my sword first.”

Drystan appreciated his captain’s bravado. But no mere sword could defeat an elven lord, not even one enchanted and wielded by one of the most expert swordsmen Bladehame had produced in some time.

“Stay behind me,” he commanded as he stepped into the doorway. Silence slowly rolled across the gathered throng at his appearance. Drystan lowered his voice to a mutter. “If the worst happens, flee with Camille to Bristol. I have a ship waiting there to take her to Wales.”

“Aye, my lord.”

“Protect her with your life. She might be England’s only hope.”

Drystan strode boldly forward, looking neither left nor right, his eyes focused on the golden dais at the end of the great hall.

“You have discovered the birthmark, then?” whispered Captain Talbot.

Drystan would not admit that he had yet to find a birthmark on Camille’s body, although he had surreptitiously looked. He regretted he had not had the chance to explore all of her soft skin, and now might not have the opportunity to be the one to find it and unravel its meaning. If the mark did indeed have a meaning.

But Camille’s safety lay within her importance to the Rebellion. So he left Edward to wonder at the answer to his question as he neared the elven lord’s throne.

From the corner of his eyes Drystan glimpsed the people of the court lining the sides of the hall like sentinels, the gay color of their clothing swirling together into one silk-and-satin garden. He recognized a few faces of the ladies he had met, but they avoided his gaze.

Not a propitious sign.

Drystan ignored the soaring columns that sported marble statues of creatures cavorting up and down the length of the supports. After glancing briefly upward at the nonexistent ceiling, the heights to infinity making his head spin, he ignored that illusion as well.