Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 Page 23

  Selecting the clothes gave her a peaceful few moments and dressing another restful half hour, a time she badly needed to assimilate what had happened downstairs. She’d never seen such a blatant—and frankly terrifying—display of power. That crackling, sparkling line, so intensely blue, so menacing, had frozen her for the moment it took Edmund to put a restraining arm around her. He’d also taken the opportunity to give her a quick, reassuring hug.

  She had so much to say to him. Presumably he’d know of her conversion, the results of which seemed nebulous until she recalled Blaize’s comments about her strength. She tried hefting a hairbrush, squeezing, and gazed with shock at the result. The buckled, twisted silver had taken as much effort to achieve as cracking a walnut.

  And would she live forever? Did she want to?

  She would hold on to the knowledge and not try to make sense of it. That would come in time. For now, let Blaize cope with the crisis any way he could, and the rest would flow from there. One way or another.

  It was that last caveat that caused her to pause.

  Downstairs, the drawing room was restored to its pristine elegance, and the men sat around conversing as people did before a meal. Despite others being present, Blaize gave her a kiss on the lips that was neither friendly nor too passionate. Loving, with a sweet pressure that reminded her of all kinds of wicked, intimate things. But when she closed her eyes and breathed him in, the desire returned, as powerful as if they’d done nothing since Scotland.

  Blaize led her to the sofa and sat with her, retaining her hand in his. Edmund handed her a sherry. “You’ll need a little fortification, sister dear.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek. “Congratulations.” He glanced at Blaize. “Probably. You will treat her well.” That was a command, not a request.

  “I have every intention of doing so,” Blaize said smoothly.

  “We must endeavour not to repeat yesterday’s misunderstanding. I assumed you were a Titan, since I’ve had no luck finding Olympians in this country. An Ancient who took advantage of my absence.”

  Blaize nodded. “In these times we must all be on our guard. Be assured I would injure myself before I laid one finger in anger on your sister.” He paused. “My wife.”

  Edmund jerked a nod. “Indeed.” Shaking out the sleeve ruffles on his coat, he sat. “I’ll have to send for my clothes. My mother may have the London house for the remainder of the Season, I meant it about turning her out of the castle. That is the principal seat of the Dukes of Kentmere. She’ll have to make do with one of the other residences.”

  “What happened to your father?” Blaize asked.

  Because of her new awareness, Aurelia sensed the tension that invaded her brother, although he showed nothing outwardly. “What is it, Edmund?” Blaize wrapped her hand in his warmly.

  Edmund studied her, then shook his head. “I will tell you another time. We have enough to deal with for now.”

  “She murdered him, didn’t she?” She bit her lip. “You mustn’t be afraid of upsetting me. So much was kept from me that I want to know everything. I didn’t know our father, don’t forget. He died shortly after my birth.”

  Reluctantly, Edmund nodded. “I believe she did. You were born mortal. I think he objected to her plans for you.”

  Aurelia found she could feel sorrow for someone she’d never met. Blaize squeezed her hand, and she glanced at him, taking comfort from his presence before turning her attention back to her brother. Edmund met her gaze and then gave Blaize the same cool-eyed study. “I have learned. I located an immortal abroad, and I’ve been her pupil. She taught me much. Our mother enchanted men and used Aurelia as bait to draw them to her. I have no idea how many she did away with in her search for immortals. If they were of no use to her, then she’d destroy them.”

  His steady voice drew her in, as it always had when he’d told her stories when she’d been a little girl. “You are still enchanted, Aurelia. It doesn’t affect you; you’re the magnet.” He turned his attention to Blaize. “You see what I mean?”

  Blaize closed his eyes, sighed. “I know. The moment I saw Aurelia, I wanted her. I thought—I didn’t think. I don’t care. She is my wife now and she will remain that way. I have faith in what we have.”

  “It might not last. It might not be as powerful. You could end up hating each other.”

  Blaize gave a derisory laugh. “How many marriages have you just described? It won’t happen, I tell you.”

  But Aurelia wasn’t so sure. Her emotions were true and real. She knew that. But her heart plummeted when she thought he might fall out of love with her.

  At that moment, the butler came in to inform them that dinner was ready and Aurelia discovered she had quite an appetite after all. Two courses of eight dishes each provided an elegant repast, and she tucked in with a will. Since the meal was an informal one, she had no compunction in dismissing the attendants. The footmen glanced at Blaize, who ignored them, and then they obeyed their new mistress.

  “We’ll ring when we need you,” she said, indicating the small handbell at her side. They bowed as they left.

  They discussed nothing important while they filled their bellies, but once Aurelia closed her knife and fork on her plate, she watched the men discuss the merits of the short sword in elegant swordplay and wondered.

  The change in her was subtle, not obvious unless she wanted to use one of her newfound powers. Speaking mentally, extra strength. She drank the wine sparingly, as she wanted to stay awake for the ensuing discussion that must take place although the fatigue Blaize had warned her about was already adding weights to her eyelids and sluggishness to her thoughts. The notion of bed, with clean sheets and her man to keep her warm beckoned temptingly. She’d excuse herself as soon as she could.

  Blaize glanced at her once or twice, but said nothing, either mentally or aloud about her condition. She appreciated that he trusted her to manage how she felt, without swamping her in care, but he remained with her, his support adding strength to her. How she could feel so content when so much was going on defeated her but here, in this elegant dining room, with its dark red walls and the spotless chandelier casting light on to the proceedings, she was happy. Landscapes decorated the walls, and the mahogany furniture glowed with careful polishing, giving the room an air of tranquil comfort. Blaize really did employ the best.

  The footmen came in when she was sure everyone had had enough and laid a charming dessert service, with delicacies in every dish, together with a new selection of wines. They could linger over this course and, convinced nobody expected her to withdraw in a solitary state after she’d eaten, Aurelia was content to pick at a dish of strawberries and sip a glass of white wine.

  Only then did she notice that the liquid in Blaize’s glass was water. At first she’d assumed he was drinking wine in his green-tinted goblet, but it proved not so when she saw him pour water into his glass from the jug on the table.

  That disturbed her. “You’re not drinking?”

  Sighing, Blaize cast his gaze to the ceiling. “No. I have a plan, and it involves me recruiting my people.”

  D’Argento groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Not again. Last time we put it down to a riot at Bedlam. What this time?”

  “A rather more substantial demonstration,” Blaize said. “It’s the only way. Let me explain. I will use the truth to trap her, but I need to build my power to make it strong enough.”

  It took him a shade less than two hours to convince everyone. By that time Aurelia was so tired she couldn’t think straight.

  Then an epiphany came to her, so clear, so obvious that she almost groaned and suddenly she was wide awake again.

  She knew what she had to do and nothing would stop her. Nothing and no one.

  Chapter Fourteen

  In their bedroom, she broached her topic. “I’m going with you.”

  He was standing at the dressing table, taking out the jewelled pin holding his neckcloth’s creases, but at her
words he spun around and the pin fell to the floor.

  Now she knew what a pin dropping sounded like.

  He stared at her. “No, you’re not. You can’t.”

  “I can. I’ll be your carer. Don’t the mad have carers?”

  “Not in the Incurables ward at Bedlam, and that’s where I’m going.”

  She shrugged. “They could. Or I could feign madness.”

  “That’s easy enough. But after they’ve chained you and made you lie in your own filth for a month, you’ll be mad in truth. Then they throw water over everyone. Usually out of the river or leftover from washing linen. You get grit to eat. They call it bread, but it can break your teeth, there’s so much gravel in it. And sour beer or water to drink. Don’t drink the water.” His mouth settled into a firm line. “Still want to do it?”

  Without hesitation, she nodded. “If you’re doing it, so am I.”

  He came to her then, and placed his hands on her upper arms. “My love, my love, I don’t want to see you in that place, seeing me as I am at these times. I want to keep you away from that.”

  “No. For better or for worse, remember? In sickness and in health. I meant it, even if you did not.” Determination filled her mind; she wouldn’t allow anything else. If this was their last time when pure love took them, then she wanted to be there when it happened. Wanted to see that light of love leave his eyes. Then she’d know what to do.

  “I need you here, to wait for me. I need to know you’re safe.”

  “I’m safer with you.”

  “Not when I’m mad.” He gazed down at her, his eyes lakes of sorrow, the grey the colour of rainclouds. “I could hurt you. Can you imagine how that would make me feel?”

  “And me, waiting at home like a good, obedient little wife. Is that what you want?” Aurelia wouldn’t stand for it. She knew her role in his life now, and it was that. “I can’t.”

  “Then you’ll leave me?”

  She turned away. “No.” She couldn’t do that. But she’d not stand by and let him take all the risks. This mess was partly her fault, but it was that consideration that forced her into making her stand. “You can trample me down, surround me with gauze until I can’t breathe. I won’t be me then, and our love will die. That’s not a promise or a threat, it’s a prediction. You want me. Well, you have me. All that I am, good and bad.”

  He touched her again, and she shuddered, resisting the yearning to turn around, go into his arms and let him have his way. But she would not. Could not. “I want to be more than the woman you protect. You won’t hurt me, Blaize, but perhaps you need to prove that to yourself as much as to me. You’re not sure, are you? When you’re mad and in full possession of your powers, when you’re not drugged.”

  His hands shook before he firmed his hold on her. In a low voice, he confessed, “I couldn’t bear it.”

  “Then be brave.” Having mastered her emotions enough to show him a bold face, she turned around, but didn’t move closer. “You won’t, Blaize. You attacked me in the maze because you were crazed and under the influence of drugs, perhaps enchantment. I’ve been reading. Bacchus’s madness isn’t like that. It’s not unreasoning and unthinking.”

  Gazing at her in silence, she could almost see him thinking, sense that clever mind working behind the darkened eyes until traces of silver-grey returned. And finally he spoke. “I spread my senses and take in anyone within a short distance. That can be a lot of people. I persuade them en masse and remove all the denials, all the things that tell them not to do what I want them to. In return I give them ecstatic frenzy. I can achieve great things in that state. Removing reason ensures actions and thoughts not normally undertaken. It gives sense to the nonsensical. But removing those natural barriers comes at a cost.”

  “In your natural state of madness you won’t hurt me.”

  Did he remember trying to throttle her, or was he relying on what she and d’Argento had told him? If he couldn’t remember, she had a better chance, because his emotions weren’t engaged at the time. “I can’t be sure of that.”

  “You’ve made me like you.” She moved closer, let him take her in his arms. “I’m strong, I can fight back.”

  “Not against me in the full power of my gift.” He cupped the back of her head. “I’m stronger, I’m more cunning than almost anyone alive today. I can destroy anyone I want to.”

  Despite the quiet words, she believed him. “I don’t care. With you, and your followers—”

  “Bacchantes,” he corrected her.

  “Bacchantes. With them, I’ll be safer against my mother. The centre of the whirlwind—the eye of the storm is the safest place.”

  He barked a laugh, and because he never closed his mind to her, not completely, she felt his anger rising. Nothing for her to fear. In fact, she could welcome it. “A fallacy. Do you want to know what it’s like when I don’t hold back? Do you?” His voice rose.

  “More than anything in the world.” She meant every word. She wouldn’t live a half-life, being constantly protected and sheltered. She knew she wouldn’t get in his way, and as strong as she was, she could fight for herself. Like many young ladies, she’d had some basic instruction on shooting and fencing. Fencing for balance and grace, shooting for country pursuits. It meant she knew the basics of fighting, the principles of defence. She would use that.

  “You don’t.”

  He groaned as if finding it hard to fight her. Good, she was glad. Dragging her close so she could scarcely breathe, he brought his mouth down on to hers. His lips crushed hers, pressing them hard against her teeth, and when he thrust his tongue into her mouth, she took it, sucked it and stroked it, ravenous for him.

  But he drew away, and when she tried to follow, eyes half-closed, he held her off. She snapped her eyes fully open. “Blaize, I want you.”

  “A bargain.” His face flamed with new purpose. “I had planned to send you away tonight. Stay with me. I won’t be fully open in the morning. I’ll be insane enough for d’Argento to get me into Bedlam with little effort, but still with some control over myself. See me then. You’ll change your mind.”

  “I won’t.” But she’d accept his bargain. “Make love to me, Blaize. Let me make love to you.”

  “You think you can cope with me in my other state? Free from reason, without civilisation?”

  She stared into eyes gone dark and wild. Lightness sparked from the edges, otherworldly, as if he’d already lost his mind. But she wasn’t afraid. She gazed into the eyes of her husband. At last, she’d know him as he really was. “Yes.”

  Only that word, but it was enough.

  He dragged her robe from her shoulders and tore at his, heedless of the fine silk. Fabric ripped and she was naked, her robe in ragged strips. She let the pieces fall where they would, reached for him. He shook off the remnants of his robe and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, slammed her against the nearest wall. She called out.

  But not for help. She cried his name.

  That one screamed “Blaize!” roused him, and he lifted her, pressed his erection against her, demanding entry.

  Aurelia opened her thighs, hooked them around his legs and let him support her. Tucking his hands under her backside, he dragged her up, level with him, and he thrust.

  She closed her eyes on the sheer ecstasy of his body filling hers, and she opened her mind. Deliberately let him take everything he wanted. He could destroy her, she knew, wipe her mind, but he would not. “I trust you, I love you.”

  Each word was jarred by his hard, punishing thrusts, driving her against the wall in a series of dull thuds. He didn’t stop, offered her no mercy. But that was fine, because she didn’t want any.

  “Show me.” Opening her eyes wide, she sent him the mental message. I want to see into you. Let me see.

  Some called the eyes the window of the soul, she couldn’t remember who. Not knowing didn’t make it any less true. Blinking, he opened his eyes.

  They looked normal, pale grey, warmly meetin
g hers. She looked deeper. “This is me,” he said. “All of it. Whenever you see me differently, remember this. You can bring me back this way, but only you.”

  Then she understood. He’d always given her the truth, told her who he was and what it meant to him to have her in his life. No different now. This was Blaize and it always would be. “I love you.”

  “And I love you,” he replied. Gritting his teeth, he pounded into her, driving her to a level of insanity that had nothing to do with wine or the lack of it. Something they shared, a heat, part of them both. Their own special kind of madness.

  Repeating, “Love you, love you,” he thrust until he became a part of her, until she couldn’t think of anything but him.

  Jagged spears of pleasure shot from where they joined, up her spine, through her mind and her heart, taking every part of her. If she died now, she’d have accomplished something because here and now she was linking the two parts of the man she loved.

  Wildness took him, and then her, pushing her higher, and still she didn’t come, or she did and this was part of one long orgasm. She couldn’t decide whether the spasms wracking her were part of that or of her opening up, accepting him, every part. If he wanted to kill her now, then it was his right. Not because he was her husband, but because she gave him the right.

  “Everything I am is yours. Everything.”

  Growling wordlessly, he shoved his body into hers, as graceless as she’d ever known him, letting go even of that, the elegance she’d thought such a part of him. “Come, damn you!”

  “It matters to you?” If he were truly mad, then surely it would not. Cause and causation would have no meaning for him. Or, perhaps, the feelings of others.

  “More than anything. I’m close, but I don’t want to go alone.”

  Crying his name, she pressed her shoulders against the wall behind her, pushing her body into his, her channel pulsing in hot, tight contractions against him, and with a shout, he came, flooding her so much that liquid trickled out of their joined bodies to dampen her thighs, even though he was still hard inside her.