Touch of Passion Read online

  She was still wary, despite the gentleness of his words. He was a shockingly handsome youth, and that, coupled with his obvious wealth, probably meant that he’d been spoiled beyond all reason. Why else would so young a gentleman frequent a tavern like the Red Fox? In such places he was treated like a full-grown man, especially by the whores. He had no cause to treat her with anything other than guile in order to gain what he wished.

  Everything about him bespoke wealth and high birth, from his tailored clothes to his finely formed features. His long, unusually light-colored hair was neatly tied back upon his neck. His blue eyes were disarmingly clear, so that they made her think of sparkling crystal, and yet were as penetrating as a hot sun. And his face was, simply, alarmingly beautiful. She’d never seen the like. He looked otherworldly, like one of the characters in the fairy stories that her father had told her at bedtime, slender and regal, almost delicate in form, yet undeniably powerful.

  Loris knew which twin he was. From the very first night they’d come, from the very first moment she’d seen him, she had known who he was. Probably, she told herself, because of his expression, which was far more cunning than that of his brother. She wasn’t truly afraid of him but recognized the look of a fearless, dangerous man when she saw one.

  “She struck you,” he said, and lifted a hand to touch her still-stinging cheek.

  Loris stepped away. “How do you know that? You can’t see that well in this darkness. Or did you hear what she said to me in the kitchen?”

  “I didn’t hear it,” he told her, moving forward with purposeful care, clearly striving to not frighten her. “But I know she hurt you. I can make it better. Let me.” Slowly, he stretched his hand out, and his fingers stroked her cheek with a gentle, tender touch. “You see?”

  The stinging began to fade and within but moments had gone altogether, so that she could feel nothing but the pleasurable caress of his fingertips.

  He had drawn even closer, so near that Loris could feel the warmth of his body. She stood, transfixed by the intense blue eyes, so light that they were visible even in the darkness, and wondered if he possessed some kind of hypnotizing magic. She felt captive, as if she couldn’t move while he stood there, his hand resting now upon her cheek, warm and strong.

  Loris had felt this way with him once before, on that first night when he and his brother had come to the Red Fox, well over a month ago. There had been a moment during the night when she had passed near his table and their eyes met … and he had stared at her almost as he was doing now. She had felt captive then, too, and drawn to him in an irresistible way. But the moment had passed, and Loris told herself that it had only been a trick of her mind. The fine young lord couldn’t have truly taken notice of her. It had simply been a mistake. A dream.

  But this wasn’t. He was very real, standing before her. And he was gazing at her in the same compelling manner as he had then.

  “Loris,” he murmured, and smiled, seeming pleased by the sound of the word. “How did you come to be given such a name? I have never heard it before.”

  “My father named me,” she replied, her voice small and thin to her ears.

  “It’s beautiful,” he said, still smiling. “As you are. You have such lovely hair, like gold”—his fingers slid upward, touching one of the unruly curls that had come loose from the ribbon she’d tied it up with earlier—“and such dark, pretty eyes. It wouldn’t have mattered what you look like, but I confess to being glad that you’re so pleasant to gaze upon.”

  She opened her mouth to protest the compliments, as she knew she should do, but couldn’t. The words were far too sweet, and he said them in such a wonderful manner. No one but her parents had ever spoken so kindly to her before.

  “Where is your father?” he asked. “And your mother? How did you come to be at the Red Fox?”

  “My parents are dead,” she told him. “My father often gambled here, before he fell ill. When he died, the Goodbodys were kind enough to take me in.” She left out the fact that they had demanded her service in payment for the money her father had owed them.

  Sympathy filled his gaze, and he murmured, “I’m sorry. If I’d only known earlier that you were here, alone, I would have found a way to come to you. But of course that would have been impossible,” he added, a touch of sudden amusement in his tone, “for I didn’t truly believe you existed until I set sight on you. And even after that it took some weeks before I at last believed the truth.”

  Loris reached up to the hand that yet cradled her face with the intention of pushing it away, but before she could do so his fingers folded over her own in a movement so quick that she couldn’t comprehend how it was that their hands were suddenly clasped.

  “Sir—”

  “I’ll not harm you,” he said again, and lowered her captive hand to gaze at it. “I realize that you have no cause to think well of me. I’ve done nothing to gain your goodwill these past several days”—he glanced up, looking suddenly embarrassed—“though I have wished for it. You see, I am not always kind, as my brother is, and when I first saw you and felt such strange magic, I fought hard against it.” He sounded nervous, as if he were making a confession of grave wrongdoing. Clearing his throat, he pressed on. “My behavior when you’ve been present has been … well, perhaps we shouldn’t speak of it in detail.” He gave a small shake of his head. “I wish I’d not been so free with the other women in front of you, but it can’t be helped now. I thought, at the time, it might somehow change things, but that was a foolish wish. You’ve no need to fear that the behavior will continue.” He lifted his other hand so that hers was completely enveloped in a warming clasp and smiled at her reassuringly. “Now that I’m certain of what’s happened, I’ll be different. Everything will be different, Loris. You need never worry. I shall be faithful, even if I have not been before.”

  Loris began to feel rather alarmed at this incoherent speech, and at his strange behavior. “There’s no need to say such things to me, sir. I must go back in now, if you please.”

  He didn’t release her. Instead, he continued speaking. “The trouble was,” he said, as if she should already understand, “that I didn’t truly believe what my family had told me about such things. But it happened all the same, just as they said it would. I was so taken aback.” He laughed softly. “It was like being run down by a post coach. I scarce knew who I was. And what a strange place to find one’s destiny.” He cast a glance back at the light that spilled out of the tavern’s open doorway. “I always thought it would be in Wales, if it was going to happen at all, at some party or ball or family gathering. But, except for what you’ve suffered here, I don’t mind this being the place.” He smiled at her warmly and lightly squeezed her hand. “I’m just glad it’s happened.”

  “Please, sir,” she pleaded, “I only came out for a moment, and must go back in. Mrs. Goodbody will be very angry if she finds me gone.”

  “Oh, you needn’t worry about her any longer, for I shall take care of you now. You must come to live with us until you’ve grown old enough for marriage. What are you? Thirteen? Fourteen?” He laughed again. “So young—I’m still amazed to think of it. But it is just as well, for you’ll have time to get to know me. I’m just turned seventeen, so we’re well matched. I don’t think I could have borne a very great difference in ages, could you?”

  He was mad, she decided. Completely crazed. Or drunk. Or, more likely, both. Loris began to tug at her hand.

  “Sir … my lord …”

  “Kian,” he corrected. “I should have told you that before, but I fear my wits have gone begging.” He released her at last and stepped back to make her a formal bow. “Kian Seymour, of Castle Tylluan in Montgomeryshire, North Wales.” He straightened. “You’ll love Tylluan, for there is scarce more beautiful land on God’s earth. My father is Baron Tylluan. You’ll like him, too, once you’ve had a chance to get used to him. He is rather mad much of the time, but harmlessly so. And he’ll love you—he’s always longed for a d
aughter.” He turned his head slightly, toward the open kitchen door. “And here is my brother coming to find me. Dyfed!” he shouted. “I’m here, in the alley, and I’m in company, so mind how you speak.”

  His brother’s blond head appeared from around the door, illuminated by the light. He stared at them for a silent moment until he was able to make out their figures in the foggy darkness.

  “Kian, for God’s sake, what are you doing out here?”

  “Speaking to beautiful Loris,” Kian said happily, moving quickly to pull Dyfed out of the tavern complete and in Loris’s direction. “You’ve both already met in a way, though perhaps you are not aware of each other’s names. Dyfed, this is Loris. Loris, this is my brother, Dyfed Seymour. He’s the younger, if you were worried about that. I am the inheritor of the lands and title.”

  Loris stared from one to the other, wondering whether she should start screaming for help. But the look on the face of the second twin stopped her. He was clearly as bewildered and concerned as she was, and that gave her a small measure of comfort.

  “Kian, how could you?” he asked in a low tone, sounding utterly disgusted. “She’s but a child.”

  His elder brother frowned at him. “It isn’t like that. Not at all.”

  “I know just what it’s like,” the other said. “You’ve gone too far this time, Kian. It’s worse than two or even three at a time. I’m sickened to think of what you intended. And if you’ve done this child any harm I shall make you pay for it dearly. Come, girl, and I’ll take you safe inside.” He reached out a hand, and Loris took it gladly.

  Kian stepped in their way. “You’ll not take her anywhere,” he said. “You misunderstand everything, Dyfed, and give both Loris and me great insult.”

  Loris began to tremble and felt the younger brother’s comforting arm come about her.

  “Do I?” he countered angrily. “I suppose you were discussing British history with the young miss, or perhaps your favorite passages from The Mabinogion? Don’t take me for a fool. I know you too well to believe such lies. I shall tell Father of this, and perhaps even Malachi.”

  Kian took a step nearer, his expression one of fury, and began to speak harshly in a strange language that Loris didn’t understand. His brother countered in kind, and soon they were shouting at each other in the indecipherable tongue.

  She’d had more than enough and broke away, running too quickly for the elder brother to catch her, though he certainly tried. He might have had better luck if his twin hadn’t grabbed his arm and forcibly held him back.

  “Loris!” she heard him cry, but she pushed her way into the kitchen, not looking back.

  “Damn you, Dyfed! Let me go!”

  Kian tried to shake his brother off, but Dyfed held him fast.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Dyfed demanded. “From the first time you lay with a female you preferred full-grown women, and there are plenty of them here to satisfy you. Leave that young girl be.”

  “Idiot!” Kian shouted furiously. “It has nothing to do with that!”

  Dyfed’s grasp only grew stronger. “What does it have to do with, then?” he demanded. “Tell me and I’ll let you go.”

  “Let me go now,” Kian said in a warning tone, “or I’ll make you do so. Your powers are nothing to mine.”

  “Aye, your powers are stronger,” Dyfed agreed, “but I’ve strength enough to hold you until I can make you see sense.”

  Kian made a sound of complete exasperation. “There’s nothing to make sense of. I can’t tell you anything yet. Not until I’ve talked to Father. And Malachi.”

  “What do they have to do with it?”

  “I have to explain something to them. That’s all. Dyfed, let me go!”

  “Tell me what you have to explain,” Dyfed insisted, “and why the girl matters.”

  “Because,” Kian said with impatience, “I want her to come and live with us at Castle Tylluan. That’s all I’m telling you now.”

  Dyfed pulled his brother closer, looking carefully into his face. “You want to take her to Tylluan?” he repeated with disbelief. “A young girl, among so many rude men? A stranger to us, who knows nothing of our ways, nothing of magic?”

  “I know it’s odd,” Kian admitted. “I felt the same way only days ago. But I’m telling you that it must be.”

  “And I’m telling you that it cannot be,” said Dyfed, releasing him at last, slowly. “I’ve just learned that she’s being sold to Gregor Foss. He’s to take her this very night. Mrs. Goodbody told me so when she saw you follow the girl out here.”

  Kian was stunned. Gregor Foss was overlord to one of London’s most dangerous rookeries and counted among the deadliest men in the city. Kian had gambled with the fellow once before at the Red Fox and had decided never to do so again, even though Kian had come out the winner. Foss wasn’t a man who took losing lightly, and Kian wasn’t so foolish as to press his luck with a man who’d as soon kill him for a half crown as win it.

  A chilly wind riffled his hair and sent shivers coursing down the length of his spine. “That’s not possible,” he said, shaking his head. “He’d have no interest in a mere girl like …” Then realization struck. “He wants her for one of his whores,” he said, anger rapidly taking the place of incredulity.

  Gregor Foss was one of those who liked starting his whores young so that he might make the most profit from them. Women who plied their trade on the docks tended to die at an early age; a girl of thirteen would last a good ten years, at least, before falling ill. And Foss would be more than willing to pay a goodly sum for a beauty like Loris, for whose company he could demand a higher price.

  Kian’s anger soared. The very idea of another man so much as touching the one who had been destined as his filled him with an uncontrollable wrath.

  “He’ll not have Loris,” he vowed harshly. “Ever.”

  Dyfed reached out to grasp Kian’s arm again. “You can’t stop him without using magic,” he said firmly. “He’s too big and has too many of his men with him. He’ll try to shoot you the moment you say a word against him, or attempt to stick a knife in you. You’ll be forced to use magic to stop him. Either way it’s going to be a terrible mistake. If you must rescue the girl, at least let me call for Malachi or Niclas. They’ll take care of it without any trouble.”

  “There’s not enough time,” Kian said curtly, shrugging free. “We don’t even know whether Lord Graymar is in London. And Cousin Niclas will be at some party or ball, as he ever is. It might take hours for you to get in touch with either of them.”

  “Give me ten minutes,” said Dyfed. “Just let me try.”

  “I don’t need their help,” Kian retorted. “I can manage Foss on my own.”

  “Not without using magic,” Dyfed said insistently. “And if you use more than you already have this night, we’ll be banished from London forever. I don’t want to be banished.”

  Kian gave him a look filled with scorn. “Your concern for Loris is astonishing, Brother. What happened to the champion of moments ago?”

  “He’s standing here being sensible, as usual,” Dyfed shot back with matching contempt. “Please, Kian, just stop for once and think before you do something rash. Even if Foss takes the girl, Malachi can get her back before any harm comes to her. No one denies the Earl of Graymar anything that he demands, certainly not a knave like Foss. There’s no need for you to be a fool and risk so much for the both of us.”

  “Oh yes, there is,” Kian said softly, holding his brother’s gaze. “Loris will be filled with fear if Foss takes her, and I’ll not let her suffer even a moment if I can stop it. Now make your choice, Dyfed. You may come back inside, or send for help, or go home. It matters not to me what you decide, but I am going into the tavern now.”

  Gregor Foss was a big man. Very big. And powerfully built. He towered over more normal men and seemed to fill any room that he entered with his dark, hairy person.

  Loris had always been terrified of him, knowing his r
eputation for violence, but never more than at this moment, when she realized that none of her pleading was going to change the Goodbodys’ minds. Foss had offered them a sizable sum for her, and they’d be unlikely to turn it aside for the sake of a mere serving girl. Even if they’d wanted to do so, they would be far too afraid to anger so powerful a man by refusing him what he wanted.

  His hands were in accord with his size; Loris could feel the strength in them as he ran his large palms over her arms and waist, examining his new purchase with a satisfied smile.

  “There’s a good, healthy girl you are. Pretty as a flower, and just as sweet I’d wager, eh?” He laughed and gave her a squeeze, then slid his meaty hands down to her hips, which he patted with more care. “What do you think, then, lads?” he asked the men who’d accompanied him, all of whom were sitting behind him, drinking ale and eyeing her with interest. “Is she worth what I paid?”

  “Pretty,” one of them agreed. “But she’s a skinny little bit, ain’t she?”

  “Aye, that she is,” Foss agreed. “Look how small her waist is. I can almost wrap a single hand full around it.” He laughed again.

  Another of the half-drunken men sat forward, a tankard wavering in his grip. “She’s still growin’.” He leered at Loris, his appreciative gaze wandering over her young figure. “Looks like she’ll have what she needs in a year or two.”

  “I’ll make a fortune off her long before then,” Foss declared. “Only think what she’ll bring after.”

  Loris stood captive, stunned beyond speech or movement. Mr. Goodbody’s pronouncement that she’d been sold to Foss had caused a desperate, almost involuntary pleading on Loris’s part, but the following realization of her situation had silenced her. From the moment Gregor Foss set his hands on her body, fear and shock had left her as chilled and immobile as stone. She knew she was present but felt far, far away. So far that when Kian Seymour reentered the tavern and began to push his way toward her with forceful purpose, she could scarce make her mind think of anything more useful than what a fine figure he made against the rough crowd filling the Red Fox.