Making his way to the top floor, past the servants’ wing, Alaric found the door that led to the interior of a forgotten past. It was full of portraits stacked against the slanted walls and various other items that had probably once held places of honor in the home, now cast aside beneath layers of dust. The sight would have likely broken Marlene’s heart, should she have witnessed it for herself. Years’ worth of memories crammed into a dusty space to be ignored for the rest of eternity and eventually tossed away.
Alaric had no ties to this place, but his chest ached with rage for the woman who did. Grinding his jaw, he set about doing what he’d come here to do. The rest could wait until after Hector had been dealt with, but after seeing clothes tossed in piles instead of carefully folded away into trunks and preserved, he vowed that Sir Arthur would have his day of reckoning.
Again, Alaric was starting to lose heart, but when he turned, his foot scraped against the edge of a small metal box. It immediately caught his attention, because it looked like something that might have sat upon a ladies’ dresser. But rather than some sort of feminine toiletries inside, he found a faded, blue diary. The front of it was embossed in gold lettering and proclaimed the name of Lady Marian St. Clair.
He riffled through a few pages, and then he came to the time when Marlene had started to become ill. After that, it became the desperate cry for help between a despondent mother and the daring choices she had to make to save her daughter’s life.
A few pages later, he finally came across the paragraph that gained him the proof he’d been looking for to tie Lady Marian to Hector. Suddenly, her presence at the Cyprian’s ball all those years ago made complete sense.
He tucked the diary inside his jacket pocket and walked over to the window in the attic. Lifting it just enough where he could slip outside, he turned into the crow and flew out into the late afternoon and soared toward the heavy gray clouds that were hanging overhead.
Marlene stayed in her chamber for the rest of the evening. She put the pentacle back around her neck and kept it securely tucked within her bodice. She opted to take a supper tray in her rooms and requested a bath as darkness descended over the land. She was certain that it would go far to restore her current, unsettled state. She didn’t dare go back to the room to see if the key was still imbedded in the wood of the cabinet. Her curiosity was abated for the moment. She would rely on Alaric to check on it when he returned. Which, she hoped, would be soon.
After Amy had brought several buckets full of steaming water for the copper tub, Marlene removed her clothes and stepped inside once the temperature was bearable. She sank down into the calming heat and allowed the familiar scents of lavender and jasmine to envelope her senses. Those had always been her mother’s favorites, and Marlene had made sure to procure the same for her toilette before she’d left London. She knew she would have to use it sparingly, as such luxuries would be few and far between for a woman in her destitute position, but she hadn’t been able to resist one extravagance, knowing there would be a time when she would need that reminder of long ago.
With her hair pinned into a simple knot on her head, Marlene leaned back against the lip of the tub and closed her eyes with a sigh. She wasn’t sure when she would be able to enjoy a lingering bath like this again, so she intended to make the most of her time. She rested an arm on either side of the tub and allowed the combined fragrances to envelope her.
It wasn’t long until she was lost to the serenity.
But then something changed.
It wasn’t a chill or an odd feeling that swept over her skin, but rather the sensation of a gentle hand upon her flesh. She yearned to open her eyes, but they were heavy, almost as if she was in some sort of trance. Her lips parted as the tracing finger trailed along the tops of her breasts. She imagined that it was Alaric there with her, and she started to fall deeper into the fantasy.
Her tongue swept out to moisten her lips, as the hand slid along the valley of her chest, and down past her quivering stomach. Her hands gripped the tub on either side of her and her back arched. For a fantasy, it was starting to become all too real.
When the phantom hand trailed along her core, her legs moved restlessly. Her breath was leaving her lungs in erratic pants of arousal. No! Something wasn’t right. This was wrong.
She tried to open her eyes, but something urged her to keep them closed. She did temporarily, but when she felt the sensation of a hand toying with her nipple, her eyes popped open—to see a face in front of her.
She screamed and dove beneath the water in the tub, the only avenue of escape that she could think of. Looking through the waves above her, she saw the smug image of a man staring back at her, and then he vanished, just before two strong arms reached into the tub and pulled her out of a certain, watery death.
Marlene coughed, trying to catch her breath, as she crossed her arms over her bare breasts. She was trembling, but it had nothing to do with the tepid water that surrounded her. “Put this on,” a stern voice commanded.
She glanced up and saw Alaric standing there. His expression was one of abject fury, but she didn’t argue the offering of the banyan as he held it out to her. He turned his head, and she shoved her damp arms into the sleeves and pulled it closed around her. After she tied it securely, she wrapped her arms around her middle.
He turned back to face her. “I heard your screams just as I arrived and came running. What happened.” It wasn’t a question, but more of a statement that demanded explanation.
“I’m… not exactly sure.” She closed her eyes, but when her mind chose to replay the scene that had just transpired, they flew open. Rather than lock her gaze with Alaric, she looked at a random spot on the floor. “It was similar to what happened in the woods. In the midst of the fog.”
Her gaze flicked to him long enough to see him shove a hand through his dark hair. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized the queue he normally wore was absent. And he was still attired in the same clothes he’d worn the day before when he’d left for London. She was curious about that, but rather than question him, she swallowed hard and revealed everything else that had happened. “That’s not all.”
“Tell me.”
“I went to your study and found the book of keys, exactly where you said it would be. I searched the entire tome but found nothing that matched the one I had.” She inhaled a steady breath. “But just when I was starting to get frustrated, the key started to glow in my palm once more, as if it had a lifeforce all its own.”
“Magic.”
That single word found a way to strike fear into her heart. “I am convinced now more than ever,” she whispered. “It led me to the herbal room and would gain strength of light when I passed certain elements. That’s when I knew it wanted me to make some sort of potion.”
“What kind?” he asked adamantly.
“One that offered the gift of sight.” This time she did lift her gaze and regarded him steadily. “It even showed me the page I would need to make it, but I didn’t feel comfortable doing so without you there to instruct me.”
He seemed to breathe a little easier once she had revealed that. “Very smart thinking on your part.” He paused. “Go on.”
“When I told the key that I wanted to speak to you, it seemed to get… angry.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure how else to explain it, and then it flew at me and stuck in one of the cabinets. The only thing that saved me was the pentacle.” She glanced to where it lay on the nearby dresser.
Alaric walked over and picked it up, returning to hand it to her. When she started to argue, he lifted her hand and pressed it into her palm. “There is an evil force determined to have you. I told you before that I won’t allow it.”
