She slipped her hand out of his grasp and hugged herself. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you should possess the ability to transport us back here so effortlessly, but it is still rather disconcerting.”
He ground his jaw as he walked over and set down the lantern, blowing out the flame within. He slowly turned back to her. “It has never been my intention to frighten you with my power. I daresay it wasn’t something that I ever desired, nor asked for. It was a gift that was handed down to me through the years.”
“The same appears to be said for me.” Her gaze fell to the book that was still in his grasp. “I now know that it was my ancestor who was calling out to me, trying to warn me of the peril of associating with witches, but also where to find the Book. Mr. Ashley, whatever his tie might have been to my family, became a strong enough bond that it gave me the power of sight after I was healed by Hector.”
He lifted a brow and tried to make light of the darkening mood in the room. “Are you trying to claim that you are an honorary witch?”
He was rewarded by the slight twitch of her lips. “Not quite. But I will admit that there are some things that I cannot explain.” She gestured to the mantel. “I am confident that if I tried to uncover the secret door, it would no longer be there, just as the day you asked me to pull back the edge of Roxane’s painting in the portrait gallery.”
Alaric considered her words and decided that she made a fair point. It was plausible that the combination of her inner abilities passed down through her bloodline and the magic present at Rosedale Heights was enough to allow her certain power of her own.
“We also have the matter of the mysterious key. I thought it would open whatever held the Book, but it was loose in the wall.”
“Indeed,” he concurred. Setting his hands on his hips, he paced about the room. “I’m still trying to puzzle that out. It surely has to do with your tie to the author of this Book, because you are the one it continues to be drawn to. The question that remains is how it pertains to you.” He stopped and exhaled slowly. “We can discuss this more tomorrow. No doubt you are weary after such a restless night roaming for lost treasure.”
He was glad to see a smile touched her lips. “It was definitely not a predicable outcome.”
“And yet, a successful one. At least, depending upon how you look at it.” He set the Book on her bed.
Her eyes were wide, almost luminous in their dark intensity. “What are you doing?”
“You heard the bookseller. This was meant for you. I dare not trod upon a familial bond such as this.”
“I was only retrieving it for you.” She gathered the Book and handed it back to him. “Please. Keep it in your secret study where I know it will be safe and hidden from plain view. This is my wish should anyone, past or present, question my decision.”
He hesitated, but then accepted the offering. “Very well. I will take it there this very minute.” With his free hand, he reached out and cupped her cheek. “Thank you for entrusting me with its care.”
She smiled. “You haven’t failed me thus far. I should think a book would be an easy enough task.”
Chapter 20
It took some time for Marlene to fall asleep after Alaric left her, but just as dawn was breaking the horizon, she found that exhaustion made the decision for her. When she awoke, the sun was streaming brightly through her windows. A glance at the clock showed that it was half past noon.
She considered just lying there for the remainder of the day, but that would solve nothing. The troubles that weighed heavily on her mind would still be present when she opened her eyes again, so it was best to face her demons. She wondered if Alaric had kept true to his word and seen that Lady Erica was returned home where she belonged. If Marlene had something to occupy her mind, perhaps some of her concerns would start to ease. She had learned so much about her past in this place that it was difficult to try to look forward to the future. What other horrors must she face? To live with the knowledge that her ancestor had written a book so omnipotent that witches were causing chaos and death in pursuit of it did not settle well with her. She felt responsible, when she’d had no control over its creation.
There had been a time, when she’d stared into the glowing fire in her room, that she’d wondered if it might just be best to burn it to ash. No doubt there would be a certain satisfaction in watching the paper edges curl and destroy themselves, ending the tome’s rule so that it could no longer cause the destruction of others—if it was even able to be eradicated at all. Nevertheless, Alaric would have likely forbidden it, because it contained the history of witchcraft—his heritage.
As she dressed for the day, Marlene felt as though she might be sick. However, she pushed through her emotions and donned an emerald green gown. After fixing her hair in the appropriate fashion and pinching her cheeks to add a bit of color that was lacking, she headed for the door.
When she walked out into the hallway, she didn’t notice a shadowed figure standing near the entrance to her chamber. But when the darkness began to speak, Marlene turned around with a startled gasp.
“I’ve been wondering when you were going to rise from your slumber, Miss St. Clair.” The woman who spoke was enchanting and terrifying all at once. She wore a black dress with a heavy, ruby necklace about her throat. Her eyes were as black as her straight, midnight hair. She held a black cat in her arms and stroked it slowly, almost sensually. “I have been rather eager to meet you.”
Marlene wanted to back away, but she stood her ground. “Who are you?”
“Did Sir Gothry not tell you about me?” She made a noise of frustration and rolled her eyes. “Men are so forgetful, aren’t they?” She tilted her head to the side. “My name is Lady Catharine Hornsby. I’m a widow from London, and part of his personal circle of particular friends.”
She noted the emphasis Lady Catharine put on the word “personal,” not caring for the insinuation that there was more between them. Although she didn’t know Alaric’s history, nor his preferences when it came to women, she didn’t think that he would allow himself to become bewitched by such a female.
She dared to move closer to her. “And yet, he has told you about me, which makes me confident in saying I’m his particular friend at Rosedale Heights.” She allowed the briefest of smiles to touch her lips.
Rather than looking annoyed, Lady Catharine laughed in a perfectly smooth tone that rivaled that of the masculine version of Sir Gothry. “He has made a good choice in you, Miss St. Clair. You are no wilting miss to faint at the first sign of adversity. I daresay I had to witness your bravery for myself, and you have not disappointed.” She slowly walked past her, those dark eyes sweeping down her form and taking in every detail. “It’s a shame you are in love with our handsome host, because I might be persuaded to offer a stay at my residence in London.” She lifted the feline and nuzzled her face against the dark fur. “I’m sure we might have become the very best of friends.” As she moved off, she melted into the shadows and disappeared from view.
Marlene was still attempting to recover from such a disturbing encounter when the door to Lady Erica’s room opened and she turned to find the older woman standing there in a dark blue dress and a warm smile.
“My lady,” she said in relief, as she dipped into a respectful curtsy. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“And you, Miss St. Clair. I daresay I had a nice visit with my dear friend in the village, but it’s good to be back home. I just ordered some tea and refreshments. Won’t you join me?” She waved her hand and Marlene walked into her private sitting room.
