Guardian - Stolen Magic Part 6

Though the night had been cool, the morning was pleasantly warm, with the richness of spring in the air. Lady Beth had found a pretty bonnet for Meg to preserve her complexion. Meg had accepted the bonnet demurely, though Simon suspected that she had been a bareheaded hoyden at Castle Drayton.

As they stepped into the s.p.a.cious garden, Meg asked, "Before we discuss magic, I have a question. You mentioned the Royal Society. What is that?"

"A group of men who are interested in natural philosophy. The society is over a hundred years old." His voice turned dry. "Drayton is also a fellow of the society. We share an interest in mathematics and mechanics."

Her brows arched. "Do you see him often?"

"Not very. We have never been friends." Though neither had they been enemies, until now.

"Mathematics and mechanics," she mused. "The very opposite of magic."

He hadn't thought of it that way. "Perhaps it's how I maintain internal balance. The study of natural philosophy is a matter of the mind. Magic comes from somewhere else entirely."

"Where?"

The simplest questions were always the hardest. "Ultimately magic comes from nature, though no one understands the underlying rules, or why some people have the gift of shaping magic and others don't."

"So it's a mystery. Then I shall concentrate on the how and not worry about the why. What sorts of magic should I avoid?"

He started with the most dangerous. "Do not conjure spirits and demons, which are nonhuman ent.i.ties of great and unpredictable power. Mages who are too curious or ambitious sometimes do this, and the results are never good."

"Spirits and demons? Are you serious?" she asked incredulously.

"Entirely." He hoped he wasn't giving her ideas. "But that sort of magic is rare and usually involves complicated rituals. It's not something you're likely to stumble on by accident. It's quite another matter to sense a ghost and strike up a conversation. That's usually harmless and sometimes educational."

She glanced at him askance, her eyes more green than gray. "Now I am certain you're joking!"

"Word of honor, I am not." He gestured toward the far corner of the garden. "A ghost sometimes lingers by a ruin nearby. Shall we see if it's there today?"

Meg's fingers tightened on his arm, but she nodded. As they approached a mound of old tumbled stones, which had been planted with flowers and shrubs to look picturesque, Simon said, "Open your mind. If you sense a presence that seems human, describe it to me."

She nodded again, her eyes wide. They halted by the edge of the stones, and for a long moment there was no sound but the breeze rippling leaves and an occasional bird trill. "It's female," Meg murmured. "An older woman. The stones were part of a gardener's cottage, and she was wife to a gardener who lived here. She was crippled, and on sunny days her husband would bring her out and put her in a chair so she could enjoy the sunshine and flowers."

He nodded. "That's her. Can you ask her a question?"

"I can try." Meg closed her eyes, then exhaled softly. "I asked her why she is here, and she said that it's because she was happy in this garden, sharing a cup of tea with her husband. On sunny days when her husband is busy with his-his 'celestial garden,' I suppose would be the best term-she likes to come back and remember." Meg curtseyed. "Thank you, Mrs. Jones. I shall be sure to call again if I can."

Simon also sent a greeting to the ghost, whom he'd met before, then guided Meg away. As they moved into the cutting garden, she asked, "Are all spirits so pleasant?"

He shook his head. "Not usually. That's why I thought that starting with Mrs. Jones was a good idea. Ghosts are often angry, occasionally vengeful. Sometimes they are lost or sad, eager to tell their stories to anyone who can hear them. I've had the experience of listening to a ghost's tale, then sensing the ghost vanish into the light."

"By 'the light,' do you mean the presence of G.o.d?" Meg asked in a hushed voice.

"Perhaps. I'm not sure." But he did find that occasional glimpse of light comforting. "Even an angry ghost is unlikely to hurt you, particularly if you're shielded. Often they are wounded spirits who can be set free once they are healed of whatever torments them. Some Guardians take it as their mission to find such wounded spirits and help them so they can move to a better place."

"That sounds like a worthy occupation." Meg looked hopefully around the garden. "Are there any more ghosts at White Manor?"

"I don't think so. Lady Bethany doesn't allow wounded spirits here. She has a special gift for communications of all types, which is why she's on the Guardian Council. The nine council members communicate by means of enchanted quartz spheres that enable them to meet together even if they are in different places." He guided them to a bench set under a pleasantly private tree. "We've discussed ghosts and the dangers of conjuring dark spirits. It is equally dangerous to intrude uninvited on the mind and spirit of another mage."

She shivered. "In other words, I shouldn't try to probe Lord Drayton's mind? Don't worry-I don't want to come near him either mentally or physically."

Simon bent and plucked a violet that had sprouted by the leg of the garden bench. It was pretty and delicate, like Meg. Though she was less delicate than she appeared. "You've heard Lady Bethany and me speak of many forms of magic. It must be confusing. Is there anything we've mentioned you would like to know more about?"

She pulled off her bonnet and looked up to the sky. "You said that your friend Duncan Macrae saved us by conjuring a storm. How is that done?"

"Most Guardians can move a cloud or freshen a breeze, but a true weather mage can sense the winds and temperatures for vast distances, and then shape them to his will. That is what happened the night we escaped from the castle. Duncan was able to build the existing storm into a major tempest to cover our flight into the forest."

Her brow furrowed and he could see that she was trying to sense the weather. One of the clouds above accelerated faster than its fellows for a minute, then vanished.

"I moved a cloud, but I can't seem to feel larger patterns," she said. "Perhaps I will do better with practice."

"It's possible, but the most powerful weather mages are invariably male. Some magics are more often found in men, and others in women."

"What are some of the female abilities?"

"Women tend to be stronger healers and they read emotions better. There is also the enchantress, a sorceress whose allure can turn male brains to rubble." He studied the violet and thought of Gwynne Owens, wife to Duncan Macrae. As beautiful as she was intelligent, Gwynne could make monks riot if she chose to turn on the full force of her power. "Luckily for men, there are few enchantresses."

"Is there no male equivalent of the enchantress?"

"Some men have a powerful ability to attract women, but that magic doesn't seem as strong as the female version. Or perhaps females are wiser when it comes to attraction." Certainly he didn't feel very wise when he gazed at Meg. Though he knew how wrong it was to have such feelings for a girl under his protection, the desire to touch her was increasing, not fading.

He reminded himself that she wasn't a girl but a woman. Her softly molded features had an innocence that must come from losing so many of her growing years, and in some ways she was like a fourteen-year-old girl. But when he looked into her eyes, he saw a depth of pain that no one could experience and still be a child.

Without conscious volition, his hand moved and tucked the violet behind her ear. It was an effort to pull his hand away rather than trace the line of her ear or cup the blossom-smooth curve of her cheek. "Don't think only of magic, Meg. Take time to enjoy life, as you weren't allowed to do for the last ten years."

Her gaze narrowed, and the energy between them thickened with sensual awareness. No, Meg wasn't a girl at all. She was a woman in her prime who was hungry for experience, and who looked at him with eyes that mirrored his longing.

He leaned forward, his conscience screaming, This is a mistake! But it would only be a kiss. One simple kiss . . .

Her soft lips were inexperienced but willing. Desire surged through him like a tidal wave and shattered his vaunted self-control. He wanted to bury himself in her, soothe the ragged edges of his spirit in gentle feminine strength. He slid his arms around her, marveling at her supple warmth as he deepened the kiss. "Meg," he whispered. "Brave Meg, the warrior maiden."

She didn't stop kissing him, but she placed her hand in the center of his chest in an uncertain attempt to keep him from going too fast. The simple gesture broke through the flood of his yearning, reminding him of all the reasons he should keep his distance. Not only was she under his protection, but an innocent who had already been robbed of too much by a heedless Guardian.

Pa.s.sion turned to fury with himself. He pulled away. "I'm sorry, Meg. I shouldn't have done that."

Her hand slid from his chest to his wrist, holding him from withdrawing as she stared at him with confusion. He had taken a piece of her innocence with his kiss, and he hated himself for that.

It took a moment for him to recognize that magic was crackling around him and that the boundaries of his human form were weakening. Drayton's cursed spell was flaring to life. "d.a.m.nation, not again!" he said helplessly.

Meg's expression changed to swift comprehension. She raised his hand and bit his third finger hard, drawing blood. As the pain jolted him, she ripped the bandage from her wounded finger and broke the scab to release crimson blood.

She pressed her finger to his, and Drayton's spell dissolved, harmless once again. Heart hammering, Simon moistened his dry lips. Even as a near-miss, Drayton's spell was draining. "Thank G.o.d for your quick thinking, Meg." Carefully he removed his hand from hers.

"It's like walking on thin ice, isn't it?" she asked, her face pale. "At any moment it might crack beneath you."

Before he could reply, Lady Bethany appeared, breathing hard. "Thank heaven you're all right, Simon! I felt a rush of magic and thought to find you a unicorn again."

"Not this time, but only because Meg acted so quickly." He rose to give Lady Beth his seat, then described what had happened.

"Perhaps you really will need to keep a vial of virgin blood with you if the spell can activate at random," Lady Bethany said, troubled. "Meg, would you be willing to contribute?"

Before Meg could answer, Simon said, "The spell isn't being triggered randomly. I was angry both times the spell reactivated. I think that anger-the loss of control-weakens me to the point where the spell can take over." He paced back and forth, his muscles tense. "I suspect that the more often I transform to the unicorn form, the more beastlike my spirit will become, and the easier it will be for the spell to overpower me."

Meg looked away from him. "You were angry with me, Lord Falconer?"

"No!" Though he wasn't proud of revealing his weakness to Lady Beth, it couldn't be avoided. "Lady Beth, I kissed Meg. I think that the lingering effect of the unicorn-virgin bond is undermining my sense of what is proper. I was so angry with myself for behaving badly that Drayton's spell started to overcome me."

"So anger is the key?" Lady Beth's brow furrowed. "Forgive me for asking, Simon, but I must know. You're sure it was anger that made you vulnerable, not desire?"

He thought back to those disturbing moments. "It was definitely anger. I've been attracted powerfully to Meg for some time, and even when I kissed her, Drayton's spell didn't manifest. Only when I came to my senses and became furious with myself did the spell come alive."

Lady Bethany looked from Simon to Meg and back again. "The two of you will have to stay very close together in London. Meg, you have the ability to stop Simon from transforming. Simon, you have the strength to shield her from Drayton's power. I'm wondering if the best solution is for the two of you to marry."

CHAPTER NINE.

Meg's jaw dropped. "You think we should marry?"

Stopped in his tracks, Lord Falconer looked equally stunned, a fallen angel who had just hit the earth hard. Only Lady Bethany remained calm. "You needn't look so shocked. Simon, Meg can protect you from the transformation spell, as she just proved, and you can protect her from Lord Drayton."

"That can be done short of marriage!" he retorted.

"Marriage is the most common way for a man and women to be together, and you do need to be together. Remember how you managed to call Duncan Macrae when you needed help? You shouldn't have been able to reach so far, even in a crisis." Lady Bethany's glance moved to Meg. "My guess is that you managed because you were with Meg and she enhanced your natural abilities. You both have tremendous power, which means you need mates of comparable abilities."

"You forget that Meg's virginity has been vital to saving me," Falconer said dryly. "That's the ant.i.thesis of marriage."

Lady Bethany brushed that aside with an airy gesture. "You wouldn't be able to consummate the marriage until this problem with Drayton is resolved, but that's only a matter of time."

"I wish I had your confidence," he said soberly.

As the two Guardians talked, Meg stared at Falconer, trying to imagine him as a husband. Her husband! Sunlight filtering through the branches of the tree touched his hair with silver gilt. Though he wore plain garments borrowed from someone in the White Manor household, he was unmistakably an aristocrat: powerful, wellborn, and confident. How could a girl with no family, not even a name, be a suitable wife?

For the first time, she recognized that despite his aura of authority, he wasn't old, probably not much above thirty. He had treated her kindly, which Lord Drayton certainly never had. And he was fearsomely attractive. . . .

Suppressing that thought, she said, "I can't imagine that Lord Falconer would wish to tie himself to a n.o.body who is ignorant of the world. Surely he must have his choice of every wealthy, wellborn woman in Britain."

"You'd be surprised," Falconer murmured. "Don't undervalue yourself, Meg. For mundanes, property is of vital importance at every level of society, whether that means a dowry of ten pounds or ten thousand. But among the Families, power is a dowry greater than gold. I don't think there is another unwed Guardian girl in England who is your equal in magical ability. This makes you highly desirable."

"Exactly," her ladyship said approvingly. "You're well suited, and Simon, it's high time you took a wife."

His mouth curved into a smile. "This isn't about Drayton and the dangers he represents. It's because you enjoy playing matchmaker."

Her eyes twinkled. "Yes, but you must admit my record in this area is enviable."

Falconer's brief humor vanished. "I'l grant you that, but it would be unconscionable to press Meg into marriage now. She has lost half her life to Drayton's wickedness. She needs time to learn who and what she is. She will be a great sorceress, which means she will have many choices when, and if, she decides to marry."

"There may not be much time," Lady Bethany said gravely. "Lord Drayton has an energy hook in each of you. Alone, you are vulnerable. Together, you are stronger than he. Meg, do you want to face Drayton without training and protection?"

Meg shuddered. "Of course not, but can't Lord Falconer and I stay close to each other without marriage? I could be a servant in his household."

The older woman shook her head. "You will need to go out into society, and you can do that only as his wife."

Meg gazed helplessly at Lord Falconer, thinking how fascinating he was, and how impossible marriage would be. "My lord, this cannot be. You are right that I can't marry when I know nothing of myself. I want to find my family, if I have one. I . . . I want time to grow up. To understand my place in the world."

He frowned. "All that is true, and yet Lady Beth is also right. Perhaps we should consider this rather than rejecting the idea out of hand."

She stared, shocked that he was serious. "You've told me much about the Guardians, but not that they are mad." She rose, her clenched hands buried in her skirts. "I see no reason to linger and discover that madness is contagious."

She swept away and lost herself quickly in a succession of vine-covered arbors. Imagining herself as Lady Falconer was as absurd as the idea of her marrying a . . . a unicorn. He and she were as unlike as if they were different species of beast. She could never enter the world of London society-the very thought was terrifying.

The arbor walk ended in a small garden with a fountain in the center. Water poured from the mouth of a jar held by a naked cherub and birds splashed in the pool below the statue. It all looked so peaceful. So normal. She sank onto a bench and buried her face in trembling hands. Though Falconer had said that female Guardians were good at sensing emotions, Meg didn't even understand her own feelings, much less those of anyone else.

Her life had begun only a few days before, when Falconer had lifted the clouds from her mind, yet she was being forced to behave like an adult, to make choices that would affect the rest of her life. It wasn't fair!

Which was a very childish thought, she recognized wryly. She should be grateful that she was freed from Drayton's slavery and that she now had two powerful allies. She owed them a great deal.

But surely she also owed something to herself. What kind of life did she want?

More than anything, she wanted to be strong. It was good to be protected, but even better would be the ability to defend herself against a villain like Drayton without aid. That meant learning how to use the tantalizing magical abilities that seemed to be part of her. She wanted to be a woman equal to a man, which seemed possible among the Guardians if Lady Bethany was typical.

Next to safety, she wanted to belong somewhere-to be part of a circle of family and friends. Though she had been welcomed into the Guardians by Falconer and Lady Bethany, she still yearned to find the family that had produced her. She wanted a home where she was accepted by right of blood, not by charity.

If Falconer was right that her magical power made her a desirable bride in Guardian circles, did that mean that marriage between them might someday be seen as a reasonable match? Perhaps. But not now -she felt that in her bones. To accept Lady Bethany's suggestion would be to lose her chance to find strength and equality.

If they were ever to wed-and privately she admitted that the idea was . . . appealing-it must be after she became a woman secure in herself and her power. She might never be Falconer's equal, but she must be her best self, or she would always be humble and unsure around him.

The fault would not be his-she would abase herself without any help. It was too easy to think of herself as profoundly unworthy of him. If she was Falconer's wife, he would always treat her with consideration, but how could he respect a bride who was ignorant and had no idea how to move in society?

Life had been much easier when she was a simpleton.

When Simon started after Meg, Lady Bethany caught his wrist. "Give her time to think, Simon. Of course the idea is startling, but it's hardly outrageous."

He frowned as he seated himself beside her. "Oddly enough, I find that I am still capable of feeling outrage. Despite her years, Meg is a child emotionally. To coerce her into marriage would be wicked."

"I find it interesting that neither of you said that the idea of marrying the other was personally distasteful." Lady Beth smoothed her skirts over her knees. "Do you find her attractive?"

Simon started to protest, then resigned himself to speaking the truth. With Lady Beth, there was really no other choice. "Of course I find her attractive, but my wits have been scrambled by a spell and I find myself wanting to lay my head in her lap."

She laughed. "Are you sure that's entirely because of Drayton's magic?"

"No, but it's hardly fair to enter into a marriage when I can't separate real attraction from the magical kind." His mouth twisted humorlessly. "Women tend to find men of the Malmain family difficult at the best of times. Meg mustn't be coerced when she has no idea what she would be getting into."

"The fact that your parents' marriage failed doesn't mean that yours will suffer the same fate," she said softly.