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Authors: Hannah Howell

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BOOK: If He's Dangerous
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Lorelei slowly sat down in the chair, never taking her gaze from him. “Yes, and my father filled my ears to overflowing with tales of all the gifts the Wherlockes and Vaughns are believed to have. If I had not seen how you could send your spirit out in search of aid, I may have scoffed at it all. I rather thought that that was your gift.”
“Ah, no. 'Tis but something I have been working on, a skill I have been fighting to perfect. No, my, er, gift is that I can use my voice and my eyes to make people tell me the truth, to make them even do as I wish, or to firmly believe in what I say even if all evidence shows what I said to be a lie.”
 
“But it did not work on me.” Lorelei suspected his attempt to play with her mind, to impose his will on her, would infuriate her later, but, for the moment, she was utterly fascinated, and not quite sure she completely believed him. “That is the skill Charles Cornick wanted you to give to him?”
“Yes. He believed I could simply hand it to him or, mayhap, train him to do the same.”
“I imagine he felt it would be a most useful skill to have. Just think of all he could accomplish.”
“I have, and very little of what I considered was good.”
“Of course it would not be,” Lorelei murmured. “A man willing to do all he did to you would not be one to use such a skill for good or innocent purposes. In truth, it is chilling to think on all the evil he could do with such a skill.”
 
“He and whoever his allies are. Charles spoke of a
we
several times. What is also troubling is how much he knew about my family.”
Lorelei could hear a touch of hoarseness in his voice and quickly moved to get him a tankard of cider, adding a little honey to soothe his throat and a few herbs to help him sleep. “My father knows quite a lot as well. It does appear that your family is of great interest to those who study such matters.”
“That is not welcome news. When someone takes an interest in us it usually ends with us running for our lives. Lost many an ancestor to such interest.”
“Such deadly persecution ended many years ago, although I know the fear of such gifts does linger. One can still see people make the sign to ward off the devil and some women are still whispered about, called witches, and shunned. We are a more enlightened people these days, however, and most of us have cast aside such foolishness.” She returned to the side of the bed and held out the tankard. “Do you think you can drink this on your own, or will you need my help?”
Argus stared at the drink as he slowly eased himself up into a seated position, ignoring the painful protest of his body. “You have put something in it.”
“Just something to strengthen your blood and help you sleep.” She held up her hand to halt the objection he started to make. “Rest is the best healer. The pain you are in makes getting that much-needed rest difficult without such aid.”
There was no arguing the truth and Argus reluctantly took the tankard from her. He used both hands to hold it as he drank, not wishing to embarrass himself by tipping the brew all over himself and the bed. It was not an unpleasant potion despite the hint of bitterness.
“That is the last time,” he said as he handed her back the empty tankard.
“Once more. When we move you to Sundunmoor. It will make the journey easier.”
Knowing the herbs would soon do their work, he started to lower himself down onto his back. Argus could not fully smother a hiss of pain that brought Lorelei closer. Her small hands gripped him with a surprising strength as she helped him lie down. He breathed deeply of her delicate scent, a touch of roses and clean skin.
 
She was just tucking him in, in a way that made him want to smile, when the door opened. Lorelei was startled, stumbling a little, and Argus wrapped his arm around her small waist to steady her. He fought the urge to cover the hand she had placed on his chest to stop herself from falling on top of him with his own and hold it there. Not that he would mind such a tumble into his arms if he were not such a mass of pain and bruises.
“My lady!” A plump maid rushed toward the bed, her attire marking her as an upper servant. “What is he doing to you?!”
“Nothing, Vale,” said Lorelei as she straightened, the abrupt loss of Argus's touch causing her a pang that greatly troubled her. The man was wreaking havoc on her senses. “I was but aiding him in lying down and stumbled. What are you doing here?”
“You should not be in here, all alone, with a strange man.”
“He may be strange, but he is also badly injured, and needs constant watching, Vale. At least for another night or two. I am in no danger.”
“Your fine reputation would be utterly destroyed if this was discovered. You must get one of the maids to tend to him.”
 
It was astonishing how many things would utterly destroy her fine reputation, Lorelei thought. “We are attempting to keep his presence here as secret as possible, Vale. If I drag a maid into this, it will not be long before most everyone for miles around will know there is a wounded man here at Dunn Manor.”
“Vale, look at me.”
Lorelei frowned at the tone of command in Argus's deep voice. She was not surprised when Vale immediately obeyed, but was disconcerted by how she also felt a fleeting urge to heed that order. The way Vale was rooted to the spot, her wide gaze locked with Sir Argus's, made Lorelei uneasy, however. She knew she was about to see the proof of the strange gift the man claimed to have, and a part of her wanted to put a stop to it. It did not seem right to play with Vale's mind and will in such a way. Yet, she also knew it was important to keep Sir Argus's presence at the manor a secret and Vale's concern over her mistress's reputation threatened that secrecy.
“You know I would do nothing to bring harm to your lady,” Argus said.
“I know,” said Vale, still unmoving, her voice oddly flat and lifeless.
“You will not concern yourself with her presence in this room. There is no harm in it.”
“No harm.”
“Precisely. No harm will come from her care for me. You will no longer fret over the safety of her good name.”
“I will not.”
“Good. You may leave now.”
Lorelei nearly gaped as Vale left the room without saying a word, gently closing the door behind her. After staring blindly at the door for a moment, Lorelei looked at Sir Argus, only to find him watching her warily. And so he should, she thought. What he had just done was very disturbing, and a little frightening.
“Ah, and now you fear me.” Argus wondered why that stung so badly, as he was well accustomed to such fear.
 
“A little,” Lorelei admitted. “That is a very powerful gift you have. Vale was trapped by your gaze, your voice. I even experienced its touch although it was not directed at me.”
 
“And does not work on you, either.”
“So, it does not work on everyone. Vale is susceptible?”
“Most servants are, if only because they are well trained in obedience.”
 
“I have never been very competent in the art of obedience,” she murmured.
Argus smiled a little. “That does not surprise me, but it is more than that. 'Tis evident you felt something, but you shook it off with ease. Outside of those within my own family, I have yet to meet anyone who could. Fight it, yes. Know what I am doing, yes, especially if I want them to know. Break free of any command I give sooner than I would like, yes. Shake it off like dewdrops and tell me to stop, no.”
“Perhaps if you had had more time . . .”
“No. When I first plied my skill, it did take time, but that was many years ago.”
“And you have never used it to simply get what you wanted?” She wondered what was behind the hint of sadness she saw on his face, one not fully disguised by his rueful smile.
 
“I was young when my gift first revealed itself. Of course I used it to gain what I wanted, and I suffered from a youth's arrogance in knowing I had such a power. But, not for long. It was”—he paused to reach for the right word, the herbs in the drink already beginning to do their best to pull him into sleep—“uncomfortable and unsatisfying. Now, I only use it when there is good reason to do so.”
“Such as protecting yourself from a maid's insistence that others learn you are here? Or, convincing a woman that you did not stick your tongue in her mouth?” She almost grinned over how irritated he looked.
“I did apologize for that and for the kiss.” He stressed the last two words, not particularly liking the way she described their brief intimacy.
“No need to apologize. I am not without some experience in such matters.”
“Really?” Argus wondered why he had the urge to demand names, find those men she had gained her experience with, and pummel them into the ground for daring to touch her. He decided the herbs were disordering his mind. “I am pleased that I did not shock your tender sensibilities.” Despite his best efforts, he tried and failed to keep his eyes open.
Lorelei ignored the bite behind his words. She knew enough about men to suspect he was not pleased to think he had not given her anything special. He most certainly had, but she would keep that as her own little secret. A man's passion was a shallow thing unless it touched his heart. Lorelei was not sure what it was about Sir Argus Wherlocke that drew her, but she was sure that, if she gave in to her attraction for the man, she wanted far more than passion from him.
“Sleep, Sir Argus,” she murmured and stood to settle the bedcovers more securely over his body. “'Tis the best cure for your injuries.” Giving in to a sudden impulse, she kissed his forehead before she sat back down and picked up her book.
Argus nearly opened his eyes in shock when he felt her soft, warm lips brush over his forehead. It was a surprisingly tender gesture and touched him deeply. Lady Lorelei Sundun was a puzzle.
She was also a danger to his peace of mind, stirring a softness and longing he had thought dead a long time ago. It would be best to get away from her as quickly as possible, he decided as he let the thickening fog of sleep pull him under.
Chapter 4
Lorelei winced in sympathy as Cyrus and Peter helped Sir Argus out of her carriage. The journey from Dunn Manor had been taken as slowly and carefully as possible, but it had taken all day, and not every rough spot on the road could be avoided. Sir Argus was pale, lines of pain bracketing his tightly pressed lips. Sweat dampened his hair and glistened on his face despite the cool of the evening air. However, he still took the time and strength to convince the carriage driver that there had been no one else in the carriage save for her, and her cousins. It surprised her that her cousins were not disturbed by the way Jem, the driver, just smiled blandly, agreed that Sir Argus was not there, and drove away.
She hurried ahead of her cousins and Sir Argus, unlocking the door to the carriage house. One deep breath was enough to tell her that Max had done as she had asked and prepared the place for a guest. Sending Vale on ahead with the message had been a hurried decision and might not have been the wisest one. Max would undoubtedly question her later on all the secrecy she had insisted upon, but she could not worry about that now.
“Get him settled in the bed,” she told her cousins. “I will go and see if Max left all I asked for in the kitchens.”
 
Lorelei rushed into the kitchens only to come to a halt so quickly she stumbled and had to grab the back of a chair to steady herself. Max himself stood at the stove idly stirring a small pot of a rich-smelling broth and eyeing her in that way that always made her feel guilty, even when she had done nothing to feel guilty about. She stood up straight, brushed down her skirts, and attempted to act like the grown woman she was and not some child caught stealing biscuits.
Max was not like most butlers. He ruled the Sundun household far more than her father did. He and her father had been together since they had been small boys. Max had the common sense her father sometimes lacked. He had stood firmly at the duke's side through three marriages, three funerals of wives dead before their time, the burial of the late duke, her poor ill-fated Uncle Cecil the previous heir and his wife, and the arrival of every one of seventeen children, plus Cecil's two orphaned daughters and a vast assortment of young cousins. Lorelei knew her father loved them all, but, although the duke did his best, it was Max who was the guiding hand for all the children calling Sundunmoor home. She doubted Max would do more than quirk one dark brow in derision if she tried to play the haughty mistress with him now.
 
“Did you truly believe I would not wish to ascertain exactly who this mysterious visitor is?” asked Max. “Or why he must hide here in the utmost secrecy?”
“I had hoped such would be the way of it,” she mumbled.
 
“It grieves me to dash your hopes.” He ignored her snort of disbelief. “Who is he and why must he hide?” He set a cup of chocolate on the table and nudged her into a seat. “I expect you to leave no detail out of your undoubtedly convoluted explanation.”
Lorelei took a sip of the rich chocolate as she hastily thought of what to tell Max. Once she was composed enough to speak calmly, certain that she could disguise any hint that she was being less than precise on the sequence of events, she told Max just how a wounded man had come to be hiding in the gatehouse. She avoided all mention of nakedness and kisses, but, when she was finished, Max was looking at her as if he knew she had omitted a few things. Lorelei hoped it was just a natural wariness he had gained from years of dealing with the large Sundun brood and not a true suspicion that she had not been completely truthful.
Max sat down across the table from her and sipped on his own cup of chocolate. “Wherlocke, Wherlocke,” he mumbled, his brow creased with thought. “Ah, yes, I have heard of them. Head of the family is a young duke. A recluse named Modred Vaughn, Duke of Elderwood. I do not recall what number he is though, but it is an old title.”
“Modred?” She shook her head. “I had not noticed that name when I sent word to him. I think his name was obscured, just the letter M and then a list of other more common names. Poor fellow. No wonder he just uses the initial when he can.”
“Quite. I have heard whispers that the family has worked for the government from time to time.”
It was not difficult for Lorelei to see how a man like Sir Argus could prove to be a great asset to king and country. With his gift he could unearth all manner of helpful secrets.
“I have also heard rumors that the men of the family are rogues,” continued Max. “It is said that there is even a house in London where they place their many by-blows.”
“Oh, dear. Well, at least they care for them. Too few do.”
 
Max slowly nodded. “That is something in their favor. I believe I will take the broth to our guest. You will go up to the main house now.”
“But . . .”
 
“No. You are a very clever woman, m'lady, but you are also quick to trust and have a very sympathetic nature. I must personally take the measure of this man before I can agree to keep this all secret, especially since I strongly suspect you have no intention of setting his care into the hands of the servants.”
“The fewer people who know he is here, the safer he will be.”
 
“True, but I wish to assure myself of the need for subterfuge.”
Max allowed her to mix a few herbs into a tankard of cider and then ordered her home. She knew it was useless to argue with his command. Many of her class would find Max's ways intrusive, those of a man who was stepping far beyond the bounds of a servant, but the man was too intricately intertwined with her family for the Sunduns to be so rigid. As she made her way home, she prayed Max did not decide that she could not help Sir Argus. She knew she would fight that decision tooth and nail, and hated the thought of being on the wrong side of Max.
 
 
Argus looked at the tall, thin man setting a tray down on the bedside table. “Are you another cousin?”
 
“No.” Max helped Sir Argus sit up straighter in the bed, cautious not to cause him much pain. “I am Max, butler to His Grace, the Duke of Sundunmoor.”
“Max? Your surname is Max?” A stupid question, thought Argus, but he was too busy fighting the pain in his ribs to care.
“No. I do not choose to use my surname. It tempts people to make unseemly jests. My surname is Cocksbaine.”
 
“Ah. Quite. Well, Max, I am Sir Argus Wherlocke.”
“So I was told.” Max sat on the edge of the bed and began to spoon-feed Argus a thick, rich beef broth. “I sent her ladyship home as I felt it was important that I make a judgment on all of this without her close at hand. Her sympathies are too easily roused. So, you are in real danger?”
“I did not do this to myself,” Argus grumbled in between swallows.
Max looked him over. “You have evidently been hard done by, but an angry husband could easily be the cause. The tale that you have some strange gift that a man sought to steal from you is, as I am certain you know, a little difficult to believe.”
“Let me show you what my enemy wished to steal,” Argus said as he gently grasped the man's wrist, caught his gaze, and began to tell him that he should not interfere.
“It is my duty to interfere if I believe her ladyship is in danger.”
Argus was so startled he released Max's wrist, got another spoonful of broth shoved in his mouth, and had to swallow before he could speak. “You felt nothing?”
“A brief inclination to heed your words, but it was easily shaken off once I realized it was not something I was inclined to do.”
“Damn my eyes. First Lady Lorelei. Now you.” He grimaced when he saw the way Max's dark eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“You tried that trick on her ladyship?”
“I was attempting to ensure that I remained well hidden and to protect myself.”
From a highborn virgin's outrage or expectations
, he mused, but had no intention of telling this protective butler that. “And it is no trick. It also works quite well on most people. It was certainly easy enough to convince Vale that it would be best if the servants at Dunn Manor remained ignorant of my presence. As I told her ladyship, I usually only experience difficulty if I try to use it on members of my family.”
“Or someone with a strong will?”
“Ah, yes, that, too. At times.”
“I am also a distant relation to a Vaughn. Some great-great-someone. That, too, may be it. I did, as I said, feel a touch of compulsion to heed your command so I can accept that you have this gift. Just as I have to accept that you somehow managed to appear to her ladyship in her father's garden and asked for help. But, why would anyone think they could take such a gift away from you?”
“Madness? Greed strong enough to disorder good sense? Cornick and whoever is his ally thought I could just give it to them or teach it to them. Cornick even said he was bringing a witch soon to try to spell it out of me.”
The soft noise Max made was so full of derision, Argus almost smiled. Instead, he dutifully ate the rest of the broth Max fed him. It was with great reluctance that he took the tankard of cider Max held out to him, however. He could smell the herbs in the drink and briefly considered holding Lady Lorelei to her word that the one he had drunk before the trip here was the last one. But, he could not deny that, after the long journey to Sundunmoor, he needed it if he was to get any sleep at all. The ache in his ribs alone was enough to keep him awake for hours.
Last time
, he promised himself, and began to drink the potion.
“How is it that you were able to tell her ladyship that you were in danger?”
“This may be difficult for you to believe.” Argus decided that Max was very skilled at saying a lot with but one quirk of a dark brow and then proceeded to tell him of how he had arranged to reach his family, only to make a brief appearance in the gardens of Sundunmoor. “I am still not quite sure why I ended up in that garden instead of at my sister's or cousin's home although Lady Lorelei believes some old rune stones may have had something to do with it. It certainly was not where I had intended to be, and the few times I have done it before I went where I planned to.”
“The stones may well be the answer to that puzzle. They are very old, set into the ground in a circle, and there are many old tales of such places holding a great deal of power. Or magic, if you prefer to call it such.”
“So you believe me?” Argus was unable to hide his surprise.
“Let us just say that I am intrigued. Such things have long fascinated His Grace. Magic, odd skills that cannot be explained, spirits, and all that. He and I have spent many an evening discussing such matters. It also explains why her ladyship abruptly sent messages to three people she has never met. She also used everything necessary to make it clear that the missive came from a ducal household so that it would, perhaps, gain swifter notice.”
“Do you recall who she notified of my need?”
“The Duke of Elderwood, the Baron of Upping-ton, and Lady Olympia Wherlocke, the Baroness of Stryke Hall. None have yet replied.”
“Not surprising. At this time of year it can be difficult to catch anyone at home. Save Modred, but even he has begun to leave Elderwood from time to time. It has not even been a sennight yet.” He studied Max for a moment. “You really are inclined to believe me, are you not?”
“I am, although I wish her ladyship had not involved herself in your troubles. Once she heard your request for help, however, there was no turning back for her. I am pleased that she has brought you here, for her own protection if not yours. Sundunmoor is well protected. And, yet, no place is truly impregnable, so I am hoping that your family comes to your aid soon.”
“As soon as they get word, they will come.” Argus had no doubt about that, was a little surprised that some of them were not already looking for him, as his family was always quickly aware of when one of their number was hurt or in danger. He just wished he could know which ones would appear so that he could better prepare his hosts. “I am grateful and rather surprised that Lady Lorelei found me so quickly. I had few clues to leave her with.”
“Her ladyship has always had a true skill for finding things. Or people.”
“A useful talent.”
 
Argus carefully set the empty tankard on the bedside table. The herbs were already at work, dulling his senses and weighing down his limbs. He suspected the potion was working so quickly because the journey had stolen most of the strength he had regained at Dunn Manor. He did not like it, but accepted the need for it.
“I would suspect that yours is far more useful,” murmured Max as he helped Argus into a prone position, gently arranging the pillows more comfortably behind his head.
 
“It is, but it carries a dangerous curse with it. One must ever fight the seduction of it.” Argus wondered why he was being so honest with the man and decided he was just too weary, too concerned with the pain nearly every move he made brought him, to guard his words more carefully. “It is not a temptation one can walk away from, either. I carry it with me wherever I go.”
BOOK: If He's Dangerous
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