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  Lorelei walked away, somewhat disturbed over her increasing reluctance to do so. Sir Argus Wherlocke was certainly a handsome devil and obviously had some fascinating skills, but she did not know him well enough to be as drawn to him as she was. She had met and flirted with handsome men before and not one of them had intrigued her as much as this man did. As she hunted down some food, she told herself it was just because he had been in danger and she had helped him, that he had been part of a true adventure in her otherwise mundane life. The little voice in her head that scoffed at such pathetic rationalizations was not easy to ignore, but she did her best.

  Moonlight shone on her face when Lorelei opened her eyes. She softly cursed, for she had not meant to sleep for so long, leaving Cyrus and Peter to tend to Sir Argus. A quick look out the window at the position of the moon told her that most of the night had slipped away. She hurriedly washed up, dressed, and made her way to the room they had hidden Sir Argus in.

  The sound of three men snoring assailed her ears as she entered the room and she nearly laughed. Cyrus was sprawled in the chair with his head flung back, and his mouth wide open. Peter was stretched out across the foot of the bed, looking as if he had been sitting there and simply fallen over. Sir Argus was still asleep, his snoring much softer than that of her cousins’. Lorelei was surprised that the noises the two younger men were making had not woken Sir Argus up. As quietly as she could, she woke her cousins and sent them off to find their beds.

  Lorelei sat down and opened the book she had brought with her but found it impossible to read. Her gaze kept drifting to the man on the bed. Her cousins had dressed Sir Argus in one of their father’s nightshirts and the crisp white of the garment enhanced the swarthiness of his skin as much as his bindings had. She had seen enough of him to know that the color was not from the sun, either. She also admitted to herself that she liked it, far more than she did the pale or ruddy color of the men she knew. It was possible that it was that very difference that made her fingers itch to touch his skin, but she feared the urge was born of something far more complicated than simple curiosity.

  Forcing her attention back to her book, she managed to read a few pages before her gaze was again drawn to Sir Argus. The soft snore he had been making had ceased. When she stood up to look at him more closely, afraid that he had stopped breathing altogether, he opened his eyes and stared at her. Lorelei found herself captivated by his eyes. It was like staring into a starless night sky. As the haze of lingering sleep cleared from his eyes, the intensity of his stare began to make her nervous, yet she was unable to pull away.

  Argus stared at the woman standing by his bed. It took him a moment to recall exactly who she was and why she was there. Recognition was rapidly followed by lust. Her dark red hair was loose, draping her slim shoulders as it tumbled to her small waist. She was very modestly dressed, but the way she leaned over him gave him a tantalizing glimpse of the top swell of her lush breasts. He wanted to press his face against them, lick the delicate skin there, and breathe deeply of her light, tantalizing scent. He reached out and grasped a hank of her thick, silken hair, and tugged.

  “Sir?” Lorelei tensed even as she bent into the pull on her hair.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze fixed upon her full lips, lips he was compelled to taste.

  “Thank you most kindly, but . . .”

  His lips stopped her words. Shock held her in place while her mind raced. His lips were warm and soft. Also skilled. Lorelei had not been kissed very often in her three and twenty years, but enough so that she recognized that Sir Argus was well trained in the art. A soft nip to her bottom lip had her opening her mouth to the invasion of his tongue, an intimacy she had only experienced once, very briefly and with none of the pleasure she was experiencing now. This kiss drew her closer to him, lit a raging fire in her veins.

  Just as Lorelei was about to climb into his arms, he tensed. She had to bite her tongue to stop her protest as he pulled away from her. The heat of embarrassment warmed her cheeks when she saw that she was clinging to his nightshirt. Finger by finger, she slowly loosed her grip. Recalling his injuries, she feared she might have caused him pain.

  Argus struggled to beat down the fierce need to pull her into his bed and get her beneath him. And not just because his aching ribs would probably loudly protest such an action. This was the unwed daughter of a duke, he told himself. This was the woman who had saved him from Charles. This was not a woman he should be trying to seduce, no matter how loudly his battered body was demanding that he do so. The flush of desire on her cheeks and the damp of their shared kiss still glistening on her lips made it very difficult to fight that demand.

  “My apologies, Lady Lorelei,” he said, not surprised to hear the husky note of desire in his voice. “I should not have abused your kindness in such a manner.”

  The look that briefly crossed her face told Argus that he had just stepped wrong, but he was not sure how. His history with women was long and a little sordid, at least up until the last few years. He had never, however, had much to do with the ladies of the aristocracy. Tavern maids, shop girls, and courtesans were his chosen companions. Rarely had he mixed with the women of the gentry, for he believed such dalliances led only to trouble, or a very quick trip to the altar. Argus decided he was strong enough to use his gift to convince her that he had not kissed her, and then he could work very hard not to do so again despite how great a temptation she was proving to be.

  “Apologies?” Lorelei muttered, surprised at how angry, even hurt, his polite words made her.

  “It is of no importance,” he said, holding her gaze with his own and infusing his voice with command. “You shall forget it happened. We just talked when you came to my chambers. There was no more than that.”

  Lorelei frowned. There was something a little odd about the rich, deep tone of voice he used, even the measured cadence of his voice. His eyes were much darker and his stare so intense it made her skin itch, the hairs on her arms standing up.

  “Of course we did not just talk,” she snapped. “Do you take me for a complete idiot? Talking does not involve a man sticking his tongue down a woman’s throat, and why are you staring at me like that? Ha! Have I shocked you by not bowing to your manly will?”

  “You could say that. Allow me to try that again.” He did and she just looked angrier. “How very odd.”

  “What is odd is you trying to tell me we just talked when that is not what just happened.”

  Argus knew his gift had been fully engaged, yet she was obviously untouched. “Do you see things clearly?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, are you one of those women who needs spectacles but refuses to wear them?”

  “Of course not. I see perfectly.”

  “And you have no trouble with your hearing?”

  “None at all. Why?” Lorelei began to understand that there was more to this than some man thinking she was so lacking in wits she could be convinced that they had not kissed.

  Argus idly scratched his chin as he tried to think of the best way to explain himself, and then winced when his fingers caused a bruise to start throbbing. “I believe I told you that I was taken captive because Charles Cornick wanted to steal my gift.”

  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 infuri
ate 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.