Soulbound (19 page)

A smile lit through him. “He’d try to stifle it. His great shoulders would tense. A gurgle would sound at the back of his throat. And then, a small snort.” Adam glanced down at Eliza, and he found himself chuckling. “All it took was that one snort, and he’d go off like a lit fuse. Worse, once he laughed, we all fought not to, too, for the poor bastard had a laugh like a braying ass.”

Eliza bit the bottom of her lip, clearly fighting back a smile as well. “I cannot imagine a big, bad knight braying.”

“It was how he reacted after a battle. Understand, we’d work up this tremendous energy, victory and the thrill of the fight rushed through our veins. With no outlet but quiet reflection.” Again Adam shrugged. “Were we ordinary knights, we might have tupped it out of our system as other warriors did.”

Eliza’s cheeks pinked, and he leaned in a bit, unable to resist. “Lust, and the instinct to bed a woman, is a common reaction to fighting, you realize.”

One of her golden brows rose. “You were making a point about Godfrey laughing,” she said tartly.

“We were Templar, sworn to live chaste and in service to God. Godfrey found no more humor in prayer than you find in murder. It was simply his way of releasing. Yours as well, apparently. The problem was that to laugh during prayer was considered blasphemy. Which was the last thing Godfrey meant to convey.” Adam thought of Godfrey and lowered his voice. “He might have been sentenced to death. Might have been accused of possession.”

Eliza’s eyes went wide. “What did he do?”

“Nothing for it, really.” Adam shrugged. “So every time he started up, we’d all laugh too. ’Tis one thing to lose a single knight. But to do away with the lot of us would have been too high a cost.”

“You protected him.” Her voice had a note of wonder.

“Aye, Eliza May, that we did.” He reached out and slowly took hold of her waist, drawing her to his side where she belonged. Perhaps it was testament to her being upset, or perhaps she was growing accustomed to his touch, but she did not resist. Adam rested his palm against the warm crown of her head and held her tight. “I will protect you as well, dove. Always.”

“Well now,” drawled a voice Adam had nearly given up hope of hearing again, “I never thought I’d see the day the two of you would cozy up together.”

Adam grinned down at Eliza and then turned his head to greet the man who’d interrupted them. “Lucien.”

A
dam’s happiness in seeing Lucien, his right-hand man, was infectious, and Eliza could not help but smile as well as she greeted him.

“Hello, Lucien.” Despite her disgruntlement at Adam during the time he’d kept her captive, she’d always liked Lucien. A Southern Creole, the man was utterly beautiful, so finely formed that his features were almost feminine.

As always, he was dressed as a gentleman from the last century, wearing a satin frock coat and tight knee britches paired with white silk hose. However, there were circles under his eyes and a thinness about his mouth.

“Miss May.” He made a leg, bowing with grace. “Enchanted as always.” He glanced at Adam, and his mouth thinned even more. “
Mon capitaine
. I see you’ve decorated my barge. I cannot say I approve of the adornments, but our tastes have always differed, no?”

Adam smirked. “Were it you doing the decorating, the adornments would be far more lavish, I’m sure.” Adam’s grip upon Eliza’s waist tightened. She’d been aware that Adam kept his hold upon her as if she were his. But she did not want to shrug him off, not yet. Not when he was so happy. His voice rumbled over her, the vibrations humming along her side. “But where have you been?”

Lucien’s expression shuttered. “Away. I did not realize I was needed until I began to weaken.” He leaned against the wall. “You are aware that the GIM are not well?”

“Aye,” Adam said softly. “And there’s not a damn thing I can think to do about it.” His body tensed at Eliza’s side. “Other than find a way to destroy Mab.”

“Hmm…” Lucien glanced at Eliza, and the look in his eyes was calculating. Eliza eased away from Adam, feeling his resistance in the matter, but he let her go.

Lucien’s golden brown brow lifted a touch, but he looked back to Adam. “Her merry little band of fae, I am told, tore through my home.”

“It appears so,” said Adam.

“Looking for you?”

“That, and she wants the Golden Horn an Bás.”

Lucien walked past them in his gliding way, and they followed as he strolled down the dark hall to enter his dining room. He took in the destruction with a jaundiced eye. “I’ve heard of the horn, but some say it is one of the true myths.” With ease, he righted his pearl-inlaid chair and then went to pick up the others littered around his massive dining table. “Other stories insist that it is not an object, but a power, just as the GIM can leave their bodies.”

Adam guided Eliza to a chair and held it out for her. Rather macabre for them to be seated around a dining table, considering the bodies on the floor, but she took her seat.

“Mab thinks I know of its whereabouts.” Adam helped Lucien pick up other bits of overturned furniture around the table. “However, I am wondering if Mellan is leading her on a goose chase to occupy her while he plots his own little games.”

Lucien stopped in the act of righting a wine bottle. “That
cunnard
is here?”

“Unfortunately.” Adam glanced at Eliza. “He ordered Miss May to kill me.”

Lucien’s laugh was slow and full. “Oh very delightful.” He glanced at Eliza. “Biding your time, are you?”

“Perhaps I’ve decided to be rid of Adam’s cohorts first.” She smiled. “Starting with you.”

Undeterred, Lucien winked. “Eye sockets are quite vulnerable. I taught my lovely Mary Chase that when she was a mere GIM
bebé
.”

Eliza laughed, until Adam leaned a hip against the back of her chair, distracting her into abrupt silence.

“Mellan wants my sword,” Adam said.

“Doesn’t everyone,” Lucien muttered under his breath before brightening. “And your head, yes?”

Slightly pink in the cheeks, Adam answered curtly. “Yes. But I think what he really wants is a weapon to destroy his sister. With Mab gone, he’ll have total control over the throne.”

“Which means that he won’t stop until he’s taken the sword from you,” Eliza said.

Adam glanced down at her. The thick, black lashes rimming his eyes made the gold of his irises appear brighter. “Which means we must find a way to destroy them both.”

“Or pit them against each other,” Eliza countered, quite liking that idea.

His full lips curled in his familiar half-smile. “Or that.”

“Until you find a solution to that little problem,” said Lucien, “you must leave London. Go into hiding.”

“I’ve a mind of where to go,” Adam said. “We’ll be leaving within the hour.” He gave Eliza a small nod and then went to dispose of the bodies. It was a testament to his returning strength that he no longer limped and could easily heave a body over his shoulder.

Lucien, however, stayed behind. “I want to give you something.”

Eliza sat a bit straighter, the idea filling her with trepidation. The man was a known trickster. “Oh?”

Smiling a bit, he reached into his collar and pulled something over his head. Eliza could see him grasping the object, as if it were a necklace he wore, but the actual object wasn’t visible to the eye. With care, he came close, and the faint glimmer of a chain shone in his dark palm. “This is yours now.”

Intrigued, Eliza held out her hand, and he slid his gift into her palm. Shining like spider silk was a delicate cord, upon which rested an ornate pocket watch about the size of a silver dollar and seemingly made entirely of translucent crystal. “It is utterly beautiful.”

She’d never seen the like.

“It was made for you,” said Lucien with surprising gentleness.

Her head snapped up. “Me?” Her fingers curled around the watch, warmth infusing her hands. “But this is… It must have taken time to make this.” Years perhaps.

“I believe it took a century.” Lucien gave a lazy shrug. “But made for you, it was. Go on,
ma chère
. Put it on and let it rest against your heart where it belongs.”

Eliza was wary of doing so, but something about the watch called to her, and it was too great to ignore. She slipped the chain over her head. The instant the watch settled on her skin, it disappeared.

“Magic,” Lucien said with a smile. “And protection, so that no other might see it and be inspired to snatch it from your pretty neck.”

Unbidden, Eliza’s hand flew to her throat, and she touched the chain as if to assure herself that it was still there. “I do not understand why this is mine.”

Again Lucien shrugged. “I am not of a mind to explain at the moment.” He gave her a kind smile, however. “Wear it for me and keep it safe? You need not keep it when all of this is over, but for now, do an old Creole this one favor.”

“Well, I can hardly ignore the request of such an aged gentleman,” she muttered, unable to quell her smile.

“You are as wise as you are beautiful,” Lucien said with a jaunty bow. Then, with liquid grace, he flowed into the chair, set an elbow on the table, rested his chin in the palm of his hand, and proceeded to look her over in frank appraisal.

Amused, Eliza settled more comfortably in her seat and returned his stare. Lucien’s full mouth pulled into a small smile. Frilly lace cascaded over the grass-green satin of his sleeve, the color offsetting his brilliant jade eyes. He really was extraordinarily beautiful for a man. It was in the deep honey of his skin, the sculpted features, but also the effortless way he carried himself.

His smile grew. “Careful now,
mon fille
, if Adam sees you looking at me in that manner, he shall become quite jealous.” Lucien’s expression said he would not mind that consequence one bit.

“How could he blame me?” she replied with sauce. “It is like gazing upon a piece of art.”

A laugh burst from him, and he slapped his be-ringed hand upon the table. “Ah, but you are delightful.” A fine rose tint rode along his cheeks. “I cannot remember the last time a woman had me blushing.”

Eliza had hoped her honesty would deter him from his study of her, but it did not. Glowing green eyes watched her once more. Though the humor remained, his voice was smooth cream. “I did not allow myself to fully look upon you before. He would not allow it.”

“But now you may?” she asked, not understanding why he would bother.

He gave a lazy shrug. “You are no longer attached to him by means of a chain. And as he is not around at the moment, I may look my fill.”

She spread her arms in an exaggerated fashion. “By all means.”

Lucien made a hum of amusement. “He knows not what you are, that much is clear.”

His statement drew the air from the room, replacing it with ice. Eliza struggled to breathe, to not jump up and run. How did he know? She wanted to shout the question. Worse, she wanted to beg him to give her answers. What was she truly? What did he see in her? The darkness? The dread?

Somehow her mouth formed words. “And what do you believe me to be, Mr. Stone?”

His eyes gleamed, a mesmerizing brilliant peridot.
“Quarteron. Gens de couleur.”

Though his remark was the last thing she expected, the tension along Eliza’s neck released.

“Your golden fae hair makes it harder to detect,” Lucien observed. “Then again,
les
quarteron
are as varied as they are beautiful.”

“I’ve never tried to hide it, if that is what you were implying.” Eliza was proud of her parentage, but to use it for sympathy or gain she would never do.

“No, I do not suppose that you have. Nor would I.” Again that wry smile. “Birds of a feather, are we not,
fille
?”

Eliza had known Lucien was
quarteron
as soon as she’d laid eyes upon him. “I’d say you were more of a peacock to my plain plumage.”

Lucien chuckled. “You are exquisite. And this?” He waved an elegant hand along his frame. “Is stolen. Long ago, my body and that of my lover were destroyed. Murdered for being blights against God and nature.” For once, Lucien’s expression was stone. “I chose to inhabit my lover’s body instead of my own.”

A pulse of surprise went through Eliza’s middle. He saw it, but merely blinked, as if bracing himself for her censure. She did not blame him for that assumption; by English law, what he’d revealed to her could land him in prison. It most certainly would have him spurned by society. Eliza gathered he cared little for either the law or society. As to why he felt the need to tell her, she did not know.

“And your lover?” she asked.

“He chose to move on.” Another negligent shrug. Then his gaze pinned hers. “Do I shock you?”

“A bit.” She too shrugged. “That you chose his body instead of your own. It is… odd.”

Lucien’s lips twitched. She’d surprised him again, it seemed. But his tone was insouciant. “His was far more beautiful. And it was quite an effective reminder of… many things,” he finished quietly. “It was Adam who suggested I go to London, away from the oppression of America.” For a moment, he looked lost in the past; then his expression grew thoughtful. “Had Adam understood your family history, he might have treated you differently. Most certainly he would have not kept you in chains.”

Eliza had her doubts about that. “My familial origins ought not matter. No person ought to be enslaved.”

The gems on Lucien’s rings flashed as he slowly drummed his fingers. “You sought to test him.”

“Hardly. He ought to have released me from those chains because I asked. And for no other reason.”

“This is true, and yet I’m thinking you have not experienced the ribald fear of losing your heart’s desire. You do not understand how such fear can shatter logic and make a man do what he might not otherwise consider.” With unexpected tenderness, he reached out and cupped her cheek. Eliza stared back, unable to move as the glow in his eyes intensified. “Tell him,
ma chère
.”

“Tell me what?” Adam’s deep voice sliced through the air like a scythe, and Eliza jumped within her skin. But she was slow to turn her head. His expression was dark; his eyes copper bright in the dim light and fixated on Lucien’s hand upon her cheek. A muscle along his jaw twitched. “I assume you are referring to me. Or are there other men you’ve kept secrets from?”

Lucien, sly devil that he was, did not let go of her, nor look away from her face. “We were referring to you,
mon
commandant
. As to what?” He raised a dark brow, giving Eliza a pointed look, and waited.

Eliza glared, not taking her gaze from Lucien either. “I was telling Lucien that he was as pretty as a peacock.”

The room fell to heavy silence, Lucien grinning wide and pleased, and the weight of Adam’s displeasure pressed against her back.

“Oh,” whispered Lucien, “you shall do nicely.”

The pocket watch Lucien had given her ticked along with a tiny click, click, click, and then Adam’s voice, hard and rough, crashed over her. “Are you going to tell me the truth?”

Fists pushed deep into the pockets of his ratty jacket, Adam forced himself to remain still, to not take hold of Lucien, the little pismire, and pummel him. He knew full well that Lucien sought to antagonize him. The man was in a mood over some transgression Adam had unknowingly made, and this was his revenge. It had bloody well worked.

“I do believe,” said the canny bastard, “that I shall leave you two to your tête-à-tête.” Swift as a bird, Lucien rose and gave Adam a bow. Adam waited until Lucien glided past to grab him by the elbow.