Storm Clouds: Dragon's Fate, Book 3 (9 page)

What the heart wants, it finds a way to take.

Lightning Unbound

© 2014 Lynne Connolly

Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 1

When Gerard Sterling, Earl of Ellesmere, races to Bethlehem Hospital—also known as Bedlam—to rescue a wrongly committed friend, he’s astonished to hear a voice in his head that doesn’t belong to his sister, with whom he shares a mind link.

Fascinated and enchanted by Lady Faith Bradley, inspired by her dedication saving her brother from the horrors of the Incurables ward, he includes them both in his rescue mission. But woo her he cannot—not with a fatal disease that saps more of his strength every day.

Faith would slay dragons to keep her brother safe from her father’s scheme to set his simpleminded heir aside. But it’s Gerard, who feels the hot breath of death down his neck, who wins her heart.

Then it is revealed that Gerard is none other than the reincarnation of Zeus, and they face a far more dangerous enemy—Kronos, whose plan to regain power includes Gerard’s death. To foil his plan, Gerard and Faith must hold firm to the power of love…and defy Fate itself.

Warning: Be careful—beautiful clothes, perfect manners and heat between the sheets are bound to keep you awake at night!

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Lightning Unbound:

Gerard woke Faith with a mental request. Can you meet me in the garden?

Yes. In about twenty minutes.

In the summerhouse at the end of the garden, Gerard leaned back against the hard wall and closed his eyes. He could see her in his mind’s eye, every luscious curve. In his imagination he watched her cross to the clothes press, her light nightgown drifting over her delectable body, showing a glimmer of warm flesh.

Gerard opened his eyes and stared at the wall opposite, fighting for control. It would never happen. He could only yearn for what he could never have. Gerard had realized a long time ago that the continuation of the title in the direct line was far more important to his father than any mere person. What he wanted, the agony he had gone through, would go through, was of no importance to his surviving parent.

The sound of feet tapping on the path alerted him to her approach. Closing his eyes again, he sent her an image of his whereabouts. This was easy, even easier than with Deborah. The footsteps paused, then he heard the scrape of her heel when she turned and headed for the summerhouse.

In a moment she arrived, neatly attired, her hair drawn into a soft knot at her nape, a thick shawl thrown over her loose gown to protect her against the early morning chill. Her figure was neat, even without stays. He’d seen the sweet curve of her waist, the flare of her hips. His mouth went dry. He swallowed.

“Good morning, sir,” she said brightly. Too brightly.

He got to his feet. “Good morning. Won’t you sit down?” He was surprised to hear his voice, low and steady, seemingly in control.

She smiled and took a seat. He sat next to her, on a long bench. There were no cushions. The frosty atmosphere would have destroyed them in no time, but later in the summer the place would be decked out with drapery and cushions. Gerard preferred it austere and undecorated. It suited his mood.

“You slept well?”

She nodded, meeting his gaze steadily. “I didn’t expect to, after the shock I received last night.”

“Does it frighten you? Should I stop?”

Slowly she shook her head, and let her gaze drift away from him. “I don’t know what it is, and I know it should frighten me, but it doesn’t.”

“Has it happened before?”

Again she shook her head. “Never.”

“Deborah and I thought it happened because we are siblings. We’ve always done it, so it seemed natural to us. Now it’s happened with you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It just is. I was astounded to discover I could communicate with someone other than my sister. It happened for the first time in Bedlam, but I wanted to know you better before I tried it again.” He paused, studying her serious, uptilted face. If he could choose anyone, he would choose her. It took all his will not to lean forward and touch his mouth to hers. Forever forbidden. Not to be thought of. Except that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. “I have no idea why it happens or where the gift comes from. I can help you to control it a little.”

“Can you? I learned to close it off last night. Is there more?”

“Yes.” He found himself reluctant to tell her. Long ago Deborah and he had agreed not to tell his father anything of their gift. And he had become accustomed to keeping the secret. “We can sometimes force someone else to hear us or at least influence their thinking. We discovered that purely by accident, when I decided I didn’t like cabbage.” He grinned. “The maid discovered a disinclination to serve it in the nursery. They don’t know you’re doing this, it seems as if their minds are suggesting it to themselves.” He heard her sharp intake of breath as she began to understand the implications of what he was saying. “We prefer not to use that part of our talent. It takes practice and effort, and when it is against the wishes of the person, it doesn’t usually work. We’re always afraid someone will find us out.”

“I didn’t believe it at first. I’m not sure I believe it now.”

He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and took her hand, as he had the other day. She was cold, her hands freezing. “You should have put your gloves on.”

“What?” Her attention went to her hands. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You need looking after,” he said without thinking. “I’ll wager all your thoughts are for your brother. Are you wondering how you can use this gift to help him?”

She gave a small nod. “I have to. He needs me.”

“Do you never think of yourself?”

“Rarely.”

He pressed her hand. It felt right, good. Gerard pulled his mind away to what he should not be thinking. “Perhaps it’s time you did. If we can help you secure your brother’s future you could take your rightful place in society.”

She gave a scornful laugh, her lip twisting at one corner. “I did that once. I didn’t find it rewarding.”

“Why not?” He really must stop asking these personal questions. However, she didn’t seem averse to answering him.

“I was the young wife of an old man, considered fair game. Not a course I was keen to pursue.”

The terse explanation held a world of pain behind it. He felt it; he knew it as his own pain, his own humiliation. He drew her hand closer and enjoyed the warmth of her body along one side of his own. “You hated it.” He made it a statement, not a question.

“Yes. I…” She paused, but then carried on. “I never enjoyed the—physical side of marriage.”

He kept his voice steady, despite his distaste at the thoughts chasing his imagination. “It’s not to be wondered at, with a husband of seventy.”

“I don’t think I would enjoy it with anyone. It was too—personal. Such intimacies alarm and upset me and I would rather avoid them.” She’d turned her mind away from it, blocked off all of it.

He listened, astonished. To be free to indulge and choose not to. It was a novel thought for Gerard, one he would have to think about before he could make sense of it. All he gave her was a mild, “I see.” He kept hold of her hand. “Perhaps someone might help you feel differently, one day.” He paused, feeling the warmth of her hand in his. At least she didn’t object to that.

Her eyes met his, candid brown, anxiety furrowing her brows. He smiled, tried to look reassuring. “Use the curtains to close your mind. When you want to talk to me, alert me. Send me a sharp note.”

“What? I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You want me to write to you?”

He laughed, delight infusing his voice. “No. Like this.” He sent her a single note, not the one he used when he wanted to communicate with Deborah, but a higher, sharper one. Her eyes widened when she received his message. Then he heard her response, a ting, like a hammer striking a small bell, tentative and wavering, but there. He laughed again. “Well done,” he said softly, and brought her hand to his lips.

He folded her hand around the kiss and waited for her response. It came, wide-eyed but with no anger, no outrage. She leaned closer and lifted her face to his. “I owe you a great deal. Forget what I said earlier. It’s of no matter.”

His heart missed a beat. She was offering herself to him. It was unmistakable, as was the rigid closing of her mind against him, her determination to show him none of her distaste. Gerard yearned with every fibre of his body to fold her into his arms, kiss her as he wanted to, try to show her that not all loving was distasteful, but he could not. Must not.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You are very generous,” he murmured, his lips against her warm skin, “but there’s no need. What I do, I do from friendship. Nothing more.”

She swallowed, then lifted her head and stared at him. “No other man would do that.” She forced a smile. “Thank you.” Her mind was still closed to him. He had no idea what she was thinking. It was as it should be, but he felt a sense of loss.

Silently she got to her feet, reminding him of her old clothes, the formless garment folding around her body. “I have to go and change,” she said, then turned back to him. “Thank you for understanding, and for making sense of this strange gift.”

“We’ll practice,” he promised her. “Learn to control it better. May I tell Deborah? If she picks up anything it could alarm her.”

“I would appreciate it if it went no further. My father might cite it as grounds to lock me away with George.”

His mouth formed a grim line. “He will not. But I don’t want it general knowledge any more than you do. Even my father doesn’t know of this.”

He got to his feet and held out his hand to help her, smiling easily. “Friends are sometimes difficult to come by. I hope our friendship endures.”

He wanted more.

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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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Storm Clouds

Copyright © 2014 by Lacy Danes

ISBN: 978-1-61922-571-8

Edited by Linda Ingmanson

Cover by Kanaxa

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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: December 2014

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