The Fae Lord's Lady Page 2

  It would disguise what she was, and protect them until the time was right.

  After taking a few droplets of blood, he smeared them between a thumb and finger. Then he rubbed a streak of red on her forehead and followed with a quick chant.

  The glamour charm flowed through his tingling hands and into the red on her skin, binding the magic there until he removed it. To keep its potency in place would only take a periodic refreshing by saying the chant and touching her forehead.

  Once done, Lorh smoothed errant strands away from her cheeks. He should get her back to the manor and out of this far-flung garden. She’d wake up in comfort — and in a measure of privacy.

  He lifted her and stood. Now that the immediate concern of the glamour spell was out of the way, repressed emotion ripped at the area in his mind that’d been patched one too many times.

  Glancing down at the burden in his arms, he squared his jaw even as traitorous tears pricked at his eyes. The events set in place so many years ago were now coming to fruition. Though those years were nothing more than a flick of an eyelash to his people, he’d felt every day painfully. If not for his family, it would have been unbearable. Now he only needed to warn the siblings.

  He allowed himself a brief smile before tightening his arms around her. The familiar, comforting weight of her body pressed against his chest melted some of his long-held grief. It’d be a while before he’d no longer fear she would disappear like smoke on the wind.

  To have her fall into his lap had been a marvelous surprise. His hand glided over her black shoulder-length hair, and what he felt made him frown. Natalie would have to let it grow to befit her station. He sped up in his haste to reach the manor, only to slow when the graceful lines of his home came into sight.

  She had arrived, and they wouldn’t allow her to fly away so easily. A tether stronger than leather or cage would hold her to their side. Time and memory would see to it.

  2

  Natalie groaned and shut her eyes tighter against the light filtering in through her lids. She never wanted to move again. Her bed felt too good, but what was that noise? It sounded like chirping, which she shouldn’t be hearing in her apartment. Even if she’d left her bedroom window open, there wasn’t really much in the way of tree or garden outside her building.

  Flinging an arm over her eyes in an attempt to shut out the day, she huffed in annoyance when a knock sounded at her door.

  Wait. A knock on her door? Who’d be knocking on her door on a Saturday morning? And the rapping had seemed to come from her bedroom door, not the one to her apartment. She groaned. Was it Devin?

  A year into their relationship, he’d insisted on having a key in case she ever locked herself out. Not wanting to give him any ideas, because she couldn’t stomach more than kissing and some light petting, she’d told him not to use it unless there was a true emergency.

  Just what time was it? She flailed for her alarm clock on the nightstand as her gaze joined the search for the missing timepiece. When she saw the night table — and worse, the room in which it was located — her hand stilled, as did the rest of her body.

  She shot up in bed and looked around, disbelief pumping through her veins. The room was foreign in every way, though she barely took in the actual details of her surroundings.

  A knock reverberated against the door again. She put a trembling hand on her forehead. What…where…am…I?

  Through distant ears, she heard yet another knock but couldn’t bring herself to answer it. Her mind reeled as a scene of violet glowing eyes, along with a sky of that color, came back to her. No, wait. She’d seen purple lightning and mysterious lights flickering in the air. But they couldn’t really exist, could they? The previous evening remained hazy, and when she tried to grab one of its fractured pieces, any true remembrance floated away.

  She lurched from the bed, her legs tangling in the sheets and on the long nightgown she wore. Nightgown? She didn’t have any more time to reflect on that before she felt herself falling. As she made contact with the smooth floor, the wind whooshed from her body. The slap of a knee and an elbow against the hard surface caused tears to well. She lay in her sprawled position for a moment before blinking them away. Gingerly lifting her head, she looked around the room for something important: a window or a door to the outside.

  When her gaze alighted on a window, she tore the sheets away from her legs and skidded over to the portal. It would tell her something of her sanity, mainly if she had any left. Ripping the flimsy curtains to one side, she fought the urge to stagger back and instead held on to the coverings with an iron grip.

  The scenery didn’t look right. Nothing was right. The window she stood before overlooked a courtyard, housing exotic plants and trees. While not a horticultural expert, she’d never seen greenery look or act the way these specimens did. Was greenery even the right word since most of the plants, right down to their leaves, weren’t that color? She shook her head as if to dislodge the sight before her, but it remained unchanged.

  Hopelessness gripped her as she watched multihued flowers opening and closing. Were they communicating with each other? It seemed like it. The pit of her stomach dropped even further, but she was powerless to rip her gaze away.

  Branches of trees waved, but no breeze cooled her clammy skin. With a shudder, she inched her hand through the open window. The air was still, but the trees weren’t. The branches were intertwining, knobby hands meeting in a silent dance. She knew her eyes weren’t deceiving her, and doubted even her mind could create something so elaborate.

  Beyond the courtyard, a stream flowed — a stream of clear glistening violet. Dropping her gaze to where her hands gripped the curtains, she noticed how numbness had overtaken them. She loosened her left hand and stared at it, flexing her fingers as the blood flowed back. They tingled as normal color returned. Weird — her fingers were returning to normal while reality spun out of control.

  Someone’s hand touched her shoulder. A scream on her lips, Natalie whirled around, ready to knock away the person, but all fight fled when the night slammed back into her mind. The storm. The fall. The male.

  There, before her, stood a young girl. She might’ve looked like a seven-year-old human, but somehow Natalie wasn’t fooled. The girl couldn’t be human. She looked too much like him. The same hair, the same brows, the same ears. But the eyes — they were different. They didn’t seem as glowing— more human, more bluish with just a hint of purple.

  The little girl glanced shyly at her tiny slippered feet before gazing back at Natalie. "M…my lady, how do you fare?"

  Natalie barely noticed the sweet greeting. "Where am I?"

  "My brother will explain all."

  Her voice held an odd inflection that Natalie didn’t know what to make of. "Your brother?"

  The girl toed one foot against the gray-and-white marble floor. "He was the one who found and brought you here."

  That would explain the similarity in countenance and accent. Natalie licked her dry lips, and then the questions came rushing out. "Who are you? What are you?"

  The girl didn’t speak, carefully avoiding Natalie’s eyes. She looked as uncomfortable as Natalie felt. A smidgeon of guilt bit into Natalie that she was interrogating a small child, but what else could she do? She was desperate for answers.

  "Aiya, you may go now."

  At the sound of this voice, Natalie and Aiya turned toward the doorway. Natalie’s heart quickened. It was the male from the evening before, looking as handsome and un-human as before.

  Aiya smiled. "Ah…brother, you’re here."

  "And none too soon." His tone held a teasing quality to it that Natalie found pleasing. He clearly cared for his sister. That was comforting to see, and set her somewhat more at ease. Maybe these beings weren’t so different from humans.

  Aiya bowed her head slightly toward both of them. "Good afternoon," she said before walking past her brother and out the open door.

  * * *

  * * *

>   Natalie stared at him, her heart pounding for some peculiar reason. Since he was quite tall, even from that distance, she had to crane her neck a bit. He stared back, returning her regard measure for measure. The palpable tension surrounding them weighed on her — and was something she wished she could slice through. But words were not so easy to come by, and the moments crept by.

  "What am I doing here?" A jolt of surprise sizzled through her. While the necessity of her words couldn’t be denied, she hadn’t planned on uttering them yet. Indeed, she hadn’t planned on saying anything.

  He deflected the question. "Would you like something to eat, my lady?"

  Natalie frowned. She wasn’t “his” lady; she was no one’s lady. "I would like answers."

  His lips twitched as if he were suppressing his amusement. "You may order some of those with your meal, little bird."

  Through narrowed eyes, Natalie shot him a look. She wasn’t a bird, either. What was it with him and that analogy? He could call her by her name, except he didn’t know it.

  That gave her pause. Why didn’t he ask about her name? Then again, she hadn’t enquired about his. Still, she was his guest — at least she hoped she was merely a guest. Anyway, he didn’t see her resorting to ridiculous names, did he?

  This time, his mouth broke into a smile, albeit a small one. "Come, Natalie, get dressed so you can have your answers."

  She froze, all nerves firing in alarm. He knew her name. How?

  Apparently seeing her panic, he offered her a reassuring smile. "Your name was on that little card that had your picture. Such a vivid image! How was it drawn?"

  A warm wash of relief flowed over her. Oh, he’d gone through her purse. Of course he’d take advantage of whatever means he had to in order to discover who she was. She’d do the same.

  Natalie shook her head, not bothering to answer his question. Once her head was somewhat clear, she tried to move the situation forward. "If you show me where my clothes are, I’ll get dressed, and we can talk."

  "Oh no, you cannot wear the clothing in which you came. Items more suitable have been provided." Upon seeing her darkening face, he added, "For your convenience, of course."

  "Of course," she agreed drily, even though she did see the benefit of not rocking any proverbial boats until she knew what kind of culture she was dealing with.

  He vacated his post by the door and walked to an armoire she hadn’t noticed. Admittedly, she hadn’t paid attention to the room, until now. Even then, she found her focus split between perusing her surroundings and watching him. He won. As he rifled through a closet that revealed an alarming amount of dresses, he’d shake his head and mutter a word or two that held no meaning whatsoever to her.

  A smattering of amusement welled up through her worry. Watching him play ladies’ maid was kind of charming. She could explore the room later.

  Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, alarms were going off, but she valiantly ignored those. She was stuck here for the time being, so why shouldn’t she take in all the sights she could? It didn’t mean she was getting too comfortable. Really.

  He finally settled on a silken ivory dress and laid it at the foot of the bed. She admired his measured stride. More men could do with a walk like that.

  A thought occurred to her, and she frowned. He had her at a distinct disadvantage, one she’d rectify. Now. "What’s your name?"

  He stared at her blankly. "Name?"

  She tamped down on the desire to roll her eyes. He didn’t know what a name was? "What do you call yourself? You know, what do others know you as?"

  His eyes lit up. "Ah, you want my public name."

  Public name? What was he talking about? Mentally shrugging off that odd piece of information for now, she said, "Yes."

  "Lorh. My name is Lorh."

  "Lorh." The strange name sounding like "lore" rolled around on her tongue.

  He nodded and gave a slight bow of his head. "I will leave you to dress. Then you can break your fast." With that, he was through the door before she even had time to process his words.

  * * *

  * * *

  Natalie glanced dubiously at the lovely ivory dress in her hands, and then straightened her shoulders. The beautifully simple garment wouldn’t get the best of her, even though she might have to struggle into it.

  She looked up at the mirror that stood before her. Her pale face greeted her, and she frowned at her colorless cheeks. More striking was the room displayed around her. Muted grays, tans, and greens met vaulted ceilings and stone floors. The timber-and-stone walls boasted the same color scheme as the rest of the room. Even the furnishings echoed this — down to the curtains that flanked arched windows — with just an accent color thrown in here and there.

  Sighing, she turned away. The room wouldn’t get the dress on her. Before all courage deserted her, she removed her nightgown and stuffed the day dress over her head. It slithered down with amazing ease. Or so she thought.

  Now her arms were in an awkward position and couldn’t quite seem to find the sleeve openings. She scowled. Great, just great. A trussed-up turkey had nothing on her.

  The more she twisted and turned, the more askew the dress became. Tears of frustration threatened as sweat popped up on her skin.

  A soft laugh sounded, and a gentle hand helped the dress slide into place.

  Natalie spun around. A teen girl stood there, eerily similar to the young child she’d seen but ten or fifteen minutes ago.

  "There are more of you?" Natalie covered her mouth with a hand as a blush of embarrassment crept over her cheeks. The words may’ve come out of their own volition, but that didn’t make them any more polite.

  The teen smiled and dipped her head. "There are. I am Nara."

  "Nice to meet you, Nara." Natalie paused. "How many of you are there?" For some reason, she was fixated on this tidbit.

  "With or without Lorh included?"

  "Umm, why wouldn’t you include your brother?"

  Nara blinked. "Yes, silly me."

  Now it was Natalie’s turn to blink. So far, her conversations here were bizarre. "So how many of you are there that will pop up?"

  Nara’s brow creased. "Pop up?"

  "Show up. Drop by."

  "Ah, visit, you mean." She threw Natalie a mischievous glance. "You shall find out once you see us all."

  "What kind of answer is that?"

  "The only she will offer you."

  A curiously energizing awareness swept down Natalie’s spine. Turning, she saw Lorh leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, his arms crossed and long fingers tapping on his forearms. She took a step back. "Y…you’re back?"

  He lifted a lazy brow. "I’m escorting you to where we will be eating. I am lord of the manor, after all."

  Apprehension flared. "Lord of the manor?" She looked at him warily and could readily see him as some sort of lord. His clothing, like everyone else’s she’d seen so far, was simple yet elegant. The dark blue tunic he wore came mid-thigh, its silver embroidery contrasting nicely against its darker backdrop. A leather belt tooled with geometric designs sat upon his slim hips. Gray leggings tucked into knee-high boots completed the ensemble. Of course the buttery leather made her fingers itch for a touch. On the whole, he made her itch for a touch.

  Her mind stilled. She hadn’t just thought that, had she? No, that was impossible.

  But she had.

  This wasn’t good. Feeling her face freeze up, she fought to keep a neutral expression pasted on.

  He held out an imperious hand. "Come, it’s time."

  Nara saved her by shaking her head. "I have yet to arrange her hair."

  Lorh sent Nara a piecing look. "Playing personal attendant?"

  The teen’s lip jutted out stubbornly, a perfect rendition of human teens the world over. "I didn’t want a servant seeing to her."

  "Will you never follow my directions? You’re just like —" He broke off abruptly, tension creasing his face.

  Natalie glanced
at Nara. The same tension also shone on her face. Just what was going on? Neither spoke, making Natalie search for the right words. "I don’t want to be any trouble and can wait on myself. Please don’t put yourselves out. Hopefully, I’ll return home soon." That annoying voice in the back of her mind muttered something about three weeks, but she tuned it out.

  "Yes, that’s the hope."

  Lorh’s soft tone made her gaze flicker to him. His face was back to its calm mask and left her nothing to go by.

  Natalie shrugged. She didn’t want to get involved in a family tiff. "Well, we can go — to eat and talk, that is."

  He sent an appraising look her way. "Your hair does need to see a brush today."

  Bristling at the criticism, even though it was well deserved, she ran a hand through said rat’s nest. "I didn’t have time to comb it after I woke up. Anyway, my comb is in my tote, and I don’t know where that is."

  "All your belongings are in the armoire," supplied Nara helpfully.

  "Nara, you may leave."

  "But —"

  Lorh’s mouth firmed. "No arguments."

  Nara’s crestfallen expression must’ve touched a chord within Lorh, for his face softened. "We will speak later."

  "Okay, Vichi." Nara bowed her head in that way they all seemed to have before shooting Natalie a smile as she turned to leave.

  Natalie’s mouth had dropped open at Nara’s choice of words, but she managed a nod to the girl, nevertheless. She watched the girl’s back with a troubled heart. "Okay" seemed like an odd saying for Nara to know. It sounded so human and modern. And "vichi" meant… She had no clue. For a brief second, she believed she’d known, and it hadn’t jibed with everything she’d been told. Blinking, she frowned as any possible meaning slipped further away.

  Shrugging off her silly thoughts, she focused on Lorh, only to squeak in alarm and inch back a step or two. He’d moved into her personal space, armed with a brush. She didn’t like that gleam in his eyes.