You’re still an outrageous flirt.”
“A flirt?” he protested. “I’m a simple man, dedicated to the pursuit of truth.”
“Hmph. The truth isn’t in you,” she said, but she took his arm eagerly when he offered it.
Leah and Duncan exchanged a glance of mutual surprise and amusement. As they followed the older couple out to the carriage, Duncan said under his breath, “I had thought my uncle a dedicated bachelor. But perhaps I was wrong.”
Leah laughed and tightened her clasp on his arm. Magic was in the air. Why shouldn’t Lord Townley and Lady Wheaton also feel the enchantment?
Ranulph had visited Vauxhall Gardens several times. During the day, the acres of trees were a welcome respite from the stone and stink of the city. He’d come several times at night as well. The concerts weren’t bad, though nothing as good as faery music, or Leah’s lilting airs. But in the tree-shadowed paths, it was simple to find women who would lie with a handsome stranger. The physical satisfaction he’d found in such encounters was fleeting, but easily come by.
Tonight was different because Leah was here, along with her damned suitor. The young man was definitely a suitor—a blind man could see that.
Leah and her party had promenaded along the Grand Walk, watched the Cascade, and dined in a supper box. There was something afoot between the older man and Leah’s godmother as well—Ranulph could see the energy glow between them. Not as intense as the radiant bond between Leah and young Townley, but definitely there, and growing stronger. The lot of them were having such a good time that they were like feasting court faeries, he thought acidly.
After the fireworks display, the couples separated and went off to promenade through the gardens, wanting privacy to talk—or for other reasons. Ranulph drifted through the shrubbery, watching Leah. The provocative sway of her hips as she walked intoxicated him. And her breasts, ah, those perfect little breasts . . .
He caught his breath as an idea struck him. What if a patch of fog rolled in from the river while Leah and her suitor were on the Dark Walk? No one would think anything of it. In the mist it would be easy to separate Leah from Townley. Lost and confused, she would run to her suitor in relief when she found him. Except that it would be Ranulph she would find, guised in the form of the man she desired.
He gave a great shout of laughter as the plan took form in his mind. He’d have her tonight, and pleasure her so well that she would be mad for the young man whose face he wore. Then, when her wits were scrambled with love, it would be time for Ranulph to collect his price, and she would be his.
In his bed—and in flower-filled glens and mossy bowers—he would bind her to him with the erotic arts learned over centuries, skills no mortal could hope to match. Through passion he would swiftly overcome any resentment she had at being compelled to leave the world of mortals. Not that he expected much resistance. Once she adjusted, how could she not prefer eons of pleasurable life in the glittering realms of Faerie?
He waited until Leah and her escort left the lighted Grand Cross Walk for the Dark Walk. Then, his gaze following her graceful figure, he raised one arm and summoned the fog.
Thick and soft as cotton wool, the dense mist rolled over the trees and walkways of this corner of the gardens, muffling sounds and reducing vision to a matter of two or three feet. Even Ranulph could see little.
All about him were gasps and feminine squeals of surprise. Ranulph smiled and snapped his fingers as he murmured a few words in the ancient tongue of magic. A spell of confusion formed in his palm, a dim sphere with dark swirling streaks inside. He tossed it toward Leah and Townley. The spell was a small one, and would affect only them and an area of fifty feet or so around.
Then, silent as the fog, he headed toward where he had last seen her. He’d done his work
“A flirt?” he protested. “I’m a simple man, dedicated to the pursuit of truth.”
“Hmph. The truth isn’t in you,” she said, but she took his arm eagerly when he offered it.
Leah and Duncan exchanged a glance of mutual surprise and amusement. As they followed the older couple out to the carriage, Duncan said under his breath, “I had thought my uncle a dedicated bachelor. But perhaps I was wrong.”
Leah laughed and tightened her clasp on his arm. Magic was in the air. Why shouldn’t Lord Townley and Lady Wheaton also feel the enchantment?
Ranulph had visited Vauxhall Gardens several times. During the day, the acres of trees were a welcome respite from the stone and stink of the city. He’d come several times at night as well. The concerts weren’t bad, though nothing as good as faery music, or Leah’s lilting airs. But in the tree-shadowed paths, it was simple to find women who would lie with a handsome stranger. The physical satisfaction he’d found in such encounters was fleeting, but easily come by.
Tonight was different because Leah was here, along with her damned suitor. The young man was definitely a suitor—a blind man could see that.
Leah and her party had promenaded along the Grand Walk, watched the Cascade, and dined in a supper box. There was something afoot between the older man and Leah’s godmother as well—Ranulph could see the energy glow between them. Not as intense as the radiant bond between Leah and young Townley, but definitely there, and growing stronger. The lot of them were having such a good time that they were like feasting court faeries, he thought acidly.
After the fireworks display, the couples separated and went off to promenade through the gardens, wanting privacy to talk—or for other reasons. Ranulph drifted through the shrubbery, watching Leah. The provocative sway of her hips as she walked intoxicated him. And her breasts, ah, those perfect little breasts . . .
He caught his breath as an idea struck him. What if a patch of fog rolled in from the river while Leah and her suitor were on the Dark Walk? No one would think anything of it. In the mist it would be easy to separate Leah from Townley. Lost and confused, she would run to her suitor in relief when she found him. Except that it would be Ranulph she would find, guised in the form of the man she desired.
He gave a great shout of laughter as the plan took form in his mind. He’d have her tonight, and pleasure her so well that she would be mad for the young man whose face he wore. Then, when her wits were scrambled with love, it would be time for Ranulph to collect his price, and she would be his.
In his bed—and in flower-filled glens and mossy bowers—he would bind her to him with the erotic arts learned over centuries, skills no mortal could hope to match. Through passion he would swiftly overcome any resentment she had at being compelled to leave the world of mortals. Not that he expected much resistance. Once she adjusted, how could she not prefer eons of pleasurable life in the glittering realms of Faerie?
He waited until Leah and her escort left the lighted Grand Cross Walk for the Dark Walk. Then, his gaze following her graceful figure, he raised one arm and summoned the fog.
Thick and soft as cotton wool, the dense mist rolled over the trees and walkways of this corner of the gardens, muffling sounds and reducing vision to a matter of two or three feet. Even Ranulph could see little.
All about him were gasps and feminine squeals of surprise. Ranulph smiled and snapped his fingers as he murmured a few words in the ancient tongue of magic. A spell of confusion formed in his palm, a dim sphere with dark swirling streaks inside. He tossed it toward Leah and Townley. The spell was a small one, and would affect only them and an area of fifty feet or so around.
Then, silent as the fog, he headed toward where he had last seen her. He’d done his work
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