Page 56 of Soulbound
"I had a moment with a certain woman," Cleo admitted. "Looked like she'd massacred a black swan for tonight's event. She tried to tell me the pair of you had a passionate interlude out here."
Rage blanked his expression. He took an unconscious step toward the house, but Cleo lifted her hand and pressed her fingertips to his cheek. "She hurt you," she whispered. "Somehow. I could feel it through the bond."
"Cleo." He stepped away from her touch, flinching a little. He didn't like to be touched sometimes, and now was clearly one of them. "What did Lady Beaumont say to you? You do know I'd never—"
"I know," she replied dryly, trying to ignore the little rejection. It wasn't personal. He was upset; overwrought over something the woman had said or done. "It seemed a desperate, grasping ploy. I assumed you'd humiliated her, and she wanted to gain back her confidence by trying to trick me into thinking my husband was having an affair. I felt a little sorry for her, to be honest."
"You shouldn't," he said bleakly.
"I know, but...." Cleo toyed with her gloved fingers. "What sort of person lies about such a thing? I have to assume she's a terribly sad woman, with nothing in her life—"
"She's not. She's the sort of woman who'd lie to amuse herself, or to crush your dreams, or simply because she thought it might be some form of retaliation against me. She's a cruel bitch who deserves everything she gets. And the very fact you can feel even the slightest shred of sympathy for her only highlights your good qualities."
"You knew her."
"I don't want to talk about it."
And there was just enough hint of pleading in his voice to make her bite her tongue. Sympathy vanished. If Lady Beaumont had been one of the women who forced him into her bed with the sclavus collar.... Sebastian was right. Some people didn't deserve sympathy.
And it made sense why he didn't want her to touch him right now. She tucked her hands inside the crooks of her elbows. "If you ever do, then you know I will listen. But for now... why don't we take some time away from the ball?"
"Are you certain you're not going to miss it?"
"There'll be other balls."
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. And it's not the same without you. You seem to think all I care for is the ball, but I wanted to share it with you. This way," Cleo whispered, holding her hand out to him. This time he let her take it, and she led him toward the shadowy gardens, relief flooding through her. Maybe she could make him forget what had happened, just for a moment. "I know you'd never been here at Lord Rathbourne's manor, until the other day. I want to show you something. I think you'll like it."
* * *
Julia Camden, Lady Beaumont, circled the ballroom once more, gathering a glass of champagne and pausing by one of the french doors. A pair of figures rippled through the gardens outside; one stark and imposing, carved of shadows, and the other an insipid girl in a ball gown that overwhelmed her insignificant figure.
Julia smiled and brushed her earring, bringing the glittering bracelet she wore up to her mouth, and the spell that lingered there. "They're in the gardens. I doubt he'll return to the ballroom anytime soon, especially now he knows I'm here. I'd suggest you move quickly."
She glided along the wall of french doors, heading for the entrance. She had no intention of greeting that bitch who called herself Prime. It was time to take her leave. Setting the empty glass on a side table, Julia glanced once more at the ballroom: all the glittering lights, the laughter, the gloating smiles of the Prime and her two companions as they greeted some pompous lord or other....
The Prime's smile would soon fade.
Julia sent the footman for her cloak, her gaze alighting on a small glass globe she'd deposited behind a picture frame earlier in the night. There were over a dozen scattered through the house, tiny glowing strands of spell craft glimmering in the light every now and then within them. Lady Rathbourne's static wards shimmered over the manor like a cloak of spider silk, but there were ways to pierce them.
"Give me five minutes to get clear," she whispered once more to her bracelet, smiling at the footman as she tucked an errant curl behind her ear. "Then I'll fire the spell and bring the wards down."
Julia swung her cloak over her shoulder, and gathering her skirts, she strode down the front steps of the house, heading for her carriage. She couldn't wait until Morgana brought her son to heel, because then Julia would get the chance to remind him of everything they'd once shared.
She almost shivered in anticipation.
Chapter 12
THE NIGHT AIR smelled of jasmine and roses.
Cleo led him to a walled garden, tucked near the end of the house. Near enough to still see the lights from the ballroom, and hear the sweet notes of the string quartet, but just far enough away that he felt like he could catch his breath again. Regain his equilibrium.
"I used to come here," she admitted, "whenever I needed to think."
He brushed his fingers against the long-dead bud of a rose. Somebody had neglected to snip the old growth away. The bushes were wild and overgrown, clearly lacking any sort of restraining hand, but he liked the way it felt like they protected the walls, as if to guard this little garden against the outside world. "It's beautiful."
"It reminded me of you." Her voice sounded wistful. "I kept thinking how much you'd enjoy it here. I imagined what it would be like if we rescued Drake, and your mother and the demon were vanquished, and all of us had a chance to catch our breaths. I know you barely know your father, but I thought... it would be nice to get to know him."
