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His words warmed her, yet she was surprised to feel only a faint pulse of heat at his touch. Alarmed, she sat up and brushed his lips with hers. The heat grew, and she sighed with satisfaction.
“You once said that you stay here at Falcon’s Lair because there is something you haven’t done. What is it, Gareth?”
She felt him begin to withdraw from her. Laying a hand on his arm, she said, “If you share it with me, maybe I can help you.”
He shook his head. “No one can help me, love. The choices I made were my own. They in turn led to my fate. I must live an eternity knowing I cannot save the ones I most love. And the hell of it is, I must spend that eternity alone, without heirs, because I chose honor over love.”
“I made a choice last night.” She wound her arms around his neck and offered her lips to him. “What will be my fate?”
Instead of kissing her, he touched a finger to her mouth in the gentlest of caresses. His eyes wore the same haunted look she’d seen that first night, crossing the moors. “You wear your heart on your sleeve, little happy face. But that heart is destined to be pierced by a sword.”
She caught her breath at the pain. He dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers. She waited for the heat, but none came. Instead, the man beside her began to blur and fade.
She felt a piercing wave of panic. “Don’t leave me. Hold me, Gareth. I’m so afraid.”
“Close your eyes, love, and hold tightly to me.”
She did as she was told. She heard a sound like rushing wind, and the trees overhead dipped and sighed. Then a strange silence settled over the land.
Thoroughly chilled, Felicity opened her eyes. She was alone, kneeling in the dew-dampened grass. She was wearing the gown she’d worn the night before, thoroughly wrinkled and thoroughly soaked.
Was it possible that she’d fallen asleep, that all of this had been nothing more than a dream?
It was no dream. Gareth had been here with her. He’d touched her. Loved her. The things she’d experienced had been beyond her imagination. Weren’t they?
And yet…and yet she could still feel the imprint of those strong fingers tingling along her body. And those lips. Had they brushed hers? She pressed a finger to her mouth. It wasn’t just her imagination. Was it?
Sweet heaven. What was happening to her? Could the sane, sensible daughter of Robert Andrews really believe she’d been loved by a ghost?
In the morning silence she looked up to see a falcon passing overhead as swiftly and as soundlessly as a shadow. At the sight of it her heart soared.
Then she glanced at the grass beside her. It still bore the imprint of a man’s body. She touched it. It was still warm.
Tears sprang to her eyes. Logic be damned. All that mattered was that she loved and was loved by Gareth, the first Lord of Falcon’s Lair.
8
Felicity rubbed herfists over her tired eyes, hoping to ease the strain. All day she had remained in her room, poring over her father’s notes, hoping to uncover the source of Ian’s drugs. After the public display Ian and Honora had made of their affection for one another at the ball, she felt a sense of urgency. Besides, another visit to Lord Falcon and William had confirmed her worst fears. The conspirators had grown bolder. Both William and his father had been given much stronger doses and had fallen into a deep sleep. If she did not find a way to save them soon, it would be too late.
Suddenly she paused to read a notation in the margin written in her father’s barely legible script. She blinked, carried the paper to the window for a better view, and read again.
Praise heaven for her father’s meticulous documentation. He had written down not only the poison and its effects but the antidote as well.
She snatched up her cloak and hurried down the stairs. Now, if only the apothecary in the village had what she needed.
Felicity stood at the window and watched as evening shadows gathered over the land. There was a majestic beauty to this part of the world. A softness, a stillness, that spoke of peace and tranquillity. How ironic that she should be locked in a life-and-death struggle in such a place.
She glanced at the vials of murky liquid on her night table. If her father’s notes were correct, they would render Ian’s potions useless. If her father had made but a single error in his calculations, however, his dearest friends would pay with their lives. As would she. For she was certain that Ian and Honora had no intention of allowing her to leave this place alive to reveal what she knew.
To pass the time, Felicity picked up the dusty family history of the Falcons and began to read. Hours passed. Suddenly she glanced up in astonishment. The book fell from her nerveless fingers. She raced to the window. Where was Gareth? Why had he not come to her? It was essential that she share this news with him. What she had just read changed everything here at Falcon’s Lair.
She was shocked to see that darkness covered the land. It had to be past midnight. All of the household had retired for the night. She would share her news with Gareth later. Right now, it was time to put her plan into motion.
Peering cautiously around her door, she slipped down the hall and into Lord Falcon’s room. The old man lay deep in sleep. It took her several minutes to rouse him. Even when his eyes finally opened, she couldn’t be certain that her words were reaching his consciousness.
“Lord Falcon, I’ve found the antidote to Ian’s drug. It was in my father’s notes.” She struggled to lift his head. “You must drink this.”
In his confusion he tried to wave her away and nearly spilled the contents of the vial. With her heart thudding, she held it to the old man’s lips. At the first taste he made a face and tried to turn away.