Wicked Truth

Chapter 1

“That song is boring, girl! You sound like you belong in a church, but everybody knows you don’t!”

Lily gritted her teeth at the rough laughter following Caine’s crude words. He’d told her to sing for his patrons, but she knew none of the bawdy drinking songs he favored. The few pennies he gave her for entertaining his disgusting customers weren’t worth the humiliation.

In her less charitable moments, she envied his late wife. The woman had finally had enough of him and died just to escape. She’d never know why her mother thought Caine would be a suitable match, but she had little choice in the matter. Her mother had insisted that she marry Caine, and Lily had no other prospects willing to be saddled with the town whore.

The inn was filthy and stank of spoiled food and unwashed bodies, one of which was her fiancé’s. The floor fairly crawled with vermin, and the windows were opaque with oily grime and coal dust. Every time Caine demanded her presence, she went home and bathed afterward, desperate to wash the revolting miasma from her body and clothing.

Caine was handsome in a rough sort of way, but he was too free with his fists. His poor children cowered away from him as quickly as she did. Despite her fear, she tried to protect them as best she could, and found willing accomplices in the three youngest, warning each other when Caine approached.

She snorted under her breath and sat down behind the aged piano. Knowing the music would soothe the crowd, although perhaps not her intended groom, she set her fingers to play.

She cursed the cause of her troubles again. Almost a year ago, a stranger had broken in and had knocked a lamp to the floor in her room, creating a tremendous crash that had roused the house. She hadn’t even had time to scream before Mrs. Hampstead threw open her bedroom door, catching her in flagrant dishabille with a man escaping out the open window. Thanks to their awful housekeeper’s titillating gossip, the news spread all over the village before tea.

Of course, no one believed Lily’s side of the story. She’d been too hot in her stifling room, and had tossed away the bedclothes before removing her nightgown. While scandalous, she’d thought no one would see her naked and flushed in her bed on that unseasonably warm August night.

She’d taken her mother’s advice and said nothing in the vain hope the rumors would fade. The stories were entertaining, after a fashion. They sounded like something out of those penny novels her friend Matilda liked, and were far more interesting than her prosaic life. Had she known her inaction would lead to being engaged to Caine, she would have stood by her story and demanded an examination by a physician.

Even Elizabeth, who she counted as her dearest friend, hadn’t believed her tale. Whilst Lily had expected judgment from Matilda, she’d thought Elizabeth had better sense. Elizabeth was gone now, married to Lord Shepton. They exchanged letters on occasion, but Lily missed her one friend who’d had a modicum of sympathy for her. Elizabeth didn’t always understand what she should say to communicate her feelings, and sometimes her words could be construed as hurtful if one didn’t know her, but Lily knew she cared.

Jason, Caine’s eldest, had tried to help her, offering to say he’d been the one in her bedchamber. But she refused to let him lie for her, especially when she hadn’t been sure he believed her story. Whilst she adored him, it wouldn’t be fair to ruin his chances of finding a woman who would love him as a wife should.

It was too late for protests at this late date, even though she cursed that unknown blighter every day. She breathed out a soft laugh as she played. Caine was likely to get a surprise he didn’t deserve on their wedding night in less than a week’s time. She doubted it, but perhaps learning she’d come to him untouched would change his treatment of her.

When the last few patrons dropped empty tankards and staggered out the door, she stopped playing and stretched, her back stiff from her hunched position over the piano. Gathering her shawl, she tried to escape before Caine spotted her. He had a bad habit of attempting to force her to stay, and she had no intention of sharing his bed before she absolutely had to. The thought of his rough hands on her flesh made her shudder in distaste and fear.

As she crept out the side door leading to the stables, a meaty hand clapped down on her shoulder. His breath stinking of ale, Caine slurred, “Where do you think you’re going?”

She straightened her spine and turned to face him, backing away until his hand fell from her shoulder. “Home. Everyone has left, and I’m very tired.”

Swaying, he glared at her, and said, “You haven’t done nothing all day but play that damned piano. Least you could do is warm your new husband’s bed. Lord knows you do it for everyone else.”

“We aren’t married yet, Caine. It would be inappropriate.”

“Fancy words for a little whore who doesn’t even know who tumbled her in her own bedchamber,” he snapped, his salt and pepper hair falling into mean black eyes. “Get your pretty backside up those stairs and get ready for me.”

The warning growl in his voice pushed sheer terror into her bowels, and she gasped as she tried to evade his grasping paws. She screamed when he caught a handful of her hair, yanking her head until he’d pulled her against his round belly. His cock was hard against her back, and she shuddered at the sensation.

“The children are upstairs! We can’t do this!” She hated using the little sprites as a shield, but to her relief, he let her go.

“Yes, damn their hides,” he muttered. He swayed and glared at her, his eyes bleary with drink. “I’m going to send them to the stables on our wedding night. Won’t do them no harm, and they won’t hear you scream when I finally get to fuck you.”

Before she could step away, his hand shot out and he struck her, his fist splitting her lip and throwing her against the wall. Her head rang from the blow and she struggled to keep her eyes open, desperate to stay on her feet.

Suddenly, he grimaced, his hand moving to press against his gut. “Can’t stand being the only gent in town what hasn’t had a taste of what’s between those skinny legs.” He groaned, lifting his hand to swipe over his bearded face. “Go!” A loud rumbling in his stomach threatened to drown out his command, his face turning a sickly green as he moved to stagger up the stairs.

She took the opportunity and escaped the inn, running as fast as her feet would carry her. Home brought no safety. Caine would find her there. But where could she go? All she knew was that she couldn’t stay in this place any longer.

***

She hid behind her favorite rock near the river and sat for a moment while she tried to collect her wits. Her lip finally stopped bleeding, and she tucked her handkerchief into her pocket, folding it carefully to keep the blood contained. Caine had left a bruise where anyone could see it this time, and she would have to think up a lie to tell. She stopped the thought as it came. Why should she lie about his abuse?

She’d already run into too many doors, tripped down numerous flights of stairs, gotten accidentally pushed by horses, and fallen over her own feet. At what point did a girl able to balance on the edge of a fence begin to look silly after all her mishaps? No, this time, she would tell the truth to anyone who asked.

She yawned widely, making her cut lip sting, then leaned back against the stone, exhausted beyond measure. No one would find her in the lee of her stone, hidden by a blackberry thicket, but it was time to go home and sleep. Caine wouldn’t disturb her so late at night, although she knew he’d plague her again when the sun rose. She would be safe enough if she stayed with her mother.

She crept through the garden, scowling when she saw more damaged plants by the wall. The gruagach would have cared for the plants in her absence, but they’d left just before her father died, leaving her bereft of everything she’d held dear.

Instead of going straight to bed, she spent several moments cleaning up the damage, using the light of the moon to snip blighted leaves to keep the sickness from spreading. She’d never seen her garden look so poorly, and despite her research, couldn’t figure out what malady might be harming it.

No one came to the door to greet her. They had one maid, a sweet girl called Margaret, who slept like the dead. One could drop a house on Margaret’s head, and she’d never wake up for the commotion.

The housekeeper was long gone. Lily often thought it had been a race between Mrs. Hampstead and her mother to see if she would be sacked or quit first. The bitter old cow had quit, puffing up her voluminous bosom as she’d told them she couldn’t work in a house with a woman of loose morals. Despite the additional workload Mrs. Hampstead’s absence created, no one missed her.

Lily supposed that was one blessing to come from her ruination. The situation was even more satisfying because no one had wanted to employ Mrs. Hampstead, and she’d moved to Yorkshire to live with her son. It was one thing to gossip about one’s neighbors, and quite another to willingly harbor a servant who spread tales about her employers.

She opened the kitchen door, hoping her mother was already asleep, but as usual, it creaked loudly.

“Lily, darling, is that you?”

She winced at the querulous tone in her mother’s voice. The old dear thought she was doing the right thing, but Lily didn’t have the patience for her tonight. She wanted only to wash the stench of Caine’s inn from her body and rest. She hadn’t lied to Caine when she’d told him she was tired. And every day her exhaustion grew, despite sleeping past breakfast most days. She didn’t know why, but every moment away from her home weakened her just a little more.

She walked up the stairs to the sickroom in which Abigail Archer spent her life and opened the door. “Yes, Mama. Caine sends his regards.”

Her mother turned up the lamp, illuminating the dismal chamber as Lily stepped inside. Her mother’s graying hair was tucked under a black kerchief, and even her nightgown had been dyed the gloomy shade of full mourning, despite the fact that Papa had been gone for almost ten years. “I’d rather he didn’t send his regards on your face, darling. You must have displeased him again,” she said.

Lily should have known her mother would know the truth of Caine’s abuse. Her mother was frightfully observant when she set her mind to it. “I’m sure I did. I refused to share his bed. Again.”

“You are going to be married, child. In your present state, no one will say a word if you anticipate your wedding.”

“I would rather my husband be sober and bathed when he takes my virginity.”

Wrinkling her nose, her mother said, “You must cease this childish insistence that you’re still chaste. It does you no good.”

Lily sighed and backed away from the sickbed, wishing she’d protested her ruination. After a lifetime of truthfulness, her mother believed only what her eyes showed her rather than a daughter who had never once lied.

“Of course. I’ll simply dispose of the bridal sheet proclaiming my purity after that fat oaf claims his husbandly rights. It’s quite a disappointment. I’d planned on hanging it from the flagpole over the front door of the inn.”

“Lily!” Her mother tried to sit up, but collapsed against the sheets, her face red with exertion from the cough wracking her body. “I’ll never know why you must perpetuate the charade that you haven’t already been indiscreet!”

Laying her hand on the door frame, Lily didn’t look at her mother. “My physical state has nothing to do with how I am perceived. I only wish that you’d ask yourself why there was no blood in my bed that night. I won’t bother to wait for an apology when it happens next week.”

Without waiting for a reply, Lily shut the door behind her and trudged to the kitchen to bathe. Margaret would have left a kettle on the range, as she did every night Lily was forced to bear the inn’s squalor. She said a quiet prayer of thanks for their kindhearted maid. Margaret had been the only one to show her even a modicum of care.

Lily lit a few candles and poured the hot water into the copper hip bath, adding cold from a bucket until the bath was half full. She laid a drying cloth next to her dressing gown and stripped, uncaring where her clothing fell, then stepped into the bath and knelt before grabbing a bar of plain soap.

Wishing she had the energy and time to wash her hair, she scrubbed her body until her skin was pink then rinsed the soap away before stepping out of the bath. Feeling much improved, she dried off before donning her dressing gown. Picking up her discarded clothing, she wadded it in a ball and left it in the basket by the door for laundering tomorrow. Thankfully, the weather allowed for the indulgence. She had no idea what she would do when it grew too cold to clean her clothing so often.

Lily blew out all but one candle stub and carried it aloft as she crept up the stairs to her bedchamber. Closing the door behind her, she stiffened.

Her window wasn’t shut, and a soft breeze stirred the air in her room. After that harrowing night last summer, she never left it open. She’d considered painting it closed, but settled for locking it securely. Goosebumps bloomed on her arms and she let out a soft cry of dismay as she scanned the room for an intruder.

Had Caine taken matters too far? Had he come into her room, expecting what he felt he was owed? No, not him. He was too large in girth and bulk to scale the ivy decorating that side of the house. His shoulders likely wouldn’t fit through the window.

Perhaps Margaret had left it open. She often aired the room when Lily wasn’t there, but always closed it afterward. She must have forgotten today. Lily shivered as she closed the window, unable to dispel the feeling that someone was watching through the glass. Such thoughts were ridiculous this late at night.

She locked her door and hung the device she’d created to make a sound if someone tried to enter. It was simply a piece of string hung with bits of metal that would chime if they were disturbed, but it gave her some small sense of peace that she wouldn’t be caught unaware a second time. She tugged her nightgown over her head, only releasing her dressing gown when she had to.

With a sigh, she blew out the candle and crawled between the sheets, tugging them to her chin despite the warmth. 

Chapter 2

Myrddin had successfully managed to ignore his old friend Roland’s words about Lily Archer for months. He didn’t need a familiar, much less a wife. He had no desire to be tied to a female, no matter how attractive she was.

And Lily Archer was beautiful. There was no denying it. He sipped absently at the bitter ale the innkeeper had provided, setting the cheap tin mug on the table as he watched her play the aged piano on the makeshift stage. She was skilled enough to compensate for the instrument’s poor tune, managing to draw forth a passable rendition of a Bach sonata.

The other patrons laughed and pointed at her, their vicious comments scathing. He could tell when she heard them. She flinched at every unkind word, but her shoulders remained unbowed as she continued to play. Surreptitiously, he tilted his mug in her direction, commending her spirit.

There was nothing truly special about her, but he continued to watch until the last of the inn’s patrons stumbled away. She stretched and stood, grabbing her shawl and bag before creeping toward the back door. His anger flaring, he watched the innkeeper strike her.

These modern times were a sad age to be female. Mages like his old friend and nemesis Morgaine had power of their own and could defend themselves, but humans like Lily were often meek, soft creatures soon beaten down by circumstance and society’s dictates.

Sometimes, those gentle wives and mothers fought back. Sometimes, women could, after enough abuse and ill-treatment, send the entirety of the Roman army running. But women like Queen Boudica were a rarity, and he doubted the Archer woman was that sort of female.

Myrddin decided to give her at least one night’s peace and sent a touch of his magic out to give the fat oaf a sick belly, diverting his attention away from her. As she passed by, her head bowed to hide her bleeding face, he caught a whiff of her fragrance. It was attar of roses mixed with vanilla, and the unmistakable spicy essence of an unbound familiar. But there was something else in her perfume. She had Sidhe blood in her ancestry, but combined with something very strange – certainly not unpleasant, but odd. It was a wild scent of ice and fire, and he had no idea what might be in her lineage to produce such an enticing aroma.

It was possible, he supposed, uncommon as it was to find humans with a touch of the fair folk about them this far south. And her surname, Archer, while not unusual, was also the name of a very old house of light Sidhe that had vanished without explanation centuries before.

Both her name and the scent of her enticed him to follow, and he slipped into the night behind her, following as she made her way home. He grimaced at the twinge in his chest, castigating himself for being the cause of her downfall.

As he set his feet on the gravel path leading through the carefully tended beds, he got a surprise he hadn’t been expecting. Releasing his breath, he arranged his focus, concentrating as he brought old instincts he’d thought buried to the fore.

His sense of smell grew more acute, as did his perception of the magic around him. Sight grew more vivid, as he allowed himself to experience the world in a manner he’d not embraced in a thousand years. Magic spilled from his fingertips without thought as it tried to meld with the fey power leeching from the garden.

Heavens! This place was thick with it, nearly suffocating him as it washed over his senses. Earth magic, neither good nor ill in intent. It was simply there, dormant, but waiting. Plants grew in this garden, their growth managed by whoever had set them into the rich soil. He’d not seen such a place since his days in Avalon with King Omer of the light Sidhe.

And the magic in this blessed glade reeked of Lily.

Yet something tugged at the fey enchantment of the garden, siphoning its bounty. It was a small trickle, barely noticeable if one wasn’t looking. Walking around the garden with his senses open, he found what he sought on the north side closest to the village. Whilst it appeared as if someone had tended them recently, small plants bore signs of blight yet were otherwise healthy. Dark spots decorated a few leaves on a bit of morning glory. Poppies drooped as if they needed water when the soil was damp under his feet. Blackberries grew in a thicket against the wall, their spines much longer than they ought to be.

Risking the thorns, he plucked a fat berry, ripe and fecund, glistening with dew. He popped it into his mouth. The fruit was foul on his tongue, and grimacing, he spat it to the ground. No jam would be made from the fruit of this bitter vine.

Myrddin didn’t care for these odd circumstances. The witch Angeline was dead and no longer a danger to anyone. He wondered if it was a remnant from one of her spells, or if it was something new. When he’d visited before, he’d climbed through Lily’s window from the other side of the house to complete his errand as quickly as possible, and hadn’t passed through the garden.

When he entered Lily’s house this time, he wasn’t careless. With the foreign spell leeching power from Lily’s garden, there could be no accidents. Using a trickle of magic, he cloaked himself in a glamour meant to make him appear as a shadow. No one would see him, save another mage or one of the Sidhe.

He followed her up the stairs, gritting his teeth as she conversed with her mother. His hands tightened into fists, and it was all he could do to keep his rage in check. Yet he grinned at Lily’s sharp tongue when she spoke to her mother. Miss Archer wasn’t as meek and docile as he’d imagined she’d be.

Keeping his steps quiet, he crept after her to the kitchen and watched as she prepared a bath in a tiny tub barely larger than a bucket. She undressed, revealing a surprisingly plump bottom and a low growl rose in his throat. Her pale flesh was covered in livid bruises. Marks from cruel fingers covered her bottom, and handprints circled both arms. When she turned to face him, he saw marks on her pert little breasts as well. That blighter of an innkeeper hadn’t even had the decency to marry the girl before putting his hands on her. Of course, Myrddin had never agreed with the socially accepted practice of beating one’s wife.

Lily sat in the bath, her back hunched as her tears fell to mingle with the water. She looked so…defeated, and an unfamiliar sense of guilt rose in his chest. If not for him, she might have found a more suitable husband who would treat her with the kindness she deserved.

Climbing from her bath, she dried off quickly and pulled on a dressing gown. He could smell her fear mixed with the scent of her soap. Using magic to mask the sound of his steps, he followed her back up the stairs, telling himself he wanted to see her safely in bed.

Slipping past the ineffective barrier she’d set, he watched her cower in her bed until she drifted into an uneasy doze in the sweltering room.

This was his fault. He didn’t want a wife, but he couldn’t countenance the idea of allowing Lily Archer to marry the man who had beaten her when she’d done nothing to deserve such a fate. Cursing his carelessness, he left her to make his preparations. Lily Archer would become the duchess of Denforth tomorrow morning, whether either of them liked it or not.

***

Myrddin returned home to find a small supper waiting in his suite. His staff was almost uncannily aware of his comings and goings. Of course, brownies were cognizant of almost everything having to do with the household they’d chosen as their home. His companions, Moses and Liam, were awake and seated at the small table they used for informal meals.

Taking off his coat and boots, he joined them and took a slice of chicken from the platter along with a generous helping of roasted vegetables while Moses poured their wine. He sipped from his glass as his friends dug into their meal, unsure how to start the conversation. While they’d often shared women in the past, the ladies had always been courtesans or libertines from the continent. Those women were easily left behind and never elicited tender feelings from any of them. Bringing Miss Archer here to live would change the dynamic of their relationship.

Unfortunately, he didn’t feel as if he had time to discuss the matter as they usually did. Lily’s wedding was less than a week away. Besides that, Myrddin had a niggling sense of worry that Lily didn’t have that much time before her fiancé took things too far and truly hurt her. But the real reason was that nasty little spell in her garden.

Dark circles painted the skin under her eyes. She was far too thin, and the air of exhaustion surrounding her had been palpable. Either she wasn’t sleeping well, a state for which he couldn’t blame her, or the spell was leeching strength from her as quickly as it did from the land supporting her garden. It might have been a bit of both.

“I have something to discuss with both of you,” he said once their meal was complete.

“Does it have to do with the trip you took to Elizabeth Stratton’s home village?” Moses asked.

“Yes, but the countess isn’t involved.” He filled his wineglass once more and took a deep swallow. “It has to do with her friend, Lily Archer.”

Liam plucked a bit of leftover chicken from the tray and popped it in his mouth. “What about her?”

“I plan to marry her tomorrow.”

Coughing, Liam spat the masticated chicken to his plate, holding his napkin over his mouth as Moses pounded his back. “Leave off,” he said irritably, brushing Moses’ hand away. “Have you gone insane, old man? People like us have no business getting married! What are you thinking?”

“She’s an unbound familiar, and has more than a touch of Sidhe blood. She’s also engaged to a bastard of an innkeeper who hits her,” Myrddin said. “A year ago, I attempted to hide Lily from the witch Angeline, and was inadvertently caught in her bedchamber. Her mother arranged the match when no one else would have her.”

“I’m not sure I see why you need to marry the chit, Myrddin. Surely you could find her a better husband than the innkeeper without too much effort,” Liam said.

“It’s his fault she’s been ruined,” Moses chided, his quiet bass voice penetrating and disapproving.

Liam cursed and stood. Pacing the room, he said, “I know that. I just don’t see why he can’t buy her respectability. Why must we be saddled with some virgin miss who likely doesn’t have the sense God gave a peahen?”

“She’s an untamed familiar,” Myrddin reminded him, deciding to nip the argument in the bud. “Unbound, and at risk of being taken by any mage or witch who wants power. Is it not our responsibility to take Miss Archer in hand?”

“What happens when we bring her into our home?” Moses asked. “Do you intend to play the doting husband?”

Whilst Myrddin loved his companions, they could be very irritating. “Yes, I will play the doting husband, at least for a time. I have every intention of bonding her after she’s educated. And you,” he said, leveling a hard glare at both men. “You two have been pestering me for something to do for years. You will be her Gardaí Seirbhíseach.”

Liam rolled his blue eyes and ran his hands through his vivid shock of red hair, his disgust evident as his face turned red under his freckles. “Have we harmed you in some way? Why do you seek to torment us so?”

“At least let us see the girl before we agree to your bloody imbecilic plan,” Moses added.

“Regard the mirror, gentlemen.” Moses and Liam might grouse a bit, but he knew they’d do as he asked. Magic built in his hands and he sent images of Lily to the mirror. He let the entire scene play out, starting from her abuse at the hands of Caine Martin, her mother’s unkind words, and most especially her lovely body during her bath.

Liam hissed out his ire. “Who gave her those bruises?”

Myrddin hid a smirk, knowing Liam couldn’t resist a damsel in distress. “Her fiancé. You saw him hit her.”

“She’s quite lovely,” Moses said, stroking his chin. “I am not averse to her sharing our bed.” Grinning suddenly, his white teeth flashing against mahogany skin, he slapped Liam’s shoulder. “And she’s no shrinking violet, either. The girl has her wits about her. Imagine what she’d be like with a bit more confidence.”

Liam nodded and leaned against Moses’ side. “She certainly does have a temper, doesn’t she? I believe I like what I’ve seen.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I suppose we’ll have to make this place suitable for a woman while you go fetch your wife.”

“Will she accept us?” Moses asked, taking Liam’s hand to lead him to their bed.

That was the big question in Myrddin’s mind, and he didn’t know the answer. He rested his elbows on his knees and lifted his head to meet their gaze. “I don’t know,” he said. “Women are ever a mystery to me, and I can’t answer that question without speaking to her.”

“Surely, you must have some idea of her temperament,” Liam said as he crawled into bed behind Moses.

“I’ve never spoken with her, and you’ve already seen what I know of her personality.”

Moses curled his muscular form around Liam, spooning the other man against his chest. “The countess seemed most accepting of us,” he said, giving Myrddin a roguish wink. “Perhaps they are of a like mind.”

Liam grunted and settled into Moses’ embrace. “I would like it known that I don’t like this plan, but I do like what I’ve seen of Miss Archer. If we’re to be saddled with a female, it might as well be someone who has a bit of a backbone.”

Myrddin undressed and got into bed, relaxing when Liam wrapped an arm around his chest. “I’d like you both to come with me when I fetch her. I’ll get a special license from the bishop on the way to her home. The brownies can take care of things here and arrange for everything she might need while we’re gone.”

“Isn’t this something you should do yourself?” Liam asked. “We’re certainly not all going to be marrying the girl.”

“No. You complained that you didn’t know her, so this will be our opportunity to do that. If we find we don’t care for her, I’ll deliver her to the Sidhe enclave in Scotland. Miss Archer will be content enough with others like her, and we’ll have kept her safe under King Omer’s protection.”

“Do you want a familiar so badly?” Moses asked.

“No, nor do I need one,” Myrddin replied. “A thousand years ago, my answer might have been different, but there’s something about her…” His voice trailed off. Truly, he didn’t know why he was so enticed by Miss Archer. He felt drawn to her as if a nascent thread of bonding already existed between them. Part of it was sexual, of course. Lily was a beautiful woman, and he could well imagine gripping her plump bottom while he fucked her, watching as she serviced Moses and Liam with her mouth. Her magnificent ass would bounce delightfully when he spanked her, too. He’d never spank her hard enough to hurt, of course. Just enough to increase her pleasure.

Liam laughed softly and took Myrddin’s stiffening cock in his strong hand. “I believe our lord and master is already contemplating the delights of Miss Archer’s round backside.”

Myrddin groaned as Liam’s head disappeared under the sheets, the sound swallowed by Moses’ passionate kiss.

***

Before dawn the next morning, the three were on their way in Myrddin’s finest carriage to pay a visit to Lily’s intended groom. Myrddin’s anger grew with every mile that led them closer to their destination. How dare that filthy excuse for a man hit a woman with intent to cause harm! Yet a tiny part of him was thankful. If the innkeeper had been kind, Myrddin might have counted both Lily and himself lucky that she would be cared for. He’d never have gone out of his way to assure himself of her safety and wouldn’t have learned about the spell in her garden, leaving her in a far more perilous situation than an unwanted marriage to an abusive husband.

Unconsciously, he put his hand in his coat pocket, rubbing the focus emerald he’d had for centuries. It truly belonged to the dragon resting in the form of a magical tattoo on his back, and the creature would want it back sooner or later. Drako had resided there for over a thousand years, after sacrificing nearly all his magic to send his brethren to safety. Lily would have passed of old age long before Drako gathered enough strength to wake.

He hoped so, in any case. There would likely be a fight if Drako woke before Lily was done with her wedding ring. He still wasn’t sure what had made him have the stone set in a ring all those years ago, but his instincts clamored at him to give it to her.

“Stop growling, Myrddin,” Liam said, pulling him from his musings. “You’ll frighten the horses, and it would not do to show the bishop that ugly scowl on your face.”

“My apologies,” he said stiffly, disgusted that he’d revealed his emotions. “Every time I think of that innkeeper with his hands on her, I seethe.”

“We understand, Myrddin,” Moses said, squeezing his arm gently. “But you have to control yourself and be polite.”

“The bishop isn’t going to be very pleased with us for disturbing him so early as it is,” Liam added. “And the kitchen troll’s cakes are only going to go so far to soothe his irritation.”

As the sun peeked over the trees, they arrived at the bishop’s home, and found him already up with his morning tea and newspapers. The cakes and a larger than expected donation to the diocese bought the required special license, and after sharing a cup of tea with him, they were on their way. Myrddin had always made a point to ingratiate himself with the local religious authority. It was far easier to pretend devotion than to be burnt at the stake. It had never happened to him, but he understood it was quite unpleasant.

When they arrived in Lily’s village, they found the inn closed. A small boy swept the front step, his eye dark with a livid bruise. Liam hissed in displeasure at the sight, but didn’t say anything as they exited the carriage.

Myrddin knelt and handed the boy a coin. “Can you direct us to the innkeeper, please?”

Hunching his shoulders, the boy replied, “Papa is in bed, my lord. We mustn’t disturb him.”

“Quite so,” Myrddin said, giving the child a soft smile as he sent a bit of his magic out to ease the ache in the boy’s face. “But we have something very important to tell him.”

Shaking his head, the boy dropped his broom and backed away. “No, my lord. It’s not worth my hide if I tell you.”

A young man built like a particularly well-fed ox crossed the yard and stood in front of the child. “He’s in his bedroom with a lightskirt.” He bared his teeth in a smile, and added. “I’ll even show you the way after we’re properly introduced.”

Myrddin held out his hand. “I am Duke Denforth.” Nodding at his friends, he added, “And these are my companions, Moses and Liam.”

“Jason Martin, Your Grace,” the young man said, removing his cap. Looking down at Myrddin’s outstretched hand, he shrugged and gave it a gentle shake, clearly uncomfortable with the familiarity. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace. He and I need to have a discussion about hitting my brothers, and we might as well get the beatings done all at once, if that’s what you’ve come to do.”

His muscular form dwarfing the young man, Moses said, “It is. We shall also be discussing his treatment of Lily Archer.”

Jason looked down at his feet and sighed. “Yes, she’s gotten herself into a mess. I tried to help, but I couldn’t do much without losing my position. She’s a sweet girl, all the same.” His face reddened and he coughed into his hand. “I even offered to say I was the one in her bedchamber and marry her, but she refused to let me lie. I do wish I could find the blighter. I’d make him sorry he ever touched her.”

“Indeed,” Myrddin replied softly. “Shall we pay a visit to your father?” He wondered if the young man had feelings for Lily. He seemed a bit more concerned than a friend would be.

“I have a question first, Your Grace,” Jason said, taking a step forward. “What are your intentions toward her? I’ll not permit you to set her up as your mistress.”

“Are you playing at being her father?” Liam asked, his ruddy eyebrow arched.

“No, but no one else will protect her. I only wish to see her safe and happy, and she’ll have neither of those things with the wastrel who sired me.” His jaw hardened and he clenched his fists. “So, I’ll ask you once more. What are your intentions toward Lily?”

“I’m going to marry her today,” Myrddin said. “I plan to make her a duchess, provide for her needs, and take her away from this village.”

Blinking in surprise, Jason asked, “Forgive my impertinence, Your Grace, but why Lily? She has no dowry, nor a title.”

“Because she is kind, and moral enough to refuse to let a young man lie for her. Because she’s beautiful, with a sweet nature, and because I believe she’s wasted in this little hamlet.” He leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper. “And because I was the one in her bedchamber that night.”

Moses grabbed Jason’s arms before he could lash out. His face red with anger, Jason hissed, “You bloody cretin! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Yes,” Myrddin replied, trying to hide a grin behind a stern expression. Lily’s friendship with the young man was obviously strong enough to make him forget his manners. “I do, and I’ve come to fix it. She will not be marrying your father, and she will be my duchess.”

“She’s going to be furious,” Jason warned. Yet an evil smile lit his face. “I want to be there when you tell her.” Flushing, he added, “If it pleases Your Grace.”

“Very well.” Myrddin nodded, and Moses let the young man go. “Now let’s deal with your father. I wish to claim my bride as soon as possible.”

Jason led them up the stairs, and down a narrow hallway. When they reached the end of the corridor, Jason kicked the door open, revealing the very hairy and sweaty form of Caine Martin.

The girl in his bed shrieked and grabbed her dress. Once she’d made her escape, Jason grabbed the end of the mattress and tumbled his father to the floor. Muscles bulging, he grabbed the older man’s arms and lifted him to his feet.

Slamming Caine against the wall, Jason said, “I told you what would happen if I found another bruise on my brothers, didn’t I?”

His eyes darting wildly, Caine said, “Tommy ran into a door! I never—”

Jason slammed his fist into his father’s face. “I told you I would give you a bruise to match every one you left on my brothers,” he said. “And the gents behind me are going to give you a bruise for every one you’ve left on Lily.”

When they finished, Myrddin tore the marriage contract Caine had with Lily’s mother into tiny shreds, and left him moaning in a bleeding, crumpled heap. Jason led them to the taproom and drew ale into four mugs. Handing them out, he said, “Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, Your Grace. I trust you will make Lily very happy.”