If He's Tempted (Wherlocke #5)

“I do. Any man would. I think it was especially important for the men in your family to act so in your case. Your family is different. From what I have learned, there are many in your family who have gifts that could easily be used in immoral ways. This Maynard fellow used his to steal something you had no wish to give him, were too young to give, and betrayed your entire family with that one brutal act. He revealed that he had no qualms about using his powerful gift for getting what he wanted with no thought to the right or wrong of what he was doing. Your family could not allow him to live and not simply because of the crime he had committed against you. He was a danger to you all.”


Olympia badly wanted to kiss him but fought down the urge to rush to his side and do so. He understood. It had not been a revenge killing, although she knew there had been a lot of that behind the act. It had been a necessary execution of a man who had revealed that he was not only a danger to her, but a clear threat to the entire Wherlocke-Vaughn clan. The way he had used his gift to tear from her what she would never had given him willingly was the very thing that could cause a return of the dangerous, and sometimes deadly, superstitious fears that had plagued the family for most of its history. The killing of Maynard had been, in many ways, an act of self-defense.

“Nay, he could not be allowed to continue. He was of an age to have had full control of his gift for several years so what he did revealed a darkness of the soul, or mind, that would have been a threat to us all, to anyone he met, for as long as he lived. Sad, but it does happen now and then. The family has rules and all know it. You use your gifts to do harm in any way, even through deceit and theft, and you will pay. The court was convened on him and judgment was passed. That allowed my family to take the revenge they were all bellowing for.”

“You have a court?”

“Aye. We have to. Can hardly take such a matter before the King’s Bench, now can we?”

“Ah, no, of course not. So a private familial court is easy to understand. It must require a great strength of character not to use some of the skills you are born with for one’s own benefit.”

“Well, I would never claim that some of us do not do that anyway, if only in small ways.”

“But never to harm.”

“Nay, never to harm. We are all taught the danger of such temptation and the penalty for giving into it from the cradle. We watch everyone in the family and, believe me, that grows more difficult every year as we are a fertile lot and no longer have people aching to hang or drown us as witches.”

“M’lady,” said Pawl as he abruptly appeared in the doorway, “there is a man asking to speak with you. He says he is the Marquis of Understone Hill.”

“Good Lord, the message I sent him could only have gone out a few hours ago,” Olympia said and hastily turned in her seat to check her appearance in the mirror over the sideboard.

“I saw to it the moment I rose this morning.”

“I shall need to change. I cannot meet a marquis dressed in my morning attire.”

“I am not sure he will wait for you to do that. The man is very agitated.”

“You look perfectly presentable,” said Brant.

“The man has arrived at your home at a time when none but family or the closest of friends would admit him. He can take us as we are,” he added, waving his hand over his own attire of shirtsleeves, riding pants, and riding boots.

“Then show him in, Pawl, and bring us some fresh tea and coffee.” The moment Pawl left, she looked at Brant and cocked one eyebrow. “You realize what he shall think when he sees us sharing a morning meal and dressed in this manner.”

“I believe his mind will be too full of the need to find his son to care what we are about.”

She was just nodding in agreement when a tall, fair-haired young man strode into the room. He walked right past Pawl, who was still announcing him, and then stumbled to a halt when he saw that Olympia was not alone. Brant stood to introduce himself and Olympia before showing the man to a chair. Olympia almost smiled at the man’s look of frustration when he began to speak only to have Pawl enter with more coffee and tea, instigating the formality of ensuring that a guest had all that he might want.

“Please,” the marquis said once Pawl had left again, “you said you might have news of my son.”

Olympia bit back the urge to immediately call for Henry and reunite father and son. She studied the man shifting nervously in his seat next to Brant. He was handsome in that English country squire way was but tall and lean. She could see little Henry in the shape of his mouth, his fair hair that refused to stay where it was put, and his handsome blue eyes. She could also sense a deep need in him, one struggling with the fear and hope filling his heart. This man loved his son. What she needed to know was if he loved his wife so much he would refuse to see the danger the woman presented to his child.

“M’lord, I had not realized that you were in town,” she said. “As you can plainly see, I was not at all prepared for your visit.”

“So you do not know where my boy actually is, do you.” He dragged his hands through his hair. “I cannot believe she did this. How could she do this to her own child? I had not realized how terribly ill she was.”