“Then why?” He spread his hands in supplication. “I’ve felt your power, and know that you alone are my equal in this world. Yet you’ve tossed my attentions aside for two different men. If I’d known you were done with Lord Fitzalan, I would have made a bolder attempt to win you over.” His voice started to rise, overtaking the gurgle of the stream, and any sign of appeal vanished inside the slow curl of his fingers. “But like a fool, I stepped aside to wait, biding my time until you realized the truth on your own. Then the next thing I know, you’ve run off with Mr. Roth!” He released a cry of frustration.
Rage trembled through the rigid line of his arms. The ground rippled beneath me again, and I shivered from the familiar warmth that seeped into my boots.
Brigid’s fire...
Tree branches rattled menacingly overhead. I glanced up, openmouthed from what had just occurred. A handful of dying leaves quivered in warning. Impossible...
Julian hadn’t been touching the tree, nor anything else in the clearing other than the small patch of earth where he stood. He might possess the gift of agriculture, but Brigid’s power could only be conveyed to another being through physical touch.
Couldn’t it? Or was this one of the many things I hadn’t learned while living in Pennsylvania?
A golden leaf floated down, so close it brushed my nose. I watched it drift to the ground where it became one of a thousand. Julian hissed through his teeth, and my gaze whipped back to eye level. Fear leapt inside me from the change in his face, the contortions that went beyond rage to a wildness that verged on animal savagery.
“You need to believe me. There is nothing improper between Mr. Roth and me. After Nora was kidnapped last night, we formed an alliance to—”
The root snapped like a vice. My ribs creaked under the strain, and my breath thinned to panting gasps.
“You lie!”
My stomach heaved next, a sharp taste burning the back of my throat. “Don’t do this, Julian!” The plea came out in a ragged whisper.
More leaves broke free, floated to the ground on the air I desperately needed.
James’s voice reached us from the woods. “We best be going, Miss Kilbrid.”
I continued to wheeze, fighting for each scant breath. Julian kept his eyes on me, seemingly oblivious to everything else.
A branch cracked just out of sight. “You won’t believe who arrived on the coach from Lond—” James clipped this last word short the moment he stepped into the clearing. A hand shot to the dagger belted at his waist. “Who’s there?” he demanded.
Julian turned slightly. “Good day, Mr. Roth. We were just discussing you.”
“Lord Stroud?” James said, confused by the discovery. His eyes then moved to me, taking in my dreadful state. “Miss Kilbrid! What’s going on? Why are you tied up?”
“Julian,” I panted. “Be careful...”
James rushed toward me, dagger in hand, when another root snaked up from the ground and twined around his ankles. He came to a dead stop, wavered for a split second before his feet were suddenly yanked backward. Tipping like a felled tree, he landed face first with a grunt of pain.
Dazed, he lifted his head and spat the mud from his mouth. The first attempt to stand met with spectacular failure. As did the second. Then he got a glimpse at what held his ankles. “What the deuce!” he exclaimed, kicking at the root.
Just perfect. All we needed now was a flood or a swarm of locusts to make this day any worse.
James rolled onto his back and managed to sit up. Glancing around, he spied the dropped dagger, and started to scoot toward it. As his fingers curled around the handle, a branch swooped down, and a tug-of-war commenced over the blade. I watched in dismay, James’s loss a forgone conclusion. More branches joined the fight, and the knife was soon dangling well out of reach. James dangled as well, his arms suspended to either side like a wooden puppet. Gritty loam stuck to his cheeks, splotched his once white cravat.
“Damnation!” he cursed. “The devil’s in these trees!”
I wanted to laugh, but couldn’t.
The men were speaking. Or perhaps yelling. I could no longer tell. A bird flew above the trees, a black spot against the clouded sky. Lightheaded, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the trunk. Nausea rolled through me. Dryness burned my mouth from panting, but unless my breathing slowed, I was soon going to pass out. I tried not to think about what would happen next, the possibility of suffocation...or drowning in my own vomit.
“Julian, let them go...”
A woman’s voice washed over me, familiar and oddly soothing.
“You’ve made your point, now it’s time to stop.”
Each word latched onto my brain like honeyed tenterhooks, promising safety while demanding absolute obedience. I would stop anything for her, even breathing if she commanded. Time seemed to slow, removed from the temporal reckoning of minutes and hours.
“Julian,” she said. “Do as I say and let them go.”
My eyes fluttered open, beckoned by her voice. Justine Rose, the most famous actress in all of London, stood near James. He’d stopped struggling and was staring up as though seeing an angel. Julian also stared, equally enthralled by the woman.