“Alexander.” She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He smelled of fresh air and woods and green things.
She felt his broad hand on her back. His grip tightened for a moment, and then he gently released her.
“McDonald,” he said.
Egan held both hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Donna be giving me that look, Your Dukeness. I was merely keeping your wife company—er, entertaining her—er—damn it, man, we played chess all night and she beat me like I was wet behind the ears. Lost a fair hundred to her.”
“Which you do not have to pay,” Meagan said quickly. “It was kind of you.”
“A man pays his debts of honor, even the Mad Highlander,” Egan said with a self-deprecating smile. “I’ll send the money around with my batman. The lazy sot needs something to do.”
He swept Meagan a bow, then moved sideways past Alexander to the hall. The two men never took their eyes off each other.
Once Egan had made his way around the gallery and quickly down the stairs, Alexander closed the door.
She wanted his kisses, needed them, but she also wanted to scold. “Where did you go? Did you kill von Hohenzahl?”
For answer, Alexander pulled her into his arms. His lips heated hers, and for a moment she didn’t mind that he didn’t answer her question.
When he eased away, he frowned as though he did not remember who she meant. “Von Hohenzahl? No. He is a fool. He thought I had weakened, but I have only become stronger. I think he will no longer be a threat, at least not immediately.”
“Then where?” She wished she understood his cryptic words. What had made him stronger? Marriage to her? Surely not. “Or is this something a wife, especially not the Grand Duchess, should ask?”
He looked different somehow, softer about the eyes, as though he’d discovered something that made him thoughtful. “I will tell you soon. It is a good secret, love, I promise you that.”
“Layers of lies,” she said, remembering what he’d told her the day he’d proposed to her—if she could call his demand for her to drop everything and become his wife a proposal.
He shook his head. “This has nothing to do with Anastasia.”
“The ton is gossiping like mad, you know, watching you hie off with her and shunting me to Egan.”
He moved into the sitting room, his gait restless, and paused to absently right the chess pieces. “You have heard this? I thought you went nowhere after you departed the French ambassador’s house.”
“Well, I imagine the ton is gossiping like mad. When my stepmother comes to visit tomorrow, she will tell me everything.”
He turned, the black king in his hand, his stance more relaxed than she’d ever seen it. “I left Anastasia at her hotel before I approached von Hohenzahl. I promise you that.”
Meagan gave a little laugh. “Do you know, if any other gentleman protested he hadn’t the remotest interest in a beautiful woman with a perfect face and lovely eyes, I would call him a liar. But you, I believe.”
“I am grateful for your trust.”
She went to him, the love spell not wanting her to keep even a room’s distance between them. “It is not trust. It is that I have learned how your mind works. You compartmentalize everything, especially people.” She drew a line with her finger on the chessboard, along a row of squares. “Here are the ones you cannot trust.” She made a second line. “Here are the ones you can trust until they prove otherwise. Here are the ones useful for this, there are the ones useful for that.”
She made neat columns with her forefinger, dividing the board into even rows. “Everything and every person goes into a compartment. Somewhere, perhaps in a box of her own, you have your wife.” She placed the white queen in a black square. “She charms others for you, she informs you of what she learns from them, and every once in a while, she provides you with a son.” Her voice grew soft as she set the black queen in a white square. “Sometimes she is named Sephronia, sometimes Meagan.”
She felt the weight of his silence and found his eyes focused hard on her, his gaze hot with whatever fire he usually kept dampened.
Meagan sometimes thought she did not fear Alexander because he always had half his mind on something else. But now as he focused the full of his attention on her, she realized the power he had, and not only because he held the title of Grand Duke.
Here was a man who had firmly ruled Nvengaria from behind the throne and had nearly succeeded in taking over. Here was a man who had razed part of his own city to rid it of corruption. If he ever seemed tame, it was because he wanted to turn that face to others in order to disarm them. Behind the civility was a ruthless man descended from barbarian tribes, and Meagan had awakened him.
“I did not marry you because I wanted another wife,” he said. “The last thing I wanted was another wife. I married you because I hurt you, and I did not want to leave you in the dust of my passing. I married you because I wanted you.” He swept his hand across the chessboard, erasing her imaginary lines and sending the chess pieces to the floor. “I want to send it all away, every bit of it, and have you and nothing else. That is what I want.”
Meagan twined her fingers together. He made her feel selfish but at the same time frustrated. She certainly had not wanted to marry someone as formidable as he and live in this gaudy house and smile at ambassadors’ wives and duchesses who were eaten through with jealousy.
“You made me Grand Duchess as though if I slipped on the title, I would become as powerful as you,” she said. “But it isn’t like putting on fancy dress. It’s only me behind the mask, a plain miss from Oxfordshire. I am in the box, Alexander, whether you meant to put me there or not.”
He softly touched her hair. “But it is fancy dress, as you say. You put on the mask of Grand Duchess, and everyone sees that. In time, they forget about the miss from Oxfordshire and see only a woman poised and beautiful and powerful—as powerful as you want to make them think you are.”
“Beautiful,” she mused. “Poised. Words never before applied to me. I do not know if I can play the role, dearest husband. I do not have the devious mind you do. While you are putting people into their compartments, you are busy devising five different schemes in which you could use them.” She pointed her finger at him. “And do not tell me otherwise. I have watched you do it.”
“I do what I must.”
She laughed. “That is not normal, Alexander. Most of us meet people and wonder what their thoughts are about the latest play at Covent Garden or if they’d enjoy a game of whist. Not ‘How can he aid me in manipulating the English cabinet?’ or ‘How can I use her to spy on the Prussians?’”
He closed his hand softly around her accusing finger. “I am Grand Duke of Nvengaria. It is my business to watch all the time, to decide whom to trust and whom to use. It is what I am.”
“The trouble is you never stop being Grand Duke. You tell me to put on the mask, but you never take yours off.”
“Because I cannot.” He brought her finger to his mouth and flicked his tongue over the tip. “I can never remove the mask. I learned to wear it when I watched a man I trusted murder my father and then expect me to kiss his cheek and embrace him. I had to be Grand Duke then; I could not have been Alexander, because I would have died in that moment. Every day, had I been only Alexander and done what Alexander wanted, the Imperial Prince would have tortured me, likely very slowly, until I begged to die. I had to live—to avenge my father—and I had to be Grand Duke every day of my life for that.”
The sadness in his voice hurt her. She imagined him at thirteen years old, forcing a look of blank coolness as he watched his father’s execution. She saw in him determination that no matter what happened, his own son would never witness what Alexander had witnessed.
“Tell me what to do,” she said, her voice low. “I will do anything you want, be anyone you want to keep Alex from that. I promise.”
He looked at her for a long time, his sash of office, the reminder
of who he was, crumpled in his hand. “When I met you I had no idea who you were, or where to, as you say, compartmentalize you. I did not lie when I said that I did not want to marry, but I also did not lie when I said I needed to marry you. I need you to let me be Alexander the man, not the Grand Duke.”
“It might just be the love spell, you know,” she said softy, “devising a reason for you to want to stay with me.”
He drew his knuckle along her cheek, the sash of office brushing her skin. “Why do you think I have not found a means to break the spell? My men could have found Black Annie by now if I’d truly wanted them to. They could have questioned her and even quietly murdered her—I have the means to command that. But the spell, it is giving me something I never had. I am not in such a hurry to give it back.”
“I do not want to break it, either,” she answered. “Although it can be most inconvenient. It is difficult to stand and speak politely to the Duchess of Gower while I imagine holding you. And I do not mean holding you in my arms, I mean holding a specific bit of you, in my hands.”
His smile heated her blood. “Is that what you thought at the ball tonight? And I imagined you were pleased at the attention of the gentlemen.”
She blinked. “Indeed, no, they could not believe I had a single thought in my head beyond the state of the weather. I have been well trained to talk about the weather, but one soon has enough of it.”
“I promise you, my wife, that I will never make you speak about the weather.” He skimmed fingertips across her lips. “Now, about what you wanted to hold in your hands…” Alexander tilted her head back, pulling her to his mouth.
He seemed different somehow. As Meagan kissed him, she thought the taste of his lips had changed. She realized after a few heartbeats that he was warm, his skin, his mouth, his breath. Not the heated frenzy of the love spell or the cool rigidity of the Grand Duke.
Alexander the man.
She pulled back a little. “What happened to you tonight?”
He smiled, feral and wild, the Nvengarian in him evident. “Something wonderful. I have conquered it.”
“Conquered what?” She ran her hands up inside his open coat, finding the solid warmth of his chest. “You madden me, Alexander.”
He kissed her forehead, then her lips again. “Wait here for ten minutes exactly, then go into the garden.”
She started. “The garden? It is still dark outside. And cold and damp, I wager.”
His smile was more of a grin, a thing she’d never seen on Alexander. “You may wear boots and wrap up warmly. I have something to show you, my duchess.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ten minutes after Alexander left her in the sitting room, Meagan entered the garden behind the house. The sky was still dark, it being the small hours of the morning. She’d hastily found her boots and a warm mantle for herself, not liking to wake her maids. The household would be stirring soon, and she had the feeling that Alexander did not want his servants to know his secrets.
Meagan had not been wrong about the cold. The spring wind was crisp, the paths wet with last night’s rain. She pulled a fold of her mantle over her nose and tried not to sneeze.
“Meet me in the garden,” she muttered. “Where in the garden exactly? I wonder if other women have husbands as trying as mine.”
She stepped down onto the main path and began to walk toward the maze, a high hedge that enclosed its four turns. She’d have to bring Alex out to play hide and seek in it.
She found no sign of Alexander. It was still too dark to see the path properly, the gray light of dawn being swallowed by lowering clouds. She could not even see footprints indicating the direction he’d gone.
“Alexander?” she called softly. “It really is quite cold out here.”
No answer. The wind rustled the yew hedges and stirred the leaves of the apple trees hung with rose vines. The garden was a mad place, with sharply sculpted flower beds placed against hedges with tiny paths in between. The designer must have been released from Bedlam solely to plan this garden.
She reached the maze and peeked inside but could see nothing in the darkness. “Alexander?”
Something rustled deep within the maze. Annoyance touched her. Why on earth should he want to meet her in the middle of the maze? The India sitting room, as bizarre as it was with columns carved like palm trees and tigers stalking the ceiling, was at least warm and dry.
“Nvengarians,” she said through chattering teeth as she entered the maze.
Halfway to the middle, she found Alexander’s clothes discarded on a wrought-iron bench, his boots carefully placed to not absorb too much mud. She touched the still-warm coat.
Why should he throw off his clothes in the middle of the garden on a blustery morning? Her heart gave a painful beat. He hadn’t run mad, had he? Perhaps that was what had changed about him, that he’d given into madness in his brain.
“Oh, Alexander,” she whispered. She hurried through the last turns of the maze, eyes widening against the dark.
Something brushed her thigh, something warm and dark and sleek. Stifling a scream, Meagan jumped against the hedge, its branches scraping her back.
Facing her was a panther, a huge black beast, its eyes a luminous blue glow in the darkness.
Meagan froze in shock. The panther watched her, its tail brushing the leaves behind it. She smelled warm fur and felt the heat of its body and its breath scalding her hand.
Thoughts careened through her head. Was this what Alexander had wanted to show her? Perhaps he’d brought the beast here as a pet for her—it was the sort of overblown gift Alexander would give her.
Was it tame? She thought of Alexander’s clothes lying on the bench. What the devil was going on?
“You didn’t eat Alexander, did you?” she whispered, half jesting. What wildcat politely waited for his dinner to undress?
The panther reared to its hind feet. Meagan screamed, but there was nowhere to go but into the hedge firmly behind her. The cat’s huge paws pinned her shoulders and its wide, rough tongue licked her from chin to forehead.
Before she could squeal in protest, the panther shimmered, and then Alexander was pressing her against the hedge, the length of his naked body covering hers. He was laughing.
She gaped. “Alexander, what—”
He closed his eyes, and his body shimmered again. Then he was the panther, playfully butting her face. She tried to twist away, and he dropped to all fours and twined his long body around hers.
“What is happening? Tell me at once.”
Alexander rose up, human once more, and gathered her against his body, which was plenty warm. “I have discovered what I am. Myn showed me. I am logosh, Meagan.”
“But—” She pushed against his shoulders, trying to take in what he was saying. “Logosh are demons.”
“We can show any face to the human world we choose. I thought you would be less frightened if you saw the panther first.”
“Except I was frightened of the panther. Why are you suddenly logosh?” she asked, dazed. “Surely you would have noticed before.”
He laughed, his voice rumbling like the panther’s growl. “My mother was logosh, but I never knew.”
“Your mother?”
“Myn told me she fell in love with my father and left her people for him. She kept the secret of her true self from all but him.” He paused thoughtfully. “My father probably reasoned that if the Imperial Prince had known I was logosh, he might have exploited me in some horrible way. He was a monster. And my father was executed too abruptly to have time to give me the information.” He smiled. “No fear that the demon in me would come forth because the human side of me was so cold and controlled. Myn showed me what to do, how I can live with both sides so I can be with you.”
She touched his face, which was rough with unshaved beard. “Does anyone else know?”
“Outside the family, no, although Myn has likely told Anastasia by now.”
Meagan’s stunned mind trie
d to process the information, her body not certain it shouldn’t be terrified. “This means that Alex is logosh too.”
“A bit more diluted, but yes. I will explain it to him.”
She wondered whether the small boy would be frightened or fascinated. Probably a little of both.
“You seem happy about this,” she said.
He smiled and rubbed his hands over her arms, as though trying to warm her. “It explains much about what I feel inside me. Myn taught me not to fear it. It seems such a relief to give into it and be—what I am.”
She laughed shakily. “You are explaining to me that I have married a demon.”
“Half demon. Logosh are magical creatures, not evil ones.”
“Myn unnerves me something fierce.”
He traced her cheek. “I will teach you not to be afraid. I will teach you so much, Meagan.”
Meagan bit her lip, trying to still her trembling. She did not want to show him her fear. She wanted—well, she was not even sure she had not fallen asleep and was dreaming all this.
“I am still getting used to being married to a Grand Duke. And now a logosh Grand Duke.”
“I will help you. I promise you, love.”
He spoke so persuasively, the powerful Grand Duke reasonably telling his subject that the ordeal she faced would be harmless.
The wind blew across the top of the maze, dipping down into the hedges. Meagan shivered. “Did you have to tell me out here in the garden? Couldn’t we have had this discussion in a nice warm bedchamber?”
His eyes flickered, the blue almost glowing. “An excellent idea.”
Now she felt the tendrils of the love spell spill over her. She touched his face, tracing his warm lips. The idea of being with him and this sudden, newfound wildness, the danger, made her shiver in longing. “Perhaps we should go up now. It will be several hours before we’re awakened for breakfast.”
He kissed her fingers. “A most excellent idea.”