The League of Illusion: Prophecy Read online

  “I can’t.” If the ring melted, her mother’s spirit would disappear forever. Corina couldn’t let that happen. It would be like losing her all over again. “You don’t understand. I can’t leave it.”

  Rhys studied her for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll get the ring.” Leaving the charred tapestry, he moved across the foyer to the hall. “Where is it?”

  “In the sitting room, near the table, I think.”

  “Just promise me you’ll get out.”

  She met his gaze. “I promise.”

  Chapter Ten

  From down the street in the comfort of his carriage, Darin watched flames dance along the window’s edge of the Davenport town house. Burning down the place with Rhys and the woman inside hadn’t necessarily been his first idea, but now that it was happening, he wasn’t too concerned about it. He supposed Bruno had improvised, something he didn’t normally wish his employees to engage in, but it suited his purposes nonetheless. He hoped Bruno had gotten out beforehand, but if he hadn’t, it would just be another loose end tied up neatly in a bow. He’d been a decent employee. Always did what he was told without question and had no conscience to speak of. He’d almost been likeable. At least Darin wouldn’t have to pay the man any longer.

  Before Darin could celebrate his victory though, the front door opened and the Stratton woman and a Davenport servant stumbled out, dark gray smoke billowing out in their wake. They made it down the stairs to a carriage parked on the other side of the street. The woman’s dress was torn and her hair was in complete disarray. It was obvious there had been a struggle inside the house. But it was the item clutched in her hand that drew most of his attention.

  She had the map.

  It would be so easy to walk over and snatch it from her. The old servant would be no opposition for him. He could even take her if he so desired. She might be fun for a few hours. He was feeling a bit amorous right now. He needed a release. Then he could discard her any way he wanted.

  Darin opened the carriage door and jumped out. Before he could cross the street, though, something caught his eye. He looked up to see Rhys in the top window. He was unscathed and looking out for the woman. It was evident the moment he saw her, because she tried to rush across the street. But the servant held her back. Pitiful.

  The situation was perfect—Rhys could watch as Darin took his girl right out from under his nose and he’d be helpless to do anything about it. Smiling, Darin continued across the street, but the sound of police sirens gave him pause. A wagon pulled up in front of the house and two bobbies got out. This type of attention he didn’t need. If his involvement was mentioned and his father found out, there wouldn’t be a hole Darin could hide in that his father wouldn’t discover.

  He returned to his carriage but before he got back in, his gaze met Rhys’s. He wanted to give his old friend a little wave and a smile, but he was feeling much too angry for such frivolity. The game was starting to grate on him. For a while he’d enjoyed the cat-and-mouse antics, him being the cat of course. But it was boring him. It was time to end it once and for all.

  Opening the door, he climbed back into his carriage. He would have to bide his time now, follow them until he could prepare his next move, vowing the next one would be the last one he would need to make.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rhys dashed down the hallway to the sitting room. Dark gray smoke quickly filled the room. At first glance he couldn’t see the ring. He dropped to his hands and knees beneath the haze and searched the floor. He found it wedged against the wall near the doorway. He scooped it up and fled the room. Before he took two steps out of the room, a rush of heat enveloped him. The stairwell was on fire as was the foyer.

  “Don’t go that way.”

  Startled, Rhys whirled around to see Mrs. Stratton, Corina’s dead mother, standing behind him, craning her neck to look over his shoulder.

  “The door is on fire.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” He rushed back down the corridor, brushing past her to head toward the kitchen. Her image wavered in and out of view. “What are you doing here?” He noticed his security system already disengaged and he unlocked the back door and opened it.

  She gestured to the ring he grasped in his hand. “Just wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

  He opened his hand and looked at the ring. It made sense now why Corina was so adamant about it and why she was always twisting it, touching it. Her mother’s spirit was inside the ring. Tied to it. It was a way for her to still be part of Corina’s life.

  He slid it into his trouser pocket. “I didn’t do it for you.”

  She eyed him coolly. “I know, and that’s what bothers me.”

  Before he went out the door, he wondered if his man Bartlett had gotten out of the house. While he and Corina had been in the living room, he hadn’t seen the man escape out the front door. He had to make sure Bartlett had gotten out.

  “Bartlett!” He opened the door that led to the servant’s stairwell to the second floor. He took the steps two at a time. Mrs. Stratton floated up behind him.

  He checked each room, calling the man’s name He wasn’t anywhere to be found, so he must’ve escaped.

  “You can’t go back down the stairs. They’re on fire.”

  Thick choking smoke billowed up from downstairs. It wouldn’t be long before the entire house went up in flames. He should’ve had that fire-dousing system that Mrs. Chattoway insisted he needed set up. Too late now for regrets.

  “Dammit.” Rhys ducked into the nearest room, which just happened to be the one Corina was staying in. He went to the window and pulled back the curtains. He pushed open the window and looked down. Flames licked out the front windows and door, reaching up the side of the house toward him. He searched the street for Corina. He didn’t see her, but spotted the brute crawling away. Rhys was relieved. At least he wouldn’t have that man’s death on his conscience. But where was Corina?

  “She promised,” he mumbled.

  Mrs. Stratton put a phantom hand on his shoulder. “She’s there.”

  He spied her across the street standing with Bartlett near one of the Davenports’ steam carriages. The surge of relief was instant. He also noticed she had the rolled-up map clutched tight in her fist. At least they hadn’t lost that. But he still had to find out what she’d been doing with it earlier.

  He leaned out the window to gauge how far he had to jump, and sensed the moment Corina noticed him. She went to run across the street but Bartlett grabbed her arm to hold her back. Good man. He waved at his valet to drive the carriage in front so he could jump onto it. Bartlett leaped onto the driver’s bench.

  That was when he caught another’s gaze. Darin was down in the street making his way toward Corina and Bartlett. Rhys gripped the window’s ledge ready to jump, carriage or no carriage to fall onto.

  “Stop,” Mrs. Stratton said. “Wait and listen.”

  He did, and heard the bells of the approaching police wagon. Darin stopped mid-step, gave Rhys an angry glare, then turned to head back to his carriage parked down the block.

  “You should bring my girl her bag. It’s all she has,” Mrs. Stratton said.

  Rhys spotted Corina’s bag, grabbed it and came back to the window.

  “She loved that dress you gave her. She’d never tell you but she loved it more than anything I ever bought her.”

  Rhys didn’t want to discuss it, but the knowledge pleased him. She’d looked beautifu
l in the dress. The color suited her skin tone and made her eyes sparkle wickedly. He had to admit the sight of her had been a solid slam to the gut. Desire had welled up inside. He’d not experienced a sensation like that. Ever. No other woman had made him react as fiercely or as quickly.

  Smoke filled the bedroom and he could feel the heat of the fire through the soles of his shoes. Soon the entire house would be engulfed in flames. Balancing on the window ledge, he waited until Bartlett had parked on the pavement directly below the window.

  “Take care of my girl. She has a tender heart. It breaks easy.”

  “I would never intentionally hurt her.”

  “Maybe not, but can you love her completely, the way she should be loved?”

  He couldn’t answer her. Because he didn’t know. He didn’t know if he had it in him to love wholly, all encompassingly. He wasn’t sure his heart was big enough for that.

  He just nodded to her instead, tossed Corina’s bag out the window, and followed. He landed hard on the carriage roof and rolled to his side. Bartlett drove the carriage down the street, pulling it to a stop. Rhys climbed down and Corina jumped on him, hugging him tight.

  “I didn’t think you were going to make it.” Stepping back, she kept her gaze downcast as if she was embarrassed.

  He wanted to tell her it was all right. No, what he really wanted to do was to pull her back into his arms and lose himself in her warmth, to drown in it. But he just dug into his pocket and handed her the ring. “Here.”

  She slid it on her finger, twisting it around. “Thank you. You have no idea what it means to me.”

  “I have a little.” He took her bag down from the roof. “I thought you’d appreciate some clothing.”

  She took the bag, hugging it to her chest. “Mr. Davenport, I don’t know how to thank you.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m just relieved you still have the map.”

  Rhys gazed at the fire ravishing his family’s town house. He knew everything inside could be replaced but it was still difficult to watch. Finally, the water pump truck arrived and they were able to put out the flames before the second floor was consumed.

  “What now?” she asked.

  He studied her face, wanting to rub away the soot marks along her cheek and chin. But it wouldn’t have been appropriate, no matter how much his hands shook to touch her. Especially since he wasn’t completely sure he could trust her.

  “We need to find a place to hole up. A safe place where we can sleep and study the map.”

  “Do you know of a place?”

  “No, but I’m sure Lord Effington has a few ideas. He’s ingenious that way.”

  * * *

  Ingenious wasn’t the word Rhys would use for the place Percy found for them. Broken-down maybe, dirty and desolate, definitely. But at least it was quiet and virtually undiscoverable. There was no way Hawthorne and company would look for them in a brothel in Whitechapel. Although the pair of them probably fit right in. They both had dirty and torn clothes, and he imagined his face looked a right mess. Now that his adrenaline was fading, his pains were settling in.

  The scents and sounds coming from the other rooms made him cringe but they didn’t seem to bother Corina. She sat on the edge of the mattress to test it out. “It’s comfy.”

  That was the other major problem with their situation. They only had one room, with one bed in it, though Madam Satine had promised them the blanket was recently washed.

  “You should get some sleep.” He pulled up the only chair in the room. “I’ll keep watch.”

  “Don’t be daft. You can barely stand.” She led him to the mattress and sat him down. “I’m going to clean your wounds. It’s the least I can do.”

  Rhys was too exhausted to argue with her, especially with that fierce look of determination furrowing her brow.

  Madam Satine had brought them a basin of hot water and a clean cloth. At first the water stung when Corina rubbed the cloth on the gash above his eyebrow, but then a sedate sense of warmth washed over him as she cleaned the blood from his skin. She was gentle and careful, making the appropriate calming noises when he winced or grimaced. He’d always prided himself on being unflinching in the face of danger, but in this moment he wanted to curl up on his side on the bed and let Corina soothe him. He had other aches in his body and wondered how she would react if he asked her to caress them.

  His thoughts must’ve betrayed him because her gaze lowered to the growing bulge in his pants. Her cheeks flushed instantly and she took a step away.

  “Mr. Davenport...”

  “I wish for you to call me Rhys.”

  “I’m just a country girl but I don’t think that’s proper.”

  “We’ve been through enough together to warrant a first name.”

  She looked at him a moment longer, then nodded. “Will you call me Corina, then?”

  He smiled. “Yes, Corina.”

  She returned his smile and continued to doctor his face, ignoring the fact that his trousers had grown tight. When she was finished washing the wounds, she searched in her bag and drew out a small jar of ointment. It smelled heavily of rosemary, a fragrance he remembered from his mother’s herbal garden. She’d made all the medicines and tinctures required for their spells. His father often said that had been her magic, her ability to heal. That and her beauty.

  Corina opened the jar, dipped her fingers in, and spread the salve over the gash on his forehead and the cut on his lip. Her thumb brushed his upper lip, and a heat flared inside him. She must’ve felt it too, because her gaze locked on his.

  “That should help you heal faster.” She dropped her hand, but Rhys snatched it in his.

  Her eyes widened and she gasped.

  He wasn’t sure why he did it. It wasn’t something he’d normally do, an action he’d never done before. But he just couldn’t stand losing her touch. He wanted it more than anything he’d wanted before.

  He tugged her closer, rubbing a thumb over her hand, reveling in the silkiness of her skin. Would she feel as soft in other places? Softer, he imagined. His groin tightened, and it was becoming more difficult to think coherently with each passing second. Soon, he’d lose all sense of reason. He would act. He would take what he wanted. And he wanted Corina.

  He heard the heavy thumping of her heart and felt the fine tremble in her hand. Mrs. Stratton’s warning sounded in his head as did his own suspicions. After another tense second, he relinquished his hold on Corina’s hand. She continued to gape at him; he suspected the pink on her cheeks was from more than just embarrassment.

  “What was that? Why did you do that?” she asked.

  “We should sleep.” He took the map and placed it on the table, positioning himself on the far side of the bed nearest it. “Lie down here. I promise I won’t touch you.”

  Rhys rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. He kept them shut until he felt Corina settle in beside him and the candle had been blown out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Corina hadn’t meant to fall asleep so quickly but exhaustion had overtaken her and she was out the moment her head hit the pillow. When she woke, she blinked open her eyes and saw a male shoulder and a male arm. Slowly, she moved her head and saw that she was lying on Rhys’s chest and was securely cuddled into his side, his arm around her, holding her in place.

  She knew she should be shocked. She should move away from him instantly before they were found together, but she didn’t want
to. The sturdiness of him, the heat from his hard body enveloping her like a warm hug, made her feel safe and secure. And her woman’s heart beat fast at the notion that maybe, deep down inside, Rhys wanted her.

  She’d noticed the look he gave her when she’d been cleaning his wounds. It was a look of a man who desired. It had scared her a little as it was fierce and she remembered the way it had felt when he’d tied her corset. She’d felt like she couldn’t breathe, but shivers of pleasure had rushed up and down her body. Rhys’s look had made her feel that way again. Afraid of what he might to do to her, but wanting him to do it all the same. Shame should fill her at the notion. Instead, all she could feel was the deep throb in her belly, and she nestled in closer to him, placing her hand on his chest.

  Then he pulled away and it made her think she’d imagined it all or that he’d changed his mind about her.

  He’d caught her with the map before the house had burned down. She would’ve gotten out of the house if the brute hadn’t showed up to steal the same thing. It was quite possible Rhys didn’t know exactly what he’d seen. If he had, he would’ve sent her packing—or worse. So she had to make sure her usefulness didn’t run out, just until she had another opportunity to do what she needed to do.

  He stirred underneath her. She closed her eyes, feigning sleep. She knew he’d be alarmed when he woke and saw her on top of him. He didn’t need her staring down at him with desire in her eyes. Desire she wasn’t sure either of them was quite ready to deal with. He stirred again, but this time she imagined his eyes were open, trying to process the situation. She almost smiled at his obvious distress. She could feel it in the way he was breathing.

  He cleared his throat. “Corina.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes and opened her eyes. His gaze was full of alarm, the gray depths stirring like a tempest.

  She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and yawned. “What time is it?”