Hudson’s mouth stayed open as if to say something, but his lips did not move. He did not even blink. How could that be? She tore her attention away and into the room. Everyone was caught in the midst of conversation. Frozen. All but her. She gasped and turned back to Madoc.
He raised his left eyebrow. “Do not fret, Your Grace. I need to know if Jordan bit you. If so, we brothers shall decide the best way to deal with this…situation.” His lips formed a straight line.
She turned to Hudson. He still didn’t move. She stared back at Madoc. A tremble racked her shoulders. This was all too bizarre. “How did you do that?”
“Answer my question, and I shall answer yours, Your Grace.”
“I am uncertain what happened to me. All I remember is waking on the shore and—”
“Did Jordan say he bit you, Your Grace?”
She pressed her fingers to the scars, through the lace of her collar. “He said it was his mark.” Had he bitten her?
A crease puckered the skin between his ebony brows. “You are meant to be with Jordan. If you resist, things could go bloody bad. I appreciate your truth, as your actions will affect us all.”
“I don’t know what that means.” Her mind went numb. This night had turned tipsy, with no help from the wine. If he wanted her truth, so be it. “I am drawn to him. In a way I can’t deny. That is all I know.” She stared Madoc straight in his eyes.
“That is a beginning for us all. Thank you, Your Grace. And now, my answer to your question. What you see before you is a labor I have honed over decades of practice. You may learn the elements if you so choose.”
I may learn the elements if I choose? She snorted. I think not.
“Madoc is an unusual name.” Hudson turned to her, rolling back the conversation. “But as you will learn, it suits him well.”
Her head lightened, and she swayed slightly. More than he probably knew. Or could he? She snapped her attention to Madoc once more.
Madoc smiled courteously and inclined his head toward her.
A nervous laugh escaped her. No, there was no way the Duke of Hudson would allow a witch in his home, if that was what Madoc was. He would be mad to do so, no matter what his rank. “I-I…should retire. I am feeling…rather…exhausted.” That was true but had no bearing on the swell of feelings churning inside her. Fear, passion, disbelief, panic and, well, curiosity. That was just the beginning. She was fully perplexed. It would be a wonder if she didn’t fall into a fit of vapors this night, though she had never had the pleasure of those when she needed them.
Grandmum walked up beside her with two large glasses of brandy. Celeste’s shaking fingers wrapped about the crystal stem, and she raised the glass to her lips, swallowing the entire portion in one gulp. A drip ran down her chin, and she wiped the amber liquid on her white glove.
Hudson’s brows came together. Concern reflected in his eyes. “Are you well?” Hudson squeezed her free hand and released it, as if tossing her boat line out to sea.
“I am a bit shaky from this enormous day, Your Grace. I think I should rest for a while.” She walked away. Grandmum walked besides her.
The smell of the sea still lingered in her nose. Jordan. “You will not bed Hudson” echoed in his deep tone, and then twisted, unwanted, through her.
She was the new Duchess of Hudson. What choice had she but to bed her own husband?
Chapter Three
Samgor’s Den. Below St. James. London.
Jordan paced within the club’s foyer. Ilmir had dragged him here and instantly disappeared up to their room. Where were Madoc and Ferrous? They all needed to be here. Now. Damn it.
He spun once more on the etched black lava floor. Why did he have to be the first to find his mate? He ground his teeth. Of course he wanted this, had dreamt about this moment for centuries. He shook his head. He was simply less prepared for the unexpected physical changes and the social complications of her. The duchess.
Ferrous would know exactly what to do with the new complications. Jordan wrung out his hands and refisted them. He fluttered like a leaf in the wind, more nervous than the first time he bit. What a bumblebroth. The scales on his arms tingled. Things could go very wrong when the power of a Zir was uncertain.
The vision of the wave he caused when he first bit, and Ada died, washed through him. The town took weeks to dry out and repair the damage. He gritted his teeth. Even before he found his mate, the damage he could create was permanently fixed in his thoughts. What he now could be capable of sounded all the warning horns in his head.
The door to Samgor’s Den opened, and Jordan spun about. A man whose short, spiked white hair came to no taller than Jordan’s waist strode in. Samgor. “Your brothers’ carriage arrived, Jordan.”