Beware Faery Gifts

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Eyes closed and small body rocking gently, Leah flowed with her music, losing herself in the pulsing rhythms of the harp. In music, there was no loneliness or sorrow, only sweet abandon.

She came to the end of a long ballad and bent her head with a sigh. It was almost time to return home, and to drab reality.

Very near, someone cleared his throat. Her eyes flew open. To her surprise, a man of terrifying elegance stood right beside her. He was incredibly handsome, his immaculate London garb not concealing the strength of his tall frame.

Instantly tongue-tied, she clutched her harp and stammered, “A…are you lost, sir?”

He bowed, sweeping his hat so low that it brushed the verdant turf. “Not in the least. I came to find you, Leah, and in that I have succeeded.” His hair was golden, and when he straightened she saw that his eyes were a startling true, clear green.

She held the harp even more closely. “Why would you want to find me, sir?”

“I have often heard you playing your harp in my wood, Leah. Because of the pleasure I’ve had from your music, I’ve come to give you a gift.”

“They are not your woods,” she said politely. “This land is part of Marlowe Manor, so it belongs to my father, Sir Edwin Marlowe.”

The stranger smiled, a chancy light dancing in his eyes. “There are many kinds of ownership, Leah. The wood is mine in a way that it will never belong to Sir Edwin.”

“I have not given you leave to be free with my name.” She stood, her harp in her arms, and began to edge away warily away.

“I shall not harm you, Leah,” he said as if reading her mind. “I desire only to grant your dearest wish.”

Her mouth twisted. The late child of elderly parents, she had known she was an unwanted nuisance before she learned to walk. If she had been pretty and charming, she might have won her parents’ hearts, but she had been as nondescript as the faded wallpaper in the hall. She had caused no trouble, and in return was treated with absent-minded courtesy. And this man spoke of granting her dearest wish! She wanted to be lovely and lovable, but even a London gentleman could not give her that.

“Ah, but I can,” he said softly. “I am Ranulph of the Wood, a lord of Faerie. I can give you beauty so great that it will bring all mortal men to their knees. Wealth, fame, the love of heroes—you can have whatever, or whomever, you most desire.”

She gaped at him. He was mad; there could be no explanation. Or perhaps she was merely dreaming.

“This is no dream.” Ranulph took her right hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a cool kiss on her tense fingers. “It is a sign of your own magical gift of music that you can see me. Usually only sorcerers or simple country people can see the Folk, but sometimes artists and poets and musicians can also. ”

She pulled her hand away, beginning to wonder if by some wild chance this encounter could be real. The woods around her had always had an uncanny reputation, and the villagers avoided the area. Leah came to this glade to play because the music inside her was always most powerful here. “If you’re a faery, prove it.”

He shook his head sadly. “So skeptical, you modern mortals.” He reached inside his coat and drew out a small looking glass. Then he extended it to her, his fingers trailing sparkling light. “See what you might be.”

Leah looked into the glass, and almost passed out with shock. The image revealed was stunningly beautiful. Her mousy brown hair had become a marvelously thick, glossy mane streaked with sun-kissed blondness, while her nondescript, gray-green eyes were a striking shade of green. Her fair skin seemed almost to glow and her features had been refined to exquisite perfection. Yet eerily, the face was still hers.

The image shimmered, and suddenly it showed plain Leah Marlowe again. She gave a small whimper of protest at the loss of that vision of loveliness.

Ranulph lowered the mirror. “You can look like that, Leah. Say the word, and you will be able to go to London as an acclaimed beauty and take your choice of the finest gentlemen in Britain. You shall be declared a diamond of the first water. Become a duchess, perhaps, if that is what you wish.”

“Such beauty would be wasted, for my parents would never take me to town.” She tried to sound as if that deprivation did not bother her.

“There is more than one way to get to London.”

Nervously she brushed back her hair, torn between disbelief and the palpable reality of her surroundings. The scents and sounds were of the familiar glade, and this Ranulph seemed as genuine as anyone she’d ever seen .

He smiled at her. “I am as real as you, though of a different nature.”

He could also read her mind, which certainly supported his claim of being a faery. Warily she said, “You will give me so much simply because you’ve enjoyed my music?”

He gave a world-weary shrug. “You would also have to make some small future payment when I come to claim it.”

She looked into his eyes, and suddenly believed that he was what he said, for there was something deeply alien in those green depths. Something ancient beyond words, even though his face was that of a man in the prime of his life.

“You want my soul,” she said flatly. “There are stories of faeries stealing human souls because they have none of their own.”

He laughed, as charming as the London gentleman he resembled. “You mustn’t believe all those old tales. I have no interest in stealing your soul.”

“Do you have a soul of your own?”

“I really don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “The Folk live so long that the issue is not one I have considered. But I assure you that even if I lack a soul myself, I wouldn’t know how to take yours, much less what to do with it.”

Oddly, she believed him, even though this conversation was increasingly bizarre. “If not my soul, what would you want of me?”

He shrugged again. “I haven’t decided.”

Relieved to have a good reason to deny his gift, she said, “I can’t possibly agree to something when I don’t know the price to be paid.”

She started to move away, but he caught her gaze with his. “When the time comes, I will give you three choices. I shall not ask for your soul or your life—my oath upon it,” he said with cool deliberation. “Surely one of the choices offered will be something you shall not mind paying.”

She hesitated, knowing she should leave, but unable to deny the mesmerizing lure of his green eyes. Trying to sound firm, she said, “No.”

“You will be beautiful beyond words, Leah,” he said softly. “Men will offer you their love, their wealth, their devotion. Heroes will lay their glory at your feet. You will be the most envied woman in the land.”

To be loved, not alone. To be beautiful. She thought of that entrancing image in the mirror, and wanted to weep with longing.

Seeing that she was weakening, he said in a voice like honey, “I am not asking you to do evil, my dear girl. You have blessed me and my wood with your music. I simply want to give you a token of my gratitude. But according to the laws of my world, a faery cannot give a gift without some kind of an exchange. I say again, you will not have to forfeit your soul, or your life. You’ll have three choices, Leah. Surely one will be the merest trifle for you to pay.”

Treacherously, he raised the mirror again. The beautiful Leah was there, gowned in silk and lace instead of the drab, worn gown that the real Leah wore.

She looked into the eyes of her false image, trying to find evil or corruption. But she saw only herself, happy and beautiful. She ran her tongue over dry lips. To be lovely and loved….

With sudden reckless passion, she knew that she wanted love at any price. Even if she possessed it for only for a handful days, it would be better than the emptiness of her present existence. She drew a ragged breath. “Very well, Lord Ranulph. I will accept your offer of beauty and love. In return you will give me three choices of repayment, and will not ask for my mortal life or immortal soul. ”

His smile was dazzling, though his teeth were rather…pointed. She reminded herself firmly that cats had pointed teeth, and she was very fond of them. She still missed her old tabby, gone since the last winter.

With a glitter of light, a silver dagger materialized in his hand. As she stiffened, he coolly sliced the center of his left palm. A crimson line appeared. Before she could retreat, he caught her hand and made a matching cut in her palm. Strangely, even though blood formed along the wound, it did not hurt. Rather, it stung like ice against bare flesh.

He pressed his palm to hers. “Flesh to flesh, blood to blood, a faery bond is formed.” His voice was soft, but in his piercing eyes was a wild, alien light.

She gasped and snatched her hand away. “What wicked magic have you done?”

Lord Ranulph smiled, a sophisticated London gentleman again. “It was the merest formality, my dear girl.” He took her hand again, but this time he only bowed elegantly over it. “You will not regret this, Leah. Go home now, and enjoy the blessings of faery magic.” He straightened and gestured across the glade at a bird perched on a branch. “Very soon you shall take flight like that turtle dove.”

Her gaze followed the fluttering wings as the dove rose into the air. She watched until it soared out of sight among the trees, then turned back to Ranulph of the Wood.

He was gone, leaving not so much as a single footprint or broken blade of grass.

She drew a dazed breath and sank onto the fallen tree trunk. The cool wind slid over her heated face. Had the faery vanished, or never existed?

She looked at her left hand, but there was no trace of a cut. Pressing her cheek against the silky wood of her harp, she bent her head and closed her eyes. The encounter must have been some sort of dream. She had dozed, and dreamed of a magical offer that would bring her happiness. She’d had many such fanciful daydreams as a child, though never one so realistic.

Face taut, she stood and slung her harp over her shoulder. Now she was grown and knew that happiness did not come with the swish of a magic wand—or the slash of a magical dagger. The reality was that eventually she would inherit a comfortable independence and would never want for anything. She was a fortunate woman, for she did not need a husband or children or passionate, romantic love.

It had only been a dream.

Leah entered the manor house quietly and headed for the stairs. Her dream of Faerie had delayed her, and she barely had time to change before dinner.

Then her mother called, “Leah, dear, come in here, please.”

“Yes, Mother.” Leah smoothed a hand over her wind-whipped hair, then slung the harp as far behind her as possible. Her parents approved of her skill on the pianoforte, but they had never understood her strange passion for a common, old-fashioned harp.

The instrument had been the gift of the old Irishman who had been her father’s forester until his death the previous winter. McLennan had taught her to play. He’d also filled her ears with tales of the Faery Folk, of how they loved music and how he himself had once spent a midsummer’s night listening to the wild melodies of faery harpers. Then he’d nod and say that Leah had the same gift.

The memory relaxed her. It was McLennan’s tales that had produced that strange—dream? Hallucination? A faery in the woods! She must have been mad .

Leah entered the morning room, where her mother reclined on a brocade sofa. “Do you need something, Mother? Your shawl, perhaps?”

Lady Marlowe, gray-haired and chronically vague, but still retaining some of the frail prettiness of her youth, looked up from the letter in her hands. “’Tis the most extraordinary thing. This has just come from your father’s cousin, Lady Wheaton. She’s one of your godparents, you know.”

Leah nodded. Her ladyship had sent her goddaughter an elaborate silver christening cup twenty-one years before. That was the extent of their relationship.

“Andrea wishes for you to join her in London for the Little Season. She’s a widow, you know, and she’s decided that it would be amusing to present a girl to society.”

Leah gasped. “London—me? I…I would have no idea how to get on.”

“Nonsense,” her mother said reprovingly. “You’re well-bred and a very handsome girl. You shall be a great success. Your father and I have often discussed taking you to London, but…” Her shrug delicately explained that such a project had been beyond her strength.

Leah scarcely noticed, for she was stunned by the remark that she was a very handsome girl. Apart from an occasional sigh after studying her daughter’s unprepossessing countenance, or perhaps a remark that it was a pity Leah resembled her father’s side of the family, Lady Marlowe had always been silent on the subject of her daughter’s looks.

Weakly Leah said, “I have no clothing suitable for fashionable society.”

“You’ll need a new wardrobe, of course. Andrea shall select it for you.” Lady Marlowe refolded the letter neatly. “Since you will be taking few of your own clothes, it won’t take long for you to pack. You can leave tomorrow morning. Andrea is most anxious to welcome you.”

“As you wish, Mother.” Still dazed, Leah left the morning room and headed upstairs to her room. In her—dream—Ranulph had said that there was more than one way to get to London. Could he have arranged this visit?

Absurd!

Then she passed the gilt-framed pier glass that hung in the upper hall, and came to a dead stop, as stunned as if she had been hit with a hammer. The image in the mirror was that of the beautiful, faery-touched Leah that Ranulph had shown her. But now she could see all of herself. Her hair was a sensual, tawny mane and her figure was alluringly petite instead of merely thin.

She touched the reflection with shaking fingers, half expecting it to vanish like an image in a pond, but there was no change. As her mother had said, she was a remarkably handsome girl. No, more than that. She was beautiful. Achingly, heart-stoppingly beautiful. Even in her worn gown, she looked like a princess. No man would be able to resist her.

Yet as she had noticed earlier, she was still herself. Each of her features was much as before, but now refined to perfection. Her fair complexion, always good, was now flawless. Her formerly average gray-green eyes had become a riveting shade of green—exactly like those of Ranulph of the Wood.

Involuntarily she glanced down at her left palm. The sunlight revealed a faint, silvery line across the center, exactly where Ranulph had drawn his dagger.

Her hand dropped. With eerie calm, she accepted that Ranulph had been real, and she had pledged herself to an unholy bargain. What she would have to pay when the time came? For now, it didn’t matter. As her eyes drank in the sight of her new self, she knew that what she had received was worth an uncertain price.

She tore herself away from the pier glass and hurried to her bedroom in the east wing. As soon as she closed the door, she looked into her own mirror, half afraid it would reflect the drab image of her old self. But it was the beautiful Leah who looked back, and who reflected Leah’s joyous laughter.

Exuberant, she set down her harp, then whirled across the room in a mad dance. She was beautiful and going to London and she would have admirers by the score. She would enjoy the attention, then love and marry the best of her suitors. Everything she had silently yearned for would be hers.

Still laughing, she threw open her casement windows and leaned out. “Look out, London, here I come!”

Leah did not expect a response, but a lady-like “Meow” sounded from very close at hand. She glanced to her left in surprise.

Perched daintily on the branch of a tree that grew near Leah’s window was a magnificent cat with long silky black hair and golden eyes. It was quite unlike any other cat Leah had ever seen, but quite in keeping with the events of the day. “Good day,” Leah said courteously. “Are you a magical faery feline?”

The cat compressed itself like a coiled spring, then made an amazing leap that took it all the way to Leah’s window. After landing lightly on the sill, it rubbed its cheek against Leah’s arm, purring powerfully.

Leah stroked the cat’s back. The splendid black fur was silky soft. “What a beautiful lady you are. You couldn’t be anything but a lady.”

The cat raised her aristocratic head and regarded Leah with huge golden eyes that seemed as intelligent as those of any human. Leah blinked. Perhaps this really was a faery being. Feeling absurd, she asked, “Did Ranulph send you to watch me?”

Making a disdainful feline sound, the cat jumped from the sill into Leah’s room, glided across the carpet, then leaped onto the bed. There she circled thrice around before settling down to sleep in a furry ball.

“You certainly believe in making yourself at home,” Leah said with amusement. She sat on the bed by the cat and began petting again. “I’d love to keep you, but I’m sure that you already have a home.” Though she could not imagine who in the neighborhood might own such a rare and obviously valuable cat. Leah knew every pet for miles around, and none of them were remotely like this lovely creature.

The cat purred ecstatically as Leah’s fingers found the sensitive spot under her throat. Leah asked, “What shall I call you?”

The cat opened her eyes for a moment. As her gaze met Leah’s, a word formed in Leah’s mind. Half convinced she was ready for Bedlam, Leah asked, “Is your name Shadow?”

Radiating satisfaction, the cat closed her eyes again and tucked her nose under the magnificent plumy tail.

Leah was definitely ready for Bedlam. Nonetheless, she hummed with pleasure as she changed her clothing for dinner.

All was chaos at Marlowe Manor the next morning. Ranulph drifted across the grounds and took refuge in the shade of a topiary hedge as he watched the preparations for sending Miss Leah to London. First the massive travel coach lumbered out of the carriage house. Then a footman brought out a small trunk of the young lady’s clothing. Ranulph was glad to see that she was not taking much; he’d never been impressed by her wardrobe. Luckily that would be improved in London. And of course when she was his, he’d garb her in moonbeams and faery silks.

Leah herself appeared, looking harassed and a little frightened to be leaving home for the first time in her life. In her arms was the case that held her harp. Behind her trailed the elderly maid who would accompany her to London, then return with the coach. Last of all came her parents, dutifully bidding their daughter good-bye.

Ranulph studied Leah hungrily. Mortals had such enticing vitality. The addition of faery glamour had made her lovely indeed. But his magic was limited by the fact that she was not yet bound to him; all he could do was maximize the features she had.

When she was fully his, he’d be able to alter her appearance at will. Make her tall, perhaps, or voluptuous, or give her the silvery blond hair of a faery queen. It would be like having his own private harem. Perhaps he’d give her black hair that swirled and danced about her heels. Though he’d never fancied black hair, it might be a pleasant change since most ladies of Faerie were blond.

Leah was on the verge of climbing into the coach when a fluffy black cat streaked by her and leaped into the vehicle. Leah removed the cat. It was back inside before she’d straightened up.

Ranulph laughed as he watched the ensuing battle. Cats were uncanny beasts who wandered freely between Faerie and the mortal world. This one had obviously been drawn by the scent of magic.

A footman caught the cat, only to have it wiggle loose in the blink of an eye. After the beast was removed from the coach again, Leah and the maid were hastily shut inside before the cat could rejoin them. It countered with a magnificent leap onto the coach, landing on the seat next to the driver.

Since the cat was clearly set on going to London, Leah wisely surrendered and opened the carriage door, The creature lightly sprang into the coach beside her and curled up daintily on the seat. Lady Marlowe suggested that if her daughter must take that feline , at least put it in a basket. Leah smiled and said that wouldn’t be necessary. Ranulph was pleased by her insight and flexibility; she’d do well when he brought her into Faerie.

With a mighty lurch, the coach set off. The Marlowes and the servants who had come to send the little miss off returned to their normal activities. Only Ranulph was left to watch the coach disappear around the bend in the drive.

He felt a surge of sadness, coupled with flashing impatience. Goddess, but he wanted her! But he must wait, give her time to become addicted to the power of her beauty, and to become infatuated with some mortal man. Then she’d be ripe for the plucking. To move too quickly would be to risk losing her. He’d realized the day before that she could not be rushed.

Briefly he considered Lady Kamana. An odd creature, but amusing and quite attractive in her foreign way. Perhaps he could use her as a distraction for the next long weeks. But she’d left the wood; he’d felt the moment when she slipped away, as he sensed everything that happened in his territory. In her desire to explore her new land, Lady Kamana could be anywhere by now.

He wondered what the other Folk would think of her. Sometimes the Folk could be cruel to those who were different, as he knew from hard experience.

The idea struck when he was returning to the wood. Why not go to London himself? The place was a great sink of dead stone and teeming humankind, but there were parks with enough greenery for him to endure a visit. Not only would he be able to see Leah, but other sights as well. It had been long since he’d traveled to London.

He tried to remember just how long. That fellow Henry, the one with the six wives, had been king then. The city would be much changed. Probably not for the better, but still, a visit would be interesting, and would fill the waiting time.

He’d wait a bit before going. Give Leah time to adjust. With luck, she might be ready for him sooner than he expected.

Steps light, he glided into the welcoming depths of the wood.