“Perceptive girl,” said the duke, leaning back in his chair. A footman hurried forward with a finger bowl and towel, and Gareth studied the servant’s face. As with most of the humans in the duke’s employ, the man did not look quite right, somehow. The nose appeared broken, or disjointed, the eyes slightly skewed, the mouth twisted at an unnatural angle.

The Duke of Ghoulston experimented with magic in dangerous ways.

“I have a favor to ask of Sir Knight.”

Gareth turned his attention back to the duke and tried to look mildly interested.

Millicent frowned. “Gareth? But he has already told you he has no magic. And little control over the relic.”

Gareth narrowed his eyes at the duke. “I find it puzzling as to why you think I might do you a favor… other than cutting your throat, that is.”

Nell hooted, sloshing the wine in her cup. Selena gave the firebird a disdainful look.

The congenial smile that the Duke of Ghoulston had adopted all evening suddenly faded. “I rather thought you wouldn’t. Not until I hold the relic and exercise some power over you.”

Gareth shrugged. The man had it all wrong. Possession of the relic would not change anything. For all of his arrogance about his scientific studies, the man appeared to know little about powerful magic. “Then why mention it?”

“Because I believe you will be begging to grant me this favor once you know…”

The absurd man let his words trail off into silence. Selena leaned forward in her chair, her mahogany hair gleaming in the lamplight, her delicate features taut with anticipation. Nell’s hand shook, and she sloshed more wine onto the tablecloth, a red glow appearing in the depths of her violet eyes. Gareth could feel Millicent tense, could sense her were-cat coiled like a spring within her, ready to erupt.

The guards at the door blinked, glancing around the room at the sudden change in the atmosphere.

Gareth sighed. “All right. I’ll bite. Once I know what?”

But the duke turned his attention away from him and directed it at Millicent. “Did you enjoy the wine, my dear? You never did say.”

Millicent stared at the goblet in her hand, and carefully set it back on the table. “What’s in it?”

“Ah, did I not just mention how perceptive you are?” He laughed, his jowls bouncing. “The nuns say it will bring you closer to heaven—if you’re deserving, that is. Somehow, I doubt you will wind up in the clouds, my dear. But do not worry. I hear hell is much more interesting, anyway.”

A cold feeling rose in Gareth’s chest, and it took him a moment to recognize it. He had learned to control fear long ago. But the threat was to Millicent, whom he loved more than freedom, more than life itself. “If she dies, so do you.”

The duke fingered his cravat. “Perhaps. It is a risk I am willing to take, for the hour of your departure draws near, Sir Knight. Or have you not noticed the time?”

All eyes turned to the ornate clock on the mantel, but Gareth could not tell the position of the hands from this distance.

“With the antidote, Millicent will experience the joy of heaven, but without it, she will suffer a truly agonizing death. In a few minutes you will fade back into the relic, while Millicent’s muscles twist and tighten until she screams for mercy. By the time you appear again, it will be over. Does your consciousness stay aware while you are trapped in the relic, Sir Gareth? How many hours will you spend thinking of her pain? Thinking of her slow death?”

Selena grinned. “Oh, how delicious.”

“I thought you might appreciate it, my dear.”

Gareth felt the blood drain from his face, and for a moment, he could not breathe.

Millicent shook her head. “I’m afraid you have miscalculated, Your Grace.”

“I think not. If you die, I get the relic off your wrist. If you don’t, it will be because Sir Gareth granted my favor.”

She pushed her chair away from the table, arranged the folds of her skirt. “You are trying to blackmail Sir Gareth by using me as leverage, in the same way you used Nell to manipulate me. But I am afraid that in order for your plan to work, the knight must care for me. And he does not. He will no more grant your boon than I will bed him, and when he emerges from the relic once again, he will kill you. Your magic is no match for the power of a relic.”

The duke no longer looked so self-assured. He now tore at his cravat. He could not be sure if Millicent was bluffing or not.

Gareth admired her tenacity, but the stakes were too high. He stood, ignoring her hand on his arm, her hiss of warning. There was no way on God’s good earth he would allow Millicent to die. “What is this favor you would ask?”

The heavy man looked up at him with something akin to relief. “It is nothing as bad as all that. I only need…” He glanced at Selena. “A cup of your blood.”

Gareth’s brow rose in surprise. “An odd request, sir. Why not just have your men hold me down and take it from me?”

“Let’s just say, I feared it might get tainted. And I need it pure.”

“Indeed? And why—”

Millicent lurched forward, and Gareth bent down and caught her in his arms. A light sheen of sweat covered her brow, and a low moan escaped from her clenched teeth. “Don’t give him what he wants,” she gasped. “No good will come of it.”

“Do you truly think I would allow you to die?”

She groaned, hunching so far over that he guided her to the floor, kneeling next to her puddle of golden skirts, his hands on her shoulders the only thing holding her upright.

“It’s better than what the duke has planned, I’m sure.” Millicent sucked in a breath. “Don’t let him manipulate you, Gar—” The rest of her words turned into a scream as her body twisted, flinging her backward against the marble floor, only Gareth’s hands cushioning her head from the stone.

“Nell!”

But the old woman already knelt at his side, her red hair appearing to ripple like fire. He nodded, and she cradled Millicent’s head to her thin chest, stroking the rest of the twists out of the coiffure Gareth had so artfully arranged, while Millicent continued to scream. And scream.

The duke raised his voice. “It seems I did not misjudge the knight’s honor, were-cat. Of course he must rescue a damsel in distress, whether he cares for her or not. Perhaps you cannot understand it, but a gentleman such as myself recognizes the sentiment… although I’ve never had much call for it myself.”

Gareth rose to his feet.

Selena stood at the duke’s side, watching Millicent’s contortions with a grin of satisfaction. “I don’t think she can hear you, Your Grace.”

Rage swelled within Gareth, and he did not know where he found the strength to pull his sword without running both of them through. But instead, he swept the blade across his wrist and held out his bloody arm.

Selena licked her lips and darted forward. The duke reached out and grabbed her skirts, hauling her backward.

“Damn were-bats can never control their instincts. Guards, hold her.” He rose, shoving the girl at his men. “I will have to do this myself.” He picked up a golden goblet off the table and held it out, staring at the blood dripping from Gareth’s wrist as if it were gold.

Gareth dropped his arm. “Give my lady the antidote first.”

The Duke of Ghoulston did not argue. He strode to the sideboard and opened a small drawer, held forth a vial of black liquid. Gareth snatched it and brought it over to Millicent, his blood staining the golden velvet of her gown while he forced it past her taut lips. She swallowed once, twice, and then her body stilled.

He rose and faced the other man. He had no choice but to trust him, and it rankled. “She will recover?”

The duke nodded. “Hurry up. If I have calculated the sunrise aboveground correctly, we have only a few minutes left.”

Gareth held his arm over the goblet and watched it fill with his blood. Then he felt the tug at his soul, the call to return to the relic. His sight began to fade as he turned and glanced back at Millicent. She lay so very still now, her chest hardly rising and falling. If the duke had lied… if she died while he was trapped within the relic…

He could not leave her like this. He would not! The relic could not take him…

Nine

Millicent woke in the red bedroom once again, every muscle in her body aching. She opened her eyes. Bloody hell. They ached too. She sat up with a groan, glanced around the room, the fuzzy memory of her dinner with the duke slowly coming back to her. Someone had stripped off her golden gown, and it sat on a velvet wing chair, crimson blood still staining the skirts.

Gareth. Nell.

She crawled out of the bed, stood on shaky legs, and forced them to take her across the room. By the time she opened the door and walked into the parlor, her muscles had loosened enough to almost make her drop with relief at the sight that awaited her.

Gareth lounged on a low armless sofa, his wavy blond hair falling across his sculpted cheekbones, his sexy mouth curled in a smile as he played some sort of card game with Nell. The old woman had a pile of buttons in front of her, apparently gathered from several of the cushions in the room, and cackled as she hauled another pile of them toward her.

“Ye’ve got no luck with the cards,” chided Nell with barely stifled glee. “Let’s have another round, shall we?”

But Gareth turned his head, his brilliant blue eyes suddenly fixing on Millicent, and he did not answer. His gaze held her transfixed, for she saw so much in his eyes that she wanted to weep, or scream, or fall into his arms. No one had ever looked at her like that before. As if she were the most precious thing on earth.