Despite the vulgar display, the aroma made Gareth’s mouth water.
Nell’s stomach growled.
“You have joined me at last!” The duke sat at the head of the table, his white gloves cast aside near his plate, his fingers and fleshy lips greasy from the leg of some fowl. He waved the meaty bone at Millicent. “Sit down next to me, my dear. I’m anxious to hear of your adventures over the last few days. Yes, Sir Gareth, please seat yourself at her side. No, dear Nell, sit here on my right, next to Selena. There, now. We are all gathered quite cozily, are we not?” And he dipped his meat into a silver bowl of gravy and continued his gluttony.
Gareth shared a glance with Millicent, shrugged, and began to help himself to the platters of food. He supposed the duke would reveal his purpose for this meeting in due time, and he knew Millicent had to be as hungry as Nell. He indulged for her sake, for she seemed as determined to ignore the food as Selena did.
The were-vamp condescended to sip at her wine when Millicent started to eat, and so for a time, nothing could be heard but the crackle of the fire, the duke’s rather loud eating habits, and the clatter of silver and crystal.
Ghoulston finally sat back and belched. He eyed Millicent’s plate. “Was the meat bloody enough for you, my dear?”
Millicent raised a raven brow at him.
“And the wine? How did you enjoy the vintage? It’s made from a special blend of grapes magically enhanced by a group of nuns who believe their God gave them the power to make it taste like a bit of heaven.”
She set down her silver fork. “What do you want?”
His dark eyes sparkled merrily, and Gareth fought down a trickle of sadness. Evil men, evil doings. He had seen too much of it.
“Why, my dear, I want nothing more than for you to sleep with the good knight and give me my relic. Have you managed to spread your legs for him?”
Millicent flushed, and Gareth gritted his teeth, his hand inching toward his sword. It bothered him that the guards had not taken it from him. Several of the men stood at both entrances of the room, and they did not even flicker a lash at him. Did they truly underestimate him, or did they think his sword such a paltry threat to the duke’s magic?
What sort of instructions had the duke given his minions for this eve?
Gareth placed both his hands back on the table. It would be better for Millicent if she just gave the relic to the duke. Then she and Nell would be free…
Millicent turned her head—ostensibly to take a sip of her wine, but threw Gareth a warning look before turning back to the duke. “If I thought it might make a difference, it might be worth giving up my virginity to give you the relic. But I rather doubt it will. Come, Your Grace, admit the true reason for this meeting. I suspect something rather significant has occurred during our absence.”
“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.”