Magic and Mayhem Collection Volume 1, page 39
Not a flicker in her eyes. Instead, she waited anxiously, like being told a fascinating story.
In a way, it was fascinating, but gods had nothing to do with the plight of ships. Only pirates and storms.
“King Merrik decreed, through his father, Endellion of course, that so long as the communities were bound together through marriage, peace would prevail for Bocka Morrow and Laswell, and the ships would be protected from pirates and all dangers of the seas. If peace was broken by anyone in Laswell or Bocka Morrow, protection would no longer be provided, the violator punished and a price would be paid.” It sounded all very dramatic, not that Wesley put any stock in the superstition, especially one involving the Sea God of Cornwall.
Miranda straightened. “Did you say marriage?”
It took her longer to come to the implication of what was needed than he had anticipated.
“Yes. I can only assume peace continued for so long because the agreement had been signed before your uncle’s untimely death.”
“It continued until the residents of Laswell wrecked a Bocka Morrow ship.” Miranda rose and began to pace. “Somehow we need to fix this.”
Wesley scrubbed a hand over his face. It was rather archaic that marriage was necessary for two communities to get along, but it still happened, to this day. Usually, it involved two kingdoms, not smugglers.
Would the residents of Bocka Morrow and Laswell both demand the same? Would they be agreeable and cease the need to fight?
Wesley pulled himself from the settee. While he’d contemplated a match between him and Miranda, the possibility obviously hadn’t occurred to her, and thus, he now knew for certain she’d never consider his suit. She might enjoy his kisses, but not enough that she forgot herself or she wouldn’t have pushed him away. “We should speak to our families.” Certainly, there was another way to bring peace without marriage.
Chapter 12
Miranda was certain that her heart had skipped when Epworth first mentioned the marriage clause. But, as he didn’t even hint that the two of them should consider the possibility, Miranda had to conclude that he would not consider her for his wife.
It hurt, more than she’d anticipated, especially after the kiss they’d just shared. Goodness, had Uncle Jonathan not appeared, who knows how long they would have been on the floor, embraced and heated. Who knows what else might have occurred?
Embarrassment engulfed her at the memory of finding Uncle Jonathan hovering above them. He must think her quite wanton, though he wasn’t in any position to judge her after all the time he’d spent alone with Her Grace. And even though the details were not written, thank goodness, Miranda was certain the two had anticipated their marriage vows, several times over.
However, that was not what should concern her. King Merrik, through Endellion, required marriage for peace, and if it wasn’t reached, far more damage could be done to the villages of Bocka Morrow and Laswell. It certainly explained why the seas had been churning, the tide higher these past days, and why storms had hovered in the distances, threatening to move closer to shore. Endellion was angry, and they needed to appease him quickly.
Miranda glanced across the room to Epworth, her heart aching. If he had no desire to marry her, why had he kissed her so thoroughly? After they’d fallen, he could have allowed her to stand, and they would have gotten about their business of reading the treaty. Instead, he’d held onto her and kissed her so thoroughly that Miranda had wanted to strip out of her gown to cool her body.
Miranda pushed the questions and memories to the back of her mind and hurried from the attic. At the first servant she encountered, she asked that her family be asked to join her and Epworth in the private family sitting room and that Her Grace should be advised as well.
It didn’t take long for them to join her and Epworth, with Diana and Somerton the last to enter, closing the door behind them.
“What have you learned?” Her Grace demanded.
Epworth quickly explained what had been written in every document, from the first to the last.
“Do you believe if a marriage takes place, it will soothe the insult for those in Bocka Morrow?” he asked of Adam.
“Perhaps. Will it stop those in Laswell from wrecking any ships?” Adam countered.
“I’ll make certain of it,” Her Grace decreed right before there was a knock at the door.
“Come,” Adam called.
A footman entered, carrying a silver tray. “An urgent message for Her Grace from the Duke of Arscott.”
Miranda’s stomach tightened in fear Laswell had taken another ship.
Her Grace tore open the missive as soon as the footman had exited and then gasped.
“What is it?” Epworth demanded.
She glanced up, her face pale and fear in her eyes. “A storm blew into Laswell as soon as my son sent his last missive. Waves larger than anyone had ever seen. They crashed onto the shore, flooded the streets, and two homes were lost.”
“Anybody injured? Did anyone die?” Epworth asked anxiously.
“Only one.” She let the letter drift to her lap. “Mr. Alby. The man who set the lights that lured the ship.”
“A price will be paid,” Miranda whispered almost to herself as a shiver snaked up her spine.
“I fear our problems are much larger than anger between the residents of Bocka Morrow and Laswell,” Her Grace decided before she rose from her place on the settee and crossed to the sideboard where she helped herself to a glass of brandy. Everyone in the room gaped at her, as she was a duchess and they did not drink brandy, nor did they serve themselves. Even Epworth looked stunned, as did Lady Lucinda.
“Anyone else?” Her Grace offered and held up a glass.
“I’ll see that everyone is served.” Adam rushed forward.
“What do you mean that our problems are larger?” Epworth asked.
Miranda knew he’d not believe what she suspected, and what Her Grace had decided.
“That unless there is peace between the villages and a marriage, it will not be safe for any of us to sail, or live along the coast,” Adriana, the youngest of Miranda’s sisters, answered.
Her Grace looked to Adriana and nodded. “Endellion will not allow it to be. The seas have been churning, angrier by the hour, ever since the ship was wrecked.”
If she could not sail into Bocka Morrow, Miranda would be forced to remain at Hollybrook Park because there was no other road that they could take to travel anywhere in England without traveling past Castle Keyvnor.
Silence fell throughout the room and the only person who seemed confused by the conclusions was Somerton.
“Who is King Merrik?” Somerton asked. “I’ve never heard of him.”
“The king of Atargatis,” Diana answered.
He shook his head. “King of where?”
“He is the king of the merfolk,” Her Grace answered.
“There is a king of the merfolk?” Somerton asked in astonishment.
“It’s a child’s fairy tale,” Epworth insisted with little patience. “King Merrik was the son of Endellion, the Sea God of Cornwall, and lives on a mythical island called Atargatis.”
Somerton grinned. “This is all very fascinating.”
He was real, not a story invented for children, but Epworth would not believe otherwise. His grandmother had admitted as such yesterday.
Epworth shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ghosts, pixies, witches, a mermaid king. None of it is logical. None of it is real.”
“He does exist,” Miranda insisted.
“Really?” Epworth lifted his head, humor in his blue eyes. “You’ve seen him?”
“Well, no,” she answered with a bit of fluster.
“I suspect he is about as real as the ghosts you’ve been chasing. The one that you claimed to have seen and kept you from the ball.” He crossed the room to retrieve a glass of brandy. “While all this talk of merfolk is interesting, we need to come up with a reasonable solution to keep Bocka Morrow from retaliating against Laswell.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Wesley,” Her Grace tisked.
“Why? Because I don’t believe all those childhood stories you used to tell me to be true? They were fairy tales, Grandmother. Mermaids don’t exist. Just as ghosts don’t either, or any other unnatural being the people of Bocka Morrow believe in.”
Miranda decided to ignore him and turned to her family. “Regardless of what Lord Epworth believes, the residents of Bocka Morrow will trust that Endellion is unhappy. But, will they accept that Laswell has already been punished for their crime and not seek retribution for fear Endellion’s rage will be brought down upon them?”
“It’s quite possible,” Epworth said after a moment. “If they believe in this nonsense, then they should be satisfied.” He shook his head. “Mermaids,” he scoffed. “It’s not like anyone has ever seen one before.”
“I have,” Miss Adriana announced.
Wesley stared at the youngest Vail sister. Was she claiming to have seen a mermaid? If so, her imagination was greater than Miranda’s.
“When?” Lynwood demanded.
“When I was much younger,” she quickly assured him. “Remember how I used to sneak out and swim when I wasn’t supposed to.”
“Yes,” her older brother answered.
“One time I swam out too far and couldn’t get back.”
Lynwood stiffened.
“A merman brought me ashore, saved me.”
“It was probably a villager or fisherman who saw you in the water,” Wesley offered.
“I am not mistaken,” Miss Adriana insisted with irritation. “Grandfather even thanked him for saving me, before I was punished for being so foolish.”
“Grandfather?” Miranda questioned.
“Yes. And he told me that I must not speak of it again.”
Which only instilled the idea that it was a merman and not a fisherman, Wesley concluded.
“Well, as we now know what the treaties involve, and what is expected for peace, there is no other option but marriage between our two families,” his grandmother pronounced.
Wesley glanced to Miranda to gauge her reaction, which was a mixture of shock and possibly fear.
“I agree,” Lynwood said. “Those in Bocka Morrow will be less likely to take revenge if there is a marriage, as it will add a layer of trust that has been lost. Further, Endellion will expect the same, as he always has.”
Wesley stared at the viscount. He didn’t expect Lynwood to really believe the nonsense so easily. Marry to keep a mythical god happy? Wesley understood marriage to bring peace, though even that seemed a bit archaic, but to do so because of fear of a mythical creature was beyond comprehension.
Wesley glanced about. Maybe all of this was in his imagination. Perhaps he was the one who was bloody mad and was really sitting in a cell in Bedlam, imagining he was here, with these people discussing the unbelievable and illogical.
He blinked and shook his head. He only wished that was the answer, but everything was real and everyone in this room was as mad.
With those thoughts, he strode across the room and poured himself a glass of brandy. While Wesley knew there was certainly no god of the sea or a merman king, he did believe that the residents of both villages were superstitious enough to believe that marriage was in order, a sacrifice for Endellion.
“Who shall be married?” Somerton asked.
Everyone looked to Miranda, then Epworth.
“I believe that is obvious,” Her Grace pronounced.
“No,” Wesley and Miranda said at the same time, shocking everyone in attendance.
Her Grace blinked. “Whyever not? The two of you have been near courting for nearly three years, though I’d begun to despair that anything would ever come of your association.”
“We do not suit,” Miranda insisted.
“I agree,” Wesley added. As much as he loved her, and wanted her, Miranda didn’t want him.
Chapter 13
Epworth’s quick answer to the question of Her Grace was all Miranda needed to know. She’d hoped that after the way he’d kissed her in the attic, Epworth might think of her as a potential bride. Clearly, he did not, and her behavior had probably only lessened any respect he may have had for her. Nobody wanted a wife who so quickly and easily fell into lust.
Miranda’s face heated. Lust was exactly what she felt for Epworth. Oh, she loved him as well, but desire and lust had taken over and she must be careful never to be alone with him again.
Ever.
In fact, after her sister’s wedding was complete, Miranda hoped never to see Epworth again. Wanting him and loving him, despite the fact that he was blind to anything and everything that he’d decided was illogical, and knowing she was good enough to be kissed, but not worthy of marriage was too painful.
As the others made their way back to the public portion of the house to be with the wedding guests, Miranda slipped away. There must be some place she could go where she wouldn’t be bothered. Usually, that was the attic, but she didn’t want to be anywhere she was reminded of the passion she and Epworth had shared. Instead, she made her way through the gardens, nodding to friends and acquaintances, and down the stone path that led to the beach. Unfortunately, the tide was too high and had been for a few days, and she was only able to descend the stone steps a short way before there was nothing but water. Normally, there would still be at least a strip of sand she could walk upon, but the water had risen after Laswell wrecked the Bocka Morrow ship, and it was unlikely to recede before Endellion was appeased.
Miranda sank down onto the steps and looked out, wishing she could be the one to bring peace. Wishing Epworth wanted her as more than a friend.
A fierce wave rushed in, crashing against the rocks and the stairs, spraying Miranda with seawater. She quickly scrambled up the steps to be out of harm’s way. “We’ll fix this,” she called out, not even certain the merfolk could hear her.
“Fix what and who are you talking to?”
Miranda glanced up to find Epworth near the edge.
“Fix the problems caused by Laswell,” she grumbled and stalked past him. “I hoped someone could take my message to Endellion.”
Epworth pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Never mind. I know you don’t believe. You’ll never believe. How can I expect you to when you don’t even see what is standing right in front of you,” Miranda yelled, then pulled back when she realized what she’d said.
She hadn’t meant to admit anything. Certainly not what was in her heart, and hopefully, Epworth wouldn’t understand or think she was talking about rough sea and not her love for him.
Oh, why couldn’t she love someone else? Why did it have to be a gentleman that at best considered her a friend, and at worst, someone to seduce, but no more.
Epworth studied her, his blue eyes intense. “What do you mean? What don’t I see that is right before me?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Miranda dismissed and walked away. She couldn’t tell him. The humiliation would be too much.
“Do you care for me, Miranda?”
His voice was so quiet, filled with concern, that it caused her heart to break. For those reasons, she couldn’t turn around and look at him or he might see evidence of her pain in her eyes. Instead, she remained with her back to Epworth. “It matters little what my feelings may be.”
A gentle hand rested on her shoulder. “It matters to me.”
“I don’t see why. ” At least her voice didn’t betray her, even though her eyes were beginning to fill with tears.
“Because I’ve cared for you for a very long time.”
“We are friends, Lord Epworth,” she reminded him. “Friends care for one another.”
“Is that all you’ve ever wanted?”
Something in his voice, something she couldn’t identify, caused Miranda to turn. “Why do you ask?”
He pulled his hand away and pushed his fingers through his hair as if frustrated and Miranda’s stomach sank. “There is no need to answer, Lord Epworth. I don’t believe it’s a discussion that needs to be had.”
“There, you are wrong.”
As if her humiliation wasn’t already enough, he was now going to set her aside, not that she’d ever been anything to him, to begin with.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to care for me? To think of me more than a friend.”
At his words, Miranda blinked and feared she was only hearing what she wished and not what was being said.
“I’ve attempted to court you these last three years, but you never gave me any indication that I’d be anything more than a companion that you enjoyed spending time with, and argue with on occasion.”
But she had wanted more. So much more. It was Epworth who kept her at a distance.
“Had you flirted, even once, I would have known where I stood. But you never gave me a hint you wanted more. Not a flutter of an eyelash, a secret smile, or any behavior that could ever qualify as flirting.”
Miranda frowned. “You wished that I had flirted with you?”
“Good God, yes! At least then I would have known if you were even interested in courtship. I only began to hope that I had a chance when you allowed me to kiss you at Castle Keyvnor.”
Miranda’s mind raced to catch up to what she was hearing and struggled to accept and put aside what she’d already assumed.
“I don’t flirt,” she finally said, which was not at all what she intended, but it was a truthful statement.
“I know,” he said in frustration. “My only comfort in you not doing so with me was that I never witnessed you flirt with anyone else. Had you, I would have known that I was not someone with whom you would be interested in entering into a courtship.”
Wesley had not intended to tell Miranda what was in his mind and he still wasn’t certain how much he’d tell her of what was in his heart, but three years of wondering was long enough for any gentleman. More than enough. Over half the gentlemen he knew, who finally married, had done so in less than the span of a season.
