A Matter of Circumstance and Celludrones Read Online Free PDF Page A

was so looking forward to amusing myself with the two of you,” Lady
Ostrich murmured as she approached. Her palm was raised and aimed at him, a
weapon shooting some invisible force that kept him trapped.
    The transformation from lady to hell-hound witch was complete. Her
garments hung from her body in shreds, her ice-blonde hair stripped from its
pins to hang in disarray to well below her waist. Blood, dark and thick, oozed
from a deep gash at the side of her head.
    “But you’ve quite spoiled my mood,” she said, sighing. “You should not
have set your dogs on me.”
    Lily , he cried out, only no words reached his lips. His vocal
chords were paralysed.
    Lily didn’t move or make a sound. For all he knew, the bitch had her
under a spell as well.
    “You really should not have,” Lady Ostrich went on. “Now I have to
prove to you how very serious—” she gave him one last glance before turning her
full attention on Lily “—my intentions are.”
    The palm aimed at him dropped away and, with it, the restraining
force. Greyston plunged to the ground.
    “There are so many ways to do this,” she said in a sing-song voice.
    Greyston came to his feet into a ready lunge, but froze when he saw
the woman’s hands clasped around Lily’s throat.
    “But there’s something incredibly tantalising about getting one’s
hands dirty.” She glanced over her shoulder, showing Greyston a hard smile.
“Don’t you think?”
    Snap.
    “Lily.” Greyston lunged then, falling over her crumpled form, trying
to shield her with his body, trying to protect her. As he gathered her into his
arms, her head dangled at an unnatural angle.
    Too late. No. By God, no!
    “I pray my lesson serves you well, Lord Adair. Beware the powers you
seek to play with, for such…”
    He blanked out the menacing words, shutting himself off from the
outside world as he held Lily close. He searched inside his head, found the
memory he wanted and clung to it, weaving his senses through the clutter until
he was right there, gazing down on Lady Lily as she busied herself pouring tea.
    A hand landed on his shoulder. It was the witch, hissing a stream of
words at him as she gripped hard, tugging. Greyston delved deeper into his
mind, concentrating on a single moment in time, inhaling the lingering scent of
rose water and wondering, for the first time, what hid beneath Lily’s polite
smile.

 
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    L ily
kept her smile in place as she tipped the spout of the teapot over a cup.
Awareness of this man tingled at the base of her spine, but that couldn’t be
helped. She’d applied an extra layer of white powder to her cheeks and throat
before coming downstairs in anticipation of warm flushes. Lord Adair was quite
simply, to quote Evie, dashing.
    In looks, anyway. His manner left much to be desired. Which was just
as well. Any distraction tempted by that chiselled jaw, or those warm brown
eyes, was quickly upstaged by the memory of his abruptness last night. Not to
mention his less than exemplary behaviour this afternoon.
    She glanced up at him. “One lump or two?”
    A sensation of déjà vu overcame her.
    “Two,” he rasped.
    She startled, spilling a trail of hot tea over the two cups and
saucers laid out. Her strained smile faltered.
    “We don’t have time— We need to talk. I need you to—” His hand went to
his neck cloth, tugging until the starched linen hung in two loose ties down the
front of his shirt. “Lily, I don’t know—”
    “Lord Adair!” She placed the pot carefully on the trolley and stood.
    The feeling of déjà vu settled around her like a dense cloud. In that
mist, Lord Adair was setting down his cup and saucer, strolling to the mantelpiece,
pointing out the miniature of her mother and about to blast her with
inappropriate questions and probing insults. Not tugging his neck cloth
loose and taking liberties with her name.
    A sour, curdling feeling churned her belly.
    Something felt very wrong, even before