Bride of Fae (Tethers) Read Online Free PDF Page B

moon and stars, and the wood reflects that light for a thousand years before it fades. The queen of the fairies wears a crown made of moonstick. Her throne is embedded with moonstick and dazzles all who gaze upon it.”
    “How do you know all this?” Gwen asked.
    “Gwen, don’t you know?” Charles said. “Lydia is a secret wyrding woman.”
    Gwen and the men laughed.
    “I wish it were true.” Gwen sighed. “I wish fairies were real.”
    “They are!” Lydia and Donall said at the same time.
    “You sound quite convinced, my lord.” Lydia smiled indulgently at Donall. “So you believe in fairies? Were you enchanted on Mischief Night?”
    “I don’t believe, Lydia. I know.” Donall stared into his glass, quiet for a few moments, as if debating whether to go on. “I’ve seen them.”
    Charles and Gwen laughed at the joke, but not Lydia. She eagerly reached for Donall’s hand, then caught herself and pulled back. She was a good actress too. She had the Victorian manner just right. The propriety. The taboo against touching a member of the opposite sex.
    “Everyone says they’ve seen fairies.” Charles groaned. “But no one can ever prove it.”
    “I can,” Donall said. “Last week on Mischief Night I encountered a party of fairies dancing on the roof at Faeview.”
    “How romantic,” Gwen said.
    “And your proof?”
    “One left something behind,” Donall said. “It would amaze you. A cup made of hand-blown glass, embedded with jewels. I have it still.”
    That’s it! Beverly thought. She was right—these were actors, but not for a film. They must be rehearsing a play for the hundred year anniversary of the cup. With so much dialogue about fairies, she should have guessed it straight away.
    She knew about the cup , though she’d never seen it. It was so famous it had a name, Bausiney’s Abundance . In a hundred years, it had never left Bausiney’s End.
    The ancient cup’s true provenance was a mystery, but by the official story it was left on Faeview’s rooftop by drunken fairies one Mischief Night. It had been named Bausiney’s Abundance well before Faeview was nicknamed Bausiney’s End .
    “Clever man.” Lydia touched Lord Tintagos’s hand. “I’d love to see it…Donall.”
    There was a glint of movement behind the actors, and Beverly almost gasped aloud. A man hidden in the vegetation was watching them. Perhaps the director, but Beverly thought not. He was focused on Donall, and his eyes burned with hatred.
    “When we go to Faeview I’ll show you,” Donall said. “I have it locked in a glass case with a steel frame of non-Dumnos iron and salt lining the border.”
    “Impressive method,” Lydia said.
    “Prescribed by my little sisters’ nanny,” Donall said. “I wanted to add a perimeter of holy cake crumbs, but she said that would be overkill. And would draw mice.”
    The more the picnickers went on about fairies and wyrders, the less their chit-chat sounded like dialogue from a script. If the man in the brush was the director, he should call cut. But he wasn’t paying attention to the actors any longer. He was staring at Beverly.
    Blimey! He was gorgeous. Dark chestnut hair covered his shoulders, and his muscular arms were bare. Beautiful. But intense and a little terrifying. She had to get out of here. Now.
    She backed away from the tree and turned—and ran into the director’s broad chest. “Oh!” escaped her mouth just as he clapped his hand over it. This was all too fantastical. She had to be dreaming—or she’d fallen into Wonderland.
    “What are you doing here?” he demanded in a quiet hiss. He had dazzling—glittering—green eyes. Excitement ripped through her gut. She’d seen eyes like that before.
    “Are you spying on me?” His voice’s low rumble calmed her despite the intensity and obvious fury on his face. He was vibrant and masculine. His skin was perfect. He looked young, but he felt eternal.
    An angel . The word flitted through Beverly’s