Moonspun Magic (Magic Trilogy 3)

“An old man . . .”

“David’s father.”

“Jesus, I don’t believe this . . .”

“So Joan was nearly right, closer than any of us,” said Rafael. “Well, Squire, what have you to say? Does David have any idea of your perverted activities?”

“David wanted to join us,” Linc Penhallow said, shaking his head. “And the Ram here said no. Only eight members there were to be. No more, no less.”

“He was always making up rules,” said Johnny. “Rules and more rules. Like my damned father.”

Rafael said nothing. He wanted to beat Johnny and the others to a pulp, but knew the pleasure would be denied him. He needed the dishonorable little bastards.

“Yes,” said Charlie St. Clement, “even rules for the girls.

We weren’t to fondle their breasts, not even to see their breasts. Their only use is what’s between their legs. Vessels, that’s all they were, that’s what he called them.”

Rafael listened to each of them complaining, but he was watching the squire’s face. His complexion was ruddy, and his eyes, an odd shade of green, were glittering, intense, and suddenly Rafael felt a frisson of fear.

He had to regain control, of himself and the situation. He said, shutting off Paul Keason, “As I said before, Squire, only you are to be punished. You have a choice. You may leave England forever or you may die. The viscount won’t meet you, for that would be an honorable acknowledgment. No, sir, he will have you killed. It’s that simple. The decision is yours.”

If anything, the squire’s complexion grew even ruddier. He said, throwing back his head, squaring his meager shoulders, “I am Square Esterbridge. I have lived here all my life, my father and his father before him. This is my land, my people. You, you sneering bastard, have no say. This is even my hunting lodge. I purchased it. You are trespassing. Get out.”

Rafael smiled. “You amaze me, Squire. Indeed you do. I will be delighted to leave for I have told you of your choices. Take heed, Squire, for if you do remain in Cornwall, in England, you won’t awake one day. And your son will become Squire Esterbridge.” That, Rafael guessed, was the most devastating consequence he could offer the man.

The squire said nothing more. Rafael nodded to the other men, then said to Flash, “Let’s tie old Deever up. The squire can release him once we are all away from this place.”

Flash, quick as his nickname, did the deed. Rafael walked to the table, took off his cloak, and wrapped the girl in it.

“Who is she, Squire?”

The squire sneered and said nothing.

“I will take her to Dr. Ludcott. He will know.” Even as he lifted the slight little figure in his arms, he said to the other men, “Have I your word that this club is well and truly done with?”

They all nodded, and Johnny said a furious, “Dammit all to hell, I can’t believe we were all so gulled by this . . . this . . .”

He couldn’t find a word, and Vinnie smoothly said, “This old curmudgeon? Crazy old Bedlamite?”

“Cursed sodding bastard.”

The Ram didn’t move, didn’t change expression. He said to Rafael, “You won’t be smiling much longer, Captain.”

Rafael froze for an instant at the squire’s very soft, taunting voice. “What the hell do you mean?”

The squire shook his head. He said nothing.

Rafael and Flash were both elated and weary. They rode side by side to the Drago Hall stables. “I wonder if Damien succeeded in fooling my wife.”

It was a rhetorical question and Flash said nothing.

“I threatened him, you know. The only way she would question his identity is if he touched her. He swore he wouldn’t, swore he would be the soul of honor, that his new leaf was well turned over, as of tonight. Well, we will soon see, won’t we?”

Rafael took his leave of Flash and walked toward the Hall. “Good sport, Cap’n,” Flash called after him. “Aye, excellent sport.”

Rafael grinned as he walked toward the Hall. It was late, very late, yet all the windows still blazed with light. He frowned. He suddenly remembered the squire’s words, and broke into a run.

He flung the oak front doors open. “Ligger. What the hell is going on?”