Victoria's Demon Lover - By Alia Bess Page 0,49

can take you back against your will,” Jasper admitted, “and Jack told me. He told me. Marcus and Torgal too.”

She sat up, trying to make sense of this. “They want me back at the lake house?”

Jasper wrinkled his nose. “You are doing it wrong,” he said. “They need your help to do what they are trying to do, but you are not cooperating.”

“Spell it out, then,” she snapped. “I’m tired of hearing this from everyone. Am I just stupid?”

She was surprised to see tears glisten in Jasper’s eyes. “You are not stupid, Victoria,” he said gently. “You are stubborn, and determined. This is good. But it means you resist with the same intensity that you do the things you like doing.” Japer sighed. “You don’t want to do what Jack needs you to do.”

“What does he need me to do? Tell me and I will do it.”

“He needs you to go back to the lake house.”

“I won’t.”

Jasper covered his eyes with a little hand. “See?” he murmured, and she wondered if he was talking to her or to an unseen master.

She heard hoofbeats approaching. She gave Jasper a fierce warning look and he disappeared. She tied her apron on tighter, checked her shoes and smoothed her braid under a little white cap. She pushed open the door and marched out into the yard. No one was going to kill Jack without going through her first.

The hammer paused in mid-air as she approached. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

Of course something was wrong, and she was sorry it was so obvious on her face. “I hear horses on the road. I came out to tell you. I know you can’t hear anything over the sounds of the metal and the fire.”

He set the hammer down and stepped away from the bellows and the flames. They both heard the rhythmic beat through the trees. He nodded. “I need you to stay inside when they get here.” He looked at her and she saw he was deadly serious.

“Can I not greet them?” she resisted.

“No. They shall not see you.”

She pretended to pout, but that did not work. He looked exasperated. “Maggie, if they see you he will want you and I cannot say no.”

“Cannot say ‘no’?” She put her hands on her hips and was about to argue when she remembered she was not in America in the twenty-first century. What kind of fucked up place and time was this where a man’s wife was not his own? She grit her teeth and the monkey’s warning made more sense to her.

She turned and stomped back into the cottage. She snapped all the shutters shut again and slammed the crockery on the sideboards. She leaned on the shelf that served as a counter top and seethed. Maybe not. Maybe I cannot live in such a time. Even for a man. This thought made her stomach turn. She wanted Jack. And Marcus and Torgal.

Hoof beats stopped in front of the cottage. She heard the jangle of the bits and saddle harness as the men dismounted. She heard their hearty greetings. Jack would have to come in to get the sword he had made for Lord Brigayne. She backed away into the corner. No one would see her.

He came in and gave her a warning glance before turning to the wooden chest under the bed. He knelt on the floor and pulled the chest out so he could lift the lid. Victoria saw him gently lift something long wrapped in cloth. He unwrapped the sword and discarded the cloth which fell to the flagstones. He tilted the sword against the light from the open door and sighted along its length.

Victoria knew the sword was finished, and that it was perfect. This inspection was more a ritual than anything else. She knew it was his way of saying goodbye to his artwork. She puffed up with pride. He was the best smith for miles around. A hundred miles. With the completion of this sword he would be considered a Master, though he had not finished his seven years as journeyman yet. He got to his feet and walked out the door without closing it. His hands were full. She crept along the wall until she reached the threshold and peeked out.

The men were gathered in a tight circle to look at the shining sword. Their horses stood patiently by, their heads lowered, chewing on their bits and whipping their tails against the flies. Jack stood straight and proud,