Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

When the little girl walked into the drawing room, Grayson saw not just a child but a little fairy princess, silky blonde hair held in place with a crown of braids atop her small head. She was as fair as a spring day, tall, on the thin side, but it was her eyes that held him. They were a light gray framed with thick darker lashes, deep eyes, eyes that held something he'd seen only a few times—she had magical eyes, a witch's eyes, and in their depths he saw grinding fear until he smiled and slowly she smiled back, her magical eyes flashed and he saw optimism and joy. Did she know she was a witch? No, very probably not.

The child said to Grayson in a clear sweet voice, "You're the magic gentleman Max told me about. You slay evil demons. He said he's known you forever and I can trust you with all my secrets. But that is what secrets mean, isn't it? No one else knows and you can hold them close and that's probably best."

Grayson slowly rose, walked to the little girl, bowed, stretched out his hand. Slowly, ever so slowly, her hand fluttered above his and finally settled. He gave it a light squeeze—little bird bones, so delicate. And he would swear he could feel her blood flowing sweet and strong, witch's blood. He said, "I'm Grayson, and I have secrets too. I am also a vault—no secret ever gets out. And you are?"

"Crispin. I'm Crispin. I see from the look on Max's face he told you I made it up, but I hope you believe Crispin is a good name, a solid name, a name with consequence. Max doesn't like it, but he puts up with it. I have to protect him, you see."

And up went her little chin, a stubborn chin, he saw. Yes, she was bright as a flame. He nodded. "Crispin is a good name."

Max said, "Crispin, come drink your tea. I cannot give you the kissed scone, I already gave it to Grayson. But I have one with a half of Mrs. Elvan's thumbprint."

She shook her head, spoke in clear perfect English, "I'm sorry, Max, but I can't. My stomach is flip-flopping and I know I'd lose my breakfast, and this carpet is so very lovely."

Grayson sat down on the sofa again. Crispin walked to stand beside Max, her hand on his arm. Grayson was about to take the last bite of his kissed scone when he felt a sort of questing, then there was calm, a sense of peace in the very air itself. Lady Hilda? He looked at Crispin. Or was this feeling coming from her? He happened to glance at the fresco with the man and woman walking beside the water. He sensed love now, cherished devotion, not hostility. Had the presence—? And he knew now it wasn't coming from Crispin, it was indeed a presence and that presence had removed the violence from the frescos Grayson had seen. He heard a soft rustling in the air near him, smelled a light jasmine scent. Lady Hilda? Now his blood didn't just stir, it sang. He opened himself. He felt a feather touch on his cheek, then—

Max's voice brought him back. "I've told Crispin you're blessed with gifts, Grayson. Not only do you write about demons and other evil beings, but you yourself have dealt with them." He paused, smiled. "I remember at Oxford you always knew things before anyone else did. I remember when I cracked a rib riding a half-wild horse on a bet and got tossed in a mess of rocks. I never said a word, but you knew. You bound me up."

"I remember." Grayson waited.

The little girl's chin went up. "I told Max I wanted to read one of your novels, sir. He didn't want me to, he said it would scare off my toenails, but I told him I had very stout toenails, they could bear anything—" She stopped cold, swallowed. Max smiled, took her small hand in his.

Grayson said easily, "I have a son. He's five years old, and his name is Pip. He's heard my stories from the moment he was born and he still has his toenails. You will meet Pip and his friends."

Max said, "A fine idea." He turned her to face him. "Listen, it's time you tell me your name and about your family." She was shaking her head before he finished speaking.

Grayson said, "Crispin, if we don't know who is threatening you, then you are putting Max in danger, not protecting him. How can he defend himself if he doesn't know the enemy?"

Still, she was silent as a stone, her small fingers frantically kneading Max's jacket sleeve. Finally, she said barely above a whisper, "If I say his name aloud, I know he'll appear and he'll take me away and he might kill Max."

Max opened his mouth, shut it when Crispin said, "She's here—Lady Hilda. It's the same sweet smell as the other night. And the air is warmer."

"Jasmine," Grayson said.

She cocked her head in question. Max said, "Jasmine is sweet, maybe a taste of honey. Grayson, so you smell jasmine as well?"

"Yes." He rose and walked around the huge room. "It's coming from near the fireplace." He closed his eyes a moment and blanked out his thoughts. He breathed in the lovely scent, but there was no touch to his mind.

Crispin said, "But even if Lady Hilda is here with us, how can her perfume still smell after so many years have passed since she died?"

Grayson said simply, "Because she is magic, and rules do not apply when there is magic." He felt a light brush against his cheek, like a summer breeze wafted against his face. He raised his hand to touch his face and thought, I'm here. Talk to me, tell me what worries you.

He felt a moment of chaos, of confusion and fear, then nothing. Her scent grew faint. She'd moved away. Why?

Max looked from one to the other, sighed. "All right, I accept Lady Hilda's ghost is here in the drawing room with us. I will even accept the two of you can smell her perfume. But what I cannot accept is your hiding the truth about yourself, Crispin. I must know if I am to protect you." He paused, eyed her, knew her Achilles' heel, and used Grayson's words. "And know how to protect myself."

Crispin froze, mute, her fingers bunching his sleeve now still. Max raised her hand, lightly squeezed her fingers, and looked her in the eye. "Crispin, magic is all well and good, but if you ever want to be an entrepreneur you have to tell me who I must fight so I can win and set you up in your own fish stand. You told me Lady Hilda warned you evil was coming. Tell me, Crispin."