The Warlock's Daughter by Jennifer Blake Read Free Book Online

falling from lamps of hammered silver, walking alongside Italian frescoes in jewel colors highlighted with gold and silver, they emerged in a courtyard.
    In that space open only to the sky, Carita discovered the source of the jasmine she had noticed earlier. Its scent permeated the air, along with that of roses and tuberoses, sweet olive and gardenia. The combined perfumes was a mind-swimming assault on the senses.
    The walls and columns of the house were warm and golden even in the cool light of the moon. French windows in arches looked down on them with shining squares of lamplight. The stones of the courtyard floor were a mosaic of garnet and turquoise, jade and amethyst in geometric patterns edged with gold. In the center was a porphyry fountain where the splattering water played a soft, Andalusian melody and droplets glittered like falling diamonds. Under the house eaves at one corner, in the deep shade of a great sheltering live oak, turtledoves chortled softly in the darkness.
    Their pathway led through the center of the courtyard toward where double doors stood open to the night. Renfrey took her hand and put in on his arm, holding it with a warm clasp as he urged her forward. With the cat following, they skirted the fountain, tread lightly up the low and wide entrance steps, and entered.
    There was a vestibule with a floor of rich green malachite and Greek vases on bronze plinths. Beyond was a dining room hung with cloth of gold and velvet the color and texture of spring moss. The floors glowed with an intricate inlay of light and dark woods, while enormous Renaissance mirrors on opposite walls reflected the table laid for a late supper, the food set out on a sideboard, and also repeated the crystal and bronze d'or chandeliers into infinity.
    Round, intimately small, the table was centered with roses, sweet peas and lilac. The napery was the finest damask, the serving plates of Aztec gold, the utensils of heavy and deeply engraved coin silver. The crystal glasses had been hand-blown in Venice and were chased and rimmed in gold. Poured into them, waiting, was a vintage wine like liquid rubies, which breathed the delicate and astringent perfume of grape flowers.
    Carita came to a halt. Her fingers on Renfrey's arm tightened before she forced them to unclench. The cat circled her skirts and sat down among them at her side where it began to wash its face. The manservant soft-footed his way to a door leading into a butler's pantry and disappeared inside.
    Carita moistened her lips. “Lovely,” she said, “and I am impressed; but I fear I'm not dressed for such a sumptuous residence or grand repast.”
    “You have no need of further adornment,” Renfrey answered in low tones. “You are the one perfect jewel that has always been needed to give the rest purpose.”
    “Nevertheless,” she said.
    Inclining his head, he moved with her toward one of the tall mirrors. For an instant, the silvery surface was dark, then it cleared.
    Gone was her dull little hat and drab gown. Her hair was dressed high, the silver-gold strands entwined with pearls and diamonds. The creation she wore was of shimmering tissue silk in iridescent blue and gold, exquisitely cut, perfectly fitted— an airy confection piled in layers over a hoop of enormous size. Under it, she could feel the most fragile of silk pantalettes and no more than a wisp of ivory-boned corset.
    She stared at herself in fascination. Removing her hand from his arm, she lifted it to touch the fortune in pearls, sapphires and diamonds that sparkled in her ears, at her neck, on her wrists.
    Turning slowly from the mirror, she looked up at the man beside her. Her mouth curved into a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.
    “Presumptuous for a man I hardly know,” she said. “Also paltry. For a warlock.”

~ CHAPTER 4 ~
     
      “I should have told you at once,” Renfrey said. “My only excuse is—”
    “Arrogance?” she supplied.
    “Vanity, rather, which I like to