If He's Wild by Hannah Howell Page B

and when he walked away, as a man like him surely would, he would take her heart with him.
    Then again, she mused, if fate had chosen this man for her, there was not a great deal she could do about it. She would do what she could not to play the fool, but suspected that was all she would ever have control of with that man. It seemed weak to be so resigned to fate, she decided as she noticed a lacy handkerchief on the floor, but she was not sure anyone could be anything but resigned. Fate was a very strong force to fight.
    Discarding that problem for the moment, Alethea reached for the handkerchief. A little voice in her head told her she did not want to touch it, but her curiosity proved stronger. The moment she grasped hold of the expensive handkerchief, she wished she had listened to that little voice. She cried out as she was swept into a whirlpool of frightening images, dark visions of death and hate. Unable to pull free, she screamed for her uncle before she lost all ability to do so, and then became a prisoner of her own gift.
     
    Iago entered the hall just as his butler let in the lords Hartley, Aldus, and Gifford. So punctual, he thought with an inner smile as he greeted them. It was hard to hide his smile as he looked at a scowling Hartley. And one of them so very reluctant to be here. He could not quibble over that reluctance, however. The confrontation and all its revelations had gone far better than he had expected.
    “Welcome, my lords,” he said and then quietly instructed his butler to have some refreshments brought to the parlor for his guests. “You are welcome,” he continued as the butler left to do as he had been ordered, “even though I am not quite sure how much more help we can be.”
    “Neither am I,” muttered Hartley and ignored the scowls his companions sent him.
    “Actually, we did have some interesting callers today,” Iago began.
    “Iago!”
    The scream sent a chill down Hartley’s spine. Instinct told him it had come from Alethea. He was astounded at how quickly Iago reacted, turning and racing down the hall without hesitation. Hartley ran after him, his friends but a step behind. He could hear the rapid approach of others and suspected there would be anxious or alarmed servants to deal with soon.
    He stumbled to a halt a few feet inside the room Iago had rushed into, his friends flanking him. Alethea knelt on the floor, slowly rocking back and forth. She clutched a lacy handkerchief in her hand. Her complexion was gray, tears ran down her cheeks, and she was staring blindly at something that deeply horrified her, something he could not see. Just as Iago reached for the handkerchief Alethea held, a plump maid, Iago’s butler, and another man who closely resembled the butler rushed into the room.
    “No, m’lord,” cried the maid. “Leave it be!” She ran to Alethea’s side and knelt down beside her.
    “But, Kate, ’tis that which upsets her,” said Iago.
    “I can see that, but she is deep into a powerful seeing. Might not be good to pull her free of it too quick like.” Kate gently stroked Alethea’s hair. “Best we wait for a sign that she knows we are here, I be thinking.”
    Hartley watched the servant who so closely resembled Iago’s butler crouch down behind Alethea. He heard movement in the doorway behind him, and, after a brief glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was in the way, Hartley shut the door on the curious servants peering into the room. When he looked back at Alethea, Kate was gently dabbing the tears from Alethea’s cheeks with her apron and murmuring softly into the woman’s ear. Hartley could see complete acceptance upon the faces of the servants tending to Alethea. Their actions indicated that they were accustomed to this. They only looked concerned for the well-being of Alethea.
    This was real, he thought, staring at the small woman caught tight in some waking nightmare. This was no game, no trick or show. No one could act this well. He