Dangerous Gifts by Mary Jo Putney Page B

power, the fame. To lose those things after briefly tasting them will be infinitely more painful than never to have known them.”
    “Do you think I don’t know that?” she cried out, clutching the harp even tighter. “But I can bear it. I shall have to, since both your other choices are unthinkable. I could never harm Duncan, nor any other innocent. Nor can I give up my whole world to become the slave of a creature who is as beautiful and alien as a tiger.”
    “I want you for my consort, not my slave!” he snapped in a voice like a whip.
    “Isn’t it slavery if I go against my will?” Her mouth twisted. “You and I are made of different stuff, Lord Ranulph. You think beauty more valuable than freedom, more precious than another person’s life. I can no more understand that than you can understand me. Goodbye, my lord. I presume that by the time I reach my home, I will be plain again, and our bargain will be fulfilled.”
    She slipped away from him and headed across the glade. Before entering the woods, she paused to say quietly, “I . . . I’m sorry that I cannot be what you wish.”
    Stunned that she was really leaving, for an instant he stood frozen. Then he gave a wild shout of anger. “No!”
    He flung both arms to the heavens, and thunder boomed from the clear autumn sky, rolling across the wood with a force that shook the trees. Leah flinched, and he saw alarm in her eyes.
    Realizing that if she feared him all hope was gone, he said tightly, “I shall not harm you, Leah. Not now, not ever. If ever you become disenchanted with being plain and lonely and despised, you know how to summon me.”
    She gave a faint nod of her head, but he knew with despair that she would never change her mind. Except for her music, she was as much a mystery to him as he was to her. Was that because she was a mortal, or simply because she was female?
    Saturated with pain, he watched her disappear among the trees. She was gone, and he was alone.
    Then rage returned. With a gesture of his hand, he removed the faery glamour that had dazzled all of London. Viciously he contemplated how her lover would react to the discovery that his ravishing betrothed was now as plain as a barn mouse.
    The restless churn of his anger turned toward Kamana. Damn the treacherous female! Her predictions that Leah would come to him were empty, more of her mocking games. She would answer to him for her lies. She had power, but he was her equal. She would be unable to refuse if he summoned her.
    He closed his eyes and visualized Kamana until her exotic, teasing image was burned in his brain. Then he uttered the words of Power that would bring her to him, against her will if necessary.
    She’d pay for her interference and lies, the traitorous witch. Aye, she’d pay.
     
     
    Leah was still shaking when she reached home. Not wanting anyone to see the tears on her face, she crept up the back stairs and into her bedroom.
    Shadow still lay on the bed. At Leah’s entrance, the cat opened her eyes and gazed at her fixedly. Leah tried to smile. “Don’t tell me that you’ll abandon me, too. I would have thought that at least my cat would accept me as I am now.”
    Shadow leaped from the bed and came to rub Leah’s ankles, purring warmly. A little comforted, Leah scratched the cat’s neck.
    Then she turned to her mirror. Any faint hope she’d harbored that Ranulph might not exact his price died. Drab hair, thin figure, ordinary gray-green eyes reddened from tears. She glanced at her left palm. In the center, she could still see the faint iridescent glimmer of the cut Ranulph had made when they’d sealed their bargain. Apparently it would be the only lasting sign of what she had been.
    She inhaled painfully and forced herself to stare at her reflection. Had he made her plainer than before, or did her appearance seem worse because of the contrast to what she had been? No matter. This was the face she was born with, and would die with. She reminded herself