"Sometimes, the worst battle you have to fight is between what you know and how you feel."
CHAPTER 4
The buzz of excited conversation and waves of laughter in the overcrowded ballroom nearly drowned out the orchestra. The ballroom was decorated to look like a medieval forest, the chandeliers cleverly disguised as stars. The dance floor, a 'glade,' was jammed with lavishly costumed guests who danced to music they could hardly hear. A small smile tugged at the corners of Diana's lips as she stood by the sidelines, observing the grandness around her.
Diana had followed Eris' trail across Europe. Wherever the goddess passed, she did what she did best, sowing jealousy and envy, leaving behind enmity and anger among men. Her hunt led her all the way to England. The rift brewing between the small yet powerful island nation and her colonies in America was indicative of the Goddess of Discord's handiwork. Logic made Diana conclude that in order for Eris to steer the flow of events, she had to be manipulating a person of influence, likely an aristocrat, someone high enough in the ranks to compel the current ruler. But knowing Eris' modus, Diana was certain that it would also have to be someone low-key enough so as not to raise any suspicions. She did not know who the unfortunate noble was – yet. Eris' trail had led Diana to a masquerade ball hosted by a certain Duke of Kent.
Diana tried to remain inconspicuous and was quite indifferent to the looks she was getting – admiring from the men, envious from the women. She was wearing her simple white peplos, which left her toned and tanned arms enticingly bare save for the silver bracers that she wore. The folds of the traditional Grecian dress clung provocatively to her full breasts and narrow waist before falling elegantly to the floor. Unlike the intricately coifed women, she left her hair unbound; the thick, shiny, jet-black strands flowing gracefully down her shoulders and back. She was wearing her golden tiara; her lasso and scabbarded sword hung by her side.
A visored knight in shining armor approached her. By his wobbly gait, Diana knew that he had imbibed one champagne too many. "You look positively ravishing tonight, my lady Venus," his helm failed to hide his appreciative leer.
Diana adjusted her white domino mask trimmed in silver and gold. "I am an Amazon princess," she corrected. The corners of her lips twitched, amused that she was actually masquerading as herself.
"Forgive my ignorance, my lady," the knight grinned wider. "Will you allow me to make it up to you with a dance?"
"Very well," Diana answered, after a brief moment of hesitation. She placed her hand on the knight's outstretched arm and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. There is no harm in having a little bit of fun, I suppose.
"You dance beautifully, my lady Amazon," the knight complimented her, drawing her closer than was seemly.
"As do you, Sir Knight," Diana replied lightly. She stiffened up her spine subtly, exerting just enough resistance to keep her overeager dance partner easily at arm's length. He frowned slightly in confusion when try as he might, he could not seem to budge her closer.
Diana successfully smothered a laugh and allowed herself to be whirled around in time to the sweeping music. Her eyes roved the glittering ballroom, continuing to admire the magnificence of the ball and at the same time, looking around for any clue that might help her identify who Eris was. The costumes made the task difficult to be sure but she persevered knowing that sooner or later, she will find her mark.
Her breath caught when her eyes fell upon a man leaning against the ballroom's gilded doorframe. His mysterious good looks were enhanced by his simple costume – attired entirely in black without a jot of adornment save for his equally black cape and half mask. Somehow, he managed to blend into the background and yet, at the same time, he stood out amid the colorfully costumed people around him. He was staring at her slack-jawed, his champagne glass arrested halfway to his parted lips. His vivid blue eyes smoldered as his bold gaze swept from the top of her shiny black hair right down to her sandaled toes then it lifted abruptly back to her face.
Bryce… A jolt of instant recognition coursed through Diana. He loomed like a giant bat – piercing eyes alert, not missing a single detail; his sinewy body seemingly poised to spring at the slightest whisper of a threat. Even from across the room, he oozed power – and something else. Danger? Arrogance? Confidence?... Anger. He exuded anger.
Her body began to tremble with a mixture of shock, desire and trepidation but through sheer force of will, her mind remained in control. Diana jerked her gaze back to her dance partner struggling to keep her expression neutral. The knight inhaled sharply when he saw the fiery passion in her eyes, which he mistook as directed at him.
"My lady…" his pupils dilated with the anticipation of something more. "Perhaps we should seek a more private – "
"Forgive me," Diana interrupted, barely hearing her own voice over the din around her and the thudding of her heart. "I… it seems… I… I need to go." Without bothering to explain, Diana pulled out of her partner's arms and left him in the middle of the dance floor with a flabbergasted expression on his face.
As quickly as she could, Diana made her way to the withdrawing room, hoping to have a minute alone. Unfortunately, it was already filled with the incessant chatter of women enjoying the ball. She looked around and found the doors to the terrace. With a silent sigh of relief, she walked out into the brisk evening London air that helped cool down her overheated skin.
Moonlight spilled down the terrace steps and she wandered forward through the expansive beds of rose bushes and into the manicured torch-lit hedge labyrinth. Passing underneath a concealing archway of vines, she walked aimlessly, the noise from the party slowly began to die away, except for the soft, distant strains of music. Finally, she found herself in a gazebo at the very heart of the maze. She placed her forehead against a pillar and tried to calm herself down.
She stood there for what seemed like eternity, fighting against the deluge of emotions buffeting her all at once, crashing through the last vestiges of the wall that she had built over the centuries. Joy at finding out that he was not totally lost to her… Guilt over what happened the previous lifetime… Relief that perhaps she now had the chance to make amends… Excitement over what could happen next… Confusion on how to begin… Sorrow… Pain… And dread of the possibility of losing him again. But above all – hope. Hope, that maybe this time, things would be different.
Working as the king's spy was a pain in the nether region. That the harebrained case involved identifying extraterrestrials supposedly plotting against the Crown threatened to give Blake a pounding migraine.
He tipped his champagne flute and took a lengthy swallow. It did not help. He lounged against the intricately carved doorframe and glanced about the grand ballroom, blind to its beauty. The light from a multitude of candles bounced off the crystal chandeliers and the framed mirrors strategically placed around the room. But Blake cared little. The colorfully costumed merrymakers were but a blur to him.
He rarely frequented social events such as this. Everything about frippery that surrounded him left him cold and bitter. Had the king not insisted to the point of almost issuing a command with a veiled threat of dire consequences if he did not heed, Blake would most definitely not be here. He felt the absolute fool snooping around to determine who was an alien scheming to bring ruin to the king's reign. It was a small consolation that the Duke of Kent, along with his duchess, was one of the few nobles who he considered as his friends. Narrowing his eyes, he lifted his glass to his lips.
From out of nowhere, a court jester with badly smeared rouge staggered from the ballroom and plowed into him. He reeked of strong spirits. Blake choked on the wine trickling down his throat. "Bloody. Hell. Man!" he said between strangled coughs.
"Scuse me, m'lord. Dun feel well. Too hot in here." The inebriated noble weaved his way through the doorway, careening and jostling into guests unfortunate enough to be in his path. After a few more steps, he spewed up everything he had ever ingested on the glossy marble floor. Gentlemen raised their voices in protest and ladies yanked their skirts aside squawking in outrage and disgust.
Swallowing against the stinging in his throat, Blake beckoned to a liveried servant. "Help that chap, please."'
Blake grimaced. The ballroom was indeed a trifle too warm; the crush of guests was a hair's breadth away from being intolerable. He inhaled, nose twitching with distaste at the stench of sweat overlaid with copious amounts of cloying perfume. No doubt the ball would be lauded by the haute ton as a success despite the messy mishap courtesy of the drunken clown.
Lord, how I despise these garish affairs, he thought. The pretentiousness. The artificial smiles. The gossip. The social climbing. Every bit added to the bad taste in his mouth. Turning, he rested his shoulder against the wall, his bored, disdainful gaze sweeping the room once more. He lifted his glass to his lips once again. Had he taken a swig, he would have choked on his drink the second time that night.
It was his dream come to life. He could almost feel the sharp and fierce pain as the blade slid between his ribs, piercing his heart, hitching the air in his lungs. He exhaled – a slow and deliberate breath.
It was her.
He watched her pull away from her dance partner's enthusiastic clutches. She will lead you to what you are looking for, a small voice in his head spoke up, prompting him to take an involuntary step forward. But before he could go any farther, he felt something poke his shoulder.
"Blake?"
Don't let her get away! A sense of urgency wrapped around him as the raven-haired woman wove her way through the dancers.
"Blake? Is that you?" A second more demanding prod against his shoulder forced him to turn around. Blake did not bother to hide his dismay.
"Hah! It is you," a colorful peacock smiled up at him. "I heard talk that you were here. I didn't believe it at first. I must say, dear boy, while you look positively handsome, this costume of yours is not very creative, is it? What are you supposed to be?"
"Lady Monington," Blake tried not to snap. He looked over his shoulder and saw his target trying to squeeze past Robin Hood flirting with a blonde canary. "If you'll excuse me, I need to…"
She will lead you to your end… The wary and practical side of him yelled a warning, reminding him of how his dream usually ended.
"Come now!" the noblewoman's eyes were full of shocked affront. "I am aware that you refuse to acknowledge your ancestry but surely we can at least observe some of the civilities?"
Barely reaching his shoulder, Lady Leanne Thompkins was a formidable dowager in her own right. Blake suppressed an impatient sigh as he bowed over his paternal great aunt's outstretched hand. "Aunt Lee, you know I always delight in your company."
"Phaw!" his aunt poked him with her peacock-feather fan yet again. Blake gritted his teeth. He was sorely tempted to snatch the godforsaken fan from her hand, snap it in half and toss it behind the greenery. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding me. Whatever are you doing here?"
He arched a brow at her and remained silent.
"None of my business, eh?" Lady Leanne inclined her silver-streaked head and gave a small defeated sigh. His aunt regarded him with sad eyes. "Very well. But dear, always know that should you ever…"
Blake felt himself soften. Slightly. He reminded himself that his aunt meant well and had nothing to do with what had happened between his parents and grandfather. The dowager truly did try her best to make up for the past even if she did not have to. He gave her a small smile. "I'm perfectly fine, Aunt Lee. Should I be otherwise, be secure in the fact that you will be one of the first people to know."
"Thank you, dear boy," his aunt beamed at him.
"I would stay and chat," As if compelled by an unseen force, Blake looked over his shoulder again in time to see her duck into one of the withdrawing rooms. "But I really must attend to a rather pressing situation."
With a hasty bow, he left his aunt and hurried after the woman of his dreams.
He saw her standing with her forehead against the pillar. She was so still that Blake would have been forgiven for thinking that she was a statue of an angel. A forlorn angel.
As he stood watching her, something foreign stirred deep within his chest. It was an irresistible feeling, almost like a memory, rousing from what seemed like a lifetime of dormancy and slowly flickering into his awareness.
Good God, Blake stiffened, startled by his train of thought. When did I ever indulge in sentimental claptrap?
Squaring his shoulders, Blake moved forward, determined to solve the tantalizing mystery in front of him.
"Dance with me, Princess."
Diana whirled around in surprise. The achingly familiar timbre of his voice vibrated through her. "I… I beg your pardon?" Diana's heartbeat was pounding relentlessly against her ribs.
Blake gestured at her attire. "You are an Amazon princess, are you not?"
Diana nodded mutely.
"Dance with me," Blake held out his hand, his hypnotic gaze compelling her, challenging her to take the step forward.
The starlit night took on a dreamlike quality as Diana walked without hesitation into his arms, eyes unblinkingly locked on to his. She felt his left arm slide around her waist, drawing her close to the solid strength of his body, his right hand engulfing her fingers in a firm, warm grasp. And then very gently, he whirled her around in time to the faint lilting notes of the music that floated softly around them.
Blake stared at the woman in his arms. His highly sensitized fingers could feel her soft yet firm skin underneath the thin material of her dress instead of the blasted contraption that ladies normally insisted on wearing. Damnation, she's not wearing a corset… Blood rushed to his loins.
He gave himself a mental shake and realized that she had spoken.
"I beg your pardon, my lady," Blake said smoothly. He tried to compensate for his blunder in the only way he knew how – he turned on his charm. He regarded her with a brilliant smile designed to melt, to seduce, to turn a woman's legs into quivering jelly. "Your beauty is so mesmerizing that I did not hear your question."
"Mesmerizing?" Diana smirked, knowing his flattery for what it was. "Really?"
"Truly, you are aware that you put to shame the stars that shine down upon us," his brow creased a little when his compliment did not get the reaction he expected. Normally, women of the ton would start simpering, blushing and fanning themselves. They certainly did not smirk.
Diana threw her head back laughing. Blake's pupils dilated when the artlessly innocent move exposed more of her neck. He could not help but imagine himself leaving a trail of kisses from her neck all the way down to her ample cleavage… and possibly even lower. He wanted to capture her mouth with his, smothering her throaty laugh and turn it into a lusty moan. He ignored good sense and tightened his arm around her waist, drawing her lush form closer. He inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring at her intoxicating perfume. Somehow, he recognized her scent.
"Do you talk like that to all the women?" Diana finally sobered up but her eyes continued to sparkle with amusement, seemingly oblivious to his physical reaction.
There was a smile in his voice as he answered. "Maybe."
"And do they actually fall for it?"
"Usually," Blake grinned impenitently. "You asked me a question, my lady?"
Diana nodded. "How did you know I was an Amazon Princess? Everybody who approached me tonight thought I was Venus."
"All it takes is careful observation," Blake answered matter-of-factly. "The simplicity of your garb is more telling of Greek roots than the more elaborate Roman robes. People should have 'properly' mistaken you as Aphrodite not Venus."
"And then we have your accessories to consider," Blake continued. "You carry a sword. One might be excused if one mistook you for Athena. But," he paused for effect. "The Goddess of War and Wisdom is usually depicted with a sword and shield. Not a lasso – a tool of more use to a tribe purported to be legendary equestriennes. Further, according to mythology, the Amazons wore bracers not just as armor but also as a reminder to never be enslaved by man ever again."
Diana gave him an impressed look.
"The tiara obviously signifies that you are royalty – and since you are not wearing the golden girdle of the queen, I reckon that you are a princess. Although, I don't think that there is enough in the literature regarding the design of an Amazon tiara so I am not entirely certain if yours is an accurate representation."
"Trust me, it is so accurate that it might as well be the real thing," Diana smiled at how close he was to the actual truth. "It is rare to meet a person who has not forgotten the stories of bygone eras."
"As it is rare to meet a woman who would rather be a warrior than a goddess," Blake replied, looking at her intently, feeling slightly disconcerted to be in the presence of a woman who was candid and obviously intelligent. For the first time in his jaded life, he did not know how to handle a woman. "Rarer still to meet one who is learned enough to know the difference, my lady."
"I've had… years… to read and study," Diana met his gaze levelly. "And please… My name is Diana."
"Goddess of the Hunt," Blake murmured, surprised that she would divulge her name at an occasion where people normally used their temporary anonymity to do whatever they pleased. What is she hunting for? The nagging voice in his head injected. "My name is Blake… Diana."
Diana's breath caught at the look of frank admiration in the eyes of the man who occupied too many of her thoughts for millennia. She could see that not much has changed over the passing of time. At first glance, he looked every inch like the urbane, elegant gentleman: his coal-black jacket and trousers set off his broad shoulders and emphasized his long muscular legs to perfection; dark hair perfectly groomed foregoing the ridiculous white wig that seemed to be in fashion. But his mask failed to hide the unyielding arrogance of kings stamped onto his features and in his eyes sparked the spirit of the fighter within. Even as he gracefully led her in their private waltz, his tall body gave off the strength and power of a warrior born.
Blake studied her closely. Her eyes held the perfect combination of trust and innocent curiosity. But behind the guilelessness, he saw something more… something that he could not quite identify. It whispered of something ancient… ageless. With their gazes fused, a peculiar jolt stabbed the center of his being.
What was it? He mused. And almost immediately the stern voice of cold logic scolded him. Man, control yourself. She's not even flirting with you.
I would have to guard myself well, Blake decided. He sensed Diana's effortless allure; the tentacles of desire winding their way around his rational mind, holding him in an imperceptible yet unbreakable grasp. He was having difficulty concentrating, too aware of the voluptuous woman in his arms, their bodies moving as one to the music. If Blake did not know better, he could have sworn that she'd cast a spell, bewitching him.
The beauty of the starry night and the faint music slowly melted away as they danced and stared into each other's eyes. To Diana, the joy of being held in his arms again after such a long time overpowered the past sorrow of losing him and her present instinct that somehow this lifetime will not end with a happily ever after. To Blake, after years of uninhibited fornication among Europe's most experienced and sophisticated flirts, he suddenly felt that he was where he should be. Where he belonged.
As if his hand had a mind of its own, Blake reverently brushed the backs of his fingers along Diana's smooth cheek, tracing her jaw down to her chin. He began rubbing his thumb lightly against the inviting fullness of her lower lip – the seducer becoming the seduced. He watched her for a long moment, unable to decide.
Diana shuddered from his gentle caresses. She could see his inner battle playing out on his face. She felt his desire. She felt his confusion. She felt him exert his stubborn will to curb his passion. And she felt the exact moment when the 'darker' side won.
Yielding to his impulse, Blake lowered his head and captured her mouth with his in a kiss that had Diana's knees weakening and her pulse soaring. When his hands moved up and down her sides, thumbs grazing the outer sides of her breasts, Diana moaned into his mouth. Blake deepened the kiss, tongue delving, demanding more and at the same time, selflessly giving. His lips seared her skin as his mouth moved from her lips down to her neck, hands sliding down along her back and sides, tightening around her like bands of iron, pressing her insistently against his rigid body.
"I wonder what Hippolyta would think if she found out that her precious daughter was cavorting with a man."
With a gasp, Diana tore herself from Blake's embrace. In a blink of an eye, she drew her sword and jumped between him and the newcomers.
"Eris!" Diana hissed.
"What the bloody – " Blake sputtered. He relaxed his instinctive hold on the handle of his duelling pistol when he recognized the couple standing in front of him despite their masked faces. "Lady Louisa, Lord Crowley."
"They are not who you think they are," Diana said with a warning tone.
"Come now, Diana," Eris gave an irritated tsk. "Surely, this is not the way you greet family."
Diana gritted her teeth. "I don't know what you are talking about."
"Oh…" the dark-haired goddess gave her a look of mock sympathy. "That's right… You really don't know, do you… cousin?"
The corners of Diana's eyes tightened with suspicion. "I don't know what game both of you are playing, Eris. But it ends now."
"Or what?" Eris challenged with a mirthless laugh. "You may be the Amazon champion but do you really think you can best the two of us?" she gestured at her brother, Deimos, who bared his teeth in a menacing smile.
"What is going on here?" Blake demanded.
"Ah, the bastard son," Eris' sneered, transferred her mocking gaze to him. "I wonder… what is it with you that has our princess eating out of the palm of your hand?"
"Leave him out of this," Diana warned tersely.
"You are too late," Eris said with a fake congenial smile. "Things have been set into motion. You can no longer stop me. You might as well give up."
"Never."
The Goddess of Discord's face turned hard. "Well, in that case…"
"Come now," Blake stepped out from behind Diana. His charming smile belied the tension that he felt. Every muscle in his body was coiled for action, his mind in a turmoil trying to figure out what was going on. "Clearly, there has been a misunderstanding here. Perhaps we can settle this in a more civilized manner?"
Everything started to happen at once. Without warning, Lord Crowley lunged at Blake.
"No!" Diana yelled. Blake nimbly sidestepped as Diana's sword flashed through the air.
Lord Crowley's agonized screamed rang through the night as the sharp blade cut through the bone and sinew of his forearm. Without missing a beat, Diana spun around and drove her sword into his back. Lord Crowley slumped lifeless to the ground.
"Deimos!" Eris shrieked.
"Diana, what have you done?" Blake stared at her in horror.
Diana ignored him. She pointed her sword at Eris. "You are coming with me."
"Like Hades I am," Eris snarled. She spun around and ran.
Diana started to run after the errant goddess but Blake grabbed her by the arm. "You're not going anywhere."
"Let me go!" Diana effortlessly wrenched her arm from Blake's grasp and darted away. After several steps, she felt herself getting jerked backwards.
"What in Tartarus…?" Diana looked down in disbelief. Her own lasso was wound tightly around her upper arms and trunk. She whirled around, her eyes shooting icy daggers at Blake.
"Let me go!" Diana exclaimed in exasperation. She struggled against the unbreakable bonds. "She's getting away!"
With a tight grip on the lasso, Blake started to pull Diana toward him. "I will not have you kill Lady Louisa like you did Lord Crowley."
"I did not kill him," Diana retorted. She grabbed on to her end of the lasso and pulled. Her eyes widened in surprise when she suddenly felt her strength start to ebb away, as if it was slowly receding into the earth. Great Gaea, what is going on?
"You cut off his arm and drove a sword through his spine," Blake growled accusingly.
"It might have stung a little," Diana scoffed. "But I did not kill him."
"What manner of cold-hearted creature are you?!" Blake regarded her as if she sprouted another head. She's an assassin, he thought. My dream was warning me against her.
"You said so yourself, Blake," Diana tried yanking the lasso again but to no avail. "I am the Princess of the Amazons. And I am on a mission for the goddess Aphrodite."
Blake scowled at her. "You would have me believe that mythology is real? You must take me for a fool." And yet, here you are, looking for aliens at the king's behest, a small voice reminded him. He shrugged off the thought. "I will not let you kill Lady Louisa, not if I can help it."
"She is not this 'Lady Louisa' of yours," a frustrated sigh escaped Diana's lips. "She is Eris, Goddess of Discord."
"Do you really expect me to believe that?"
"Fine," Diana lifted her chin, standing nose to nose with Blake. "If you refuse to believe me, then explain that." She jerked her head toward where Lord Crowley fell.
Keeping a tight grip on the lasso, Blake angled himself to get a better look at the noble's 'corpse.' His jaw dropped when it slowly dematerialized into thin air.
Bloody hell…
"Good evening, sir," Alastair Michael Bennington intoned with a small bow as he opened the door to Blake's home at Upper Brook Street in the exclusive Central London district of Mayfair. "I was not expecting you until much…"
The dignified manservant bit back a cry of surprise when Blake stalked into the house dragging behind him a woman who looked vexed beyond belief. "… Later."
"We will be in the library, Alastair," Blake told him in a crisp business-like voice. "I am not home to any callers."
"Very well, Master Blake," Alastair inclined his head, keeping his features perfectly composed. He studied the beautiful woman discreetly, unable to match her face with a name. It was said that skilled butlers, in the course of fulfilling of their duties, have developed the ability to judge a person's character at a glance. While Alastair was more of a paid companion than a butler, the same ability extended to him. Alastair was convinced that the woman was certainly not one of Blake's acquaintances in the ton, otherwise, she would have been properly chaperoned, especially at this time of the evening. Her coloring was clearly not English – the lovely olive tone of her skin suggested that she was of Mediterranean descent. She had an aura of authority around her that bespoke of aristocracy.
She is most definitely not a woman of questionable repute, Alastair thought decisively. It was never his employer's habit to bring any of his paramours home – let alone one whose wrists were tied up securely with a golden rope. And despite the ferocious scowl that marred her otherwise flawless features, Alistair instinctively knew that she was goodness personified and was quite certain that she somehow had a pivotal role in Blake's life.
Blake slammed the library door shut and deposited Diana on a leather chair. He resisted the urge to pour himself a glass of brandy. He needed all his wits about him. Securely winding his end of the lasso around his right hand, he sat opposite her and regarded her with narrowed eyes. He had earlier divested her of her sword, which he now placed on the table beside him. He leaned back and placed a booted ankle on his knee. Despite the civilized elegance of his well-tailored evening clothes and his seemingly relaxed position, he had never looked more dangerous, more overpowering.
"Talk," he ordered brusquely.
Diana bristled at his insolent tone but maintained her stony silence. She was still trying to figure out what happened to her powers. It has to be the lasso, she thought. No matter. I learned how to take care of myself long before I was given super strength.
"I said – talk," Blake enunciated giving the rope a firm tug, willing her to divulge her secrets.
Diana felt a small spurt of panic. She felt Blake's determination, urging her to tell him everything. She closed her eyes and concentrated.
Willpower is a very formidable weapon, Diana, Queen Hippolyta said as she presented her daughter with the golden lariat. This is the Lasso of Truth. With it, you can compel anybody to do your bidding, to tell you no lies. The key to all our gifts is willpower. It has been and always will be mind over matter. Strength of body amounts to nothing if the will is weak. Remember that always, Diana.
"What sorcery is this?!"
Diana's eyes snapped open in time to see Blake jump to standing, hand convulsing around the lasso. It was glowing. He stared at it as if it was a venomous snake about to strike. She could see that he wanted to throw it down but was loathe to do so lest she escape.
Suppressing a sigh of relief that the lasso at least was not working against her totally, she stood up keeping her movements slow and non-threatening. Her own hand curled around the lasso as she covered the few steps that separated her from Blake.
"Let me go and I will tell you what you need to know," Diana said softly. Trust me. The lasso blazed as she exerted her will on Blake. It shone brighter still as Blake fought her subliminal suggestion with his own steadfast resolve.
"Please, Blake," Diana cajoled, never breaking eye contact. Trust me.
A muscle ticked in Blake's jaw. She could feel him waver. "How do I know that you won't try anything nasty if I do?"
"If I wanted to, I would have done so already." Trust me. "We can help each other."
"You presume that I need any form of assistance from you?" Blake scoffed.
"You would not have brought me here otherwise," Diana pointed out. Trust me.
The tick-tock of the grandfather clock was all that could be heard while the two engaged in a silent battle of wills.
Trust her... Don't trust her… the voices in Blake's head had a heated debate. She will be the end of you… She can explain what's going on… She is dangerous… You saw how easily she can kill… Trust me… Don't… Trust… Trust… Don't…
Finally, Blake took a deep breath, instinct winning over logic. I have to trust her... For now, he thought. Aloud, he said, "Fine. But the second you even think of escaping, this goes back on."
Diana rolled her eyes irreverently before she could stop herself.
"Impertinent chit," Blake mumbled as he deftly loosened the knots around Diana's wrists. He carefully placed the lasso beside the sword, well out of her reach. Diana clenched and unclenched her fists when she felt her super strength slowly suffusing her muscles.
"Ahem."
Blake and Diana turned and saw Alistair by the door.
"I took the liberty of preparing refreshments," Alistair said in a bland tone, nodding at the tray in his hands laden with a plate of sandwiches and a pot of tea. "It goes a long way in making our guests feel welcome – especially the ladies."
Blake's full lips twisted at Alistair's bald reminder to be civil. He motioned for loyal manservant to place the silver tray on the table. Alistair complied then bowed out of the room.
Diana settled back down on her seat and watched Blake pour tea into a cup. She inclined her head and murmured her thanks when Blake offered her the drink. He made his way over to his own seat then gave her a prompting look.
"Tell me everything," he ordered. "Please," he added in a milder tone when he saw the censorious look on her face.
"Everything?" she smiled.
Blake nodded curtly.
"My name is Diana of Themyscira. Suffice to say, what I am about to tell you should remain between the two of us. A long time ago…" she began to tell her tale. She told him about the Amazons and how they came to be. Blake listened intently, his sharp intellect analyzing every bit of information being told, his well-honed instincts looking out for any sign of deception on Diana's part. She ended her story with an explanation about her mission for Aphrodite. Blake felt that she was indeed telling the truth, fantastical as it may seem… except…
"Is that all?" He asked pointedly. She's holding something back…
"I've told you everything that is relevant right here and right now," Diana said truthfully. A part of her wanted to tell him about their story but wisdom cautioned her against it. Too much, too soon, she decided.
Trying to prevent him from delving further, Diana asked her own question. "And you Blake? What secrets do you hide?"
Blake hesitated, once again questioning the wisdom of his decision to trust her… Hell, he thought dispassionately. One bizarre story for another. With a deep breath, he took the plunge. "King George has tasked me to find out who is plotting against him. I suspect that this has something to do with the recent uprisings that we've had in the colonies. If left unchecked, this could lead to a war. The catch is – the king thinks that an extraterrestrial is behind all this. I know it sounds a tad unbelievable but…" he trailed off when he saw the expression of amusement on Diana's face. "What's so funny?"
"You found it very difficult to believe in the existence of my gods but you would believe in alien life forms just because your king says so," Diana smirked.
"Up until this point, I did not believe in any of those," Blake admitted sheepishly. Her musical laughter hit him like a blow to the head. "I just deduced that whoever was behind this scheme would…" His eyes widened when he realized something. "What if…"
"… It was Eris all along?" Diana finished for him.
"It would make sense."
"Then, you are duty-bound to tell your king," Diana made a move to stand up. "While I must go and continue my hunt."
Blake held up his hand and shook his head. "I wish it was that simple, Diana." The sooner I'm done with this case, the sooner I can find out what you are hiding from me.
"Why not?" Diana arched an eyebrow. The sooner I capture Eris, the sooner I can decide if you should know about us.
"Lady Louisa Stuart is able to influence King George because she is his closest childhood friend," Blake explained. "He will not accept any accusations without infallible proof."
Diana bit her lower lip in contemplation. The small, innocent movement reminded Blake that those same lips were against his just hours ago. He shifted in his chair in an effort to conceal his instantaneous physical reaction.
"Then we have to find the real Lady Louisa and capture Eris," Diana thought out loud.
Blake nodded in agreement. "That is if Lady Louisa is still alive."
Diana met his somber stare unblinkingly. "There is always hope."