Free Ariadne's Diadem by Sandra Heath Page A

from her sister in Peterbury. An owl hooted somewhere, and the sweet-scented cowslips in the park were pale in the moonlight as the faun led the way toward the river.
    Gervase found it difficult to keep up, for Sylvanus’s goat legs were much faster than his own, but he didn’t fall too far behind as they hurried north past the jetty and through the riverside meadows. At last the faun saw the bridge ahead and Anne lying inches above the waiting water. He thought she moved slightly, and with a muted bleat of dismay he made a greater effort, for he was only too aware that if she fell into the river and drowned, neither he nor Gervase would be able to meet Bacchus’s terms. Keeping a wary eye on the lurking river, the faun pulled Anne safely from the brink, watching her closely to see if she was about to awaken, for it wouldn’t do at all if she were to come around to see him, but she seemed deeply asleep.
    Gervase hurried up, and for the first time looked upon the face of the woman he had to win if he was ever to regain his true form. He saw she was slender and unremarkable, with untrammeled dark blonde curls that had escaped their pins when she’d fallen from the horse. The riding habit she wore was stylish enough, but at least three years old, and the top hat that lay nearby wasn’t quite what would have been admired in Hyde Park, although he had to concede that he found the addition of a lace scarf, rather than the more usual muslin or gauze, rather appealing.
    The sound of hooves clattered from the road, and Sylvanus put an urgent hand on Gervase’s arm, pushing him down among the cowslips. They lay there in silence as two farmers rode across the bridge.
    As the hooves dwindled away into the darkness again, Gervase got up and glanced across the meadow to where a small barn stood against the hawthorn hedge. It would afford shelter while he and Sylvanus wondered what to do next. He still didn’t know why Bacchus had chosen to place her in such a hazardous situation, and apart from that he hadn’t had time to invent a new identity or a plan for wooing her. Stooping to gather her into his arms, he carried her to the bam, where he rested her gently on the remains of a pile of hay from the previous year’s harvest.
    Sylvanus collected her hat and followed, and then they both stood looking down at her in the moonlight. The faun hunched himself in the greatcoat. By the Furies, how cold and hungry he was! And how he hated being hundreds of miles away from Italy! He glanced out at the night, where stars now studded the sky. At least he could see the Corona Borealis, just as he could from his grove.
    “What now?” Gervase asked.
    Sylvanus shrugged. “ I don’t know; you are the one who must woo her.”
    “Which is all very well, but I haven’t had time to collect my thoughts, let alone anything else.” Gervase ran his fingers agitatedly through his hair as he gazed down at her. Prom the first moment he’d heard Anne Willowby’s name, he’d been convinced she was a brazen adventuress of some sort, certainly a schemer, but the truth was very different, and he didn’t know where to begin.
    The faun hung the top hat on a protruding nail and watched Gervase a little crossly. Why did humans always make such heavy weather out of everything? All this man had to do was seduce a woman. There was nothing to it. Fauns seduced nymphs all the time! Sylvanus hopped impatiently from hoof to hoof. Gervase needed a nudge to send him on his way, and since virginal ladies were notoriously easy to shock, it would be simple enough to prevent this one from remembering anything. Oh, if only Bacchus hadn’t forbidden him to use his power to cause overwhelming sexual desire. If it weren’t for that, this whole business would be over and done with before dawn! Bacchus had to be obeyed, of course, but all the same, it was a very tempting thought. The faun’s lips twitched. His master was hundreds of miles away—would he find out about a