Bewitching (59 page)

Joy locked her gaze on the toes of her shoes and resisted the urge to hum innocently.

"There were lots and lots of ants on this side of the tree, weren't there, Joy?"

"Hmm?"

"Joy, where are the ants?"

"Yes, tell us where the ants are." Alec moved to stand right next to her.

Stephen scratched his head and walked slowly around the tree. When he was on the opposite side Alec leaned toward her, and she knew before he even spoke that she was caught. "I know that look, Scottish. What did you do to the ants?"

She raised her chin proudly and admitted in a hurried whisper, "I zapped them into Mrs. Watley's baggage, and a few on her back. Along with spiders and beetles and gnats. All black."

His gaze shifted to the baggage wagon, which just began to roll along the drive. She followed his stare and they both silently watched until the wagon, the horrid Mrs. Watley— who was swiping at her back —and her infested baggage had disappeared over the crest in the hill.

Alec turned and laughed.

Stephen's face grew bright with pleased surprise. "Seals!" He looked left then right, searching the area. "I heard seals."

Joy hid her smile behind a hand, but when she looked at Alec, who had suddenly clamped his mouth shut, she could tell she hadn't hidden her amusement very well. "I think you heard Alec laugh. 'Tis a sound rarer than seals in the Cotswolds."

The brothers stared at each other. Alec kept his mouth firmly closed and his face masked with indignation to cover what looked to be embarrassment, but Stephen picked that moment to lean forward almost nose to nose and study Alec as if looking for hidden seals.

One look at Stephen's face and Alec laughed again.

"It was you!" Stephen's eyes widened and he looked from Alec to Joy and back to Alec.

She patted Stephen's arm. "You'll have to forgive him. He's a little rusty, but he'll improve with practice."

Alec drew himself up—all imperious duke. "And just what is wrong with the way I laugh?"

Joy and Stephen exchanged looks, Stephen rolling his eyes. She bit back a grin, chewed her lips and said innocently, "Nothing."

"Alec, your face is all twisted up again. You need the tree. C'mere." Stephen waved Alec toward the tree.

Joy laughed. "His face is almost always like that."

Alec stiffened. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Just that you're always scowling and you never smile."

"That's ridiculous."

"No, it's true."

Alec appeared ready to say something, but she interrupted. "You wouldn't smile when we were at the snowbound inn. You said I was foolish."

He gave Stephen an odd look. A minute later he bared his teeth and muttered through them, "There. Are you happy?"

"Happy about what?"

"I'm smiling."

"You are?" Joy stepped back and looked. "Really?"

"Yes," he answered tightly.

Joy walked over until she was only a few inches from his face. She looked up and studied him. Nowhere on his face was there any delight. That was not a smile. He looked like a Highland wolf with lockjaw.

Slowly she reached up and placed a finger on either side of his mouth and tilted it up.

"What are you doing?" he asked through his teeth.

"Experimenting." She cocked her head and looked this way and then that. Alec looked stunned, which was probably the only reason he went along with her, until a curious Stephen lumbered over, eyeing the two of them.

Unable to resist, she tilted the corners of Alec's mouth downward. Stephen shook his head. She bit back the urge to smile and tilted Alec's mouth back up.

"What do you think?" She ignored the retributive narrowing of her husband's eyes.

Stephen moved his face close to Alec's and squinted thoughtfully. There was a long pause. Then he said,

"My face isn't nice like his, but I think I am the brother with the good smile." Stephen grinned and a second later his gentle chuckle mixed with a wee Scottish giggle and a raspy, long-neglected bark.

Laughter had come to
Belmore
Park
.

***

"Alec!" Joy tripped and felt herself falling.

Her husband's strong arm captured her waist. "I have you."

She took a deep breath of relief, then took advantage of their position and slowly slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders. "If you want me to wear this blindfold, then you'd best slow down or carry me."

"In that case . . . ”

She could hear the laughter in his voice, and an instant later she was in his arms. As always, she sighed and leaned her head into his warm neck, filling her senses with his scent. "Oh, my goodness, you do that so very well."

"So I've been told."

"Where are we going?"

"'Tis a surprise."

"I know. You told me that already."

"Then stop pestering me."

"I wouldn't want you to be bored."

"Believe me, Scottish. I've not been bored since the day we met."

"You did it again."

"What?"

"Managed to change the subject."

He was silent.

"I'm still curious."

"So was Pandora."

"I'm not sure I care for that comparison." She tried to add an indignant tone to her voice but even she could hear her pleasure. She, like Alec, enjoyed their banter. It was a new side to their relationship, a form of verbal foreplay in which they both seemed to revel. After a silent minute she smiled to herself. "I could cast a spell to make you tell me."

"I could drop you down these stairs."

"Ah, but you wouldn't."

"Are you so certain?"

Yes,
she thought,
I'm certain
. Her hope was back, full force, and she was sure that she had garnered a wee corner of his heart. He had all of hers.

"If you did drop me I'd could zap myself to safety," she said smugly.

"Please don't use that word."

"What word?"

"'Zap.'"

"Why not?"

"My feet get cold."

"Alec! You made a joke!"

He grunted something. After a moment he went on, "Speaking of your magic, if you ever levitate me again—"

"Oh, didn't I ever apologize for that last night in London?"

He stopped and shifted her slightly, then stepped backward through a doorway. "No, you didn't, but then neither did I . . . ”

She felt the cool night air brush her skin.

". . . Until now," he finished, then set her on her feet and loosened the cravat he'd used to cover her eyes.

The blindfold fell away, and her breath caught in her throat. "Oh, my goodness!"

Chapter 27

Glittering light from hundreds of stanchioned candelabra gleamed like a spill of gold dust across the dark iron roof of Belmore Park. Near the statues, torches guttered and cast a wavering amber glow on the angel, the unicorn, and the gallant knight who stood along the skyline like golden guardians. Waist-high urns filled with countless hothouse flowers bordered a path to the domed dining room whose double doors stood wide open in welcome. Up above, in the dark depths of the heavens, the moon hung high and full and shone pearl-bright. No daydream, no wish, no fantasy, could compete with the sight before her.

"Oh, Alec . . . ” Her voice trailed off in awe. She swallowed around the thickness in her throat and wondered if she had choked on tears of happiness or on the wealth of her love for this man. She closed her eyes for a second just to make sure the sight before her was real. Then she looked up at him.

He watched her intently, which surprised her. He seemed anxious, as if he was unsure how she would react. She touched his hand and he drew himself up tall, all proud duke. That made her smile. "Thank you."

He exhaled so subtly that if she hadn't been looking for it she'd never have noticed. He held out his hand. "Come."

She smiled, sliding her hand into his, and they walked toward the domed room, bathed in the warm touch of candlelight and surrounded by the sweet perfume of stock, hyacinth, and hollyhock. She glanced once at his dark hand so casually yet possessively holding hers, and could feel that something had truly changed between them, something deeper than his need or her love, some mystery greater and more timeless than the mere joining of a man and a woman. The intensity of it frightened her, but her need for happiness, her hope, the promise of his touch, overcame that fear, made it seem almost forgettable and small compared to the elation that awaited her in his arms.

Amid a dream more wonderful than the starshine and winter magic, she walked by his side, nearing the lighted room. Her gaze followed the candle glow upward to the top of the dome. It was glass, as clear as fine crystal. Alec's hand slid to her lower back, and he guided her inside. She still looked upward, and the silver face of the moon, the twinkling of a few bright stars winked back at her from the night sky.

She said his name in an awe-filled whisper, and his answer was to lightly grip her shoulders and turn her so she faced a table for two, little more than three feet across and set with diamond-bright Belmore crystal and gold-etched bone china and gleaming silver around a bud vase with pink roses.

The aching memory of that scene—the private dinner that never took place, the pain of the unfulfilled hope she had pinned on that night weeks ago—melted like ice in the sunshine, replaced by a love so strong she couldn't speak.

She turned to him and slid her arms around his neck, leaning her head against that special place on his shoulder, and the words came. "This is the most beautiful gift I've ever received."

She felt his chest swell a smidgen and gave a smile as misty as her eyes. His hand slid under her chin, and he turned her face toward his. "This cannot compare to what you've given Stephen. And me. Thank you, Scottish." He lowered his head till his mouth covered hers. He made a deep sound of male pleasure that did delightful things to her insides, and he slowly dug his hands through her hair. His tongue stroked her lips, and when she opened them, it sank deep into her mouth, filling and stroking and reminding her that her world was in his arms.

Stepping between his spread legs, she moved her chest lightly against his, and his hands left her head and gripped her bottom, pulling her against him, hip to hip. She moaned with a need so strong it made everything around her fade into nothing but a thin golden light behind her closed eyelids.

His mouth moved to her ear, and in that deep bewitching voice he growled her name, half plea, half prayer, and seemed to revel in the feel of her as she reveled in his taste, the chilling plunge of his tongue and the soft molding of his hands and body against hers.

With a groan he pulled back. When his mouth didn't touch her neck or shoulder or ear, her eyes drifted open and she looked into the face she loved.