Bewitching (63 page)

She thought she heard her name again and looked back once, then stumbled in the mud and fell down, sinking. She lay there, her head in her arms, sobbing as the wind and rain beat down on her back. A loud wheeze sounded in her ear. She looked up at Beezle, soaking wet and staring at her through wise and sympathetic brown eyes.

"Oh, Beezle." She hugged him to her and he buried his wet nose against her neck. She clung to him and sat in the muddy road, broken and alone. As if drawn to do so she looked back toward the house. "I can't help Stephen . . . Alec was right. What good is my magic if it can't help them?" She looked up at the dark skies and cried, "Why? Why can't I help them?" She hugged Beezle even tighter. "Please . . . please, I would give anything . . . . Please . . . ”

The rain ceased. The wind stopped. A golden cloud zigzagged downward from high in the black sky and hovered above her for a second, then lit barely three feet away.

"The MacLean," she whispered, wiping her eyes with the back of a hand.

With an aura of sparkling gold, her aunt materialized, standing tall and regal in all her golden beauty. She looked at Joy, and her kind and knowing eyes softened with sympathy. An instant later she knelt down, her arms outstretched. "Joyous."

Joy fell into her aunt's arms, sobbing. "I cannot help Stephen."

"I know, little one." The MacLean watched her from wise gray eyes.

"I thought Alec needed me."

"He did. If ever a man needed some magic it was Alec Castlemaine."

"But what good is it? My magic can't save Stephen. It can't." She buried her head against her aunt's shoulder. "I failed again."

Her aunt's hand stroked her damp back. "You didn't fail, Joyous. Alec failed you."

Joy looked up at the MacLean. "He doesn't understand, but he was starting to. He just needs more time."

Her aunt shook her head.

"But Stephen is the one who's suffering," Joy said. "He's suffered more than any man should have to.

And I cannot help him."

"I can save Stephen."

Joy's face glowed with elation, and she hugged the MacLean. "Oh, thank you! Thank you!"

"But you have to leave, Joyous."

She pulled back and frowned. "What?"

"You must leave."

"No . . . ” She looked back over her shoulder. "I can't leave." She turned back and held her aunt's shoulders. "No. Please don't—"

"You cannot stay with them."

"But I love him . . . both of them."

The MacLean said nothing.

"Why?" Joy turned her face up and looked at her aunt. "Why must I leave?"

"Because Alec doesn't understand. He hasn't learned the value of love."

"Please . . . Not now, when he's hurting. It's so cruel. I love him. Please."

"He does not understand love," the MacLean said, looking at Belmore Park. She shook her head. "I cannot give you to him."

Joy tried to take a breath, but could only take in shuddering gasps.

"You must choose, Joyous."

Still clinging to Beezle, she turned once again to look back at Belmore Park. The lightning flashed. For one brief macabre instant the storm's light limned the beasts along the roof. Candles flickered from a few of the windows. They looked like stars and seemed just as distant and as untouchable.

In her mind's eye she saw Stephen—sweet, simple Stephen—innocent and dying. She saw Alec—hard, unyielding, becoming little more than a marble statue, a shell of a man; what little life he had found for a brief time was gone.

Gone. She knelt in the mud, hugging her familiar while tears poured in rivers down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and felt them burn. Biting her lip, she took a one last shuddering breath. She opened her eyes and stared at the estate, then said to her aunt, "Save Stephen."

The house was cast in darkness, only a black silhouette in the distance. The wind picked up. The rain splattered down even harder than before, pocking the muddy road. "Alec," she said in a hoarse whisper.

"My Alec." And in a puff of golden smoke, Joy disappeared.`

The Magic

Poor human nature,

so richly endowed with nerves of anguish,

so splendidly made for pain and sorrow,

is but slenderly equipped for joy.

—George Du Maurier

Chapter 29

A distant pounding broke the silence in Stephen's room. Alec ignored it. It sounded again. He glanced up, not really seeing anything.

"Belmore! Open the door!" came a muffled shout, followed by more pounding.

He stood up and wrenched the door open, saying nothing. Downe stood there, his hair windblown and his clothing damp.

"Your wife's run out in the storm. I tried to follow, but I lost her. What the hell happened?"

Alec shook his head and looked back at the bed where Stephen lay quietly. He was struck by a surge of guilt so strong it sapped his mind of thought.

"Goddammit, Belmore! Do you want to lose them both?"

Alec couldn't move.

Downe grabbed ahold of his coat and jerked him around. "Belmore!"

Alec heard him, felt him, but nothing registered.

Downe shook him.

Nothing.

"Ah, hell . . . ” Downe's fist hit Alec's jaw.

The pain was instant. It shot through his teeth, down his neck. He staggered back, hand to his jaw, then shook his head and looked up at the earl, stunned but cognizant.

"You stupid bloody fool! Your wife is gone!"

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone."

"Damn." He took two steps and jerked the bellpull. A few seconds later Henson entered. "Send someone to saddle three horses. Then stay with my brother." Henson left.

"You can be a hard-headed ass sometimes." Downe gave him a look that told Alec he knew what he'd done. "You tried to drive her away."

He didn't respond, but knew in his grief and guilt that that was exactly what he had done. Henson returned a second later and saved him from having to answer. Then they were running down the stairs, through the hall across the scattered pieces of a broken vase, and out the front doors, where Seymour joined them. The rain poured down in blinding sheets. Alec stood on the steps, disoriented, until he saw the horses. A second later he mounted his stallion, pausing for a moment to glance up at the dark skies.

Whenever Scottish cried, it rained. He took one deep breath and pressed his heels into the horse's sides, gravel spitting in his wake. The wind howled. The three men rode, following Downe's lead. He slowed his horse and turned back, shouting, "I lost sight of her over that rise." He pointed at the hill ahead of them. They split up and rode through the rain in different directions, each one searching an area.

Alec cupped his hands around his mouth and called, "Scottish!" He waited for an answer. All he got was the cry of the wind. He swiped the water from his eyes and brow and searched, threading his horse among the trees along the side of the road, calling her name again and again.

"Over here!" Seymour shouted. Alec kicked the horse into a lope and spotted the two men at the top of the next rise. He reined in and dismounted, sloshing through the mud to where Seymour was crouched down. He shoved past him.

No Scottish. There was nothing there. He spun around. Seymour held out his hand. A rabbit's foot, an ivory tooth, and a feather charm lay wilted and muddy in his palm.

"You called me over because of those bloody charms?" Alec reached for Seymour.

Downe gripped his shoulders and stopped him. "He gave them to Joy before she left."

Alec stared at the charms for a long minute before he looked up. "Then she has to be here somewhere."

He cupped his mouth and shouted again. "Scottish!"

There was nothing but the wind.

"Scottish!"

Nothing but the rain.

"Scottish!"

Nothing.

***

The clock chimed four in the morning, and Alec broke his vigil. Stephen hadn't cried or awakened for the past three hours, and he needed a few moments away. He tugged on the bellpull, and Henson came in. "I'll be in my chamber, then in the study. Come and get me if there's any change. When Downe returns, I'm going back out."

He went to his chamber, closing the door behind him with a click that sounded as loud as a gunshot in the silence of the empty room. He looked around. Everything was the same, but somehow distant, as if he were on the outside looking in and not seeing what he sought. He crossed to the window and stared out. The hills were dotted with flecks of light, the lanterns of the search parties looking for Scottish. His stomach tightened. He'd spent hours looking for her, then had come back to see about Stephen, splitting his time between them, at Downe and Seymour's insistence.

With a heavy feeling of despair, he watched the lights move over the hills and through the valleys. The search was fruitless. He knew somehow that Joy wasn't there. He took a deep breath and gave in to the question he'd avoided asking for the last few hours: where was his wife?

She could have tried to zap herself somewhere using her magic, but God only knew where. He remembered
London
's dark alleys, drifts of deadly snow, icy rivers. God, she could be anywhere, anywhere at all, and he couldn't tell anyone the truth about his concern. He rubbed his forehead. A foolish gesture since it wouldn't ease the worry. The regret. He closed his eyes. What the hell had he done?

"Scottish," he whispered, staring at nothing. He swallowed hard and felt the thickness in his throat "I'm sorry."

***

"Please, Aunt, just let me see them for a few minutes. Please."

The MacLean stood across the room, her arms crossed stubbornly, Gabriel sitting at her feet and watching her through bright blue eyes.

"Please," Joy whispered, stroking Beezle's head once more before setting him down.

"Just this once, Joyous." The MacLean raised her arms, and Gabriel hissed and arched his back. A flash of gold light burst from the window.

Joy watched the light glow and widen, forming the image of Stephen's chamber.

The physician stood by Stephen's bed, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like this. I could have sworn his lungs were punctured." He leaned back over Stephen and said, "Just relax please."

"That always means it's gonna hurt," Stephen said, frowning and pulling back.

Joy smiled at that. She watched with pride and pleasure the gentle way Alec reassured him.

The physician stepped back a minute or so later and said, "Except for those cuts and bruises, he appears to be fine."

"I told you so," Stephen grumbled. Then he looked around the room. "Why are all these people here?"