Lone Star Magic (16 page)

Heart pounding, she nodded. His touch had
disturbed her nearly as much as the tornado.

Finally, Alrick removed his hand. “I think
we’re safe. But just to make sure, once you get the door open, let
me go out first.”

Expelling her breath in a whoosh, Carly
debated arguing, then decided actions spoke louder than words. Even
Kayo had his own ideas. The black and white collie raced past her
on the stairs and outside. One backward look over her shoulder at
Alrick, and Carly followed.

Behind her, Alrick shot out of the cellar
like a bullet. “I told you to wait,” he growled.

“I know.” She dusted her hands on her bare
legs. The glimmery silver dress now appeared to be the color of
ashes. “If I can get in my house, I’m also getting my jeans.”

The sky was blue and cloudless. The blazing,
late-afternoon Texas sun felt searingly hot on her arms. Far off in
the north end of her pasture, she spotted TM and Merry, grazing
peacefully.

Turning on wobbly legs, she took in the
blackened soot where her barn had stood and then, half-afraid, she
forced herself to face the house. It appeared normal, white paint
peeling from the wooden sides, and blessedly ant-free.

“The storm didn’t touch it and you’re right,
the ants are gone. The house looks… normal.” Taking a step forward,
she felt like falling to her knees in gratitude. Normal. What a
word. As if there was a chance someone somewhere would admit they’d
made a colossal mistake. Then all this running and fighting and
magical wars could end and she could return to her normal,
uneventful life.

And maybe pigs could fly.

Kayo, tail arched over his back in a buoyant
plume, took off towards the house, barking. Carly started after
him, Alrick beside her. She moved closer more cautiously, but still
moving. Home, her heart kept singing, and with each halting step,
to her shock and disbelief she realized she’d truly come to regard
No Name Ranch as her home. Beside her, Kayo ran in circles, barking
agreement.

“Maybe the dog is warning you.”

“No.” She gave him another quick look.
“That’s not his warning bark. Kayo’s happy. I’m happy. Everything’s
fine.”

The closer she got to her house, the more all
appeared to be like it had always been. No ants. No fireball. No
lightning bolt or black cloaked man lurking outside the window.
Blessedly normal. Blessedly sane.

She stopped, letting the feeling of
thankfulness wash over her. “Maybe the warlord has given up.”

“Only when he’s dead.”

“Spoilsport.” Still, she smiled. If she could
smile in the middle of all this, things couldn’t be too bad.

“Carly?” Alrick s voice, still worried. “Are
you all right?”

“I’m good.” Giving in to impulse, she lifted
her arms to the sky and twirled like a little girl playing
ballerina. Her own form of celebration, unused since Liam died.
“You never know, it’s possible the Warlord realized I wasn’t here
and moved on. Maybe he’s looking for me somewhere else.”

“I greatly doubt that.” Having proclaimed his
doom and gloom statement, Alrick shouldered past her and examined
the peeling paint on her back door. “No ants.”

“We’ve already covered that.”

“No matter. This time,” he shot her a
narrow-eyed look. “Let me go in first.” Feeling curiously adrift,
she let him. Pushing open her back door, he entered her kitchen.
She followed so closely she could have wrapped her arms around his
waist, like she’d used to do with Liam. Confused, she shook her
head. This was Alrick, her warrior-protector, not her slender,
long-dead, husband. She was a widow, but no longer alone. Alrick
stood in front of her, legs spread like some huge warrior. Her life
might never be normal again. She cursed under her breath.

He stayed silent for so long she began to
worry. “Well? Do you sense any magic or anything bad?”

“No.” He didn’t look at her, but continued
scrutinizing the kitchen, moving slowly forward. “I sense nothing.
But the Warlord is a powerful opponent. The last few times, he was
able to use the element of surprise in his favor.”

That didn’t sound good. “So what you’re
saying is you can’t sense him? He’s got some kind of magical
shields?”

“I don’t know.” Grim-voiced, one hand on the
chipped, butcher-block counter, he looked over his shoulder at her.
“But I want you to remain here while I search the inside.”

“Here?” Attempting humor, she feigned terror,
making a big play out cowering from the huge window over the
kitchen sink. “You’d leave me unprotected, in front of this
gigantic window, knowing the Warlord might appear?”

His eyes narrowed, though one corner of his
mouth twitched in an effort not to smile. “Do you want to come with
me?”

“Of course.” Then, when he opened the door,
she breezed past him into the den. This was her house, after
all.

She let Alrick check out the den while she
did her own inspection. At the sight of the room, with its warm,
homey rag rug and worn, overstuffed couch, her heart stuttered.
More than any place else, she felt Liam in this room. The huge
ceiling fan he’d installed still whirred overhead. She crossed over
to the scarred wooden mantle and picked up the teak framed photo
there.

“How long were you and Liam married?”

She jumped, nearly dropping the frame. “You
scared the hell out of me.” Feigning nonchalance, she made a
production out of placing the picture back on the mantle. Alrick’s
smile looked grim. “I’ve been standing here a while. You were too
engrossed in your memories to notice.”

Was that a trace of self-reproach she heard
in his tone? Carly studied him, wondering why he’d even care.

When she didn’t immediately answer, he
crossed the room to her side and picked up the frame to examine it.
The photo inside was a particular favorite of hers, taken on a cool
October day at the State Fair, the day after she’d accepted Liam’s
proposal of marriage. They’d been laughing then, heads close
together – hers the brilliant red of the new autumn, his the bright
gold of eternal summer. The glorious promise of their future had
still stretched endlessly out before them. False hope.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat.
That was then. This was now. Less than three years later it was all
gone. Shattered by a drunk driver who’d run a red light. Now she
had another future, one she hadn’t chosen, one she wasn’t even
certain she wanted.

Blinking back tears, she shook her head to
clear it and forced herself to focus on Alrick. “You wanted to know
how long we were married, right?” Her voice came out clear,
unclouded by her jumbled emotions.

“Yes.” Carefully he replaced the frame and
watched her. “If you’ve already told me, I’ve forgotten.”

“Nearly three years.” Turnabout was fair
play. “Have you ever been married?”

“No.” He seemed about to say something, then
stopped.

“What?”

“How long ago did Liam die?”

Miraculously, talking made her feel better.
“A year ago next month.”

“I see.”

But she knew he didn’t, not really. He’d
never even loved enough to marry, never mind experienced the
shattering agony of losing a beloved spouse. If anything, she ought
to be the one feeling sorry for him.

Especially since Alrick was a prince. Most
likely he would marry an arranged bride. He’d not have the luxury
of marrying for love.

This newfound melancholy wasn’t welcome.
Carly crossed to the window, turning the blinds to let the last of
the light in. Outside, the dying sun slipped below the horizon,
tell her it was well after nine. The days stretched into the night
in the summer.

“We missed an entire day, coming here from
Rune.” Her voice sounded bright. Too bright. She made a great show
of flipping on the front porch light and yawning.

“Or we gained one.” Still looking grim,
Alrick continued to watch her. “When traveling across the veil, you
never know.”

“It’s late.” It was barely nine-thirty. “I’m
tired. I think I’ll go to sleep.”

When Alrick didn’t reply, she chanced a
glance at him.

Face still inscrutable, he’d replaced her
picture and crossed his massive arms.

She sighed and turned to go. “Well.
Good-night.”

“Let me inspect your bedroom.” He moved to
intercept her. In the early evening light he looked dangerous, as a
good bodyguard should. Unfortunately, just like in the movies, her
body reacted to all that testosterone.

While she stood staring, lost in her
thoughts, he moved closer. “Carly? Are you sure you’re all
right?”

She blinked to find him near enough to touch.
Damn it. “I’m fine.” Shaking her head to clear it, she tried to
remember what they’d been discussing. Oh yeah. Inspecting her
bedroom. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to inspect my
bedroom. Remember what happened the last time I let you near my
bed? Bad idea.” God, she wished she hadn’t brought that up. Just
thinking about kissing Alrick made it hard to breathe. Her entire
body felt flushed.

She stepped to go around him.

He blocked her, hands clenched at his side,
eyes narrowed. “I insist. We’ve been gone and the Warlord has had
unrestricted access.”

“Fine.” She wished he would just go; move
away before she did something she’d regret. Like touch him. “Knock
yourself out. Between the kitchen and the den, we’ve already
checked out the entire house. I doubt there’ll be anything new in
under my bed.”

“I wasn’t worried about under your bed. More
of what kind of traps he might have set up in your room.”

“Traps?” She stared at him, her mouth dry,
and suppressed the urge to lick her lips. “So far he’s been pretty
direct. Do you think he’s setting traps for me now?”

He shrugged. “You never know.”

And she’d been hoping for normal? Finally
conceding defeat, she let her shoulders sag. “Go on and check. I
was really hoping we’d get a break from his attacks.”

Before Alrick had appeared in her life, she’d
lived in a comfortable vacuum. No high, no lows, but that was the
only way she’d managed to banish the searing pain. Now her life was
one constant roller coaster ride. Yippee.

“The Warlord will not give up so easily.”

“I’m beginning to get that. Finally.” She
dragged her hand through her hair. Frustration surged through her,
fueled by the unwanted awkward timing of her libido. “Just go check
out my bedroom. I want to go to sleep.” Lie number one. She really
wanted to scream and yell and throw things. To stage her own futile
protest, hoping a bit of playing drama queen might make her feel
better. To fight with Alrick, and fight well, then make up later
with a bone-thrilling kiss.
Damn it.

Without another word, he moved past her into
her bedroom. After a deep breath she followed.

Her bedroom looked just as it had before
she’d left – the crystal lamp on her nightstand on, perfume bottles
still neatly lined up on her antique oak dresser. The Texas quilt
Liam’s mother had made still covered her queen-sized bed,
undisturbed as ever. Her room looked exactly the same, as though
the ants had never invaded.

The room of a spinster. She winced at the
thought. She was no spinster – she was a widow. There was an entire
world of difference between the two.

While she watched, Alrick pushed back the
faded blanket that served as her closet door ever since the old one
had come unhinged and checked out her closet. Her four pairs of
shoes were still lined up neatly and her meager supply of clothing
still hung perfectly arranged by season and color. After he’d
finished pawing through her things, he turned and went to her
dresser. Ignoring her, he yanked open every single drawer and pawed
through the contents, underwear and all. The state of her underwear
was embarrassing. While she kept everything clean and mended the
inevitable tears, the colors were faded and everything obviously
needed to be replaced. She clenched her teeth, felt her cheeks
color, and watched from the doorway, fighting to hide her
agitation.

Done with her underwear, Alrick looked under
the bed. She stored old photo albums there, along with boxes
containing her Christmas decorations.

“It looks safe,” he finally said.

She simply nodded. “Well then.
Good-night.”

If she’d hoped he’d leave, she was wrong.
Instead, Alrick pulled back her comforter as though he meant to
climb in her bed.

A second later, he dropped it and jumped
back, cursing. “By the Plains of Lothar!”

Carly moved closer, and gasped. A mass of
snakes writhed over her sheets. Swallowing a scream, she backed
away so quickly she nearly fell. In the doorway, she stopped,
shuddering. “I hate snakes. Damn that Warlord.”

“Where are you going?”

She shuddered again. “Another room. Somewhere
where they aren’t.” Squinting at him, she grimaced. “You are going
to kill them, aren’t you?”

He glanced back at the bed. “Of course. But I
don’t think you should go anywhere right now. We don’t know what
other nasty surprises might be waiting.”

“Great. Just great.” Compulsively, she
scratched at her suddenly itchy arms.

“What’s wrong with you?” Keeping his own
distance from the bed, Alrick regarded her curiously. “You’re not
in danger over there. They can’t jump that far. You’re not allergic
to them too, are you?”

“No, I’m not. At least, as far as I know.
I’ve never gotten close enough to them to find out. Seriously, I
hate snakes. Loathe them.” She took another step back for emphasis.
“Any place where snakes are isn’t any place I want to be. I despise
them.”

“I get the point. I’ll get rid of them now.”
He drew his crystal sword. The blade sang as he raised it high
above his head.

About. To. Chop. Up. Snakes. In her bed.

“Yuck.” Carly turned, unable to watch. “I’ll
take my chances in the kitchen. Be careful.”