Magic (14 page)

A wry grin twisted Bryan’s mouth as he ran a hand back through his hair. He was going to have to write himself another note. He bent and kissed Faith’s cheek through the open window, then handed her a little blue flower he had produced from thin air. Faith tucked it into a buttonhole on her white oxford shirt and looked at him with an expression as earnest as any he could have mustered.

“Please be careful with your heart, Bryan. You give it so easily. I’m not saying Rachel isn’t worthy of it. I’m just afraid that maybe you’re falling in love with her because she needs someone to take care of her and you’ve run out of people to look after.”

“That’s not it,” he said evenly, though he suspected he was fibbing a bit. He did want to look after Rachel, but caring was a part of love. Besides, kissing her this morning had had little to do with her plight and everything to do with the way she felt in his arms.

Faith sighed and told him good-bye. He stood in the yard, watching as she drove down the long driveway, a pensive mood settling over him. He had a lot to think about tonight—Rachel, Porchind and Rasmussen, the possibility that Wimsey had showered those two with disapproval over their opinion of ghosts.

A mournful wail drifted to him on the cooling breeze. He snapped himself out of his musings and listened, holding his breath. The sound came again, faint but real, and he turned and jogged off across the lawn toward it, not at all sure of what he might find.

Addie wandered through the maze with no idea of where she was. All around her were high wild bushes, their branches tangled into an angry mass with leaves that rattled at her in the wind. They towered over her, casting a sinister shadow across the narrow, weed-choked path.

She had left the house because she was angry and frightened and she had thought the fresh air might clear her head, but she had promptly become lost. She had no idea how long she had been gone. It seemed like hours had passed. She had no idea of how far she had wandered. All she knew for sure was that she was cold and that Rachel was going to sell her home and make her move to a place where nothing would be familiar.

She had overheard her daughter’s conversation with those strange little men and her argument with Hennessy afterward. She had thought about confronting Rachel, but fear of the future had overwhelmed her, and she had run away instead. Her forgetfulness wasn’t such a terrible thing here in Anastasia, where people knew her, and in Drake House, where things were usually familiar. But to go to a place where everything would be strange, where there would be no memories at all to draw on, where she would have to learn new faces and new ways of doing things …

Tears welled up in her eyes and in her throat, choking her as she stumbled along the path, her garden boots catching on the rough ground. How could Rachel betray her this way? How could the daughter she had sacrificed so much for treat her so badly?

Addie stopped and looked around her, her eyes wide with fright. No matter which way she turned, everything looked the same. She pressed her bony hands to her cheeks and sobbed aloud as she sank down on a cracked stone bench.

Suddenly a man burst through the shrubbery. She looked up at him, terrified, and sobbed again.

“Addie,” he said, stopping in his tracks. He was out of breath and his hair was disheveled. “Are you all right?”

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“It’s me, Addie. Bryan Hennessy.”

“I don’t know you,” she said vehemently, swatting at him as he came nearer and knelt down at her feet. “I don’t know you. Go away! Go away or I’ll scream!”

“It’s all right, Addie,” Bryan said in a soft voice. He never broke eye contact with her as he reached out and captured one of her frail hands in his. “It’s all right. It’s me, Hennessy.”

“I don’t know you!” she shouted, panic rolling through her like a tidal wave as she stared at him. She fought the horrible fog that clouded her mind, searching for a memory of this man’s face. A part of her thought she should know him, which only made her more desperate to find something there that she couldn’t quite grasp. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she slumped on the bench in abject misery, mumbling, “I don’t know you. I don’t know you.”

Bryan settled himself on the bench beside Addie and pulled her thin, trembling body into his arms. Cradling her against him, he stroked a big hand over her hair, and, rocking her gently back and forth, he began singing to her. It was a soft, sweet song he’d learned in Scotland about a girl named Annie Laurie, who was fair and lovely with a voice like a summer wind’s sigh. His voice rose and fell with the melody, and trembled a bit as he ached with Addie’s pain and confusion. But he sang on, the gentle notes coming from his heart, just as they had when he’d held Serena and sung to her.

Rachel stood at the edge of the clearing in the maze, her body shaking. She had gone into the house, intending to speak with Addie about selling the place, but her mother had been nowhere around. She’d run out into the yard to get Bryan to help her look for Addie, and the sound of crying had drawn her to the overgrown maze.

She stood there now, unable to move or breathe. She stared at the scene before her: Bryan, his eyes closed, but a lone pair of tears escaping the outer corners, holding her mother and singing to her; and Addie rocking back and forth within the embrace of his strong arms, crying.

“It’s all right, Addie,” Bryan murmured, kissing the old woman’s temple. “It’s all right if you don’t know me. I’ll still help you.”

It struck Rachel then. As she stood there with her defenses stripped away by raw emotion, with her heart laid bare and the truth confronting her with nowhere for her to hide. She was in love with Bryan Hennessy. And it wasn’t a question of whether or not he was the kind of man she needed, it was a question of whether or not she deserved to have the kind of man he was.

“Is Addie asleep?” Bryan asked, looking up from the papers he had spread out on the desk. A small brass lamp illuminated his work area. The only other light in the room came from the fireplace. Shadows jumped on the dark paneled walls.

“Finally,” Rachel said on a sigh. She leaned a hip against the desk and allowed her shoulders to sag beneath the weight of her worries. “She wouldn’t let me in her room, but I managed to peek inside once it got quiet. She wore her garden boots to bed. I could see them sticking up under the coverlet. I wanted to go in and take them off for her, but I’m sure she would have hit me in the head with a rock and called the police.”

Bryan frowned. “Back to square one, eh?”

“I’d do handsprings if we were that far along,” Rachel said dryly. “I tried to explain to her that selling the house is the only practical thing, but she didn’t want to hear it.” She held up a hand as Bryan opened his mouth to speak. “Please refrain from saying you told me so. In fact, a change of subject would be warmly welcomed.”

“You’re an absolute vision in that dress.” He gave her a wicked smile and forced all thoughts of the mundane from his mind.

Rachel beamed as if his words had injected new energy into her. She was wearing the beaded burgundy gown, the same gown that had so mysteriously appeared on her bed that first night she’d had dinner at Drake House. Addie claimed it was Wimsey who insisted they dress for the evening meal, but Rachel didn’t see the difference. It was Addie who became upset if she showed up under-dressed, so it was Addie she dressed for—most nights.

Tonight she had chosen the burgundy dress without a thought about her mother. She had chosen it because she wanted to feel special and feminine and alluring. She had laid it out on her bed before her bath, and when she had returned, there had been a white rose lying on it.

“How did you know that was the perfect thing to say?” she murmured, settling her hip more comfortably against the desk.

“I’m psychic,” Bryan admitted with a smile. “I’ll go out on a limb and say that you’re probably a vision out of that dress as well.”

His voice was dark with desire. The rich quality of it stroked her senses like the caress of the silk she wore.

“Have you been spying on me in the bathtub?” she asked, conjuring up a teasing note to cut through her own sudden rush of yearning.

“Not exactly,” Bryan mumbled cryptically. He fixed his gaze on the steaming cup she held, breathing deep of the aroma and sighing in appreciation. “Coffee.”

“Would you like a cup? I’ll go back to the kitchen—”

“Don’t bother,” he said, not wanting to lose sight of her. “Just let me have a sip of yours.”

Warmth curled inside Rachel as if he had just made a terribly erotic suggestion. She bit the inside of her lip and offered him the mug, sucking in a breath when his fingertips brushed hers. Her senses were so heightened, the slightest glance or touch from him set her nerves sizzling. She had spent her entire time in the bathtub reliving the few kisses they had shared and imagining what it would be like to make love with him, fantasizing until she had hardly been able to stand the brush of the washcloth against her skin.

She had come to a decision about Bryan, about the desire that burned inside her. She had a long, hard road ahead of her. Her future didn’t look particularly bright, but for the present she had Bryan. She would have been a fool not to take what happiness she could while she had the chance.

Bryan looked up at her, his blue eyes sharp with awareness. He could sense the shift in Rachel’s feelings toward him. They had been changing gradually, constantly, since they’d met, but tonight she had taken a giant step in his direction. He wasn’t sure what had pushed her over the edge in his favor, but he wasn’t inclined to question his good fortune either. He was a conscientious man, but he was a man first. A man with needs.

It was a cold, rainy night. The kind of night a man wanted to spend curled up in bed with the lady of his heart, making love to her until they both drifted off into exhausted deep. He hadn’t been able to get that image out of his head all evening. Nor had he been able to stop picturing her in the bathtub, sliding a bar of scented soap over her slick skin. That image still seemed particularly strong. He could see the gleam of light on her wet skin. He could smell the soap. Even now the vision played through his mind, and heat coiled in his belly.

Never taking his eyes from Rachel’s, he sipped at the coffee and set the cup aside. Her eyes darkened from violet to deep purple, and a flush crept along under the surface of her fair skin.

“You must be cold,” he murmured, pushing himself up from his chair. He pulled his tuxedo jacket off and draped it around her shoulders before she could object. In a move he’d perfected as a teenager, he let one arm slide down her back and fastened his hand on the curve of her hip as he herded her toward the love seat.

Rachel gave him a look. “That’s an old trick, Hennessy.”

“I’m an old guy,” he quipped, and then winced. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that. You may not have noticed.”

“I’m not concerned. You seem able-bodied to me.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered, gritting his teeth at the surge of anticipation that stirred in his loins.

“But I guess I’ll find out, won’t I?” Rachel said softly, lowering her gaze in genuine shyness as they settled on the love seat.

Bryan was so stunned, he felt as if he’d taken a punch to the gut. He hooked a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up. The sight of the firelight glowing on her face nearly made him forget what it was he’d meant to ask. Holy Mike, she was lovely, and, unless he’d completely lost his ability to read women, she wanted him. After all the fighting she’d done against the attraction that pulled between them, she was admitting she wanted him. Wasn’t she?

“Rachel,” he began, his voice low and hoarse, “just what are you saying?”

She made a little face. “I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to say it. You’re a perceptive man—can’t you figure it out?”

“Yes, I guess what I need to know is why.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Rachel looked toward the fire, her expression pensive. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she was in love with him. Not when she knew what they could have was only temporary. Not when she wasn’t certain of his feelings for her. He had mentioned love in passing that morning, but that didn’t mean anything. In her meager experience, love was a word some men tossed around too casually. And Bryan was by nature so openly giving of himself, she might have been reading too much into his attitude toward her. She suspected he had strong feelings for her. She knew he wanted her. But love …

Besides, it was so soon. They had known each other such a short time, he was liable to think she’s lost her mind if she told him she was falling in love with him.

But none of that seemed to matter. What was left of her mind had made itself up as she’d stood in the shadows of the maze, watching Bryan comfort her mother. It had all struck her with a force so powerful, she’d nearly fallen to her knees. She loved him. There was no future in it, but that didn’t seem important now. As she’d stood there, watching her mother cry, she had realized just how suddenly tomorrow could slip away.

Over the past five years she had told herself that one day she would return and make things right between herself and Addie. One day. Tomorrow. Now tomorrow had come and it was too late, and all those days that could have been were nothing more than wishes that would never come true. She didn’t need any more regrets haunting her life. She would take what Bryan could give her now, love him while she could, and deal with the consequences later.

She turned back to him with pleading in her eyes. “Bryan, please don’t—”

“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips as he leaned close. A soft, secretive smile curved his mouth, and his blue eyes shone like lapis lazuli. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “It’s all right.”

He lowered his mouth then, and kissed her slowly, sweetly, deeply. It was a kiss not of possession, but of sharing. It was a kiss that stirred the hunger in them both and sparked the desires banked inside them to flare into full flame. Questions and motives slipped away, were burned away by needs. He needed to love her. She needed to feel his strong arms around her.

Bryan slipped his coat from Rachel’s shoulders and spread it out on the rug in front of the fire. Kneeling there, he reached a hand up to her in invitation. She smiled as she settled her hand in his and joined him on the floor.

“This is romantic,” she whispered, cuddling against him knee to knee, thigh to thigh, happy just to be close to him.

He brushed her long hair back, baring one shoulder. “Romantic, hell,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to nibble kisses along the creamy line of flesh. The ache in his groin made him pause to grit his teeth, and he shook his head in amazement. He was as eager as an untried kid. He chuckled and nipped at her chin. “I’m just afraid you’d change your mind on the way upstairs.”

Rachel laughed softly, marveling at this man’s ability to lighten her mood. Even now, when she was trembling with nervous anticipation, Bryan was able to tease a giggle out of her. It was one of the things she loved most about him.

She raised her hands and tugged loose the bow tie that perched crookedly on the collar of his shirt. Her fingers moved down the neatly pleated shirtfront, revealing a V of hard flesh where the snowy white fabric parted and fell away from the contours of his chest. He held still as she peeled the garment back from his broad shoulders and let it fall to the floor behind him.

She paused a moment to simply look at him, to drink in the sight of his solid chest and the ridged muscles of his belly. Firelight caught in the curls scattered across his chest, turning them gold. Her breath caught as her gaze rested on the small brown mole above his left nipple. Somehow she had known it would be there, but she had no time to wonder how, because Bryan was reaching for her.

His thumbs hooked under the loose straps of her gown and drew them down over her shoulders. He traced his fingertips along the line of the bodice, gently pulling it down, slowly uncovering her. Her small, full breasts plumped themselves into his hands as the dress slipped away, her nipples tightening instantly as his thumbs brushed across them. The gown pooled at her knees in a wine-colored drift studded with sparkling black stars.

“So lovely,” he whispered, gazing at her in open admiration. “So soft.”

He drew his hands downward, following the indentation of her slender waist and the outward slope of her hips, drawing her lace panties down as his exploration moved on to her thighs. Rachel struggled for air as his fingers traced delicate patterns on the satin-soft skin on the inside of her legs. She moaned and bit her lip as he delved into the tender warmth between them, his fingers parting the feminine petals and stroking the aching bud hidden there.

Heat flared through her hotter than the flames that lit their makeshift bed. She leaned into him, gasping at the feel of his flesh against hers, her feminine softness against the hard contours of his masculine body. It was wonderful. It was like coming back to a place she belonged. She rubbed herself against him in a sinuous caress, her hands sliding up his arms to knead the tight muscles in his shoulders and neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, then brought her hands forward, pulling his glasses off and setting them aside on the low butler’s table.

“You don’t need these to see, do you?”

“That’s okay,” he murmured, bending his head to kiss her ear. “I’m good with my hands.”

Rachel’s giggle turned to a sensuous purr as his big hands slid down her back to cup her buttocks, his fingers kneading her flesh in a way that made her breath flutter in her throat. “So I noticed.”

He pulled her hard against him then, letting her feel the strength of his arousal as he took her mouth once more. This kiss was hotter and wilder than the last, hinting at the passion he was struggling to keep in check. His tongue stroked over hers, teasing, tasting, claiming possession.

Rachel pulled her mouth from his and dragged her lips down the strong column of his neck to his chest. Her tongue darted out to tease one flat brown nipple. His flesh beaded into a tight knot; Rachel impulsively took it into her mouth and sucked on it gently, excitement shooting through her when Bryan groaned in appreciation.

She had never felt so uninhibited with a man. She had expected to feel shy with Bryan; instead, she felt strong and right and so very turned on. She wanted him with an intensity she had never known. She wanted to please him in ways she had never dreamed of. The desire swept through her, overwhelming her normally practical, sensible self, and she let go of that drab cloak of responsibility like a butterfly shedding its cocoon.

Her kisses followed the faint line of downy hair that bisected Bryan’s flat abdomen as her hands undid the front of his trousers. Her tongue dipped into his navel. She lowered his trousers and briefs in one motion and another hot flame of desire coursed through her as she revealed his manhood.

He was eager for her. She brushed her thumb across the velvet flesh, drawing another groan from him.