The Heart of a Hero (22 page)

Julia straightened again. “Nicholas called you?”

“No, Rana did. She said you were in need of reinforcements. I cleaned Vanetta out of graham crackers when I picked up the cinnamon buns. Ezra said his meat guy is due this morning, and he’ll get several cases of hot dogs off him. But I’m afraid we’re out of luck on the marshmallows. Jules?” she asked when Julia didn’t say anything. “You do know this is how the magic works, don’t you? Everyone pulling together to help someone in need?”

“Even when that someone is acting like an ass?”

“
Especially
then,” Peg said with a soft laugh. “So okay, Ms. Campbell, say something . . . bossy to me.”

Julia felt herself smiling. “Two eggs over easy, toast—not too dark—and a big mug of
hot
coffee brewed the way the boss likes it.”

Julia heard a loud and definitely not regal snort trailing down the hall, then turned her back against the door and slumped forward to hide her face in her hands. Oh yeah, she was on one hell of a stupid roll, because she’d swear that last night she really had felt Nicholas moving inside her before she’d fallen asleep, and it had been . . . explosive.

And honestly? The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of being caught by a big strong scary atavist. Well, not so much that she was going to let him get away unscathed for
publicly
flexing his
real
muscle.

* * * 

The director of special events and her entire staff—including a real live queen and a real best friend—not only survived Nova Mare’s second boisterous bonfire wedding in two days, they’d been grinning worse than the drunken revelers as they staggered off the summit at two
A.M.
Tuesday morning just as the first snowflakes fell from the sky. As for the bride and groom . . . well, the juxtaposed Ringwoods were likely holed up in a tent with the dear Altbussers someplace in the nearby wilderness, waiting for the three inches of snow to melt so they could hike back to the resort, no doubt with SD cards full of pictures, anxious to tell all their plain old boring friends about the huge Maine blizzard they’d survived.

If she didn’t hear from either party by noon tomorrow, she was asking the director of adventure to send out a search party, Julia decided as she sat on Nicholas’s deck with her new best buddies, watching the shadows lengthen across Bottomless. An appropriate ending to Thanksgiving Day, since she’d shared the traditional dinner she’d brought to her cottage from Aeolus’s with them.

“You guys tell anyone that I sat you at the table and served you on bone china,” she said, causing six heads to turn to her, “I swear I’ll deny it.”

Julia looked out at Bottomless again, remembering making her first executive decision at two
A.M.
Tuesday morning, giving her staff the following three days off and instructing everyone not to step foot on the mountain until Friday morning. Well, except Rana, since she lived here. Julia had instead politely asked her mentor to please stay away from the conference pavilion, then generously given her four days off when the dear woman had actually
asked
for Friday, too.

Julia, however, had spent the last three days practically living at the conference pavilion—which had felt eerily silent after the frenzy of the previous four days. But it wasn’t until this afternoon, as she’d strolled down the resort road with her stuffed-to-their-whiskers buddies, that Julia realized she had spent the last three days nesting, putting her personal touch on her beautiful new office, making it
hers
.

It had all started when she’d wandered into the prop room and been blown away by all the over-the-top . . . stuff. Some of which, she had realized upon closer inspection, were authentic antiques. As for the marble bust of the big scary horse she’d lugged to her office to display on her desk, she hoped to Hades
it
was a reproduction. Because if not, that meant she had an ancient Greek artifact dating from around the reign of King . . . Perdiccas.

Oh yeah, she’d gone on the office Internet and Googled
Perdiccas
just for the fun of it, and found a couple of kings going by that name ruling Macedon around the fifth and sixth centuries BC. And after reading up on them, she’d decided the angry man and his three sons were just as bad as kings Perdiccas I and II.

No, not nice men, any of them—ancient
or
modern.

Julia looked down at her hands, one holding the note she’d found on Nicholas’s kitchen counter this afternoon and the other holding her cell phone. She had no business feeling bummed that he hadn’t said good-bye before he’d left Tuesday—with one of his men, she’d since learned—to go . . . somewhere on some sort of business. After all, it wasn’t like they were dating or anything. But he could have at least called to ask if she wouldn’t mind babysitting his cats while he was gone, which could be anywhere from a few days to a few
weeks
, he’d said in his text.

Julia pressed the button on her phone and slid her thumb across the screen, then went to her messages and scanned down through the list of texts she’d exchanged with Trisha in New York City, and Peg and Olivia and Rana and all her assistants, only to wince when she saw all the texts she’d sent accidentally—to God, for all she knew. She finally spotted Nicholas’s name and tapped it.

Keep an eye on our little herd while I’m away,
he’d said, not asked. Our herd? And just when had she inherited six cats?
Had to leave unexpectedly on business, and will be gone from a few days to a few weeks.

With his
horse
?

Because when she’d stopped by the barn Wednesday morning to once again thank Sally for making the elegant, folk-artsy wedding bands, Julia had noticed that Phantom wasn’t in his stall. When she’d asked where he was, having brought a couple of carrots for the big scary figment of the imagination—that looked a lot like the big scary bust sitting on her desk—Sally had shrugged, saying Nicholas had ridden off Tuesday around noon with one of his men on another one of their stallions, and when they hadn’t returned, she’d assumed the horses were staying at his house. Which wasn’t unusual, apparently, since several of his men were familiar with Phantom and often took care of him whenever their boss left on business.

But the only thing in the garage was Nicholas’s big scary truck. And Julia distinctly remembered hearing a distant . . . aftershock shortly after noon on Tuesday.

Be good while I’m gone and I’ll bring you back a surprise.

That ominous little text had cost her a couple of sleepless nights. Darn Peg for putting the idea in her head that Nicholas really was seeing her as wife material—which had her all worried that he was bringing back a friggin’ engagement ring.

How in Hades was she supposed to react to that?

Maybe she should start carrying a brick in her tote—although she suspected it would take a ton of them to knock some sense into him.

As they’d worked together Monday, Peg and Rana and Olivia (when she’d dropped by to lend a hand for an hour) had all offered their own little tidbits of advice on dealing with big strong scary contrary atavists—Rana introducing
contrary
into the growing list of . . . qualities. But what had really scared Julia was that all the women had been acting as if she and Nicholas were a done deal.

And judging by the note he’d left her on his kitchen island, so did Nicholas.

I gave the men delivering the furniture your number. If it arrives before I return, go ahead and have them place it where you think it works best. There should be linens delivered at the same time to fit the custom-made mattress if you feel like making up the bed. I didn’t have time to clean out the fridge, so take what you can use. The house is designed to look after itself, but if any problems arise, bring them to Duncan’s attention. Also, if you find you have to return to your father’s house for any reason, I would appreciate it if you took Duncan, Mac, or Rowan with you, or Dante or Micah.

Sorry I had to leave without a proper good-bye, but duty is often an inconvenient taskmaster. I shall make it up to you when I return. Until then, the memory of me will have to do.

—Nicholas

Julia pulled in a shuddering breath as she slowly folded the note and slipped it in her pocket. She’d tried texting him back Tuesday, but now knew why she hadn’t gotten any response. She hadn’t been snooping or anything; he’d left his cell phone right there in plain sight in a basket on the counter, along with his wallet, some loose change, and his watch—almost as if he’d wanted her to see them.

Like he
wanted
her to question why a man—who didn’t have a last name—went on a business trip that could last anywhere from a few days to weeks without taking his personal belongings; on his big scary horse that had a lot of scars, which had disappeared with him right around the time of another rumbling aftershock.

Oh, and with one of his elite guards. Sampson, Sally had said his name was; another big strapping guy who had shown up at Nova Mare with Nicholas last year, along with Rowan and Micah and Dante. All, apparently, from the same mysterious island the Oceanuses were from—which Sally had heard was “somewhere in the friggin’ Atlantic.”

Oh yeah, it would take more than courage to fall in love with Nicholas, as Julia was beginning to suspect it would also take believing in magic again.

She pulled the small, jet-black stone Peg had given her out of her pocket and slowly rubbed her thumb over its shimmering, polished surface. Bastet suddenly stood up and walked over, touched her nose to the stone, then blinked up at Julia and gave a soft little chirp. Julia gave her a pat, remembering also looking up the Egyptian goddess online and discovering that Bastet had been the patron of love, sex, and fertility.

How interesting, Julia decided as she pulled in another shuddering breath, considering her highly dependable biological clock meant she should have started her period two days ago. Except not only hadn’t she, but she also didn’t have any of the telltale signs of tender breasts and slight cramping that usually preceded it.

She wasn’t quite in panic mode yet, still holding out hope that running around like a crazy woman trying to make two brides’ fantasies come true was the reason she was late. Mother Nature was allowed to skip a beat once in a while, wasn’t she?

Yeah, she’d get her period any day now.

Julia held the little stone out when the other five cats all got up and crowded around, insisting she let each of them touch it. Well, except Ajax, who kept looking at everyone blankly, as if trying to figure out what was so interesting about a rock.

Solomon gave her arm a less than gentle nudge after he’d taken his touch, then walked around the side of the house, giving a loud, growling meow as he headed down the side porch—which apparently was some sort of signal for the other five to follow. But when Julia didn’t immediately follow, Bastet stopped at the corner of the house and looked at her, then gave another chirp, this one rather demanding.

“Okay, I’m coming,” Julia said with a chuckle, slipping her phone and the stone in her pocket and standing up—making sure she stayed pressed up against the glass. “Hey, where do you all think you’re going?” she asked when she rounded the corner and saw the parade continue past the cat door. “The whole point of this trip was to bring you guys
home
.”

Julia dropped her head with a sigh, knowing exactly where they were going, which was back to
her
house—the one with the big soft bed they’d all spent the last two nights crowding her out of. Only instead of heading up the resort road when they reached it, Sol led his band of merry followers across the pavement and into the woods.

Julia stopped at the ditch. “Ah, guys? It’s getting dark.”

Bastet stopped just before disappearing into the trees and gave another loud chirp, which apparently signaled Sol to come back to see what the problem was. Could cats glare? Because she’d swear the big lug was looking at her through narrowed, impatient eyes. Julia sighed again, pulling her gloves out of her pocket and slipping them on. “Okay,” she said, scrambling across the ditch and up the bank on the other side, “but if this isn’t a shortcut, you’re all sleeping
under
the bed tonight.”

Chapter Eighteen

Julia sat in her big leather chair watching out the office window, about to make an executive decision that if her escorts didn’t show up in the next ten minutes, she was leaving without them. Once Nicholas’s business trip had passed the six-day mark, the cats had started walking her to and from work every day—although she couldn’t figure out how they always knew when she was ready to head home every evening. The ritual had been ongoing for three weeks now, making it a sum total of twenty-eight days—not that she was counting—since anyone had heard from Nova Mare’s director of security.

Which made Julia glad she’d caved in and installed a cat door after five nights of repeatedly having to get out of bed to let Ajax outside, then wait and let him back inside, because he couldn’t seem to hold his bladder longer than a few hours. But not wanting to cut a hole in a perfectly good wall, she’d had her staff carpenter replace one of the window sashes with a flapping door.

Well, the cats walked her to and from work when it wasn’t snowing—spending their days only
they
knew where—and rode in her enclosed cart during foul weather. The new cart had actual doors and a heater and even windshield wipers, but the really cool part was it had a track system instead of wheels that supposedly made it able to maneuver through really deep snow like a Sherman tank—not that she’d had a chance to find out if that was true yet.

Every day Julia grew more amazed at the lengths Olivia was willing to go to make Nova Mare one of the most exclusive and unique resorts in the world. And she didn’t care what the woman claimed; the former town mouse had some pretty outrageous dreams of grandeur. Although Julia did recall the gondola across the fiord was really Mac’s idea, which had actually been discussed at a couple of directors’ meetings.

Four days to Christmas and still no Nicholas. Julia really hoped he was back by then, because she had a really exciting present to give him. One she hadn’t even had to shop for; she’d only had to stop having periods.

Oh yeah; she’d gone past panic a couple of weeks ago after peeing on three home pregnancy sticks, and was now at the
how in Hades do I tell him?
stage. Hopefully she’d have it figured out and be well into resigned acceptance by the time he got back. Because if how much she missed him was any indication, she was pretty sure she was utterly and completely in love with the tall, blue-eyed, maddeningly handsome man.

Except how was that even possible, considering she’d known him exactly a week and a half? And considering she’d actively avoided him four of those days, how could she possibly be missing and wanting and loving the muscle-flexing atavist with every fiber of her being?

Granted, they’d had two one-night stands, so she not only must have trusted him on some innate level from the very beginning, she must still be trusting that little inner voice she
hadn’t
listened to when she’d had doubts about marrying Clay. And those hadn’t been last-minute doubts, either; she’d started catching small glimpses of Clay the jerk within a month of losing her virginity to him.

Getting pregnant her senior year had obviously muffled that voice, but losing the baby only six weeks along should have had it
shouting
that was her chance to smarten up—especially when Clay had said it was probably for the best, and it was a good thing he’d persuaded her not to tell anyone. And she really wished that voice had found a tote full of bricks and smacked some sense into her when the jerk had suggested they get married anyway and keep to their plan of putting each other through college.

No, it hadn’t been teenage lust that had made her think Clay had been her best shot at happily-ever-after, but rather the deadly combination of wanting to leave town, the zinging hormones of pregnancy and loss, and plain old teenage stupidity.

So . . . if her inner voice had been right ten years ago but she hadn’t listened to it, what if it was right about Nicholas and she didn’t listen to it this time, either, and she walked away from the real deal?

It would be nice if the man were actually
here
to help her decide, but no one—not even Olivia or Mac or Rana—had heard from Nicholas in twenty-eight days. Julia’s growing anger at his not even calling had turned to worry, however, when she’d discovered that her unflappable
mentor
was worried.

Several mornings ago, when she’d been digging through the prop room looking for inspiration for Nova Mare’s annual New Year’s Eve bash, Julia had overheard Rana and Titus talking in the hall, the couple obviously believing no one was at work yet. Well, it had been more of an argument than a discussion, with Rana threatening to go find Nicholas herself if her almighty husband or son wouldn’t, and Titus threatening to have her back on the island in the blink of an eye if she stepped even a foot off the mountain.

“In the blink of an eye or
clap of thunder
?” Julia had muttered to herself when the conversation had at that point turned ominously silent. Not wanting them to know she’d overheard their private discussion, Julia had left the prop room via the rabbit warren of corridors and run down to registration, then gone outside and run back up the path and strolled in the front door as if she were just coming to work . . . without her coat.

But apparently even queens had to defer to
real
muscle being flexed, because Rana hadn’t stepped foot off the mountain, her mood had been anything but serene for the last several days, and Rowan was now walking her home every evening.

Julia stood up when she spotted Sol in the path lights racing to the door with the rest of the herd valiantly trying to keep up, and she rushed out of the office to let them in. “Okay, okay,” she said with a laugh when Sol ran inside and down the hall without even looking at her. “What’s all the excitement about?” she asked, following when the other five also ran past. “Were kids throwing snowballs at you?”

Julia stepped into the design room to find all six cats standing stiffly, staring at the side wall as their tails twitched back and forth. She stilled when her skin prickled and her hair stirred with static electricity, and saw that even Sol’s hair seemed to stand out from his body like he’d been vigorously rubbed with a balloon.

She slowly became aware of a sharp buzzing growing ominously louder, until it became so piercing that Julia started to raise her hands to her ears—only to still again when Sol suddenly gave a loud guttural growl. The other cats immediately shot toward the hallway as Solomon turned and charged directly at her. The huge cat leapt up and slammed into her chest, the force sending Julia stumbling back with a shout of surprise when she fell, Sol landing sprawled over her just as the wall beside them exploded.

Debris flew into the design room, and Julia’s scream was lost in the deafening percussion as a wave of heat and blinding light filled the air with the acrid smell of what she was afraid was detonated fireworks. She rolled over, pulling Sol beneath her as wood and plaster and small chunks of granite rained down, then had to bury her face in Sol’s fur because of the dust, only to snap her head up when she heard an unmistakably human scream. “Ohmigod,” she cried, rising to her knees. “Someone’s in there.”

Julia stumbled to her feet, nearly tripping over Sol as he rushed past her, and followed him through the gaping hole in the wall. She stepped into a narrow cave, only to stop when she realized the granite was . . . glowing, the walls actually giving off enough light to see that the sloping tunnel made a sharp turn twenty yards away.

“No, come back,” she called out, picking her way over small rocks when Solomon disappeared around the curve. “More fireworks might explode—”

Another pained shout echoed toward her, and Sol came rushing back around the turn, his tail swishing in agitation as he gave an urgent growl before he disappeared down the tunnel again. “Okay, I’m coming. Hang on, mister, I’m coming!” Julia shouted when she heard cursing—only to stop again when she didn’t recognize the language.

Oh God, what if that angry man, Perdiccas, had come back for revenge?

Julia rushed forward when she just as quickly decided Sol’s urgency meant it had to be
Nicholas
. She rounded the curve and saw him lying half sprawled against the cave wall, mostly naked and covered in blood. But it wasn’t the sight of the man—
completel
y covered in blood—Nicholas was clutching to his chest that made her hesitate, but rather the bloody sword lying beside him.

Spotting her, Nicholas shouted something she couldn’t understand, although she was pretty sure he mentioned both Mac and Titus somewhere in the tirade as he weakly gestured at her. It was then Julia noticed the large, deep gash in his side, which meant a good deal of that blood was
his
.

“Ohmigod, Nicholas,” she cried, rushing to crouch down beside him. “Let me see where you’re hurt,” she said more gently, trying to move the obviously dead man she assumed was Sampson.

Nicholas reached out with surprising speed and shoved her away. “Don’t fucking touch him!” he shouted, cradling the man back against him. “Do as I say and get Mac.
Now,
” he snapped, his hand reaching for the sword.

Julia scrambled to her feet and ran back up the cave—passing Sol watching from the safety of the turn—ducked through the gaping hole, and ran into the hall, slamming open the outside door and racing down the path only illuminated by occasional lampposts. She nearly fell on some ice when she made the turn that led to Mac and Olivia’s lodge, but righted herself just in time to run straight into Mac.

He caught hold of her shoulders. “Where is he?”

“In a cave . . . behind the design room,” she said in gulping pants. “Covered in blood. Sampson . . . I think he’s dead. Nicholas won’t let him go. He told me to come get you.”

“Henry,” Mac said as the boy ran up beside them. “Father is likely on his way, so head him off and tell him Nicholas is at the conference pavilion. Also call Rowan and tell him the same thing.” Mac started leading Julia back down the path. “Have Rowan bring Dante and Micah to the pavilion. And Henry?” he growled, stopping just as the boy started off, making him turn back. “Then you come there, too.”

His entire countenance looking fifty instead of ten, Henry gave a silent nod, then ran into the woods in the direction of the elder Oceanus’s cottage.

“Is Nicholas also hurt?” Mac asked as he started down the path again, his pace making Julia have to run to keep up.

“Yes. I saw a deep gash in his side and one on his head. And his pupils were really dark, and . . . and he’s really angry.”

Mac came to an abrupt halt. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she quickly assured him as she started walking, only to start running when Mac quickened his pace again. “But the man—Sampson. I think . . . I think he’s dead.”

“He might not be,” Mac said quietly. “How did you enter the tunnel?”

“The side wall of the design room blew out and Nicholas’s cat, Solomon, ran inside when we heard a scream,” she ended on a whisper.

Mac stopped again, although it was too dark for her to read his expression. “I must rush on ahead, but I would ask that you also come back to the pavilion. We may need your assistance.”

“Yes, of course.”

He pulled his sweater off over his head and handed it to her. “You’re shivering.” And then the moment she took it, he turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Realizing she
was
shivering uncontrollably, Julia slipped on the sweater and started running again as she tried
not
to speculate on how Mac had known the loud, earth-trembling explosion had been Nicholas. And likely Sampson—who was definitely dead, she decided, remembering he’d been hacked nearly in half by a . . . sword or something.

Julia felt all her pockets as she ran before finally remembering her phone was in her tote, even as she wondered if someone should call 911, only to decide Mac probably had already.

She reached her office just as Titus and Henry ran inside, the elder Oceanus turning in surprise when she ran in behind them. “Julia,” he said, moving to block her way. He shook his head. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I found Nicholas and went after Mac,” she told him, pressing a hand to the stitch in her side. “Your son asked me to come back and help.”

Titus swung around at the sound of a bloodcurdling scream and ran into the design room with Henry not two steps behind him. Julia followed, but stopped just inside the gaping hole in the wall when she realized Nicholas was still really angry.

“Bring him back!” he roared.

“It’s too late, Nicholas,” she heard Mac say calmly. “He’s gone.”

“Fucking bring him
back
.”

“You know I can’t,” Mac snapped. “Not if he doesn’t
want
to. He’s already chosen, Nicholas,” he continued more calmly again.

“Then send me to him. I’ll make the son of a bitch change his mind.”

“You need to give him up, Nicholas,” Julia heard Titus say softly, “so we can see to your wounds.”

“Back off, old man,” Nicholas growled. “The fucking idiot took a blow meant for
me
; I’ll damn well not abandon him now.”