Through the Looking Glass (6 page)

"You know better. But I'll settle for that.
At least as a start."

Maggie didn't protest again. She admitted to herself only as his lips touched hers that this was something she wanted, even something she needed. Then her reasons didn't seem to matter very much.

The first touch was gentle, almost tentative, but the hesitancy vanished quickly.
Burned away.
Maggie could feel the heat rise in her like a storm surge, so swift and violent she had no defense against it. His mouth hardened, slanting across hers to deepen the kiss with a stark passion that made her shudder helplessly, and she was barely aware when her arms lifted of their own volition to encircle his neck.

"She's in that state of mind," said

the
White Queen, "that she wants to deny

something—
only she doesn't know what

to
deny!"

Her arms around his neck... It was that mindless gesture of trust and desire that brought some semblance of sanity back to Maggie. She felt the thick softness of his hair beneath her fingers, felt the hard pressure of his chest against her breasts as he drew her suddenly closer, and she was conscious of the same shock she'd felt earlier.

She wanted him. Questions didn't matter. Answers didn't matter. What she felt was something so deep there wasn't even a word to name it. All she knew for certain was that now she understood what true madness felt like.

It was Gideon who ended the kiss with visible reluctance, raising his head slightly to look at her. His eyes were heavy lidded and darkened, his face taut. "I didn't expect that," he murmured.

She had to swallow before she could get the question out. "Expect what?"

"Didn't you feel it too?
The power of it?"

Maggie was an honest woman, but she also had a strong sense of self-preservation. At that moment she decided a truthful answer might be gasoline thrown on the fire.
Unless, of course, she could turn an emotional reality into an impersonal observation.
In the most even voice she could manage, she said, "If you drop the right two chemicals into a beaker, sometimes you get quite a reaction."

"So we're just two chemicals that happen to react to each other?" His voice was level.

"Physically, yes."
She didn't believe that, but elected to take some kind of stand; if nothing
else,
it would give them something to argue about. "The easy way, remember?
The shortcut.
If you push the right buttons physically, you're going to get a predictable response. An emotional response is another matter altogether." Her throat was aching, but she met his narrowing gaze with certainty in her own.

Somewhat belatedly she mentally ordered her fingers to leave his hair alone and drew her arms from around his neck.

After a moment Gideon removed his own arms and straightened, but continued to look down at her. The flicker of anger she'd seen in his eyes had been fleeting, replaced now by a considering look that was a bit too perceptive for her peace of mind.

"Is this where I get mad and storm out?" he asked.

Maggie had become accustomed to the fact that she often baffled people, but she could never understand why. Now she knew. It was somewhat unnerving and rather fascinating to have a person's shrewd comprehension turned on her for a change. But stubbornly, she stuck to her part.

"That's up to you," she told him. She'd never even considered how difficult it would be to sound dignified while wearing a scanty white teddy. She made a mental note to
herself
to consider the matter carefully should such a situation arise again.

Softly, he said, "Who wants to control the situation now?"

It was a taunt, and if it didn't rouse her temper, it at least ruffled it a bit. She debated with herself silently,
then
said, "Maybe you're right. But so am I. The fact that physical attraction exists means very little unless emotions are involved as well. Maybe you can crawl into bed just because your body tells you to, but I can't."

After a moment, and in a very mild tone, he said, "I must say I'm encouraged."

"In what way?"

Gideon smiled. "I asked a very simple question, Maggie. I asked if you felt the same unusual reaction I felt."

Normally quick-witted, Maggie realized only then what she'd done. And she could only smile at herself for it. "I promptly went overboard with explanation, denial, and justification."

"You certainly did."

She sighed. "Don't gloat."

"Ill
try
not to, but it won't be easy. Will you answer the original question now, please?"

Maggie gave in with all the grace she could muster. "Yes, I felt something... unusual."

He
nodded,
his expression serious. "Good. We've established the fact that we both feel a special physical attraction for each other. Now we can work on the other levels."

"How are we going to do that?" she asked, wary but interested.

"The usual ways, I thought. Talk. Get to know each other.
That sort of thing."
Still wearing his serious expression and matter-of-fact voice, he added, "Mind you, there's nothing I'd rather do than climb into this absurd bed and let the other questions slide for the time being. But I do agree with you that those questions should be answered first."

She eyed him speculatively. "You do, do you?"

"Of course.
I'm a mature man, after all. I'm hardly at the mercy of my hormones."

"Glad to hear it."

"So, well take things slow and easy." His voice had become brisk. "Ill
sleep
in the tent and bend my knees, shower and shave in cold water, and play the role of a stranger in a strange land."

"And I?"

"You will, I trust, be no more enigmatic than necessary so that I have at least a fair chance of finding the answers."

Maggie nodded slowly.
"All right."

Gideon got to his feet.
"Fine.
See you in the morning."

She waited until he reached the door,
then
said, "Gideon? You forgot the blankets."

"No, I didn't. The temperature out there is in the high seventies. And my body temperature must be over a hundred. Good night, Maggie."

"Good night."

She stared at the closed door for a long time, then finally put her book on the table and blew out her lamp. She didn't get under the covers; the air temperature was comfortable, and like Gideon, she could tell that her own body temperature was way above normal. In fact, she felt feverish.

Lying back on her pillows in the dark caravan, she replayed the past hours in her mind and tried to figure out what to do next. It would have been relatively simple without Gideon's presence; she'd just do as she had done before, listen and watch. But he was here now. Here, and bent on exploring a potential relationship. Every eye in the carnival— barring those of the few younger children—would be watching them either openly or covertly. And she doubted that Gideon would be out of her presence very often.

For the first time in her life she found herself torn between conflicting desires. She wanted to get to know Gideon, but at the same time she also wanted to find out who had killed Merlin and why. Involvement with Gideon meant she would have to be honest and her true self. Finding a killer required the opposite—detachment and deceitfulness.

Maggie wasn't accustomed to dividing herself. No matter how capricious and paradoxical she seemed to be, she was always working toward a single goal of some kind.
But now...
How could she show Gideon one face and the.
carnival
another? How could she look for love and for a murderer at the same time?

Love?

Years before, Uncle Cyrus had told her that love would come when least expected, probably when least wanted, and undoubtedly at the most inconvenient time possible. As usual, he had been right. She didn't believe she was in love with Gideon, at least not yet, but for the first time in her life the possibility was definitely there. Her state now, feverish, restless, anxious, and undecided, was proof of that.

She was tempted to try to to find some excuse to send Gideon away for a few weeks. If she told him the truth, he would certainly stay and quite likely insist on calling in the authorities as well. If she made up some other reason that he didn't believe or found impossible to accept, she could easily lose the opportunity to find out if there was more than a chance of love.

It wasn't in Maggie's nature to shirk responsibility; she had promised her family she would find Merlin's killer, and she intended to do just that. But she also intended to explore the possibility of a relationship with Gideon. The problem, she thought, was how to accomplish both objectives simultaneously. It never occurred to her it was impossible, simply because "impossible" was a word stricken at an early age from her vocabulary. There was always a way to manage two things at once. The question was how to tackle her twin goals.

Until she could figure out some kind of workable game plan, she'd just have to play it by ear.
A dangerous thing to do when you were looking for a killer.

Or looking for love.

The next morning, awakened at dawn by the sounds of hungry animals demanding breakfast, Gideon braved the cold water of the carnival's facilities. He ate breakfast with Maggie in her wagon and then went to be introduced to the other members of Wonderland's family.

Maggie had kept breakfast conversation casual, talking a great deal about the carnival and very little about herself. She seemed to Gideon to be in a peculiar mood—even for her. She was so vague and childlike that he couldn't for the life of him penetrate the veils of her enigmatic self. She was breaking her promise of the night before to be no more baffling than necessary. However, he didn't call her on it because he was far too interested in finding out why she had retreated from him.

In the meantime he played a waiting game, obediently accompanying her from person to person for an introduction. She gave each his name, added no explanatory comments, and no one seemed to expect more.

"Do they know who I am?" he asked after leaving Oswald's wagon. Oswald was the aristocratic gentleman who had worn a toga at the tea party; he was wearing the same costume today and had greeted the introduction with a fierce stare and an irritable, "Well, of course he is."

Maggie
nodded,
her expression utterly serene. "Naturally, they know you own the carnival now."

"Nobody's mentioned it," he observed.

'They know." She sent him a glance, then paused beside the tiger's cage, apparently to study the

beast
. Without looking at Gideon again she said mildly, "Oswald once taught at MIT. They called him another Einstein."

"Then what on earth is he doing here?"

"You've heard the expression 'future shock'?"

"Yes."

"It happened to Oswald, but a little differently. He could cope personally with how fast technology was advancing, but he saw further than anyone else. He didn't like what he saw. He told me once that we had too much knowledge and too little
wisdom, that
we were learning too fast. He said it terrified him."

After a moment Gideon said slowly, "So he just... retreated? Retired to an anachronism?"

"I suppose. Do you like Rajah?" She reached between the bars to scratch the tiger behind one lazy ear.

Gideon accepted the change of subject and looked at the drowsy tiger. "Beautiful. He seems tame enough."

Maggie began walking again toward another of the wagons. "Looks can be deceptive, especially with tigers." Her voice was bland. "There's muscle underneath the stripes.
And a wide-awake predator behind the sleepy eyes."

Walking beside her, Gideon asked, "Is that a pointed reference?"

"That," she said, "was an observation." She stopped and reached out to knock lightly on the jamb of an open door. "Lamont," she called, "come out and meet Gideon."

A clown in full makeup—minus his red nose— immediately came out and sat down on the top step. He looked at Gideon, said, "Hi," in a distracted voice, and then looked mournfully at Maggie. It was something of a triumph that he could assume that expression, since a wide red smile was painted on his face.

"You should have a spare," she told him sternly.

"Well, I don't." Other than his makeup and a riotous wig of yellow hair, Lamont was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He was, Gideon realized, hardly more than a kid. He reached up to finger his naked nose and gave Maggie another sad stare.

"Ill
go
into town sometime today," she told him, "and try to find another nose for you.
All right?"

He nodded, still fingering his nose.
"All right.
Maybe you'll see Jasper there."

Maggie looked faintly surprised. "He's in town?"

"Well, sure. I mean, he must be, right?"

Gideon had the strangest impression that a silent message passed between the two of them, though there was no change of expression on either side.

After an instant Maggie nodded.
"Beau's about to cast a shoe, Lamont.
Maybe you'd better look at him."

"Okay. Nice meeting you," he added vaguely to Gideon, then scrambled off the steps and wandered away.

Maggie moved in the opposite direction toward a rather large tent pitched some yards away.

"What's Lamont's story?" Gideon asked her.

She glanced at him, a very faint crease between her brows.
"Lamont?
He's our blacksmith in addition to being a clown."

"I gathered that. I mean, why did he join the carnival?"

"Wonderland happened to be passing through his town a couple of years ago. He was sixteen, and he thought he'd better leave home."

"Why?"

She stopped and gazed up at him. "His father had some problems, and Lamont suffered for them."