Daughter of the Spellcaster. Maggie Shayne
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was a flash of light before her eyes, and she thought there had been heat lightning outside. And then a voice whispered, As the rod is to the God, so the chalice is to the Goddess. And together they are one.
She wondered if he’d heard it, too, but by then he was moving inside her and she forgot all of it, forgot everything but the pleasure he was creating inside her. She moved with him, clinging to his back and holding on for dear life as he drove her beyond sanity, beyond reality, into momentary, mind-blowing, blissful release. In her mind she saw swirling desert sands and heard her beloved prince saying to her, “I will return for you, my love. Never doubt it. And when I do, you’ll be my bride.”
She snuggled closer, embracing the fantasy, a fantasy that lasted for several more hours of pleasure. Until, a few hours before dawn, just as she was falling into blissful, sated sleep in his arms, he bent to kiss the top of her head and said, “Would you like a snack before you go?”
Before I go? Before I go where? she wondered.
“I can make us some microwave popcorn.” Instead of holding her, basking in the afterglow of what had been the most powerful and meaningful lovemaking of her entire life, he jumped out of bed and walked naked toward what she assumed was the kitchen. “I’ll call down and have the doorman start the car for us, so it’ll be nice and warm by the time you’re ready for me to drive you home.”
“How… thoughtful.” She frowned and thought, So much for my fantasy.
3
“Lena?”
His voice was soft and close, and as she let it swirl around inside her head it melded with the dream, so that she thought they were back there, in the past, still dating. And that nothing in between the day she’d left him and now had ever happened.
And then she realized she had fallen asleep and dreamed all that.
“We’re here,” he said.
She opened her eyes, blinking things into focus and looking out the window at the familiar shape of his father’s Westchester mansion. And then she frowned. “I thought you were taking me back to my hotel?”
“I am. But, uh—even if you want to skip the socializing, there’s the meeting first. I thought you knew.”
“Meeting…?”
“Dad’s attorneys. The will. You’re named in it.”
“Oh.” She blinked softly. “I didn’t know. That Ernst was going to do that, I mean. It’s not something I was looking for. I don’t need—”
“Did he know?” Ryan asked. “About the baby?” She met his eyes, saw the hurt in them at the thought that his father would have kept something like this from him. A hurt he’d once worked very hard to convince her he was incapable of feeling. “I honestly don’t know, Ryan. We haven’t been in touch since I left. But…”
“But?” he prompted when she trailed off.
“Bahru knew,” she admitted. She felt as if she was tattling. “He knew before I left.”
“Bastard could’ve told me.”
She shrugged. “He might have assumed, like I did, that it wouldn’t have mattered.”
He slapped his palms on the steering wheel, not violently, but in frustration. “Why the hell would you assume that?”
She frowned at him. “How can you ask me that? Do you really not remember the last conversation we had, Ryan?”
He looked as puzzled as if she’d lapsed into ancient Babylonian.
She rolled her eyes, sighed deeply. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” she said. “Bahru did mention that I would have to be present when the will was read, but he didn’t say when. So you’re saying it’s now?”
“Yeah.” He looked at his watch. “Right now. In Dad’s den.” He looked toward the house, the people wandering in and out. Then he popped the clutch and drove the car around to the back.
The wide stone deck was devoid of furniture. The umbrella tables had been put away for the winter, and the pool was sealed tight. Even so, the back of the house had a much more relaxed feel to it than the front.
“Come on, we’ll miss the crowds this way.”
Lena got out. She was feeling pretty pissed that he hadn’t yet figured out why she had left him, much less apologized for it. Or, God forbid, taken it back. But what the hell? It was water under the bridge. They had tried. And they had failed. She would never regret it. And maybe the whole thing—the vision, the fantasy, his resemblance to her prince—maybe all that hadn’t happened to fulfill their star-crossed love affair from the long-ago past lives she was convinced they’d had. Resolving that, might never have been the reason. Maybe it was all about the baby. She’d found him, been drawn to him, and he’d given her a baby. Perhaps that was the purpose all along.
He came to her side quickly, his hand on her elbow irritating her for no good reason. She jerked it away from him before she could stop herself.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m pregnant, Ryan. Not injured or weak or fragile. I’ve been waddling around just fine without you holding on to me for months now. I think I can make it to the back door without help.”
“Oh.”
He stood where he was while she headed up the three broad stone steps onto the deck and across it to the French doors. And then she paused, because she wasn’t sure whether to knock or wait or what the hell to do.
He came up beside her and reached past her to open the doors, and they headed inside. The French doors led directly into the den, which had been Ernst’s favorite room in the house. And no wonder. From it you could see the entire back lawn and the gardens, and you could walk straight out to the deck and then to the pool off the far end of it, any time you felt like a break. It was a perfect place to work.
Bahru was sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, holding on to that quartz pendant around his neck. Another man sat at Ernst McNally’s big desk, shuffling papers. They were the only people in the room.
Must be a small will.
“Ahh, Ryan, good. And you must be Lena,” said the man behind the desk, getting to his feet and coming around with a hand extended. “Ernst spoke very highly of you.”
“Thank you, that means a lot to me, Mr.…?”
“Aaron Samuels,” he said. “Please, have a seat.”
She nodded and headed for the two chairs that were situated in front of the desk. Bahru was sitting just past them. As she drew closer he opened his eyes, and they flashed red as they met hers. She sucked in a breath and stumbled backwards, crashing into Ryan’s chest. His arms came around her fast.
“Hey, I thought you said you could walk without help, sunshine?”
Turning her head, she looked up into his eyes. Her heart was pounding, and she opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say.
“What is it, Lena?” he asked.
“I—” She looked at Bahru again. No glowing red eyes. He was getting to his feet and smiling as warmly as ever. So she glanced back at the French doors to see the bright orange of the sunset beaming in through them and sighed. “Nothing, I’m fine.” And jumpy, she thought. “Good to meet you, Mr. Samuels. Hello again, Bahru.”
He pressed his hands together and bowed slightly over them.
She let Ryan keep hold of her and seat her in the first chair, and then he took the other chair—the one she’d been heading for, the one that was closer to Bahru—himself.
“I know this has been a miserable day for all of us,” the lawyer said. “So I’m not going to spend