Courting Carolina (26 page)

Alec stiffened. “Why? What’s happening
soon
?”

“If Carolina’s not married and with child by her thirty-first birthday in three months, she will become fair game for my enemies.”

“What in hell do ye mean, fair game?”

“Every immortal—god
and
demon—will be free to pursue Carolina the day she turns thirty-one, with the sole intention of seducing her in hopes of getting her pregnant with
their
child.”

“Christ, who in hell is she?”

“My daughter,” Titus said quietly. “And the only real weapon my enemies have against me.” The wizard stared down at his hands. “Enemies I made when I built Atlantis,” he continued without looking up, “who will use any means at their disposal to destroy it.” He straightened, his eyes clouded with pain. “And that is why it’s imperative that Carolina marry a strong and fearless mortal who can protect her.”

“You’re a goddamned wizard,” Alec snapped. “Use
the magic
to protect her.”

Titus shook his head. “It’s exactly their hope I’ll expend so much energy protecting Carolina that I’ll leave Atlantis vulnerable to attack. And if Atlantis falls, they will then go after the Trees of Life, and they won’t stop until all of mankind’s knowledge and free will is destroyed.” Anger flared in his eyes. “And if that happens, the entire planet will be at the mercy of the gods again.”

Alec just stared at him. Seriously? The fate of mankind depended on protecting Jane from being—“Wait; you said they’ll be free to
seduce
her. Does that mean she can just say
no? That an immortal won’t—or can’t—force himself on her? Well, hell,” he went on when Titus nodded. “Forewarned is forearmed; all she has to do is say
no
,” he repeated.

“You would think it’s that simple. But since the beginning of time, men—gods and mortals alike—have used everything from flattery to trickery to successfully seduce even the most astute and resilient woman.”

“And here I thought it was the other way around,” Alec drawled.

One side of the wizard’s mouth lifted. “It’s an affliction that runs both ways.”

“Why thirty-one?”

Titus sobered. “I was certain I would have Carolina safely wed by that age. So in return for leaving my daughter alone until her thirty-first birthday, I promised that my army of powerful drùidhs would only protect the Trees of Life instead of my focusing their energy on destroying my enemies.” His eyes took on a triumphant gleam. “Upon realizing I had the power not only to build Atlantis but to keep it hidden from them all these thousands of years, they’ve been content to wait me out.”

“
They
don’t actually exist.”

The wizard looked down, brushing at his knee again. “Yes, we’re only a myth.”

Alec scrubbed his face in his hands, hoping like hell he was having the mother of all nightmares. “Does Jane know any of this?”

“No one but Maximilian and Nicholas know, not even Rana.”

Alec stared at him for several heartbeats, hating to ask because he knew he wasn’t going to like the answer, but asking anyway. “Why are ye telling me, then?”

“Because I am just as desperate to see Carolina happy as I am to keep her safe.”

“I can’t make her happy.”

“You already have, Alec.”

“And I can’t keep her safe, because I can’t get her pregnant.”

“That can easily be remedied.”

“Dammit, your daughter deserves better.”

Titus was silent so long that Alec figured he was finally getting through to the old bastard. That is, until the wizard smiled sadly. “The boy whose neck you broke nine years ago; did you know that if you had hesitated but a second longer, you would have been his fifth murder?” He nodded when Alec stiffened. “His mother was his first, when he was twelve. She tried to stop him from going with his father to join the rebel fight, and the boy bludgeoned her to death with her own frying pan.”

“How do you know what happened nine years ago?”

Titus arched a brow. “Did you think I wouldn’t look into the background of my daughter’s self-appointed champion? Your partner and lover at the time, Sabrina,” he continued solemnly, “was the boy’s fourth murder. His father deliberately sent his son in his stead to meet the two of you, knowing Americans wouldn’t think one so young would pose a threat since you keep your own children sheltered into their twenties.”

“The kid was
fourteen
,” Alec growled. “He was barely old enough to shave.”

Titus nodded again. “But as you learned that night and subsequently during your years as the Celt, children grow up more quickly in other parts of the world, especially when fed a constant diet of hatred by fathers raised the same way.” He hesitated, tilting his head. “Do you know the difference between a murderer and his victim, Alec?”

“There is no difference, as they’re both dead, except one is still breathing.”

“The difference,” Titus said quietly, “is intent, or the predominant emotion at the moment of the fatal blow. Murderers are ruled by their hatred and walk away feeling empowered, whereas the true victims are the ones who walk away believing they’ve lost their souls.” He undid the top two buttons on his jacket and slid a hand inside. “You’ve been living with what you perceive is an unforgivable sin, Alec, but what you haven’t taken into account are the lives you saved by stopping
the boy when you did,” he finished softly, his hand emerging holding a thick vellum envelope.

Damn. “I don’t want your daughter.”

Titus leaned over and set the envelope on his sleeping bag. “That’s too bad, as I believe she wants you.”

“And whatever the princess wants, she gets?”

“You tell me,” the wizard said with a soft chuckle. He set his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet—which brought the wolves to their feet as well. “Exactly how many battles did
you
win during your ten days together?”

“The important one,” Alec snapped. “You got her back at full
value
.”

The old bastard arched a brow. “And would that make you a saint…or an idiot?”

“Wait,” Alec said when he turned away. “You mentioned Jane has to marry a mortal. Why? Wouldn’t she be safer with a husband who has command of the magic?”

Titus turned back, a strange light flaring in his eyes. “It’s a misconception that we magic-makers hold all the power, whereas it’s actually the man who understands the source of that power who is the true force to be reckoned with.”

Alec glared at him, wondering what in hell sort of answer that was.

Titus started to turn away again but hesitated. “I would ask that you not mention this evening’s conversation to anyone, including Maximilian.” He grinned. “It does my old heart good to see my son passionate about something other than building his own version of Atlantis,” he said, gesturing in the direction of Nova Mare. “And Carolina needs to know that she can rely on her brother in the future instead of running from him.” His grin turned to a glower. “Should her husband prove to be a blackguard.”

And just that quickly Titus grinned again and gestured at the wolves. “If you happened to be wondering, they’re here of their own choosing, not mine.” Up went one of those imperial brows. “It would appear that just like my intelligent daughter, Kitalanta also recognized the real man behind all that…Celtic charm.” The old bastard actually gave a slight
bow. “I wish you good luck in the coming weeks, MacKeage, should you choose to follow your heart instead of your hard head. Although I do believe Maximilian will prove to be your greatest obstacle, as he’s still…What is the term you moderns use? Ah yes, he’s still too pissed off at you to see what his sister sees.”

He turned away when Alec said nothing, and silently walked down the steps, only to turn again when he reached the bottom—the moonlight revealing his slightly hunched shoulders. “Would you happen to have any suggestions as to how I can get my daughter to stop crying, Alec? She is the face of politeness and grace in the company of others, but the night breeze carries her sadness to her mother and me.”

“I can’t—” Alec went silent when he saw the desperation of a father aching for his child, and softly sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Titus gave another slight bow. “Thank you.” But then he canted his head. “I doubt you could be aware of it since you’ve been isolated out here building your trail, but my hand-chosen field of suitors is now down to four—not counting Nicholas.” He shook his head. “Prince Jacoby met with an unfortunate accident two days ago that broke his leg, and I felt compelled to send him back to fifteenth-century Prussia, as I couldn’t see a man who couldn’t even control a startled horse protecting my daughter.”

Alec shrugged. “It’s probably just as well, as I don’t think Jane would have been happy living in fifteenth-century Prussia after experiencing the wonders of this time.”

“Yes, you’re probably right. And just today,” Titus said, sounding confounded—or maybe that was barely contained amusement—“a renowned Viking hiked down to the fiord for a morning swim, but came staggering back to the resort after dark. Soren was battered and somewhat addled in the head, and couldn’t account for the missing hours.” Titus gestured at the trees. “He believes he fell down a steep ridge when something—an acorn, he thinks—hit him in the temple just as he was leaping onto a boulder.”

“It sounds to me,” Alec said, deadpan, “as if traveling
through time has thrown some of your strong and fearless mortals off their games.”

The old man shook his head. “It’s really quite disheartening that a mere acorn and what was likely nothing more than a bee stinging a horse has forced me to send two great warriors home. At the rate they’re dropping out of the competition, there won’t be anyone left by the grand opening ball.”

“There’s always brotherly Nick.”

“You can rest assured,” Titus said with a chuckle, “that the remaining four will be on their toes over the next two weeks as they each try to capture Carolina’s interest. And Nicholas assures me that he’s tightened security around Nova Mare despite having made it…well,
almost
impenetrable the day we arrived.”

“Then maybe ye should send your remaining fearless mortals home and simply award Jane to Nicholas, if he’s so good at what he does that he can protect her from falling acorns and bee stings.”

The wizard’s eyes hardened. “My daughter is not a prize in the sense you’re implying. And I could do a lot worse than having Nicholas for a son-in-law.”

“Aye, ye could.”

The old bastard stared at Alec for several heartbeats, then turned and walked up the trail. “Enjoy these next two weeks of your carefree lifestyle, MacKeage,” he said with a suspiciously cheery wave over his shoulder, “as they very well could be your last.”

Alec watched the wizard disappear into the night, then looked at the six wolves settling back down around him. “Thanks,” he muttered, “for the warning.” He dropped his gaze to the vellum envelope on his sleeping bag and blew out a sigh. Dammit to hell, he didn’t want to go to a goddamn ball. He hated having to smile and nod and pretend he was having a good time eating pretty food and drinking weak punch.

And besides, he didn’t have anything to wear.

What in hell was Jane doing camping out on her porch and crying herself to sleep every night, anyway? She was an
intelligent, tough and resilient, kidnapper-escaping, porno-watching woods-woman, for christsakes, not some spoiled-rotten princess who burst into tears when she wasn’t getting her way. Alec reached under his pillow and pulled out the braid of Jane’s hair, then rubbed it between his fingers as he stared at the moonlight reflecting off the fiord below. She had no business wanting him. Hadn’t he told her—several times, actually—that they didn’t have a future together?

He dropped the braid on his lap with a snort, wondering what made him think she’d been listening any of those times, and reached inside his duffel bag, took out her iPad, and turned it on. He spent the next twenty minutes wiping out Jane Smith’s extensive libraries of pornography, then another half hour studying the details of the elaborate wind and solar and geothermal systems she’d designed for Nova Mare—which had saved Olivia from having to run power lines up the mountain, smartly making the resort completely self-sufficient.

He grinned as he made one more adjustment on the tablet before finally shutting it off and staring out at the fiord again, undecided if he was awed or really quite frightened that Jane had inherited her father’s brilliant mind. Because just as Titus’s acumen for world-building had allowed him to create Atlantis and successfully keep it hidden all these tens of centuries, Jane appeared to be just as passionate about getting the entire planet running on clean energy. Hell, he thought as he slipped on his boots, she’d probably have nuclear fission perfected in less than ten years—providing she got to stay in this time.

Alec pulled on a heavy sweatshirt, then dug through his duffel bag again and pulled out Jane’s sound machine. He grabbed the iPad before walking down the stairs and headed up the trail as the wolves silently fell into step around him, figuring he might as well go give Jane something other than her own misery to dwell on—as well as punch another hole in brotherly Nick’s
almost
impenetrable security.

Chapter Sixteen