Magic (19 page)

The conspirators grinned at each other.

“Bryan!” Rachel gasped, appalled. “You stole those from Porchind!”

“Borrowed,” he corrected her.

“And made my son an accessory!” Alaina fixed him with a steely look, turning her body as if instinctively shielding her baby daughter from Bryan’s powers of corruption.

Bryan ignored them both, totally absorbed in examining his ill-gotten booty. He singled out one small book from the others and tapped a finger against the title handwritten inside the front cover. “ ‘The Journal of Arthur Drake III.’ ” He turned to Rachel and lifted an eyebrow. “Now, what do you suppose Porky and the Rat would want with this?”

“To read it, I imagine,” she said tightly.

“What’s going on out here?” Faith Callan asked, stepping out onto the porch with her son Nicholas perched on her hip. The toddler rested his dark head on his mother’s shoulder, and had his thumb firmly planted in his mouth. His eyelids were at half mast, indicating naptime was at hand.

“Just a little shell game,” Bryan said absently, stroking his godson’s head.

Alaina tugged Faith aside to give her the play-byplay, and Bryan turned to Faith’s husband as he came out onto the porch. Shane Callan was tall, aristocratically handsome with black hair and pale gray eyes, but most important to Bryan at the moment was the fact that Shane had spent sixteen years as a federal agent.

“Shane,” he said with a bright smile. “You’re just the man I wanted to see.”

“I’m glad Addie refused to let this thing go,” Bryan said as he and Rachel settled back against the chintz cushions of the old glider.

“Me too.”

They had moved the old swing around to the back of the house. It now stood near the fenced edge of the cliff with overgrown shrubbery on either side of it, creating a secret bower from which they could watch the sun sink into the ocean and the stars drop down into the twilight sky. A benevolent weather system had kept the fog bank from rolling in and made the evening lovely and warm. Waves washed against the shore below in a soothing rhythm. It was such a peaceful scene compared to the afternoon that Rachel took a long moment just to savor it.

Addie had gone to bed directly after supper, exhausted from the day’s events. Rachel felt the same kind of freedom as a mother whose toddler had drifted off extra early for a change. She and Bryan were going to have a few extra hours all to themselves. Bliss.

She had changed into a loose-fitting purple cotton sweater and a comfortable lavender skirt. Her hair was still up, but the chignon was very loose, and the evening breeze set all the fine tendrils around her face fluttering like ribbons. She curled her bare feet beneath her on the cushion and sipped at her glass of white wine.

Bryan sat beside her, the picture of relaxed masculinity in old jeans and a faded denim work shirt. His long legs were stretched before him and crossed at the ankles. His profile was to her as he gazed out at the ocean, and Rachel studied him as an artist studies a subject to be sketched. His was a strong, handsome face with its high forehead and solid jaw. His evening beard shadowed the lean planes of his cheeks. His eyes looked tired, but intelligent, contemplative as he stared out at the sea.

A wave of love swept over Rachel, echoing the surf that surged against the shore below them. It took her a little by surprise and it frightened her deep inside. Summer was slipping away from them.

Bryan turned to her slowly, his eyes mirroring the ache she felt. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, and his thumb brushed away a teardrop she hadn’t been aware of.

“Summer’s not over yet,” he whispered, and bent to press a sweet kiss against her lips.

When he sat back, he took a deep breath, almost visibly shrugging off the mantle of melancholy that had fallen over them. He smiled gently and sang a line from an old Celtic folksong about a young man who had wandered into Edwards Town unknown, unloved, and unseen, there to meet a beautiful girl he called his County Leitoim queen.

Rachel smiled. He had a lovely voice. “Did you learn that in Ireland?” she asked, suddenly realizing how little she knew about him, about his background.

“No. My father likes to sing that one. It makes my mother furious because the girl in the song is blond and my mother’s hair is black. She claims Dad sings it to remind her of one of his old girlfriends. He’s allowed to sing it only when he’s in the garage making his fireworks.”

“He makes fireworks for a living?”

“No. That’s his hobby. He designs twelve-meter racing yachts for a living.”

“That’s … unusual.”

“We Hennessys are an unusual bunch,” he admitted with great pride.

Rachel chuckled. “So I gather. Tell me about them.”

Tell
me about you
, Bryan heard her ask, though she didn’t speak the words. That gentle, knowing smile curved his mouth again as he put his arm around her shoulders and she settled against him with her head tucked beneath his chin.

He told her about growing up in the Hennessy household with his three brothers and three sisters, about how they had all been encouraged to be themselves, to pursue whatever dreams caught their fancy. He told her about Catholic school and Sister Agnes, the Iron Nun. He told her about his travels and his work. He told her about Serena. He told her about the Fearsome Foursome and how they had all ended up in Anastasia.

“They’re wonderful friends,” Rachel murmured, “You’re very lucky.”

“They’re your friends now too,” he said, pushing one sneakered foot against the ground to set the glider into lazy motion. “That’s the wonderful thing about having friends—you get to share them.”

Rachel said nothing. She would have loved nothing better than to stay in Anastasia and have Bryan’s friends become her friends. But that wasn’t the way things were going to be.

“It’ll work out, Rachel,” Bryan promised. He lifted her chin and smiled down at her, his blue eyes twinkling like stars in the dusk. “All you need is a little faith in magic.”

Rachel shook her head sadly. “You can’t pull a happy ending out of that hat of yours, Bryan. Life doesn’t work that way.”

“We’ll see.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a kiss.

“Don’t be so practical,” he said against her lips as his big hands found their way under her sweater. “Love wasn’t meant to be practical. Love is magic.”

Rachel didn’t try to argue. Bryan seemed intent on showing her the truth of his statement, and she couldn’t bring herself to stop him. She didn’t want to stop him; she wanted to love him. She wanted to drink in his love and store it up inside her against the promise of a lonely future. She wanted to make love with him there in their secret bower with the ocean sighing below them and the last rays of twilight slipping into the sea.

“Show me,” she whispered, leaning back from him. Her fingers caught at the bottom of her sweater, and she slowly drew the garment over her head.

Desire tightened Bryan’s expression as he stared at her, his intense gaze lingering on her firm, small breasts and the nipples that hardened with the kiss of the cooling breeze. She was so young and lovely, like an innocent goddess as she sat there on the swing looking up at him with fathomless violet eyes.

With deft fingers he pulled the pins from her hair and the pale tress spilled around her like champagne in the soft light. She reached up to pull his glasses off and set them carefully aside, then her fingers fell to the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Bryan sat very still, almost as if he were afraid to move for fear of breaking the spell. He absorbed every nuance, every subtlety of feeling—Rachel’s sadness, her vulnerability, the love she kept locked in her heart because she was afraid of how badly it would hurt when the end came.

But there wasn’t going to be an end. He swore that to himself with a fierceness he hadn’t known in years. There wasn’t going to be an end to this. He loved Rachel Lindquist, and he was damn well going to have her for the rest of his life. He’d been forced to give up the woman he loved once. It wasn’t going to happen again, not if he had any power over the matter.

“I love you, Rachel,” he whispered, his voice low and rough as he pulled her into his arms.

Her mouth opened beneath his as she melted against him. Her breasts were cool and soft against the searing heat of his chest. Her back arched as his hands roamed the gentle slopes and ridges. Her tongue met his in urgent play as each tried to telegraph feelings to the other.

Bryan eased her down on the cushions of the glider. His mouth trailed little sipping kisses down the column of her throat to her left breast, where he drank his fill of her, rolling the tight bud of her nipple in his mouth, sucking at it and teasing it with his teeth. He wrapped his fingers in the hem of her skirt and dragged the garment up between them, baring her silky legs to his touch. She moved restlessly beneath him as he tugged down her panties just enough so he could tease her.

“Oh, Bryan, please,” she whispered brokenly, desperation consuming her whole.

“Please, what?” he taunted, nibbling at the corner of her mouth. His fingers slid into the dark silk at the apex of her thighs again and again, only to withdraw without touching the burning core of her desire.

Driven by a deep need and an even deeper fear, he wanted her as wild for his love as he was for hers. He wanted to possess her completely, body and soul, with nothing held back, not feelings, not words.

“Show me,” he whispered darkly.

Fire leapt in his veins as her small hand guided his, showing him exactly how she wanted to be touched. He complied willingly, growling his satisfaction as Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and arched up into his caress. He stroked her to the brink of completion, then pulled away.

Rachel braced herself up on her elbows and stared at him, her swollen breasts rising and falling with her hard, shallow breaths. Bryan kneeled on the cushions of the glider with one knee planted between her bare thighs, the other foot braced against the ground. She’d never seen him look more purely male. His bare chest gleamed in the fading light with the sweat of passion restrained. The button of his jeans was undone, and his manhood strained against the blue fabric.

Sitting up, she reached out with trembling hands to lower his zipper. She leaned forward, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against his quivering belly as she freed him. Her hands closed around his hard, hot shaft, caressing him reverently. She wanted him with a need that went beyond desire. She needed him in a way that went straight to the heart of her, to the essence of what made her human. At that moment she would rather have died than deny herself the chance to join with this man in this elemental, mystical act.

Driven by his own desperation, Bryan forced her back down on the glider, his body arching over hers like a bow. He paused at the threshold, the tip of him nudging insistently against her sweet warmth. Bracing himself on his arms, he stared down at her. He had thought it would be enough to know that she loved him. He had thought he could go without hearing the words, but he couldn’t. He needed to hear them now.

“Tell me you love me, Rachel,” he whispered hoarsely.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and dark, stark with sorrow and pleading. She was frightened and he knew it, but he was more frightened.

“Say it,” he demanded, his whole body trembling with the tension of holding back.

“Bryan, don’t—”

He tangled his fist in her hair and arched her head back as he lowered his mouth toward hers. He halted, inches from kissing her. “Say it. Please, Rachel.”

Rachel looked up at him, her heart aching. Lord, how she loved him! It wasn’t just her own heart she was trying to protect, it was his as well. She didn’t want to hurt him. But as she looked up into the tortured expression in his eyes, she knew she was hurting him. Her silence was tearing him apart. He was a good man. He was a dreamer, and there was no room in her future for a dreamer. But there would always be a place in her heart for Bryan and his magic.

Tears welled up in her eyes and slid in a stream down her temples.

“I love you,” she whispered, her lips trembling as she leaned up to kiss him. “I love you.”

Bryan clutched her to him, a storm of emotion sweeping through him as he eased his body into hers. He made love to her with everything he was feeling—passion, tenderness, anger, and pain. He held her and kissed her. When the end came, he told her again what was in his heart. And she clung to him and cried.

“Hush, sweetheart, don’t cry,” he whispered, holding her close, pressing kisses into her tear-damp hair. He inched over onto his side and cuddled Rachel against him. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”

Rachel smiled sadly against his solid chest. Don’t fall in love with a dreamer, the song went. But she had. She couldn’t regret it. She wouldn’t have traded what she and Bryan had just shared for anything. She only regretted that the world didn’t work the way people like Bryan wanted it to.

“I’m all right,” she said, dredging up a smile for him. Tenderly, she brushed his hair out of his eyes. “You need a haircut.”

“Do I?” he mumbled, marveling at her strength.

She looked so soft and fragile, but under all that exquisite loveliness was a core of steel that would get her through whatever she had to face. It killed him to think of that hardness taking over her life, obliterating the young woman as she sacrificed her happiness and her dreams on the altar of responsibility. If only he could make her see that she didn’t have to give up life’s magic, that loneliness didn’t have to be a part of her penance for past sins committed against Addie. If only he could make her see that his love for her wasn’t going to fade away like a rainbow in the mist.

“I love a maiden fair with sunlight in her hair. Her name is Rachel,” he sang softly, toying with the tendrils of spun gold that curled around her face. “My love for her is true. Whatever shall I do? She—aargh!”

The glider gave a sudden lurch backward. Instinctively, Bryan’s arms tightened around Rachel, pulling her off the thing with him as he fell with a thud to the ground. She gave a squeal of surprise and landed on him, forcing the breath out of him.