Magic by Moonlight (10 page)

The two in the car were hauled away by
ambulance, while the others were taken in the backs of police cars.
D.A. Hennesey insisted M. C. come with him, but she shook her
head.

“I’m not going anywhere until I make sure
Al’s okay.”

The D.A., a short, balding man with wire
rims that made him look more like an accountant than a crime
fighter, nodded. “I understand that, Ms. Hammer, but this is
necessary.”

“No it isn’t. You have the tape.”

“And de Rocci has other men in his employ,
if all you’ve told me is true. Once we get your statement on the
record, he’ll have no reason to send them after you.”

“No reason but revenge, you mean.”

The D.A.’s brows went up. “Well, yes, there
is that.”

“I’m not afraid of him.” She glanced at Al,
sitting up in the bed now and sipping some brew Aunt Kate had
whipped up, while Kate sat in a chair beside him to make sure he
took every drop.

“Go with Monsieur Hennesey, Mary Catherine,”
Al urged. “I want you safe.”

She frowned.

“I will be fine,” he promised.

“And I’ll see to it he is,” Aunt Kate said.
“Go on, honey, get this over with. We have things to do, you know.”
This with a meaningful glance at Al.

Things to do. Right. They had to send Al
back. Holding his gaze for a long moment, M. C. said, “Don’t do
anything without me, okay? I want to have a chance to say...” She
couldn’t say the last word. Good-bye. It was too final. Too sudden.
She didn’t want to say it now. Maybe...maybe not ever.

Al’s eyes darkened as they held hers—almost
as if he were reading her thoughts. “I will be here waiting when
you return, little one. I promise you.”

Nodding hard, blinking at the burning behind
her eyes, M. C. turned to the D.A. “All right, let’s get this over
with.”

It took forever, or at least it seemed like
it did. By the time M. C. got out of the local police department
where the D.A. took her statement, it was well after dark. Big,
black clouds had rolled in so that not a single star was visible in
the sky. Matched her mood, she thought. She figured by the time she
got back, Aunt Kate would have everything ready for Al’s return
trip. She’d have found the right spell in that big book of hers,
and she’d have gathered up whatever obscure herbs or glittery
crystals or eye of newt they might need.

Pausing at the front door, M. C. took out
the photo she’d snapped of Al that first night. She’d been carrying
it with her ever since. She stared down at his face, traced his
shape with her finger, and wasn’t surprised when a teardrop fell
from her cheek to land upon his image.

Sniffling, she tucked the photo away, and
opened the front door.

The first thing she saw when she walked
inside were the candles. Two rows of tall, elegant taper candles
formed a path across the floor. They alternated in color, pink and
red. She’d never seen so many candles all lighted at once.

She figured it must be part of whatever
ritual Aunt Kate had devised.

Then the scent wafted up to tickle her
nostrils, and she glanced downward. Rose petals littered the floor
like confetti between the two rows of candles.

Frowning, M. C. took off her shoes, shrugged
out of her jacket, and stepped onto the silky-soft path. “Aunt
Kate?” she called.

No answer. But the candle-and-rose-petal
path led up the stairs. And as she followed it, she heard soft
music.

Lord, but this must be one complicated
spell! At the top of the stairs, the path continued down the hall,
and turned, going right through the open door of the guest room.
“Where is everybody?” M. C. asked. Still no answer.

She moved on, into the guest room.

Candles glowed from every surface. The
entire bedroom floor and the bed itself were cushioned with the
tender petals. And a vase stood beside the bed with a dozen deep
red buds nodding from their long, slender stalks.

And then Al came out of the shadows and
crossed the room toward her. He stopped right in front of her, drew
his sword, dropped to one knee, and held the weapon balanced on his
upturned palms. Head bowed, he lifted it. “My gift to you, my
lady,” he murmured. Then he laid it at her feet. Taking her hand in
both of his, he pressed his lips to her palm. His kiss was warm,
and wet, and it left her skin tingling.

And suddenly she understood. This was it,
the grand seduction. The one she’d been waiting for, dreaming of,
wanting, since she’d first met him. But the pleasure of her
surprise was dampened by the knowledge that this was also his way
of saying good-bye.

She shook that thought away as he rose,
still clinging to her hand. They’d have this. They’d have this one
night, to remember.

“Aunt Kate?” she asked softly.

“Out for the evening,” he replied, his voice
low, tender, almost a caress in itself.

“And all of this?” She waved a hand to
encompass the room.

He cupped her face between his palms. “For
you,” he told her. “All this...and more, were it mine to give.”

“You certainly do know how to treat a lady.”
It was meant to sound flippant, light. But her voice trembled
instead.

“No,
ma chérie.
I have never wished
to treat any lady the way I wish to treat you. I swear it on my
sword.”

She blinked, her eyes burning again.

“Mary Catherine...,” he began.

“No,” she said quickly. “Don’t say any more.
I hate crying, Al, and you’re putting me damned close to it.”

“But why?”

Why? Because she didn’t want to let him go,
dammit! He was the first man who’d ever made her feel this way, and
she knew she’d never feel it for any other. Why, when the
unthinkable had finally happened to her, did it have to be with a
man who couldn’t stay? How could she vow never to fall in love and
then do just that, when she knew it was impossible?

Fall in love.

Oh, God, that was exactly what she’d
done!

“Mary Catherine?” His eyes searched her
face.

She blinked away her shock, shook her head,
and slid her arms around his waist. “Shut up and kiss me
already.”

He smiled. Devilish, that smile of his. Then
he pulled her close, and kissed her thoroughly. His mouth worked
hers, his tongue probed and explored, and locked together, they
stumbled toward the bed, and fell onto its nest of rose petals.

Al never stopped kissing her as he tugged
and pulled at her clothes, removing them one by one. His mouth
traveled. Over her jaw, down to her throat, and lower. He muttered
in French as he mouthed her breasts, and then her belly, and then
her thighs. Sweet, erotic endearments, nearly as arousing as his
touch.

She struggled with his clothes, too, until
he pulled her into his arms without a stitch between them, and
proceeded to make love to her more sweetly than she’d ever imagined
possible.

And when her climax mingled with his, and
she whispered his name, she knew she loved him even more now than
she had before.

What, oh what, was she ever going to do
without him?

They lay twined together for a long time as
the candles burned low, Al stroking her hair, her back, holding her
close and tenderly in his arms. But finally, he sat up a bit,
looked down at her almost adoringly, and whispered, “It is time,
chérie.”

“I know,” she whispered, and she couldn’t
keep her feelings in check any longer. M. C. Hammer, tough-as-nails
lady detective, began to cry.

“Mary Catherine! What is wrong?”

She sniffled, tried to stop the tears, but
failed. The touch of his gentle fingers on her damp cheeks only
made her cry even harder. “I—I’m sorry, Al. I just...I just wish
you didn’t have to go.”

“Go? Go? But my love, I thought you
understood!”

She blinked, staring up at him.
“Understood...what?”

“I gave you my sword. Sweet Mary Catherine,
with it goes my heart. I told you once that I would only give up my
sword for the woman who would be my true love, did I not?”

Shaking her head slowly, she stared at
him.

“I love you, Lady Hammer. And love is more
important than anything else. More important than life or
death...or time itself. I will die before I will leave you, my
love...if...” He searched her face, then turned his gaze away.

“If?” she prompted.

“If you feel the same,” he told her softly,
not looking at her, almost as if he were afraid to look at her.

Her heart swelled until she thought it would
burst, and she ran one hand through his satin hair. “Oh, I do,” she
whispered. “Al, I really, really do. I love you.”

He turned to meet her eyes, his wide and
brimming. “Ah,
ma chérie,
do you mean it?”

She nodded hard. “But Al, can you really
stay? Are you sure you want to?”

“I would live upon the moon itself, if it
meant I could be at your side, my love.” He kissed her, long and
lingeringly. Then holding her nestled against his chest, he
continued. “I have no ties to the past that would require my
return. Your Aunt Kate said the decision to stay or to go was mine.
And you yourself told me my gold coins are worth a fortune, Mary
Catherine, so I can make my way.”

“Oh, I have a few ideas about how you can
earn a living, Al. You’re not without certain job skills, you
know.”

“No?”

She nibbled his chin. “You sure you won’t
mind having a witch in the family?” she asked him.

“If you can tolerate a Musketeer as a
husband, then I can withstand a witch as an aunt,” he
whispered.

M. C. blinked. “H—husband?”

“
Oui.
If you will have me.”

Her smile was slow, but straight from the
heart. “You’d better believe I will. And Al, there’s another
partnership I have in mind for us. Besides marriage, I mean.”

“Oh, is there?”

She nodded. “Umm-hmm. But...um... we can
talk about that in the morning.” She pressed closer to him, curled
her arms around his strong shoulders, and pulled him to her for
another kiss.

“Very late in the morning,” he whispered,
and he held her even tighter.

Alexandre held his wife close to his side as
they stood outside the door of her office in Newark. She’d told him
her wedding gift to him was waiting here, though to his way of
thinking, she’d already given him the gift of a lifetime just by
agreeing to be his.

He was slowly getting used to this modern
world. Everything moved quickly, too quickly at times, but with
Mary Catherine at his side, he could adapt to anything.

He loved her. Adored her, and knew he would
never regret his decision to remain at her side. He’d searched for
a woman like her all his life. One who would love him for the man
he was, rather than the colors he wore or the sword he carried.
He’d had to travel through time to find her, but find her he had.
And he would never, never let her go.

She squeezed his waist and smiled up at him.
“Here it is,” she said, and there was laughter in her voice.

“Where?” Alexandre asked her, looking up and
down the hallway in which they stood. He saw nothing but the office
door.

“There,” she said, pointing.

He looked to where she pointed, seeing only
a strip of white across the glass panel of the door.

“Go on, peel it away.”

Frowning, Al leaned forward, got hold of one
edge of the sticky white paper—“tape”; he vowed to remember all
these new words—and peeled it slowly away.

Underneath the stuff, he read the words
newly painted upon the glass, and smiled, his heart filling until
he thought it would burst.

TWO MUSKETEERS INVESTIGATIONS ONE FOR ALL,
AND ALL FOR ONE!

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reading for an excerpt.

The house seemed abandoned, not the same one
she'd left some sixteen hours ago. Her car's headlights moved over
the brick exterior like trespassers violating some sacred spot. No
welcoming light shone from the windows.

She turned off the ignition, killed the
headlights, then murmured meaningless greetings to the two officers
who stood outside the house as she went in. Apparently Professor
Saunders had convinced Lieutenant Hanlon that the find needed
guarding before he'd gone home.

She unlocked the house and went inside,
flicking on lights as she went. Emptiness met her everywhere she
looked. It was almost too much to bear. What if Russell didn't
recover? What would her life be without him? There was very little
to it, besides her work and her father, and the two had always gone
hand in hand. They'd worked and lived together, except for that
brief rebellious period, when she'd accepted Jeff Morsi's proposal
of marriage just to prove to her father and herself that she could
be a "normal" woman. Instead she'd only proven she couldn't be.
Losing Jeff had been a narrow escape from a nightmare. Losing
Russell would leave her bereft... utterly alone.