Magic

EIGHT

“Is Addie asleep?” Bryan asked, looking up from the papers he had spread out on the desk. A small brass lamp illuminated his work area. The only other light in the room came from the fireplace. Shadows jumped on the dark paneled walls.

“Finally,” Rachel said on a sigh. She leaned a hip against the desk and allowed her shoulders to sag beneath the weight of her worries. “She wouldn’t let me in her room, but I managed to peek inside once it got quiet. She wore her garden boots to bed. I could see them sticking up under the coverlet. I wanted to go in and take them off for her, but I’m sure she would have hit me in the head with a rock and called the police.”

Bryan frowned. “Back to square one, eh?”

“I’d do handsprings if we were that far along,” Rachel said dryly. “I tried to explain to her that selling the house is the only practical thing, but she didn’t want to hear it.” She held up a hand as Bryan opened his mouth to speak. “Please refrain from saying you told me so. In fact, a change of subject would be warmly welcomed.”

“You’re an absolute vision in that dress.” He gave her a wicked smile and forced all thoughts of the mundane from his mind.

Rachel beamed as if his words had injected new energy into her. She was wearing the beaded burgundy gown, the same gown that had so mysteriously appeared on her bed that first night she’d had dinner at Drake House. Addie claimed it was Wimsey who insisted they dress for the evening meal, but Rachel didn’t see the difference. It was Addie who became upset if she showed up under-dressed, so it was Addie she dressed for-most nights.

Tonight she had chosen the burgundy dress without a thought about her mother. She had chosen it because she wanted to feel special and feminine and alluring. She had laid it out on her bed before her bath, and when she had returned, there had been a white rose lying on it.

“How did you know that was the perfect thing to say?” she murmured, settling her hip more comfortably against the desk.

“I’m psychic,” Bryan admitted with a smile. “I’ll go out on a limb and say that you’re probably a vision out of that dress as well.”

His voice was dark with desire. The rich quality of it stroked her senses like the caress of the silk she wore.

“Have you been spying on me in the bathtub?” she asked, conjuring up a teasing note to cut through her own sudden rush of yearning.

“Not exactly,” Bryan mumbled cryptically. He fixed his gaze on the steaming cup she held, breathing deep of the aroma and sighing in appreciation. “Coffee.”

“Would you like a cup? I’ll go back to the kitchen-”

“Don’t bother,” he said, not wanting to lose sight of her. “Just let me have a sip of yours.”

Warmth curled inside Rachel as if he had just made a terribly erotic suggestion. She bit the inside of her lip and offered him the mug, sucking in a breath when his fingertips brushed hers. Her senses were so heightened, the slightest glance or touch from him set her nerves sizzling. She had spent her entire time in the bathtub reliving the few kisses they had shared and imagining what it would be like to make love with him, fantasizing until she had hardly been able to stand the brush of the washcloth against her skin.

She had come to a decision about Bryan, about the desire that burned inside her. She had a long, hard road ahead of her. Her future didn’t look particularly bright, but for the present she had Bryan. She would have been a fool not to take what happiness she could while she had the chance.

Bryan looked up at her, his blue eyes sharp with awareness. He could sense the shift in Rachel’s feelings toward him. They had been changing gradually, constantly, since they’d met, but tonight she had taken a giant step in his direction. He wasn’t sure what had pushed her over the edge in his favor, but he wasn’t inclined to question his good fortune either. He was a conscientious man, but he was a man first. A man with needs.

It was a cold, rainy night. The kind of night a man wanted to spend curled up in bed with the lady of his heart, making love to her until they both drifted off into exhausted deep. He hadn’t been able to get that image out of his head all evening. Nor had he been able to stop picturing her in the bathtub, sliding a bar of scented soap over her slick skin. That image still seemed particularly strong. He could see the gleam of light on her wet skin. He could smell the soap. Even now the vision played through his mind, and heat coiled in his belly.

Never taking his eyes from Rachel’s, he sipped at the coffee and set the cup aside. Her eyes darkened from violet to deep purple, and a flush crept along under the surface of her fair skin.

“You must be cold,” he murmured, pushing himself up from his chair. He pulled his tuxedo jacket off and draped it around her shoulders before she could object. In a move he’d perfected as a teenager, he let one arm slide down her back and fastened his hand on the curve of her hip as he herded her toward the love seat.

Rachel gave him a look. “That’s an old trick, Hennessy.”

“I’m an old guy,” he quipped, and then winced. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that. You may not have noticed.”

“I’m not concerned. You seem able-bodied to me.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered, gritting his teeth at the surge of anticipation that stirred in his loins.

“But I guess I’ll find out, won’t I?” Rachel said softly, lowering her gaze in genuine shyness as they settled on the love seat.

Bryan was so stunned, he felt as if he’d taken a punch to the gut. He hooked a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up. The sight of the firelight glowing on her face nearly made him forget what it was he’d meant to ask. Holy Mike, she was lovely, and, unless he’d completely lost his ability to read women, she wanted him. After all the fighting she’d done against the attraction that pulled between them, she was admitting she wanted him. Wasn’t she?

“Rachel,” he began, his voice low and hoarse, “just what are you saying?”

She made a little face. “I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to say it. You’re a perceptive man-can’t you figure it out?”

“Yes, I guess what I need to know is why.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Rachel looked toward the fire, her expression pensive. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she was in love with him. Not when she knew what they could have was only temporary. Not when she wasn’t certain of his feelings for her. He had mentioned love in passing that morning, but that didn’t mean anything. In her meager experience, love was a word some men tossed around too casually. And Bryan was by nature so openly giving of himself, she might have been reading too much into his attitude toward her. She suspected he had strong feelings for her. She knew he wanted her. But love…

Besides, it was so soon. They had known each other such a short time, he was liable to think she’s lost her mind if she told him she was falling in love with him.

But none of that seemed to matter. What was left of her mind had made itself up as she’d stood in the shadows of the maze, watching Bryan comfort her mother. It had all struck her with a force so powerful, she’d nearly fallen to her knees. She loved him. There was no future in it, but that didn’t seem important now. As she’d stood there, watching her mother cry, she had realized just how suddenly tomorrow could slip away.

Over the past five years she had told herself that one day she would return and make things right between herself and Addie. One day. Tomorrow. Now tomorrow had come and it was too late, and all those days that could have been were nothing more than wishes that would never come true. She didn’t need any more regrets haunting her life. She would take what Bryan could give her now, love him while she could, and deal with the consequences later.

She turned back to him with pleading in her eyes. “Bryan, please don’t-”

“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips as he leaned close. A soft, secretive smile curved his mouth, and his blue eyes shone like lapis lazuli. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “It’s all right.”

He lowered his mouth then, and kissed her slowly, sweetly, deeply. It was a kiss not of possession, but of sharing. It was a kiss that stirred the hunger in them both and sparked the desires banked inside them to flare into full flame. Questions and motives slipped away, were burned away by needs. He needed to love her. She needed to feel his strong arms around her.

Bryan slipped his coat from Rachel’s shoulders and spread it out on the rug in front of the fire. Kneeling there, he reached a hand up to her in invitation. She smiled as she settled her hand in his and joined him on the floor.

“This is romantic,” she whispered, cuddling against him knee to knee, thigh to thigh, happy just to be close to him.

He brushed her long hair back, baring one shoulder. “Romantic, hell,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to nibble kisses along the creamy line of flesh. The ache in his groin made him pause to grit his teeth, and he shook his head in amazement. He was as eager as an untried kid. He chuckled and nipped at her chin. “I’m just afraid you’d change your mind on the way upstairs.”

Rachel laughed softly, marveling at this man’s ability to lighten her mood. Even now, when she was trembling with nervous anticipation, Bryan was able to tease a giggle out of her. It was one of the things she loved most about him.

She raised her hands and tugged loose the bow tie that perched crookedly on the collar of his shirt. Her fingers moved down the neatly pleated shirtfront, revealing a V of hard flesh where the snowy white fabric parted and fell away from the contours of his chest. He held still as she peeled the garment back from his broad shoulders and let it fall to the floor behind him.

She paused a moment to simply look at him, to drink in the sight of his solid chest and the ridged muscles of his belly. Firelight caught in the curls scattered across his chest, turning them gold. Her breath caught as her gaze rested on the small brown mole above his left nipple. Somehow she had known it would be there, but she had no time to wonder how, because Bryan was reaching for her.

His thumbs hooked under the loose straps of her gown and drew them down over her shoulders. He traced his fingertips along the line of the bodice, gently pulling it down, slowly uncovering her. Her small, full breasts plumped themselves into his hands as the dress slipped away, her nipples tightening instantly as his thumbs brushed across them. The gown pooled at her knees in a wine-colored drift studded with sparkling black stars.

“So lovely,” he whispered, gazing at her in open admiration. “So soft.”

He drew his hands downward, following the indentation of her slender waist and the outward slope of her hips, drawing her lace panties down as his exploration moved on to her thighs. Rachel struggled for air as his fingers traced delicate patterns on the satin-soft skin on the inside of her legs. She moaned and bit her lip as he delved into the tender warmth between them, his fingers parting the feminine petals and stroking the aching bud hidden there.

Heat flared through her hotter than the flames that lit their makeshift bed. She leaned into him, gasping at the feel of his flesh against hers, her feminine softness against the hard contours of his masculine body. It was wonderful. It was like coming back to a place she belonged. She rubbed herself against him in a sinuous caress, her hands sliding up his arms to knead the tight muscles in his shoulders and neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, then brought her hands forward, pulling his glasses off and setting them aside on the low butler’s table.

“You don’t need these to see, do you?”

“That’s okay,” he murmured, bending his head to kiss her ear. “I’m good with my hands.”

Rachel’s giggle turned to a sensuous purr as his big hands slid down her back to cup her buttocks, his fingers kneading her flesh in a way that made her breath flutter in her throat. “So I noticed.”

He pulled her hard against him then, letting her feel the strength of his arousal as he took her mouth once more. This kiss was hotter and wilder than the last, hinting at the passion he was struggling to keep in check. His tongue stroked over hers, teasing, tasting, claiming possession.

Rachel pulled her mouth from his and dragged her lips down the strong column of his neck to his chest. Her tongue darted out to tease one flat brown nipple. His flesh beaded into a tight knot; Rachel impulsively took it into her mouth and sucked on it gently, excitement shooting through her when Bryan groaned in appreciation.

She had never felt so uninhibited with a man. She had expected to feel shy with Bryan; instead, she felt strong and right and so very turned on. She wanted him with an intensity she had never known. She wanted to please him in ways she had never dreamed of. The desire swept through her, overwhelming her normally practical, sensible self, and she let go of that drab cloak of responsibility like a butterfly shedding its cocoon.

Her kisses followed the faint line of downy hair that bisected Bryan’s flat abdomen as her hands undid the front of his trousers. Her tongue dipped into his navel. She lowered his trousers and briefs in one motion and another hot flame of desire coursed through her as she revealed his manhood.

He was eager for her. She brushed her thumb across the velvet flesh, drawing another groan from him.

Bryan’s control broke with a snap that was almost audible. In the next instant, Rachel found herself on her back, staring up at him as he peeled away the last of her clothes. He stood and shucked his pants. Notes flew from the pockets like confetti as he flung the trousers aside.

He settled himself beside her then, his gaze flowing over her with a heat that seemed scorching in its intensity, and his hand followed the path his gaze had burned along her skin. He caressed her breasts with exquisite care, teasing them to a sensitivity that was nearly unbearable. Only when she began to beg him did he lower his head and take one taut peak into his mouth. At the same instant he swept a hand down over her quivering belly to the apex of her thighs and eased a finger inside her.

Rachel’s hips leapt off the floor, arching into his touch in rhythm to the tug of his mouth on her breast. She moaned, but didn’t recognize the sound as her own. The sensations building inside her were incredible and overwhelming as they intensified. The coil of desire tightened in her belly with each hard pull of his mouth on her nipple, with each deep stroke of his finger. When his thumb moved to rub against her most sensitive flesh, she was certain she would explode, but still the feelings built. She tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged, frantic in a way she had never experienced.

“Bryan, please,” she said with a gasp. “I want more. I want all of you. Please.”

He needed no more invitation than that. His own body, so long denied, was screaming for release. He knelt between her parted thighs, struggling to draw breath as he looked down at her. She was everything a man wanted in the woman he loved-open to him, eager for him, her hips arched up toward him in invitation. Grinding his teeth, he fought for some measure of control, reached for her hand, and closed it around his throbbing shaft.

“Guide me, Rachel,” he whispered.

He kissed her as she led him into her body, his tongue delving into the dark warmth of her mouth as his maleness slid into the tight warmth of her womanhood. He groaned as she took him into her measure by measure, her breath catching at each small thrust until he was fully embedded inside her.

Again Rachel felt that sense of coming home, which seemed odd considering she was on the verge of shattering into a million shards. She thought she should have been terrified, teetering on the brink of something she knew instinctively would be overwhelming, but she wasn’t. With Bryan she felt safe. He would be there to catch her. He would be there to gather the pieces together again. He might not be there over the long haul, but he was there now. Oh, was he there now!

“Oh, Bryan,” she moaned in rapture, rolling her hips into his. “You’re so…”

“I know,” he managed to say through his teeth, gasping as her body tightened around him. “Am I too…?”

“No. It’s wonderful.” Oh, so wonderful. But it was nothing compared to what she felt when he began to move.

He eased nearly out of her, then thrust deep and hard. His chest heaved like a bellows as he levered himself above her on his arms and repeated the process. Sweat beaded on his forehead and chest as he struggled with the effort to hold back. It had been so long, and he wanted her so badly. He could feel his climax rushing toward him like a freight train. He eased out of her again and reached between them as he began what he knew would be his final thrust, teasing her already sensitive flesh as he buried himself inside her.

Rachel bit her lip, fighting back the cry of completion as her hips strained upward against his and he took her over the brink. The explosion that rocked her went on and on. Her consciousness dimmed as she clutched at Bryan’s back. He had collapsed against her, spent, and she hung on to him as the sensation of floating filled her with a sweet golden bliss.

This was making love. This was magic.

Magic, she mused, a tender smile curving her lips. Maybe there was such a thing after all.

Bryan rolled onto his back, holding Rachel to him so that she ended up sprawled on his chest. Their bodies were still joined, and he savored every aftershock of the shattering climax she had experienced. He ran a hand over the pale silken curtain of her hair.

“I’d break into song, but I think I’m beyond words,” he murmured.

He pressed a kiss to her temple and hugged her tight, a fierce sense of rightness surging through him. Fear came close on its heels. He felt so certain about this love growing within him for Rachel, but did Rachel feel that way about him? Had she merely given in to the feelings overwhelming her? After the day she’d had with Addie and with the prospective buyers for the house, had she simply not possessed the strength to fight the attraction? Or had she needed a chance to escape it all for a few glorious moments? Perhaps the thing that frightened him most was that he wasn’t so sure he cared what her motives had been. The love he felt for her was growing so that he was ready to accept her on whatever terms she wanted.

The seed of love was there in her heart. He knew that. Or was it just what he wanted to believe?

“Rachel,” he murmured, his heart pounding. “If you’re going to regret this, tell me now.”

Rachel lifted her head, brushing her hair back behind one ear. She stared down at him, her heart aching at the vulnerability she saw in his eyes. “No,” she whispered. “No regrets. I have too many of them already. I don’t regret making love with you, Bryan.”

She regretted that it wouldn’t last. She regretted that her future wouldn’t include him and his crazy magic tricks and his contagious optimism. But she wouldn’t regret anything that passed between them. She would take what time she had with Bryan and make the most of it, and she would cherish the memories afterward, but she wouldn’t regret a minute of it.

Bryan looked up into her dark eyes and smiled sadly. It didn’t take a mind reader to see what she was thinking. He barely had to make use of his special gift, the gift that had slowly been returning to him in the time since he’d met Rachel and become a part of her life. She still didn’t believe in the magic they shared, but she would. Come hell or high water, she would. He would see to it.

“What?” she asked, startled by the sudden fierceness of his expression.

“I was just thinking,” he said, willing himself to relax. He pulled Rachel’s head down to his chest and stroked her hair as he might stroke a cat, rhythmically, absently, soothingly as he dredged up the courage to tell her what was in his heart.

“The first time I went to bed with a woman after my wife died I went into the bathroom afterward and threw up for half an hour. She was a nice lady, a colleague of mine, pretty. She… expressed an interest, and I… needed to.” He forced the words out, still uncomfortable with the memory. “It seemed harmless enough. We were taking care of each other’s needs. But when it was over, I felt so empty and so disgusted with myself, it literally made me sick. I told her I had the flu, but she knew better. I decided then and there that there wasn’t going to be a next time until I could honestly call it making love.”

“Are you telling me I shouldn’t get too comfortable?” Rachel asked with forced lightness. She pulled away from him a bit, raising her head, bracing herself.

For once Bryan didn’t grin or answer with a joke. He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m telling you I love you, Rachel. I’m telling you I’m feeling something I didn’t expect to feel again for a long, long time.” He rolled her beneath him again and stared down at her with undisguised hunger in his eyes. “I’m telling you I want to take you upstairs and make love to you until the sun comes up. What do you have to say about that?”

Say? She was supposed to say something? With her heart in her throat and her brain suddenly numb, she was supposed to think of something to say? She swallowed hard and raised her head as his mouth descended toward hers, and whispered just before their lips met. “I’m praying for an eclipse.”

Flowers. What a lovely dream. There were flowers everywhere. Rachel sighed and burrowed deeper into the soft mattress of the old bed, a smile curving her mouth. There were flowers of every kind and color, delicate wild blossoms with the softest, sweetest scents clinging to their petals. She could feel them against her, cool and dew-damp. They rained down on her and fluttered over every exposed inch of her skin like a hundred silken kisses. And Bryan was the magician responsible for this wonderful illusion.

She couldn’t see him in her dream, but Rachel knew he was the one responsible, just as she knew he was the one who had left a rose on her pillow every night since she’d come to Drake House.

Bryan. Her smile widened and she purred in almost feline appreciation as she stretched on the bed. As he’d promised, he had made love to her all night. While the rain had fallen outside the windows of her turret bedroom and the cold wind had howled, Bryan had warmed her with kisses and caresses. He had awakened in her a woman she had scarcely realized existed, a woman of uninhibited passion. He had taken her to heights she had only imagined and set her soul free from the past and the future.

The future. A cloud scudded across the surface of her dream. Now that she knew what real love was, it hurt worse to think of a future without it, but she pushed the thought aside. She had vowed to take no regrets with her when she left for San Francisco, so she concentrated instead on her dream and the flowers.

“Rachel.” His voice came to her through the soft fog of sleep. “Rachel.”

Stretching, she raised her eyelids to half mast and rolled onto her back. The light in the room was dim, but one thing was clear-it was snowing. She could see Bryan through the flakes falling down all around her. He was standing beside the bed, wearing his Jeans, his glasses, and a wickedly sexy smile. She wondered why he didn’t look cold, bare-chested in the snow.

Snow? Her drowsy brain struggled to function. They were in Drake House. It couldn’t possibly be snowing, not even in this strange place.

“Bryan?” she asked, coming more fully awake. She pushed herself up in bed, looking around, puzzlement creasing a little line between her eyebrows. “What in the…? Flowers!”

She laughed out loud in delight when she realized what he was doing. He was showering her with flowers! The petals covered the bed in multicolored drifts-pink and blue and violet and yellow and white. They clung to her skin and hair and to the ivory lace bodice of her nightgown. The cloud of fragrance rising from them was intoxicating.

Bryan dropped the last of the blooms and joined her on the bed, scooping her into his arms and rolling through the fragrant cloud, laughing as petals stuck to the lenses of his glasses. He leaned down and kissed her with enthusiasm and rising passion.

“Since you keep accusing me of bringing you flowers, I decided I might as well go all out,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck. “Mmmm… they smell almost as good as you do.”

Rachel scooped up a handful and rubbed them down his bare back. “Where did you get them?”

He smiled as he rose up above her, but his gaze was hot as he lowered the thin straps of her peachy-pink negligee, baring her breasts. “Magic,” he said, his voice turning low and velvety as desire flared anew in his eyes.

As Rachel had done, he scooped up wildflowers in his hands and caressed her with them, crushing them as he cupped her breasts. He lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking at that tender bud of flesh and the pansy petal that clung to it. His hands swept down her hips, tugging her nightgown up out of his way.

He turned onto his side and admired the view as he showered a handful of flower petals down on the bare skin of her belly and thighs. Sliding down on the bed, he blew gently across her abdomen, sending the buds skittering. With a purposeful look on his handsome face, he parted her legs and settled himself between them, planting kisses on the petals that clung to her inner thighs.

Rachel raised herself up on her elbows, her hair tumbling around her as she watched him, wrapped in sensual fascination stronger than any narcotic. With gentle fingers Bryan parted her most tender flesh and caressed her intimately with the bud of a wild rose. She gasped at the feel of velvet brushing her, cool and damp against her heat. He caressed her again, then lowered his head and tasted her, kissing her softly at first, hesitantly, increasing the pressure slowly, opening his mouth over her and stroking her with his tongue until she was sobbing at the intensity of her pleasure.

He kneeled then, and lifted her into his arms, pulling her against him and kissing her deeply. His lips trailed to her ear, where he traced the danity shell with the tip of his tongue and whispered, “And they taste almost as good as you do too.”

Rachel purred and arched against him. A languid smile lifted one corner of her mouth as she reached between them and undid Bryan’s zipper. She tugged the denim down his lean hips, scooped up two handfuls of flowers, and encased his manhood in cool soft petals, wringing a gasp from him. She stroked him with them as she planted kisses across his chest. Then it was her turn to gasp as he lifted her against him. She dropped the flowers, her hands going up automatically to his broad shoulders as he pulled her hips to his and joined their bodies once more.

The light in the room was considerably brighter when Rachel awoke for the second time. Bryan’s tousled head was on her breast, one of his long, hairy legs was thrown across both of her considerably smoother ones. He was humming the Notre Dame fight song in his sleep.

“Bryan,” she murmured softly. “Wake up.”

He grumbled and growled, finally lifting his head and pushing his glasses up on his nose. “What time is it?”

Rachel reached to the nightstand for his wrist-watch and peered at it, shaking her head. “Three-ten, Bryan Hennessy time. Do you ever intend to set this thing correctly?”

“Oh, sure,” Bryan said, hauling himself up to lean back against the ornately carved headboard. “I’m sure I wrote myself a note to do it.” He scratched his kneecap through the sheet, looking puzzled. “I wonder what became of that note.”

“It’s quarter to seven,” Rachel said, consulting her travel alarm.

Time to get up and face the day, she thought. Her gaze roamed over the tangle of sheets and flower petals, and she smiled. With a night like this last one to remember, the day wasn’t going to be quite so hard to face.

She yawned, stretched, and scratched her arm. Snuggling against Bryan’s hard shoulder, she said coyly, “Thank you for the flowers. I loved them.”

Bryan turned his head and kissed her temple. “And I love you.”

Rachel’s heart jumped. She couldn’t get used to hearing him say that. She was afraid to say it back for fear the spell would be broken somehow, afraid she would be putting too much pressure on him, expecting too much of him.

She sifted a handful of petals through her fingers and scratched absently at her left hip. “Making love in flowers is the most romantic thing I can think of.”

“Flowers are romantic,” Bryan agreed absently. He shoved the sheet down and stared, frowning at his belly as he scratched it. “Ants aren’t.”

“Ants?” Rachel questioned, scratching her shoulder.

“Hmmm, yes,” he said. “It seems we have a bed full of them. They must have ridden in on the flowers,” he ventured, but his explanation was lost on Rachel, who shrieked and leapt from the bed, shaking herself like a wet dog. He watched her grab up her robe, thrust her arms into the sleeves, and bolt for the door.

“Have a nice shower!” he called, laughing, then he found a scrap of paper and a pen on the nightstand and he wrote himself a note-Beware of Ants.