Beyond Magic (Magical Love Book 1)

by Lizzie T. Leaf

  Emma stared at the floor for a moment in an attempt to remember, but nothing came. Her mind was blank of the afternoon happenings. “This heat really drains me.” She shrugged and gave Cori a weak smile. “Just wandered, I guess. I have no idea where the time went.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The black clouds swirled, and lightning cracked across the sky, shooting a zigzag bolt across where moments before had been a clear blue sky. The tree directly in front of Ian splintered into thousands of matchsticks, and the wind whipped the small pieces across the moors. Frustrated at gaining no sense of release from this display of force, Ian’s shout followed the splinters. “Take my powers with you too, damn it!”

  He realized as a child he had the ability to change climates and create storms. He now chose to use it to vent the rage that lived inside him since his return from Edinburgh. The villagers gossiped about how tumultuous the storm patterns had become, unaware their laird had created this new volatility.

  He dropped his hand to his side and wearily he turned toward the cliffs overlooking the sea. The storm left as quickly as it had come. Ian perched on his favorite rock and observed the crashing waves below.

  Emma, why? Why did you betray me? Why can’t I forget you?

  The ache of the erection between his thighs twitched at the thought of her. Yet another thing over which he had little control these days. The constant throb left him frustrated and filled with desire. But only one woman could satisfy this hunger.

  Like that will happen. You mean no more to her than the men gyrating against her in such a disgusting manner. If she cared for me, she would have been here when I returned.

  Ian decided to bury his misery in work. There were only two things that gave him comfort since Edinburg. His ability to heal had grown stronger, and using it to help others satisfied him for a few moments. His other relief from the anger and hurt he battled was to escape into the stories he created about his family’s history.

  “Your Highness.” Helmond met Ian before the door closed behind him. “Sir Brian called while you were out. He requested you return his call as quickly as possible.”

  “After I change into dry clothes.”

  Ian could feel the elf’s condemning stare bore into his back as he made his way up the stairs. Helmond didn’t make any comments about his behavior these days, but Ian could sense the disapproval. Yet another thing he was unable to stifle—detecting other’s emotions.

  Dry clothing did nothing to dispel the chill that had come over him at the mention of Brian’s phone call. Since his friend had been knighted last month, he seemed to leave demands rather than make requests. Thankfully he could only use the KBE suffix after his name. No way would Ian call him Sir Brian. Anyway, he didn’t want to talk to Brian right now and ignored the phone on the corner of his desk. Instead, he picked up the printout of his last chapter, put his feet up, and prepared for a read through to refocus his mind.

  “Excuse me, Sire. Cook thought you may want a cup of hot tea after your walk in the elements.” Deena set a tray laden with scones and a pot covered with a cozy on the table in front of the sofa.

  “Thank you, Deena, and thank Cook for me.” She stood at the door twisting her hands. “Is there anything more?”

  Confusion warred in her eyes until she shook her head. Shoulders slumped in what could only be considered defeat, she turned to leave.

  He knew the subject the older woman wanted to mention. Her Southern manners still clung to her like a mantel, and though normally outspoken, she still wasn’t in her element here in the castle.

  Yes, I know, but do I really want to ask?

  His mouth developed a will of its own.

  “Deena.” She stopped in the doorway, her back still to him. “Have you heard from her?”

  Damn, why did you ask, fool? The last thing you need is to let her know you’re mooning over her friend like a lovesick schoolboy.

  “I have.” She turned and faced him. “An email this morning.”

  You opened the door—may as well jump in. “How is she?”

  Deena squared her shoulders and raised her glance to meet his, no sign of the defeated look of a moment ago. “About like you, sir. I’d say you’re both in the same condition—miserable.”

  He doubted that. If her heart ached the way his did, she’d come back and demand he listen to whatever explanation she had to offer. And if she did, he’d probably accept it, no matter how unbelievable.

  “Thank you. That will be all, Deena.”

  Ian turned back to the papers in his hand, the words a blur. His heart wasn’t in work today. The ring of the phone distracted him and he reached for it without thinking.

  “Ian, where the hell have you been? Why didn’t your return my call.”

  The person he most wanted to avoid at the moment hadn’t waited for him to call back. Typical Brian.

  “I had estate business to take deal with. What’s so important?”

  “New York, of course. Your editor insists you do a book tour. The publisher will spring for top accommodations—first class airfare, five star hotels, and a chauffeured limo in every city where they set a tour.”

  He let his silence speak for a moment, until he heard Brain’s impatient sigh. Weariness consumed Ian, and he resisted the urge to hang up without another word. But he couldn’t. Their relationship went beyond agent and author. Brian was his closest friend, and even if he couldn’t explain his current problems, he didn’t want to lose that friendship.

  “No. Brian. I’ve told you and her—no book tours.”

  “Ian, I don’t understand your reluctance about this. For God’s sake you’re an educated man who has dinners with the Queen. It’s not like you’re some country bumpkin who faints at the thought of meeting a roomful of strangers. For Christ’s sake, you stand up and bitch for hours in front of a full House of Parliament when they piss you off.”

  “My final word is…no!

  “Be reasonable man. Your editor said—”

  “Brian, you and the editor can just sod off. There will be no book signing tour by Ian Nordic.”

  He slammed the phone down as another storm built inside him. A trip to the moors raced to the top of his agenda. It would take all of his control to get there before his rage exploded.

  Irritation was apparent in Faith’s voice. The snippy bitch made no attempt to hide how unimportant she thought Emma’s job was compared to what her needs were.

  “What do you mean you can’t come for two weeks? I want that stuff cleared from the attic before the real estate agent starts prowling around with a bunch of strangers.”

  “Understand, but I can’t just drop my responsibilities here and come out to rummage through two hundred years of junk because you decided it was time to sell the house.”

  “Junk!” Faith almost choked on the word. “You call our family history a pile of junk? I’m sure Mama is rolling in her grave right now at those words. Probably Grandfather Phillips, too.”

  As usual, there was no mention of Grandma Edith. Faith never spoke of the woman who made Emma’s younger years bearable, unless it was to say something hateful about what an embarrassment she had been to the family.

  Cori shot a raised an eyebrow as she passed through the living room on her way to the kitchen. Emma made a yakking motion with her free hand to let her know Faith was in good form. The bane of Emma’s life was a joke between her and her friend. No one could get on her high-horse better than her older sister.

  “Faith, I just want to know one thing,” Emma snapped into the cordless phone. “Why the hell is it so important to sell the house now? Mama’s been gone almost four years and not once have you mentioned selling. You were perfectly happy to hold your hand out for the renter’s check every month. And might I remind you, not once did I ask you to split the money.”

  “Well— I never.”

  Damn right, she never, and it was about time she did. Few people talked back to Faith or made demands of her, but Emma was
fast reaching the end of her rope with the greedy snob’s attitude.

  “I’m waiting.” She tapped her nail against the phone to let her sister know time was ticking. “Did you get your tit caught in a wringer with some scandal, or did that dumbass you’re married to do something stupid? Who do you have to buy off to save your precious social standing at the country club? ”

  “All you need to know, little sister, is I’m the executor of the estate and I think it’s time to sell.” The cold hoity-toity tone came through loud and clear. If the world’s nations could figure out a way to capitalize on Faith’s ability to quick chill, global warming wouldn’t be an issue.

  “That’s fine sister dear, but if you want my help in clearing the attic of our fine family relics, you’ll have to be flexible around my work schedule. It’s September and we’re still in high tourist season and I need the work.” Emma held the phone away from her ear and stuck her tongue out at it the way she used to do behind Faith’s back when they were kids. She only caught part of the snarl from the Charleston end of the line. “I think I can squeeze a few days off around the middle of October.”

  “If you don’t, I’m going to call a charity to come and pick up what I don’t want, including that trashy old trunk of Grandma’s.”

  Their grandmother’s trunk was the only think Emma cared about. Maybe she could get Faith to ship it out to her. No, the revenge-driven bitch would plunder through it and take out anything that would be a valuable memory to Emma just for spite.

  “Fine! I’ll plan to come out Labor Day weekend.” When faced with a no-win situation, she could accept defeat. Who said it had to be graceful? Besides, this still gave her enough time to shop for an airfare that wouldn’t bankrupt her. Emma slammed the phone down with enough force she hoped it shattered Faith’s eardrum.

  She turned to Cori. “I need to throw something.”

  Cori did a one-handed grab of the vase they’d purchased at an antique shop from the coffee table and clutched it to her side. With the other hand, she tossed a sofa pillow in Emma’s direction. “Throw this.”

  The soft cushion bounced off the wall but didn’t offer the satisfaction a loud crash would have. Or better yet, her hands around Faith’s neck in a tight squeeze. “How did I ever end up with her for a sister?”

  “Luck of the family gene pool is my guess, but I can tell you one thing—listening to you deal with her makes me glad I’m an only child.”

  “You think?” Why couldn’t she have had a sister like Cori instead of Satan’s spawn?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aphrodite stood in the shadows and admired the grandson unaware of her arrival. Of all her children and grandchildren, this was the one most pleasing to the eyes. Think of the family reunion fodder that little tidbit would furnish if she even hinted at the thought to anyone. Brawling gods and demigods danced through her mind, and she smiled and studied this grandson more closely.

  It had been a while since she last saw him. It was up to her to stay connected, because he refused to visit any of the immortal or faerie realms. She loved the longer length of his hair brushing past his collar and how the sun’s kiss had shot the golden strands with fire.

  He should wear a beard. Chin hair on Ian would look good. Much better than those sparse sprigs Eros sported.

  Ian reached for a cup on the desk at his left, his eyes never leaving the computer screen.

  Aphrodite placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ian.”

  Coffee splashed over the rim and on his hand. “Bugger it all!” Attempting to clean up the spill on his desk with one hand, he fanned the burned one in the air and turned to glare at Aphrodite. “Grandmother, why in hell do you and the Big Os have to appear out of nowhere? Haven’t you ever heard of a door?” He covered his burned hand with the good one. “The door was made to enter and exit through, you know.”

  He dropped his good hand from the injured one.

  He pushed up from his chair. “Is this a social haven’t-seen-you-in-a-long-time visit, or are you here to nag me about finding a mate like the old men?”

  Uh-oh, she needed to hang around for a while if his defenses were already up. The things she did for love. It was good she’d spent a week in the spa before this adventure if she was going to be forced to remain in this forsaken place a few days. A few hours were stifling enough.

  “Come, give me a hug.” She slipped her sunglasses on top of her head and opened her arms. “And how often do I have to tell you, don’t call me Grandmother. Call me Di.”

  He placed his arms around her. In their brief contact, she connected with the pain deep in his heart.

  Whoever this chick is, she’d better be damn special to create this sort of hurt in my Ian.

  Ian released her and stepped away. “Love the new hair style. Is that a different shade of blonde?”

  “Yes, it’s all the rage in Hollywood.” Thankfully, she hadn’t had to sit through hours of bleaching. She accomplished it with a snap of her fingers.

  “Grandm—Di, you still haven’t said why you’re here.” Ian followed her to the sofa where she sat and arranged her skirt.

  “I told you, to see my favorite grandson. If I didn’t come here, I’d never see you.” She didn’t miss the scowl that spread across his face and held up her hand. The last thing she wanted was to hear his reasons why he never visited Mt. Olympus or any of his other family.

  Why did she, of all the Greek gods, have to end up with a grandson with scruples? The list ran through her head like a mortal tabulation of “to dos.” Kindness, compassion, and consideration of others’ feelings were just a few. He didn’t think it fair to her husband to show up at Mt. Olympus and flaunt that she had a son and grandson from her little dalliance with Odin. And throw in her father-in-law, Zeus, with his pissy attitude, and it was enough to make anyone feel unwelcome.

  Ian didn’t visit Odin because his wife had made it clear the horny god’s offspring from his union with the Greek hussy wasn’t welcome. As for the faeries, he hated the underground living in their realm.

  Yeah, she’d heard it all before. What in Hades could they discuss? She didn’t dare bring up the real reason for her visit yet, if at all. To learn what she wanted to know would take some good old fashion female deviousness.

  “Your Highness.” Helmond stood in the doorway with a woman who towered well above him. “We’re going to the village. Would you care for us to relay any messages or pick up anything for you?”

  “No. I’m good.” Ian turned to Aphrodite. “Gr—Di, you remember Helmond. And this is his lovely wife, Deena. Deena, my grandmother Di.”

  Wife! The old elf had finally married, and to someone who made two of him. There is just no way to figure out love when I’m not involved.

  “Nice to meet you.” The grey-haired woman gave a nod and what passed for a smile before Helmond linked his fingers through hers and led her away.

  “I didn’t think the little guy had it in him. He’s been around here longer than you and has never expressed interest in any female. I tried to fix him up a couple of times, but he’s immune to my efforts.”

  “I think it came as a bit of a surprise to him, too.” Ian smiled. “You should have seen the stunned look on Helmond’s face when Oberon said the final words of the marriage ceremony that joined him and Deena.

  “Who is she? What did she have that no one else had?”

  “She’s mortal.”

  “Mortal?” A piece of down would have knocked Aphrodite over. “He married a mortal that old. Why?”

  “I think it’s called love, Di. Something you are an expert on.”

  “But she’s old, and let’s be serious. I doubt she was beautiful in her youth.”

  “They see the beauty inside each other.” Ian raised an eyebrow and winked at her. “Helmond has said he’d rather know such a deep love for a short time than never at all.”

  The look of sadness that washed across Ian’s face broke Aphrodite’s heart. She didn’t need to spend a lot of
time here to know her grandson had been gobsmacked by this Emma Grant. If DooNell’s magic couldn’t make the situation work, Aphrodite would get in the middle of it.

  “Ian.” A small faerie in a blue gown floated across the room and landed beside him. “Do you have another of your women here?” She shot a glare in Aphrodite’s direction.

  So, this is Morgana, the troublemaker. I think I need to stay. No way will I leave my heartbroken grandson in the clutches of this predator. DooNell needs to have a long chat with the imp about the results of interfering with the will of the Powers.

  Aphrodite stood, approached the pair, and held out her hand. It was time to put this one in her place. “Hello, I’m Di, Ian’s grandmother. I guess you can say I’m one of his women.”

  The look of disbelief on Morgana’s face should have been reward enough, but the goddess couldn’t leave it there. Aphrodite tossed her hair as she shot her best haughty you’re-beneath-me smirk. “And that makes you?”

  As she soaked up the late afternoon rays of California sun, Aphrodite considered Ian’s situation. Her grandson’s attempts to wrestle with his broken heart had left him vulnerable to a predator like Morgana. Being a typical male, he was a prime target for a female of any realm who offered the right words of sympathy and a shoulder to lean on.

  The Goddess of Love patted her lips with a finger. Morgana had not hesitated in her challenge for Ian, even with Aphrodite. The little snip had a bad case of lust, or at least thought she did.

  And who better to understand that? Look at your fling with Odin. You couldn’t get enough of the guy, and now being in the same room with the self-centered old goat is enough to bore you to tears.

  I do understand where Morgana is coming from, but she’s not for Ian, even if the Powers had not deemed otherwise.

  She flipped over onto her stomach. “Darling, more sunscreen.” Might as well give her latest hunk something to do besides admire his muscle reflection in the water.