"I wouldn't have thought you would be too weak to abandon a husband when you tired of him," he said, his voice cool. "You could go back to Scotland and claim to be a widow if you wish to settle down into your staid, well-bred life again."
"I won't marry a man with the thought that I'll leave if I tire of him," she snapped. "And I certainly won't commit bigamy. It's not you, Nikolai. I haven't had the desire to marry since Robbie died. Even then, I was in no rush to reach the altar."
His gaze raked over her, so intense that she felt naked. "So marriage itself makes you wary. You surely didn't lack for opportunities to wed."
Trying not to react to the heat of his gaze, she said, "Lord above, I believe that's a compliment!"
He almost smiled. "An accident on my part."
More seriously, she said, "Marriage can be a form of slavery, too. Perhaps that's why I have no taste for it."
"But you were willing to consider wedding your young Robbie."
"I was younger." She grinned. "And he knew better than to tell me what to do."
Nikolai laughed. "Then he was a wise man, indeed. But I think I am equally wise. I recognize that you can be persuaded, but not coerced. If I were fool enough to try to force you into anything, you would put a stop to that instantly. So why not marry me? You've proved that your shields are equal to my assaults."
He looked so irresistibly handsome in his laughter that she almost jettisoned judgment and said yes to his proposal. But she was no green girl who thought of nothing beyond desire. She drew a slow breath. "I no longer fear physical harm at your hands, but I fear what you will do to my spirit. Not that you would choose to harm me, but that your forcefulness will destroy everything I am."
"Perhaps you will do the same to me, Jean Macrae," he said intensely. "Perhaps that's what the ancestors want."
"That's possible, but opening my body and soul to you on the chance that it's the right thing to do is like leaping from a cliff to learn if God wants me to grow wings. If I'm wrong, it will be too late to save myself."
"What a very melodramatic view you take." He took her bag and slung it over his shoulder, then offered a hand. "Come. It's a hard walk back to the village."
She let him help her to her feet, glad that he was willing to let the subject of marriage drop.
She should have known better. His dark eyes sparked with determination, and he used his grip on her hand to pull her into another hot, demanding kiss. Their bodies molded together full length, her breasts flattening against his chest as her knees weakened. This time he deliberately used the full force of his will in an attempt to reduce her to mindless desire.
He came very near to succeeding. She felt as if her body was melting, and she offered no protest as he laid her on the black sand. His hard, vibrant body trapped her against the yielding sand as their hips ground together, seeking union despite the clothing that separated them. More than anything on earth, she wanted to dissolve in his fire and let his passion remake her.
"Gods above, witch!" His eyes were glazed with desire. "We must wait no longer!" He braced his weight with one hand and slid his other hand under her skirt. Cool air touched heated flesh, and the skim of his fingers on her thigh almost persuaded her to surrender to the liquid fire that blazed through her.
Yet the small, stubborn core of her spirit refused. She threw her defensive magic at him, at the same time rolling violently away. Her roll ended with her crouched on the sand, panting, "Do not try to overpower my will with passion, Nikolai, for we will both regret it!"
Nikolai had been blasted onto his side by the force of her magic. He stared at her, face fierce and eyes wild. For an instant she feared that his determination to possess would overcome his distaste for rape. Were her defenses strong enough to protect her?
The tension broke when he buried his face in his hands, his breathing harsh and shoulders shaking. She quietly stood and was edging away when he raised his head and got to his feet. The wildness was gone, but he glittered with menace. "You're right—marriage would be a mistake, for the two of us would explode if joined in holy matrimony. But the mating—If we travel together, it will surely happen in time. There is too much fire between us to be quenched."
"Perhaps. But now is not the right time." That she knew beyond doubt. "Bank your fires, Captain Gregorio. We cannot work together like this."
"Then bank your own fire, you damned witch!" He glared at her as if she was a scorpion. "You can't expect a man not to react when you stand there looking like every man's fever dream!"
Absurdly, she was pleased that she had such an effect on him, but that could not be allowed to continue. "That's only fair." She closed her eyes and consciously tamped down her energy, starting with the lust that still hammered through her veins. When passion was under control, she concentrated on her emotions until she was fully in balance.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw that he was watching her intently and his energy had also calmed. The fierce desire that had seethed between them was gone, dissolved into sea air and sunshine. For a treacherous moment she regretted the loss. But only for a moment. Much better that they had returned to their previous relationship, where they had achieved a degree of friendly relaxation.
He picked up her bag, which had ended up crumpled over the stone wall, then made a courtly gesture toward the narrow trail. "What now, mistress witch?"
As she started up the steep hill, she said, "We must both become better mages. Adia has suggested a technique I might use to become more effective at wielding my magic, so I shall practice that."
She skidded on a patch of loose gravel. Quick as a snake, he caught her arm and kept her from falling. She flinched, but his touch was impersonal, with nothing beyond the spark that occurred whenever they touched. Though he might not be a trained mage, he had learned well how to control his energy.
"Take my arm," he said brusquely. "I know this path better than you."
Conceding the point, she took his arm, trying to convince herself that she was holding a walking stick rather than a strongly muscled male body. Talking to distract herself, she said, "If we don't improve our skills, Adia might refuse to enlist us in her cause. In the abstract, she was willing to pay any price, but having met you and me as individuals, she is reluctant to send us to possible disaster if there is no hope of success."
"If she doesn't use us, she is wasting the magic created by the London elders. She will have come all this way, accomplished nothing, and probably be unable to go home again." He glanced up momentarily from the treacherous footing. "The decision to risk everything for a cause is easy for me, but what of you, Jean Macrae? Do you have doubts about undertaking such a mission to solve a problem that is not your own?"
"None." She scrambled along without talking for a dozen steps, wondering how much to say. "I once made a bargain with God, and now it is time to pay the bill. There will be no chance of ending slavery unless many people who are not directly affected are willing to fight for the freedom of men and women they have never met. They must roar with such outrage that kings and ministers will be unable to ignore them. Am I not a good example of the work that must be done?"
"Since you put it that way, yes." His brows drew together. "If we travel through time and space to Britain, I shall need you for a guide. As a foreigner, I would waste much time and perhaps call too much attention to myself on my own in London. Even decades in the future, you will understand Britain better than I."
"We will make a good team, then," she said, trying not to pant too obviously. She thought of herself as fit, but the volcanic slope was a stiff climb. "I will be in charge of dealing with society, and you will be in charge of mayhem."
"A team indeed." He scowled. "But before we go anywhere, I must be initiated, and I can scarcely bear waiting. I want to make a difference now."
"The movement will not begin for many years, so we have time to perfect our skills," she pointed out. "There might even be enough years available for you to outgrow your impat
ience." She smiled a little. "But I doubt it."
Chapter
TWENTY-ONE
They reached the crest of the path that ran over the rim of the caldera and paused. Jean was pleased to see that even Nikolai was breathing hard. The path ran between two spiky peaks made of black volcanic rock. Behind them the barren wind scoured the outer island. Below was the cupped sea, an amazing shade of blue, and the fertile fields and trees of the community. Whole terraces were devoted to almond and olive trees.
In the center of the caldera was a small island—the cone of the volcano, she guessed. "I didn't really appreciate this when I walked in the other direction," she said, shading her eyes against the sun's glare. "What a magnificent view. Your island is a place of great beauty, Captain."
"I never tire of it," he said quietly. "For someone who has lived in chains, beauty is almost as healing as freedom."
She realized that she still held his arm, so she released her clasp. He smiled with a touch of malice. "I wonder which of us will surrender to passion first? Probably me, since nature gives women good reasons to be wary."
"True, but Guardian women tend to be better protected than most."
"I noticed. My ears are still ringing from the energy blow you struck me with." Returning to the prospect before them, he pointed into the distance. "From here, you can see the outlines of different ruins more clearly than from lower down. See those square shapes halfway down the hill? There was a cluster of buildings there once—a farm and stables, perhaps."
"I see!" she said, delighted. "There are faint outlines of buildings in several places. What is that hollow over there to the east? It seems too regular to be an accident, but perhaps it's a volcanic formation?"
"That's the remains of a small amphitheater. It seems to be a natural space that was reshaped for gatherings and entertainments." His finger moved to the left. "On this side of the caldera are orchards. For some reason, there is more rain there. We have olive trees, almonds, oranges, and lemons. I'm told the trees are very, very old. They ran wild when the island was empty, but now that they're cared for, they produce for us."
They started down the hill, which was easier than the climb, though still strenuous. As they neared Nikolai's house, he asked, "How did you find me?"
"I used my scrying stone." She chuckled. "Plus, when Louise gave me a lotion to prevent sunburn, she said that there was a walk behind the village that you're fond of."
"Would the scrying glass have been enough?"
"I'm not sure. I can often see friends and family if I look for them, but I don't necessarily know where they are unless I recognize the background. I saw you watching the waves, but didn't know where the beach was."
He frowned. "You can watch me?"
"Yes, but I don't scry very often. It's very tiring."
He didn't look mollified, but they were coming to wooden latticed gates that led into his courtyard house. He said, "I want to find Adia and ask some questions."
They found her drowsing in the courtyard, which had potted plants and chairs and areas of sun and shade, much like the terrace but without the view of the sea. She woke and sat up when they joined her. "I have been enjoying the warmth," she said. "It was wet and wintry when I left London, and the journey through time was long and cold."
"That sounds like London all right." Jean took a chair in the shade. Louise's herbal lotion might help keep her skin from burning, but surely it had limits. "What is it like to travel through time?"
Adia couldn't suppress a shudder. "Like being chopped into a thousand pieces, dragged through a tunnel full of shrieking demons, then reassembled. It seemed to take a long time, but how can one know? It might have been seconds or days. I felt I was being pulled through the tunnel. Perhaps it was your energy, as you suggested."
"This doesn't sound as if it will be amusing," Nikolai said drily. He sat on Adia's other side. "Will you tell us how the magic will work? Or will you wait until we have improved our abilities?"
Adia slid the bracelet with the large, unusual beads from her wrist and held it on her open palm. "The large beads were made by an elder gifted with clairvoyance. He asked the ancestors to help him create a number of beads equal to the number of critical points where the fledgling abolition movement would need aid. It was a great and powerful magic, and I think creating the beads took a dozen years from his life."
Jean bent closer to look. "The large beads are all different shapes."
"Each is tuned to a particular crisis. They must be used in sequence, starting here"—she pointed—"and working around in order. There were seven originally. The first bead was destroyed in my passage here, leaving six. I think each bead will vanish as it is used, but I'm not sure."
"Will the final bead take you home to your own time and place?" Jean asked.
"I'd like to think so, but truly, I have no idea."
"How did you end up with the bracelet if all of you worked on the ritual together?" Jean asked. "Did it appear on your wrist as you came through time?"
Adia shook her head. "Each of the seven elders had a bracelet like this one, and we invoked the power together. I believe I was the only one to be taken through time because of the blood bond between me and the captain." She rolled one of the large beads between her fingers thoughtfully. "I wonder if the matching beads vanished on the other bracelets when I was taken." She sighed. "I may never find out."
"How will we know what to do when we have used the bead to travel to a critical place?" Nikolai asked. "To be dropped into a strange location, not knowing where or when we are, will be confusing. What if we fail from ignorance of what we should do?"
Adia's mouth twisted wryly. "We must hope that the ancestors know what they are doing."
Jean exchanged a doubtful glance with Nikolai. "There is an old Christian saying that God helps those who help themselves. I should think the same would be true for ancestors. Is there anything we can do to improve our chances of success?"
"We also wished to improve the odds," Adia replied. "While preparing for the invocation, we gathered all the knowledge we had about the abolition movement—the events, people, issues. We have also included information about the London African community." She pulled a plump folder of papers from her ever-present medicine bag. "Here is a summary of all we could learn. Much was written by me. I wish you to copy it over, Jean, so that you will know it well. I will also talk with you about what I know of the time between now and when I left London—fashion, news, politics. You must be the source of worldly knowledge during your mission."
Nikolai arched his formidable brows. "You think me unworthy of knowing?"
"Your time and energy will be taken up with the initiation." Adia slid the bracelet back on her wrist and handed the papers to Jean, "You may leave now. I must talk to the captain. You have your own tasks."
Jean accepted her dismissal with some relief. She was tired from her hike, and a nap sounded good. She also needed time to think—both about clearing her mental tangles, and about Nikolai.
Nikolai watched Jean depart with relief. He was still shaken by what had happened between them by the shore. Even his passion for revenge had not matched the intensity of his desire for her. He had come painfully close to losing all control and behaving unforgivably. On some deep level, was his desire for revenge twisted up in his attraction to Jean? No, this raw need for her existed separately from his long-time hatred of her father. Something in her spirit called to something in his. He hoped it wasn't long until the time was right for them to come together.
Adia called him back to the present by saying, "We must discuss initiation."
"What must I do?" He tried to read her energy field, hoping that might increase his understanding. The colors around her were deep and pure—blue, gold, indigo. He sensed that they represented truth and power.
"I have spoken with Tano and other Africans here," she replied. "There are three other priests, one woman and two men. Though we come of different tribes, we have enough in
common to work together. We will place you on the initiate's path."
"There are priests on the island?" he asked, surprised. "Were they trained in Africa, before they were taken as slaves?"
"One was. The other two learned their magic in slavery. Here they have blended their individual pathways to create a Santolan tradition of magic."
"But virtually all of the islanders are Muslims or Christians," he said, puzzled. "We have a mosque and two churches here."
"Africans do not forget their knowledge of what is true," she said patiently. "For safety's sake, a woman may build an altar to Oshun and decorate it with a statue of the Virgin Mary. When she prays to the Mother, she is invoking more than the Christian mother goddess. Under the mantle of Christianity and Islam, African traditions remain. We are very adaptable." She smiled a little. "My Jamaican mistress thought she was doing the Christian god's work by forcing all the family's slaves to convert, but underneath the Christian rituals, our spirits were free even if our bodies weren't."
"So you only pretended to convert?"
"Not at all. Jesus is a very fine spirit for worship, and I'm told that Muhammad is, too. An African can pay reverence to many gods." Mischief showed in her eyes. "To honor only one god seems paltry."
He laughed. His religious training had been mixed but monotheistic. He'd been baptized Catholic in Malta, and performed a lip-service conversion in Islam to save his life. Now he found that he liked the idea of multiple gods. Or perhaps multiple faces of one god. "What will the priests have me do? What preparations should I make?"
Her expression sobered. "I have decided you should start as soon as possible. The longer you have to ponder initiation, the more you will think. Better that you experience, not speculate and analyze. Tonight you will attend a ritual at the African gathering place. Then we priests will take you to Diabolo to begin your initiation."
Diabolo was part of the caldera, an uninhabited arc of island opposite the main village. Only goats grazed on its steep slopes. "What will I do there?"
A Distant Magic Page 17
