P.J. shook her head. “No, I want to pull my own weight. Don’t worry, I can handle it.”
Concern for P.J. warred with his agreement to forgo using magic unless it was absolutely necessary. Concern won. P.J.’s health was more important than the small amount of gold a spell would take. Besides, keeping them both alert and untired might be important in dealing with Neil—if he was the thief.
Connor lowered his voice. “There’s no sense in makin’ this any more difficult than it has to be. What do you say I use a wee bit of magic to make the load feel lighter? I’ll do the same for myself,” he hurried to add so she wouldn’t be stubborn.
“Okay,” P.J. whispered. “But don’t you dare lighten Neil’s.”
Connor chuckled, and under pretense of adjusting P.J.’s straps, he called on his power to make her pack feel one-fifth its actual weight, so it was no heavier than that briefcase she lugged around all the time. While he was at it, he lightened his own, as well. No sense wasting a good spell when he’d already used up the gold.
P.J. gingerly tested the weight. “That’s great. Thanks.”
Neil slammed the trunk closed. “Everyone ready?”
They nodded and he handed them both knit caps. “Here, you’re going to need these,” he said as he pulled on one of his own.
Well, Neil might be a pest and a thief, but he was certainly prepared for this trip. Connor was impressed. If the man was this organized, maybe he was as good a producer as he claimed.
Neil led the way up the trail, followed by P.J., with Connor bringing up the rear. At first Connor was concentrating so much on his footing and keeping an eye on P.J.’s progress that he didn’t even notice the scenery around him.
Neil seemed to be interested in nothing but leading the way, and P.J. was doing fine, so Connor relaxed his vigilance. When they paused at a scenic point to take a rest, Connor sat down to drink in the beauty of the wild mountain scenery.
The area was beautiful in summer, but there was something wonderful and majestic about the craggy Rocky Mountains wearing their mantle of gray winter clothing. High above, pristine white snow glittered and flashed, reflecting the sun’s brilliance. The sky was a deep shade of blue, and though the grass was brown and withered, it wasn’t depressing, merely a sign that all was as it should be, that nature’s cycle continued unabated despite their petty concerns, and would continue to do so for thousands of years yet to come. It was a bit humbling.
Connor almost felt in charity with Neil for bringing them here. The producer urged them to their feet, and they continued their trek. The going wasn’t too bad, though the trip was uphill most of the way. Connor could see P.J. was starting to tire, though she wouldn’t admit it, and he was glad when they finally spotted the wooden cabin.
Neil unlocked the door and led them into the cold mountain hut. Connor glanced around. The surroundings weren’t as primitive as he’d feared. The wooden floor was made of planks, and the walls were rough-hewn timber. There were even two indoor bathrooms. He shared a relieved glance with P.J. It wasn’t bad at all.
Neil knelt down to peer into the black cast-iron stove. “Looks like we’ll need some more wood to last the night. There’s plenty outside.” He glanced at Connor. “You want to bring some in?”
Connor shrugged. “Sure.” He went outside to get the wood and plotted his next move. He had to get close enough to Neil to touch the man’s hand with his talisman—it was the only way he was going to find out for sure if he was the thief.
If he was, Connor would have all the evidence he’d need to convict the man and, as king of the Fae, he had the right to pass judgment and sentence immediately. If Neil wasn’t guilty, they’d enjoy a day or two out here in the wilds of nature, then go home and start their investigation all over again from scratch.
As the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, Connor filled his arms with wood and went back inside. Neil had turned on the generator, and P.J. watched as Neil built a fire in the stove.
Good, if the room heated up, Neil would have no reason to wear those damned gloves and he’d have to take them off. Gradually the room warmed and Connor shed his jacket, motioning for P.J. to do the same. He glanced at Neil. “Neil, aren’t you hot, man?”
Neil clapped his glove-clad hands together, then stuck them under his armpits. “No, I’m still a bit cold.”
Apparently catching his train of thought, P.J. jumped into the fray. “Well, some good hot food will help that. And I, for one, am hungry. What’s for dinner?”
Neil knelt down to rummage in his backpack. “Sorry it’s nothing fancy, just trail rations, but I’ve got some stew and bread here—there are pots in the kitchen. Shall we get dinner started?”
P.J. leaned down to peer at the packages Neil had laid on the table. “Sure. I’ve never seen this type before—can I watch?”
Connor grinned inwardly. P.J. was making Neil live up to his promise to compensate for his earlier rudeness. She wasn’t about to offer to play the little homemaker, and it appeared she was just as interested as Connor in how Neil was going to open those finicky little packages and cook them without taking off his gloves.
Neil looked distinctly taken aback. “I, uh, well…it’s quite easy and the directions are on the package. Don’t you think…” His voice trailed off as he apparently saw the stubborn lift of P.J.’s chin. “It’s not rocket science, you know. Why don’t you two…unpack and I’ll start dinner.”
How very big of him. “Does it matter where we sleep?” Connor asked.
Neil waved vaguely toward the bedrooms. “No, take any one, or two, you’d like.”
“One,” P.J. said in a decisive tone, and took Connor’s arm.
Connor followed as she chose a large bedroom with a single bed and dumped her backpack down on the bed.
Connor lowered his voice. “Do you think ‘tis wise, lass?”
P.J. grimaced. “How many times are you going to ask me that today? Yes, I think it’s wise. If I have to sleep in the same house with Neil Chalmers, I want to make sure you’re nearby.”
She shrugged and lowered her gaze. “Besides, we may not have all that much time together, and I want to spend as much with you as possible,” she muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.
Connor’s pulse raced in spite of himself. She knew the score, yet she still wanted to be near him. He should be noble and offer to set protective spells around a separate room for her, but damned if he could pass up the opportunity to spend a little more time with her.
He tipped her chin up with one finger. “All right, lass, it’ll be as you wish.”
P.J. nodded and blushed, then said briskly, “Don’t you know if Neil is the thief yet?”
“Uh, no. When I shook his hand, I thought there was something there. I can’t explain it, but ‘twas as if there was something blocking my senses, makin’ it difficult for me to tell if he was the one or no. If I could just make him take off his gloves and touch his hand, I’d be able to tell in an instant.”
P.J. nodded. “I thought it was something like that. Well, now that I know, maybe I can help you plan a way to trick him.”
She finished unpacking her backpack, then stood on tiptoe and lifted her face shyly to his, twining her arms around his neck. “In the meantime, let’s make the most of the time we have left.”
She was so appealing, so trusting, Connor couldn’t help but react. Tentatively at first, he lowered his head in an exploratory kiss that rediscovered the sweetness of her uninhibited response.
He deepened the kiss and she pressed herself tighter against him, making a small sound in the back of her throat that was Connor’s undoing. P.J. was so open in her affections, so uncalculated and honest, it unmanned him. She had the rare gift of making him feel as if he were the only man in the universe, that she existed just to please him and to be pleased by him.
Connor’s arms tightened around her as he buried his hands in her long dark hair and slanted a hungry kiss across her mouth.
A sound from
the doorway caught his attention, and he lifted desire-blurred eyes to see Neil standing there, clearing his throat to get their attention.
Connor almost growled at him to get lost, until he noticed the man had removed his coat and gloves and was standing there with nothing more in his hands than a metal serving spoon.
Neil averted his gaze. “Uh, I just wanted to tell you dinner’s ready,” he said, then walked back to the kitchen.
Connor adjusted the fit of his suddenly snug pants. “If it weren’t for the fact that he’s shed those blasted gloves,” he growled, “I’d tell him where he could put his dinner.”
P.J. just smiled and kissed him. “That’s okay, we’ve got all night. For now, it’s important we unmask your thief.”
“All right, but him bein’ so close makes me nervous. Would you mind if I placed a bit of a warding spell on the room, so he can’t overhear our conversations or enter without our permission?”
“Sounds like a good idea to me.”
Connor quickly placed the spell, then followed P.J. to the dining room. He watched for an opportunity to touch Neil’s hand, then suddenly realized the spoon Neil held was made of steel. Damn! The iron in steel would block any traces of magic.
Connor glanced around. Hell, all of the dishes and utensils were made of the same metal. Glowering, Connor watched Neil closely, waiting for him to let go of the spoon, if only for an instant. The man was too cagy, though. Once he finished dishing up the stew, he smoothly put down the spoon and picked up his fork in the same movement.
Seemingly oblivious of Connor’s scrutiny, Neil turned to P.J. “Can I ask you some questions?” At P.J.’s apprehensive look, he said, “Don’t worry, I won’t pressure you to be my elf queen—I know you don’t want that. But the story line has a great deal of magic in it and your sister told me you know a lot about it.”
P.J. shrugged. “Sure, what kind of magic?”
“Well, in the film, the hero fights against the combined might of the evil elfin kingdom. The elves have magic and our hero doesn’t, though he does possess a magic…amulet.”
Connor had been only half listening, but now he sat up straighter. Was Neil asking what Connor thought he was asking?
Neil continued. “He knows it’s magic, but he doesn’t know how to use it. The book your sister sold me explained how to create a magic talisman, but not how to figure out what one does. How would he go about learning that, do you think?”
P.J. frowned, as if considering. “Well, according to talismanic lore, the physical appearance of the amulet often reveals its nature. What does it look like?”
Neil waved his fork in the air dismissively. “Oh, I haven’t figured that out yet. Let’s say it’s a…a belt buckle.” “Okay, then I’d say the magic could be tied to the nature of a belt or a belt buckle. Since it’s an article of clothing, maybe it simulates clothing, or makes the wearer invisible, or maybe it’s a concealed weapon of some kind. It could be just about anything.”
Neil leaned forward. “Okay, let’s say it makes the hero invisible. Now, what if he doesn’t know this? How would he find out?”
“Well, the best thing to do would be to ask the original owner or creator what its function is.”
Connor almost chuckled out loud. In a way, that’s exactly what Neil was doing. Did he really believe he wasn’t a suspect? Apparently not, or he wouldn’t be asking these questions.
“Okay,” Neil conceded. “That makes sense. But we can’t make things too easy on our hero. Let’s say the person who made the amulet is dead. How would he go about finding out what it was used for and how to make it work?”
P.J. considered for a minute, and Connor interrupted, deciding to have a little fun with Neil. “Well, there’s always the Killarney Ritual.”
P.J. glanced askance at him, but apparently decided to play along. “Yes, I guess that would be the best way to find out.”
Neil’s nose seemed to quiver like a hound after a scent. “Oh, what’s the Killarney Ritual? Is it something I could use in the film?”
Connor shrugged. “Sure, it can be used by anyone. The ritual is done at midnight, beneath the light of a full moon. Your hero will need to petition the gods outside, below the free and open sky, then draw a circle on the ground.” There was a full moon tonight. Would Neil fall for it?
“Then what?” Neil asked eagerly.
“Next, he steps carefully into the circle, being careful not to smudge the line, and places the talisman between his upraised palms. Standing only upon his right foot, he sings to the gods—”
“Sings?” Neil queried. “Sings what?”
Connor shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter what he sings, so long as the song has something to do with the amulet.” Connor scratched his chin, thinking. “I’ll not be knowin’ any songs about belt buckles, so he’ll have to make one up, I suppose.”
Neil looked doubtful, so Connor groped for a way to make it more plausible. “Singing somehow…unlocks the potential of your mind, opening it up to receive divine revelation.” When Neil nodded in understanding, Connor continued. “You have to do this three nights running, then on the third night you press the amulet to your forehead, and if the gods are pleased with your song, knowledge of the amulet’s powers and how to use them will be given to you.”
Neil nodded, frowning down into the steel cup clenched between his hands.
Connor risked a glance at P.J. and saw her trying hard to keep a straight face. “You forgot the most important part,” she said.
“I did?”
“Yes, you forgot to mention that the supplicant must remove all of his clothes.”
Connor smacked his forehead. “Ah, that’s right. He mustn’t have anything man-made on or about him, especially anything made of iron, or ‘twill distract the gods. The only thing man-made he can have within the circle is the amulet.” He gave Neil an innocent, earnest look. “Will that help?”
“Yes, I think I can work it in. Uh, this iron thing. I know iron interferes with the use of magic—does it work against all magic?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Let’s say my hero has a sword, then. Would that interfere with his finding out how the amulet works?”
“Most definitely. He’d have to take his sword off for the ritual to work.”
“Not only that,” P.J. interrupted. “But he’d have to leave it off for at least an hour—traces of the iron will linger for about that long and interfere with any magic he’s working.”
Neil’s iron grip on the cup relaxed a bit, and Connor gave P.J. a grin for her quick thinking. It wasn’t true, but if Neil thought it was, he might let go of that damned metal sometime soon.
Neil nodded. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be able to use this in the film.” He yawned. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go to bed. It’s been a long day.
Connor returned his nod. “Sure, we’ll be doing the same. See you in the morning.”
Neil headed off to his bedroom, still clutching the damned cup in his hand. Once Neil had shut the door, Connor caught P.J. up in a big hug. “That was wonderful, you little pillywiggins.”
P.J. giggled. “What on earth is a pillywiggins?”
“A flower faerie—a playful little thing just like you. What on earth made you think of telling him to dance naked?” he whispered softly.
P.J. shrugged. “I almost told him he’d have to paint himself blue, but I thought that would be going too far.”
Connor stifled a guffaw and P.J. punched him softly. “Who was it who thought of the Killarney Ritual, anyway? Blarney Ritual is more like it. Besides, I saw you looking frustrated, so I thought I’d give you an edge, and give him a good reason to let go of his iron security blanket.”
“Aye, that you did,” Connor said, smiling down at her. “Now let’s hope he fell for it.”
P.J. nodded, then wriggled loose from his embrace. “I want to check something.” She walked over to the corner where Nei
l had laid his gloves on the table and picked one up. “Let’s see…” She stuck her hand in it, then grinned and turned the palm inside out. “It seems Neil already knew a bit about iron. Look, he has a steel plate in the palm of his glove.”
“So that’s why his grip felt so hard and why I couldn’t feel any traces of magic.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?” P.J. whispered.
“What?”
“This means he must be the thief! Why else would he be wearing a steel plate in his glove?”
Connor nodded slowly. “Aye, ‘twould appear that way. But I’ll not be jumpin’ to conclusions anymore. I must touch his hand and get the evidence firsthand.”
He took the glove and put it back on the table. “Come, let’s go to bed and see if we can come up with a plan.”
P.J. took a shower first, and returned to the bedroom while Connor washed the grime of the hike off his body. Feeling clean once more, he slipped his briefs back on and made his way back to the bedroom. The bedroom lights were turned off and Connor had trouble seeing at first. He could tell she’d laid out the bedrolls, but couldn’t quite make out if P.J. was in them or not. Was she asleep?
He turned quietly to place his clothes on a chair and inhaled sharply.
P.J.’s perfect lithe figure, bare of all clothing, was outlined by the light of the full moon. She stood in front of the window, her face partly in shadow as she turned toward him. The dappled moonlight filtering through the trees made mysterious shadows across her body, figleafing the triangle below her belly and hiding one perfect breast from view.
Connor shamelessly drank in her beauty and perfection as she stood still for his perusal. God, she was so beautiful it hurt. His briefs became unbearably tight and he eased the waistband away from his body. P.J.’s gaze flickered downward and Connor groaned. His desire was evident—there was no sense in hiding it. “Oh, lass,” he breathed.
“I know I said I wouldn’t, but just one last time…?”
The husky timbre of her voice vibrated through him, eliciting a thrumming response. He knew what she wanted, and he had no power to refuse her.
A Little Something Extra Page 16
