Charmed by His Love

by Janet Chapman

  Chris reared back, giving her hair another painful yank. “What in hell are you doing?” he growled, the last of the sun’s rays catching the surprise in his eyes.

  Peg smiled. “I’m really thirsty, Chris.” She shrugged one shoulder. “And if you don’t seem to care about my family curse, then why should I?”

  “What curse?” he hissed, shoving her away.

  Peg fell back, but then held up her bound hands. “Untie me and I’ll tell you why I didn’t dare go out with you after Billy died. Or didn’t you notice I haven’t gone out with anyone since I became a widow? I wasn’t rejecting you, Chris; I was saving your life.”

  “What? How?”

  She lifted her hands again. “Untie me and I’ll tell you about my curse. Because if I don’t,” she continued when he hesitated, “then you can’t blame me if something happens to you.”

  Peg gritted her teeth when he jerked the knots on the rope trying to loosen them, his fingers becoming slick with her blood. “What in Jesus are you talking about?” he snarled, backing away when he had them loosened enough that Peg could finish the job herself. “What curse? What’s going to happen?”

  Peg slowly flexed her fingers, refusing to cry out at the pain shooting through her hands with the renewed circulation, and took a slow, fortifying breath. “You know my mom and aunt are widows, right? Well, my father died when I was five, and my stepdad died within a few years of Mom marrying him. It was the same with my aunt Bea; she lost both of her husbands in freak accidents just like I lost Billy.”

  Chris scurried back even more. “You’re all black widows or something?”

  Peg nodded, stretching her throbbing legs out in front of her. “Yeah, it appears all the women in my family for the last five generations have been deadly to men. Our first husbands never make it past the age of thirty, and if we remarry or if any man even has sex with us,” she added for extra insurance, “the curse kills them off.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You just married MacKeage.” He snorted. “You hoping he’ll last long enough to change his will and leave you a rich widow?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not worried about Duncan dying, because he has the power to break my family curse.”

  “How?”

  “By the magic I was talking about. Remember I said there’s something around here that’s powerful enough to move mountains? Well, Duncan’s tapped into it.”

  Chris snorted again. “You’re fucking crazy.”

  But Peg could see his doubt. “Yeah, crazy enough to believe what I see with my own eyes,” she said, looking directly into his. She suddenly had a thought. “I know you and Aaron tried to burn the building supplies at our house site across the fiord. So what stopped you right in the middle of setting that lumber on fire?”

  Peg saw his doubt turn to outright fear, and he suddenly stood up to move even farther away. “We don’t know what the hell happened,” he said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck as he stared down at her. “Aaron swears something tapped him hard on the shoulder, but when he turned around nothing was there. And he swears to God when he started running that something tripped him—three times—as he made his way across the building site to me.”

  Peg gave a soft snort. “I don’t think it was God; more like a pissed-off mountain. So what put out the fire you started?”

  Chris took another step back, shaking his head. “I swear to—A deluge of water came out of nowhere and nearly drowned me when it landed on the lumber.”

  Peg widened her eyes with appropriate horror. “Oh, Chris,” she whispered. “Forget my stupid curse; I’d be more worried about Duncan’s magic if I were you.”

  “What!” Sweat broke out on his forehead as he suddenly looked around, his widened gaze stopping on their back trail before dropping to her.

  Peg nodded, coiling onto her side on the ground when she felt herself getting dizzy, disguising her moan by snorting again. “Sometimes Duncan scares the hell out of me, too. But like you said, he is rich. So if his magic can’t break my family curse, then I guess I’ll be widowed again, only not so poor this time.”

  Chris stepped closer to stare down at her, then pulled a metal canteen bottle out of the pack he’d had stashed in the woods not far from where he’d hidden the boat. He squatted down again and held it out to her. “You’re looking pale. But don’t drink too much or you’ll puke. We still got a couple of miles to go to reach my campsite.”

  “You sure you wouldn’t be better off just leaving me here?” she asked, slowly pushing herself into a sitting position to take the water from him. “You’d make better time getting to Canada.” It took some doing to get the cover off the bottle because her hands were shaking and more than useless, but she finally took a long, blessedly wet drink. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, then canted her head at Chris. “I’m pretty sure Duncan’s magic gets weaker the farther away you get from his mountain.”

  “There ain’t no such thing as magic,” he growled—apparently trying to bluster away his fear. “And MacKeage wasn’t even around here when the earthquake hit.” He snorted and stood up, then reached down and grabbed her life vest and pulled her to her feet. But then he had to hold her when she swayed toward him. “Jesus, don’t touch me!” he yelped, stepping away.

  “You’re touching me!” she snapped, jerking free, only to have to grab a tree to keep from falling. “Just leave me here. I’ll find my own way back. Run, Chris; run as fast and as far as you can.”

  He eyed her with indecision for several heartbeats, then suddenly bent to snatch up the rope before he grabbed her vest and pulled her away from the tree. “Oh, I’m running all right, but not without insurance,” he snarled, wrapping the rope around her neck. He slapped her hand away when Peg tried to stop him from tying it into a slipknot. “Take one more drink,” he said, lifting her arm holding the canteen.

  Peg took another long drink and handed the canteen to him, looking him directly in the eyes. “You made your first mistake when you boarded my boat,” she said with utter calm, “your second mistake when you hit me, and your third when you left Peter and Jacob in the middle of the fiord. But trying to take me to Canada with you is as good as signing your own death warrant, Chris. Doubt me or the magic or whatever you want, but I’m actually trying to save your life.”

  He turned away with a snort and started walking—although he didn’t jerk the rope this time. “Just shut the hell up and make sure to keep up with me if you don’t want your neck looking like your wrists.”

  Peg stumbled after him with a stifled curse, having to grab trees to keep from falling, as her legs felt like rubber and she was so dizzy that she could barely see straight. Dammit, she’d nearly had him convinced to leave her behind.

  And where in hell was Duncan, anyway? He’d promised to keep her safe once he got hold of the magic, so where in hell was the relentless man?

  Duncan stood in the darkness of the night with his back against a large pine tree, undecided if he wanted to kiss Peg for her genius or shake her until she apologized for scaring ten years off his life by pushing Dubois nearly past the point of reason. Didn’t she realize the bastard could have simply killed her to be rid of the stone she’d become around his neck? Hell, according to what his mountain had told him, even Aaron Jenkins had realized his partner in crime was losing his grip on reality and had run off to Canada over a week ago—right after their botched attack on Duncan’s house site.

  And Peg was wrong; Dubois’s first mistake had been spray-painting her van, his second burning her house, his third trying to run them off the road. And the bastard had signed his death warrant the moment he’d boarded her boat. As for striking Peg and leaving the twins alone in the middle of the fiord … well, that had guaranteed his death would be slow and painful. Duncan was so goddamned angry, he wasn’t going to need his mountain’s help, either.

  He was about a hundred yards up the trail ahead of them, but he’d mastered the magic enough that he might as well be wa
lking beside them, he was so attuned to Peg. Her every thought, every emotion, every twinge of pain she felt was like he was inside her skin.

  Christ, she was brave. And scary smart. And so goddamned contrary she hadn’t heard one thing he’d been trying to convey to her because she’d been too focused on rattling Dubois. Hell, he could openly hear her now as they approached, still pushing the man to the edge of reason even as Duncan felt she was on the verge of collapsing.

  “Did you know Livy Baldwin’s new husband is an honest to God wizard?” he heard her ask as they drew nearer. “Mac’s the one who caused the earthquake. He’s also the boss of all the drùidhs who guard all the Trees of Life. One of those Trees is growing right here in Maine, someplace around Pine Creek, I think.” She snorted. “Gee, Chris, maybe you should cut it down so you could buy a new truck and drive to Canada.”

  “Shut up!” Dubois shouted just as they passed Duncan, the bastard jerking the rope around Peg’s neck—making her cry out as she stumbled.

  To hell with just shaking her, Duncan decided; he was putting the reckless woman over his knee. After, that is, he kissed every scratch and bruise on her body.

  He silently drew his sword and stepped into the trail, creeping up behind Peg to cover her mouth with his hand as he sliced the rope with his blade—only to have her go boneless in his arms with a silent sigh of relief. He lowered her to the ground and continued on, snatching up the dangling rope and giving it a hard jerk.

  Dubois turned with a snarl, but stopped in midstep when the tip of Duncan’s sword pressed into his chest. “Fuck,” the man hissed, going perfectly still.

  Duncan lifted the bastard’s chin with the tip of his sword. “For the record,” he said quietly, “your very first mistake was getting aggressive with Peg two and a half years ago.” He lowered the tip to Dubois’s windpipe just above his collarbone. “Your last and ultimately fatal mistake, however, was not walking away just now when my wife was sincerely trying to save your life.”

  “Um, Duncan?” Peg rasped from the darkness behind him. “I really wish you wouldn’t do anything when you’re this angry, because I really don’t think I can deal with more magic than we can handle right now.”

  “You heard everything I was conveying to you?” he growled without taking his eyes off of Dubois. “And yet ye still continued to goad the bastard?”

  “I … I liked your idea of turning him into a dung beetle, even if it was just a fleeting thought. But I don’t think you should turn him into anything Leviathan could eat, because that might give the poor whale belly cramps or something.”

  Christ, she was going to be the death of him—or else his salvation. Not knowing if he wanted to laugh or roar, Duncan dropped the tip of his sword to the ground between his feet and crossed his wrists over the hilt with a sigh, watching Dubois slowly raise his hand to his throat. “Then what do you suggest I do with him?”

  “I … I don’t care, just as long as you don’t offend Providence.”

  “Ye like the wilderness, do you, Dubois?” Duncan asked as he watched the wide-eyed man inching backward.

  “Y-yes.”

  “Then enjoy the rest of your life, you stupid bastard,” Duncan growled as he finally released the magic.

  The light of a thousand suns shattered the air with a thunderous boom, the powerful percussion shaking the ground in echoing rumbles. Commanding the whorls of vibrant colors to gather in a howling tempest of tightly focused energy, Duncan smiled in satisfaction when Dubois simply vanished, the man’s scream of terror fading into the nighttime sky with the retreating vortex. The light dissipated as suddenly as it appeared but for the few sparkles he commanded to illuminate the immediate area, and the forest fell silent but for the whispered litany of “ohmigods” coming from behind him.

  Duncan slid his sword into its sheath as he turned and walked to Peg, shedding his backpack to kneel on the ground beside her. Christ, he almost wished he hadn’t kept any of the light when he saw the bruises and scratches on her face. He drew in a shuddering breath at the sight of her raw and bleeding wrists when she raised her hand to cover her swollen eye as if she were embarrassed.

  “Aw hell, Peg,” he whispered thickly, carefully lifting her into his arms. He turned to sit leaning against a tree and set her on his thighs to cradle her against him. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to bend time enough to stop this from ever happening.”

  “P-please tell me Peter and Jacob are okay.”

  “They’re better than okay,” he said as he slowly unbuckled her life vest. “Your sons are brave, strong young men, lass.” He sat her upright just enough to carefully slide the vest off her shoulders, hesitating when he heard her soft hiss of pain, then finally got it off and tossed it away. “They managed to get the motor started,” he continued conversationally as he unbuttoned her blouse, “right after Leviathan helped them get Hero into the boat. Then the whale steered them toward home despite their determination to go after you themselves.”

  He slipped off her blouse, being extra careful as he pulled the sleeves over her bloody wrists, his gut knotting when he heard her try to stifle another hiss. “All your little heathens are safe at home with your mom and aunt,” he quietly continued as he tossed the blouse into the woods. He raised a hand to the back clasp on her bra, only to break into a sweat when he saw the angry bruise covering a good portion of her right shoulder. “You’ll be back with them by sunrise, I promise.”

  “I don’t want them to see me like this,” she whispered, holding the unfastened bra against her breasts.

  “They won’t, lass. I’ll have ye right as rain before we leave here. But I’m going to need your cooperation, wife, to let me heal you.”

  She lifted her head to finally look at him. “H-how?”

  He smiled. “By kissing away your boo-boos,” he said, partly to piss her off but mostly because he was serious about touching every inch of her trembling body.

  She looked down at her lap, but not before he saw a slight scowl tug at one corner of her swollen mouth, and Duncan took his first full breath since he’d heard Peter and Jacob shouting from the boat out on the fiord.

  “Where … where’s Chris?” she asked, glancing at where he’d been standing.

  “Right here, actually, only four hundred years in the past.”

  She looked up, this time with a hint of a smile as she pressed a trembling hand to his cheek and sighed. “You can be a real bastard like that sometimes,” she said, dropping her hand and snuggling against him with another sigh. “Okay, husband, you may start kissing away.”

  Epilogue

  Peg stood at the end of the Inglenook road, undecided who was going to burst into tears first, her or Duncan or Mac. Well okay, the men might not actually cry, but they definitely weren’t looking all that big and strong and unkillable at the moment. But having barely survived this ordeal twice already and knowing this time would be even worse, Peg had all her pockets stuffed with tissues.

  Hell, even Hero knew something was afoot.

  Olivia seemed to be the only one who didn’t look as if she were attending a funeral, instead appearing eager to have the whole matter over with so she could get to the Drunken Moose for some cinnamon buns. Yeah, well, the woman would be wearing a different expression six years from now. But then, Peg thought with a sigh, she’d be wearing the same expression herself for the fourth time.

  She really, really needed to have a little talk with Providence, because she really didn’t think she could go through this a fifth or sixth time.

  “Mom,” Jacob whispered, tugging on Peg’s sleeve. He held up his other hand to her. “Maybe you should keep this in your pocket today, ’cause you look like you need it more than me.”

  Peg dropped down to one knee and closed Jacob’s fingers over the small, smooth stone Duncan had given him last night when he’d tucked the boys into bed, which was identical to the one he’d handed Peter. “Thanks, sweetie, but I think you better take it with you. And if you get even a li
ttle bit scared today, you reach in your pocket and close your fist around your very own piece of home.” She pulled the straps of his backpack together to press them against his chest and smiled. “Remember Duncan said that rock is filled with very powerful magic because it came from deep inside our mountain, and that all you have to do is close your eyes and picture swimming in the warm water pool when you’re holding it, and you’ll start feeling right as rain in no time.”

  “But don’t forget to take it out of your pocket first,” Duncan said thickly, having also dropped to one knee. He brushed a hand—that Peg noticed was shaking slightly—over Jacob’s hair. “You’re going to be fine,” he murmured, even as Peg wondered if he was trying to reassure the boy or himself.

  She saw her husband suddenly stiffen then quickly stand up, his gaze shooting down the main road. He scooped Peter up in one arm, then reached down and helped her stand before he scooped Jacob up in his other arm. Mac was also holding Henry, Peg noticed just as she heard the rumble of the school bus climbing the long grade that crested a quarter of a mile down the road.

  “Quick, everyone,” Olivia said, pulling a camera out of her pocket. “All of you stand together and I’ll get the bus in the picture with you when it stops.”

  Everyone dutifully moved to the opposite side of the Inglenook road as directed. Peg pulled Charlotte and Isabel in front of her as she tucked herself up against Duncan’s chest between the twins. Sophie held Mac’s hand as he held Henry in his other arm, and Hero trotted over and sat down in front of everyone—only facing the main road instead of the lens.

  “Wait. You need to be in the picture, too,” Peg said. “Trip the timer and set the camera on the hood of your truck.”

  Olivia snapped one quick shot, then rushed around the front fender of Mac’s SUV. She set the camera on the hood, then leaned down to align it, pushed a button, and ran over to tuck herself behind her daughter against Mac’s side. “Smile, everyone,” she said just as the school bus ground to a halt on the main road, sending a billowing cloud of dust toward them.