She shook her head. “I swear on Prometheus’s toes, I didn’t do anything. Um, do you think we should go see if Jacoby is still breathing?”
Nicholas went back to scanning the woods around them. “Did you happen to hear anything before something bit his horse’s ass?”
“Only a whiny voice whispering that my beauty makes Venus a hag.”
His mouth twitched again as he finally slid his weapon inside his jacket—into a shoulder holster, she assumed. “The guy was comparing you to a Roman goddess? Maybe he is a buffoon.” He shrugged. “Titus must have invited him out of respect for his father, knowing Jacoby didn’t stand a chance of your picking him.”
Jane stood up in her stirrups to look past Nicholas at Jacoby’s still motionless body, then sat back down. “You intend to leave it to me to tell Jake’s father his son is dead because we were too busy discussing what happened to save his life?”
Nicholas gave a sigh and dismounted, then walked down the trail to the fallen prince. “He’s still breathing,” he said as he rolled him over. He shook his head. “But I don’t think you’re going to see his name on your dance card. His left knee is busted.” He suddenly stilled, then pulled out his gun as he rose to a crouch, his gaze going to the woods off to Jane’s right. “Dismount,” he quietly hissed without looking at her. “And lay flat on the ground.”
Jane immediately slid off her horse and lay down, putting a large tree between her and where he was looking, and stopped breathing to listen. They each held their positions for several pounding heartbeats, and then Nicholas suddenly stood up with a snort and shoved his gun back inside his jacket.
“Call your pet, Lina,” he muttered, gesturing toward the woods.
Jane rose to her knees and gasped in surprise. “Kitalanta!” she cried, jumping to her feet just as the wolf suddenly sat down a good twenty paces away, his gaze darting from her to Nicholas then back to her. “No, it’s okay. Nicholas is proud of your role in helping me escape the kidnappers. Come on, Kitty,” she petitioned, patting her knees when the wolf still didn’t move. “Nicholas, tell him what a good orca he is.”
Nicholas turned away and knelt down to Jacoby. “Kitalanta negated his good deed when he didn’t immediately come tell us where you were.”
“He’s my friend,” she snapped, rushing to the wolf. “Yes, my loyal friend,” she murmured, dropping to her knees and giving him a fierce hug. “You don’t listen to Nikki; he’s just grouchy because he has to lug Jacoby back to the resort.” Jane leaned away to clasp Kitty’s face but stilled in surprise. “What’s that you’re wearing?” she whispered. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Nicholas was occupied, then touched the braid of hair—which looked like her hair—woven into Kitty’s fur. Jane shot her gaze to the woods behind the wolf, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and dread as she gave another quick glance at Nicholas. “Did Alec put that there? Is…is he here?” she asked softly, looking around again.
Kitty leaned in and gave her a lick, then ducked his head with a grumbling whine, but Jane clasped his face again. “Listen carefully, Kitalanta; you must keep Alec away from Nova Mare. Can you do that, my friend? I’m afraid of what will happen if he’s caught trying to sneak onto the resort grounds, and Nicholas doubled the guards after Alec brought me my belongings. You have to keep him—”
“I could use some help over here.”
Jane stood up and turned to see Nicholas lifting Jacoby onto his horse. “What do you want me to do?”
“Go get his horse,” he said, nodding at Jacoby’s stallion pulling against its reins tangled around a branch down the trail.
Jane turned back to Kitalanta and nudged him with her knee. “Go on, now. Go keep an eye on Alec for me,” she said softly as the wolf took two steps then stopped and looked at her again. “And…and tell him I’m sorry,” she whispered, spinning away and running to the trail—only to glance over her shoulder to find that Kitty had vanished.
So that was how Jane and Nicholas and a groaning and hissing Jacoby ended up returning to Nova Mare later that afternoon, and Jane subsequently learned that Niall MacKeage had apparently decided picnicking with a princess didn’t hold a candle to sneaking off to Pine Creek with Duncan to meet more of his descendents.
It was also when, much to her delight, Jane realized that of her six original suitors, she was down to four and a half—if she counted that Niall was only half-interested in becoming Titus Oceanus’s son-in-law.
Aeolus’s Whisper’s private dining room was abuzz the following evening as to why the five remaining warriors had been collectively invited to eat with the Oceanuses, as well as speculation about what had really happened to cause Titus to send Prince Jacoby home that morning. Jane sipped her wine to hide her wince as she remembered seeing Jake’s ribs wrapped so tightly it was a wonder he could breathe, his right eye swollen shut, and his left leg trussed up in a crude splint that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows when he showed back up in the fifteenth century.
She’d felt bad—but only a little bad—this morning when she’d given the Prussian a kiss on his battered cheek as he’d repeatedly petitioned her father to please let him stay. And she’d felt only a little more bad when she’d heard Jake actually break into sobs as Nicholas had carried him into the woods—only to return shortly after a loud clap of thunder had pulsed through the air and shaken the ground.
“It’s just as well,” Titus had said on a heavy sigh as he’d turned and walked away. That was all; it’s just as well. Those had been the only words he’d said to Jane since coming after her in the woods five days ago. No, he hadn’t spoken to her then, either—not that she’d gone out of her way to give him a chance.
It had been while she’d been watching him walk away that Jane had heard the helicopter start up, and nearly dropped to her knees when she saw it rise into the air lifting a huge lean-to. On the one hand that meant Alec must be well enough to work, but the ache Jane had felt knowing he was so close but so far beyond her reach had nearly crushed her. She hadn’t heard Nicholas when he’d walked up behind her, and had broken into huge sobs when he’d wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Lina,” he’d murmured into her hair before turning her around and holding her face to his chest so she’d quit watching the chopper flying away. And then he’d simply let her soak his shirt, his silent understanding doing more to help her weather the storm than any words could have.
Jane took another sip of wine as she glanced around the long table taking up most of the private upstairs dining room—the restaurant being the only two-story building on the resort—and found herself feeling sincerely sorry for the five remaining men, knowing they were all going home losers.
She suddenly stilled, realizing only four warriors were present. So who had been foolish enough to ignore an imperial invitation to dine with the royal family? Niall was there, so despite being only half-interested he obviously wasn’t stupid. Sir Garth of the Round Table was there, and the Bedouin, and Aaron of Devonshire—which meant Soren the Norseman was missing.
Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen him all day. And that was unusual, since the Viking usually looked her up most mornings and tried to entice her to join him for a swim—in the freezing fiord instead of the nicely heated outdoor pool, the idiot.
She leaned toward Nicholas. “Have you seen Soren today?” she whispered.
Nicholas let his gaze travel the length of the table, his eyes stopping at the empty chair on the opposite side. “I saw him heading down the mountain just after dawn. Alone,” he said with a chuckle. He shook his head. “You would think he’d catch on and just swim in the pool with you.”
Jane leaned away, widening her eyes in mock horror. “And concede defeat to a mere woman?” She looked around the table again and sighed. “Why do you suppose Daddy put on this little feast?”
“Daddy?” Nicholas repeated, arching a brow.
Jane shrugged one bare shoulder and tugged on the front of her black strapless dress—that she’d
worn just to scandalize the ancient-minded buffoons. “Henry’s been bugging me to call Father Daddy, claiming it’s more modern and…affectionate.”
“And have you called him Daddy to his face?”
Instead of answering, she took another sip of wine.
Nicholas merely chuckled.
Jane never did find out why her daddy had called everyone together, because not five minutes after Titus had entered with Rana on his arm—causing everyone to rise to their feet—and Mac had entered with Olivia—causing everyone to rise again—all hell broke loose for the second time in two days when the Norseman came staggering into the dining room, his face a bloody mess.
And in another clap of thunder, Jane was down to three and a half suitors.
Chapter Fifteen
The mere hint of sound was enough to awaken Alec in a state of battle-readiness, although he was careful not to show any outward sign. But what really worried him was that the wolves weren’t alarmed, which led him to believe he probably wasn’t going to like his late-night visitor.
Cracking open his eyes to see the unusually tall man bathed in moonlight sitting on his food locker, Alec spread his arms out from his sides and slowly sat up. “Take your best shot, old man, because if your first blow isn’t fatal, it may well be your last.”
“I didn’t come here to kill you, MacKeage.”
“Then you’re a bigger idiot than I am.”
“My daughter wants you.”
Alec dropped his arms on a heavy sigh and pushed back to sit leaning against the rear wall of the shelter he’d set onto the site yesterday afternoon. “Look,” he said, “I was just a safe place for Jane to land for a little while.”
“Yes, safe,” Titus said gruffly, brushing at nothing on his pant leg, “and obviously quite caring.” He looked back at Alec and arched an imperial brow. “So much so that you willingly risked your life protecting her, first from the kidnappers and then from me.”
“The way I hear it, you’re hoping your man Nick will take over where I left off.”
“Nicholas will marry Carolina if I ask him to, despite his feelings for her being those of a brother to a sister.” The old wizard leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his slightly glowing eyes somber. “And if another option doesn’t present itself soon, I will have no choice but to ask him.”
Alec stiffened. “Why? What’s happening soon?”
“If Carolina’s not married and with child by her thirty-first birthday in three months, she will become fair game for my enemies.”
“What in hell do ye mean, fair game?”
“Every immortal—god and demon—will be free to pursue Carolina the day she turns thirty-one, with the sole intention of seducing her in hopes of getting her pregnant with their child.”
“Christ, who in hell is she?”
“My daughter,” Titus said quietly. “And the only real weapon my enemies have against me.” The wizard stared down at his hands. “Enemies I made when I built Atlantis,” he continued without looking up, “who will use any means at their disposal to destroy it.” He straightened, his eyes clouded with pain. “And that is why it’s imperative that Carolina marry a strong and fearless mortal who can protect her.”
“You’re a goddamned wizard,” Alec snapped. “Use the magic to protect her.”
Titus shook his head. “It’s exactly their hope I’ll expend so much energy protecting Carolina that I’ll leave Atlantis vulnerable to attack. And if Atlantis falls, they will then go after the Trees of Life, and they won’t stop until all of mankind’s knowledge and free will is destroyed.” Anger flared in his eyes. “And if that happens, the entire planet will be at the mercy of the gods again.”
Alec just stared at him. Seriously? The fate of mankind depended on protecting Jane from being—“Wait; you said they’ll be free to seduce her. Does that mean she can just say no? That an immortal won’t—or can’t—force himself on her? Well, hell,” he went on when Titus nodded. “Forewarned is forearmed; all she has to do is say no,” he repeated.
“You would think it’s that simple. But since the beginning of time, men—gods and mortals alike—have used everything from flattery to trickery to successfully seduce even the most astute and resilient woman.”
“And here I thought it was the other way around,” Alec drawled.
One side of the wizard’s mouth lifted. “It’s an affliction that runs both ways.”
“Why thirty-one?”
Titus sobered. “I was certain I would have Carolina safely wed by that age. So in return for leaving my daughter alone until her thirty-first birthday, I promised that my army of powerful drùidhs would only protect the Trees of Life instead of my focusing their energy on destroying my enemies.” His eyes took on a triumphant gleam. “Upon realizing I had the power not only to build Atlantis but to keep it hidden from them all these thousands of years, they’ve been content to wait me out.”
“They don’t actually exist.”
The wizard looked down, brushing at his knee again. “Yes, we’re only a myth.”
Alec scrubbed his face in his hands, hoping like hell he was having the mother of all nightmares. “Does Jane know any of this?”
“No one but Maximilian and Nicholas know, not even Rana.”
Alec stared at him for several heartbeats, hating to ask because he knew he wasn’t going to like the answer, but asking anyway. “Why are ye telling me, then?”
“Because I am just as desperate to see Carolina happy as I am to keep her safe.”
“I can’t make her happy.”
“You already have, Alec.”
“And I can’t keep her safe, because I can’t get her pregnant.”
“That can easily be remedied.”
“Dammit, your daughter deserves better.”
Titus was silent so long that Alec figured he was finally getting through to the old bastard. That is, until the wizard smiled sadly. “The boy whose neck you broke nine years ago; did you know that if you had hesitated but a second longer, you would have been his fifth murder?” He nodded when Alec stiffened. “His mother was his first, when he was twelve. She tried to stop him from going with his father to join the rebel fight, and the boy bludgeoned her to death with her own frying pan.”
“How do you know what happened nine years ago?”
Titus arched a brow. “Did you think I wouldn’t look into the background of my daughter’s self-appointed champion? Your partner and lover at the time, Sabrina,” he continued solemnly, “was the boy’s fourth murder. His father deliberately sent his son in his stead to meet the two of you, knowing Americans wouldn’t think one so young would pose a threat since you keep your own children sheltered into their twenties.”
“The kid was fourteen,” Alec growled. “He was barely old enough to shave.”
Titus nodded again. “But as you learned that night and subsequently during your years as the Celt, children grow up more quickly in other parts of the world, especially when fed a constant diet of hatred by fathers raised the same way.” He hesitated, tilting his head. “Do you know the difference between a murderer and his victim, Alec?”
“There is no difference, as they’re both dead, except one is still breathing.”
“The difference,” Titus said quietly, “is intent, or the predominant emotion at the moment of the fatal blow. Murderers are ruled by their hatred and walk away feeling empowered, whereas the true victims are the ones who walk away believing they’ve lost their souls.” He undid the top two buttons on his jacket and slid a hand inside. “You’ve been living with what you perceive is an unforgivable sin, Alec, but what you haven’t taken into account are the lives you saved by stopping the boy when you did,” he finished softly, his hand emerging holding a thick vellum envelope.
Damn. “I don’t want your daughter.”
Titus leaned over and set the envelope on his sleeping bag. “That’s too bad, as I believe she wants you.”
“And whatever the princess
wants, she gets?”
“You tell me,” the wizard said with a soft chuckle. He set his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet—which brought the wolves to their feet as well. “Exactly how many battles did you win during your ten days together?”
“The important one,” Alec snapped. “You got her back at full value.”
The old bastard arched a brow. “And would that make you a saint…or an idiot?”
“Wait,” Alec said when he turned away. “You mentioned Jane has to marry a mortal. Why? Wouldn’t she be safer with a husband who has command of the magic?”
Titus turned back, a strange light flaring in his eyes. “It’s a misconception that we magic-makers hold all the power, whereas it’s actually the man who understands the source of that power who is the true force to be reckoned with.”
Alec glared at him, wondering what in hell sort of answer that was.
Titus started to turn away again but hesitated. “I would ask that you not mention this evening’s conversation to anyone, including Maximilian.” He grinned. “It does my old heart good to see my son passionate about something other than building his own version of Atlantis,” he said, gesturing in the direction of Nova Mare. “And Carolina needs to know that she can rely on her brother in the future instead of running from him.” His grin turned to a glower. “Should her husband prove to be a blackguard.”
And just that quickly Titus grinned again and gestured at the wolves. “If you happened to be wondering, they’re here of their own choosing, not mine.” Up went one of those imperial brows. “It would appear that just like my intelligent daughter, Kitalanta also recognized the real man behind all that…Celtic charm.” The old bastard actually gave a slight bow. “I wish you good luck in the coming weeks, MacKeage, should you choose to follow your heart instead of your hard head. Although I do believe Maximilian will prove to be your greatest obstacle, as he’s still…What is the term you moderns use? Ah yes, he’s still too pissed off at you to see what his sister sees.”
Courting Carolina Page 19
