Titus clasped his wife’s hand when she gasped, even as he paled to the roots of his regal white hair. “Are you saying the third kidnapper is Aaron of Devonshire? The Crusader I brought here?”
Alec nodded and opened his other hand to dangle a third, larger medallion from his fingers. “That’s why she was blindfolded and he didn’t speak around her, so she wouldn’t recognize him when he rescued her. From what I overheard tonight, the kidnapping was just a ruse, and the real plan was to keep your daughter until after all your fearless warriors arrived at Nova Mare. Aaron intended to feign surprise when you were forced to admit Carolina was missing, and then vow he wouldn’t rest until he brought her back to you.” He shrugged. “But she escaped and then went missing, so he had to call on his magical partner in crime to help him come up with a new plan.”
“But why kidnap her,” Rana asked, “when he was invited to court her?”
Alec chose his words carefully, not wanting to reveal any of his first late-night conversation with Titus. “I’m afraid Aaron was as much a victim as Carolina, it turns out. From what I garnered, he was led to believe he’d end up the hero with your daughter as the prize,” he quietly explained, sliding his gaze to Titus, “when in truth he was merely a means to put Carolina in harm’s way in order to distract you long enough for your enemies to attack Atlantis. But I believe Aaron began to suspect he wasn’t going to have a wedding night, which is likely what led to tonight’s meeting with his magical benefactor.” Alec gently swung the third identical but larger medallion he’d taken from the Crusader’s broken neck. “Where I can only speculate who this symbol represents, I’m assuming you will recognize who gave Aaron the power to kidnap your daughter,” he said, handing the medallion to Titus.
The wizard had barely taken it when he stiffened on an indrawn breath.
“Who is it?” Rana asked, taking the medallion away from him and also sucking in a surprised breath. “Ares,” she whispered, snapping her gaze to Alec. “The god of war is here? You actually saw him? Here, at Nova Mare?”
“Aye,” Alec said with a nod, “only not on resort grounds because they’re too well guarded, which is why Aaron had to hike several miles away. Or rather, maybe I saw this Ares…fellow,” he said, giving a shrug. “I could only make out the shadowed outline of something talking to Aaron up by the high-mountain pond, and I couldn’t tell if it was man or beast.” He looked at Titus. “All I could see were pinprick eyes lit with fire, and I felt the air pulsing with what smelled like…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I swear I smelled fear, only it appeared to be coming from Ares, not Devonshire.”
“You smelled Ares and Aphrodite’s son, Deimus,” Titus said, his voice thick with barely controlled anger, “who is the manifestation of fear.”
“But they’re myths, which means they don’t exist,” Alec growled. He gestured toward the bed. “And for that matter, neither should you.”
Titus stared at him for several pounding heartbeats, his voice turning gentle when he finally spoke. “We exist, Alec, because mankind imagined all of us—gods and demons alike—into existence. It matters not if we’re Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Norse, Native American, Celtic, Chinese, Mayan…” He shrugged. “The deities became as numerous and varied as the peoples who populate the world, when every culture since the beginning of time sought to answer the primal question of purpose. And once a myth took root in the collective human psyche, we became as real as the people who created us.” He smiled sadly. “We are, in fact, an exaggerated reflection of humanity’s greatest good and vilest evil.” He took the large medallion from Rana and tossed it onto the blanket beside the others. “So you see, it’s by no means a stretch of the imagination that a god is pursuing a mythical princess, any more than humans—individuals and entire nations—continually try to force their wills on one another.”
“It will take a very brave man to love our daughter,” Rana said softly. “As well as one who’s wise enough to understand that fear itself is only a myth.”
Alec saw Titus cover her hand and give it a squeeze. “Were you able to learn what Aaron is now planning?” Titus asked, his voice growing enraged again. But then he suddenly threw back the covers to get out of bed. “Never mind; I will have the pleasure of asking the bastard myself.”
Alec held up his hand to stop him, even while fighting to conceal his shock that the king of the drùidhs was wearing bright red pajama bottoms. “He’s dead.”
Titus reared back in surprise, his eyes locking on Alec for several heartbeats before he dropped his gaze and mutely nodded.
Alec stood up and set the chair back beside the bureau. “Ye needn’t bother worrying about damage control, as there’s no evidence that Aaron of Devonshire was ever here.” He gestured toward the medallions that had fallen to the floor. “As for Deimus…” Alec gave a slight bow before turning toward the door. “I doubt you’ll be hearing from him for a while, as apparently Ares’s son has a fear of bees.”
“MacKeage,” Titus said thickly, making him turn back. “Thank you.”
“It would appear your field of suitors is now down to two—not counting your man Nick—with only two days to go.” Alec slashed the scowling wizard and his smiling wife a grin. “Would ye happen to know if Carolina favors one of them over the other?”
“My daughter—”
“Our daughter knows her heart,” Rana said, cutting Titus off. “And we both will support her decision.” She in turn shot Alec a very Carolina smile. “Although I’m afraid Maximilian is still doing his damndest to make up her mind for her.”
“Wife!” Titus snapped.
Alec gave Rana a nod, not at all shocked by her directness considering whose mother she was. “I’m sure your daughter is resourceful enough to eventually get her brother to see things her way.”
“Wait,” Rana said as he turned to the door. “I also wish to thank you, Alec. Not only for saving Carolina’s life more than once, it appears, but for telling me personally about Aaron’s treachery,” she said, her smile disappearing as she jabbed her elbow into her husband’s side—which turned whatever Titus had growled at her into a grunt.
Alec merely gave her a slight bow, turning away just as he heard more muttering and another grunt, only to be stopped when Rana called to him again. “Aye?” he said, fighting a grin when he realized Titus was one second away from tackling his wife with a pillow to shut her up.
“I’m just curious as to how you got in here tonight,” she said, arching an imperial brow. “When I mentioned my worry about the…unfortunate accidents and strange occurrences happening here at the resort and on the riding paths over the last few weeks, just today both Nicholas and Maximilian assured me that even a mouse couldn’t enter Nova Mare without their knowing it.”
“Then I guess they should turn their efforts to securing the resort against acorns and bees and mere mortals instead of mice.”
“And bears?” Rana added, the lamplight reflecting off her sparkling eyes.
“Aye, and bears,” Alec said with a chuckle, stepping into the hall and pulling the door closed on a muffled feminine shriek.
Alec went down the short hall to the kitchen, slipped out through the window and closed it behind him, then shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked toward the small cabin sitting up on a wooded knoll, Kit silently appearing from the shadows to fall into step beside him. He stopped just short of being seen by the guards sitting leaning up against all four corners of the cabin, and broke into a grin when he heard the lulling sounds of a nighttime forest coming from the open window of Carolina’s bedroom.
Aye, four down and only two to go—not counting brotherly Nick.
Chapter Twenty
Alec knocked on the door of the end apartment, then stepped inside the moment it opened, forcing Nicholas to step back with a muttered curse. “Ye help me take care of the mess your illustrious knight made of me, and I’ll tell ye how I’ve been getting onto the grounds.”
“Now what in hell did you
do?”
“The man bled like a stuck pig from only a minor flesh wound.” Alec tossed the tuxedo jacket he’d been holding in front of him onto the table, causing Nicholas to stiffen when he saw the blood on Alec’s shirt. “I thought Titus gave instructions that Carolina’s suitors were to come unarmed,” Alec continued, pulling his shirttails out of his pants. “And what idiot puts an unsheathed dagger in his cummerbund, anyway, if he’s a goddamn bleeder?” Alec tore off his shirt without unbuttoning it. “I couldn’t take Garth’s shirt because it’s bloodier than mine, and it was the only one he had that wasn’t covered in lace. Would ye have one I can borrow?” he asked, gesturing at the dress shirt Nicholas was wearing—under his safely holstered weapon. “Or what about the other suitors; Niall told me someone came up and measured all the men for modern formal wear. The Viking was close to my size, wasn’t he?”
“Where is Sir Garth now?” Nicholas asked, not going after that spare shirt, Alec couldn’t help but notice.
“He’s having a nap in his room. I managed to get the bleeding stopped, and since the ropes wouldn’t let him move much, he apparently decided he’d rather sleep than go to the ball.”
“And Niall?”
Alec grinned, using the bloody shirt to gesture toward the southwest. “Last I saw of my ancestor when I dropped him off at Matt and Winter Gregor’s house this morning, Niall was sitting in their hot tub, nursing a beer and playing with the whirlpool jets.”
Nicholas didn’t even so much as blink. “You do realize you still have one more suitor to eliminate, don’t you?”
Alec shrugged. “His heart won’t be in the fight, so I actually see that ending well. Mac, however,” he said, dropping his ruined shirt on the floor and walking to the kitchen sink, “might be a problem.” He turned on the tap, grabbed the towel off the oven door, and held it under the running water. “Do ye think Titus will be able to control him?” he asked as he wrung out the towel and turned to Nicholas. “Or am I going to have to fight the bastard in order to dance with his sister?”
“I think you might want to take along an extra shirt.”
Alec winced and started wiping the splatters of blood off his pants, hoping that what he couldn’t get off would blend in with the black fiber and not be noticeable.
“How have you been getting onto the resort without being seen?”
“Through the tunnels,” he said, twisting to check the side of one pant leg and wiping another spot. He stopped in midwipe, pulled the small plastic bag full of blond hair out of his hind pocket, and shot Nicholas another grin as he tossed it to him. “Ye can give that to the two guards from the other night and the one I tied up, so they can claim the pot of money you put up for my scalp.” He shrugged again. “I only went after them to make ye think that’s how I was coming and going.”
“What tunnels?” Nicholas asked, tossing the bag on the counter.
Alec went back to cleaning his pants. “I suppose it’s hard to secure an area if no one bothers to mention there’s a labyrinth of tunnels right under your feet.” He looked up and grinned again. “And they’re not man-made. Mac followed Carolina’s blueprints exactly, conveniently cutting a couple of tunnels up from the fiord to run pipes to feed the saltwater swimming pools. Then there’s a mess of them running all over the top of the mountain between the hotels and cottages and outbuildings to feed heat pipes and power lines to the entire resort. Most are large enough for a man to walk upright,” he said with a shrug, “I assume to service the utilities as well as hide the mechanics.” He grinned again and shook his head. “I suggest someone put a lock on the grate down at the fiord, though, to prevent all manner of vermin from getting in here.”
Nicholas snorted and headed down the short hall off the living area. “I’ll be sure to put that in my résumé when I apply for the job of director of security.”
Near as Jane could tell, the entire indigenous population of Spellbound Falls and Turtleback Station, as well as seasonal camp owners, tourists lucky enough to be visiting the area this weekend, any number of curious Mainers willing to make the trek to the wilderness, and a small contingency of local and national news media, had been climbing off shuttle buses that had been carrying them up Whisper Mountain since noon. As they stepped off the buses, almost to a man, woman, and child, they would stand staring out at the Bottomless Sea more than two thousand feet below, then slowly turn in a circle trying to take in the breadth and scope of Nova Mare.
By nine that evening, it was standing room only in the pool pavilion, the small conference center, one of the hotel segments and two of the cottages opened for display, and even the barn, as it appeared no one was in any hurry to leave. Although that probably had something to do with the unusually warm October night, as well as the picnic tables, camp chairs, and blankets that had been liberally distributed around the festively lit common green, along with tables laden with all manner of food and drink. Stronger libations were being handed out at stations strategically placed in the various venues, tended by servers Jane thought looked a lot like the crew from her parents’ home away from home, which happened to be the huge submarine hidden in a massive cave at the end of the fiord—not very far, actually, from Alec’s secret grotto.
Olivia was looking a bit overwhelmed, Jane decided as she handed her mother a second glass of wine then took a sip of her fourth glass; but then, this was her sister-in-law’s first time planning anything with Rana Oceanus—who happened to know a thing or two about throwing a party.
“I see you managed to cajole Johann into making an appearance,” Jane said to her mother, using her wineglass to gesture at Vienna’s nineteenth-century version of a rock star, dressed in his signature white lace shirt as he stood watching the quartet playing the very appropriate Wein, Weib und Gesang.
Rana arched a delicate brow into her wispy brown curls artfully arranged around her understated tiara—which was only slightly more jeweled than the smaller princess tiara Jane was wearing tucked in her dark curls cascading past her shoulders. “And just when have you known Strauss to turn down a chance to hear his compositions being played by Atlantean musicians?” Rana asked. She shook her head, her smile smug. “Or ignore a request from me to do so?”
Jane smoothed down her floor-length dress that also matched her mother’s except for being forest green instead of cobalt blue—both of their left arms fully sleeved and right arms and shoulders exposed—and looked around the room again. The private and more intimate ball taking place in the banquet pavilion was slightly less crowded but no less festive thanks to both the musicians and the open bar set up in the corner. Mackie was sitting holding princess hugs-a-lot, trying to keep her from crawling across the table to reach his friends from Midnight Bay: Kenzie and Eve Gregor and their toddler son, William and Madeline Killkenny and their toddler son trying to crawl to Ella, and Trace Huntsman and his recent bride, Fiona, and their twin infant girl and boy.
William’s sister, Gabriella, and Rick Lane—who was also Maddy’s brother—had their arms twined around each other out on the dance floor, moving in only a semblance of rhythm to Wine, Women, and Song. Not that Rick appeared to care that Johann Strauss was a nineteenth-century rock star, since he only seemed interested in the ninth-century young lady in his arms. Henry, however, seemed rather perturbed that Olivia wasn’t intimately familiar with one of Strauss’s more popular waltzes, as well as rather determined to teach his step-mum the art of proper dancing.
Standing next to the bar, looking as uncomfortable in tuxedos as they were to be the only locals attending the private ball, the suitors Jane’s mother had personally invited kept giving Jane shy smiles—one of the men actually giving her a wink right after finishing off his second tankard of mead.
Rana leaned closer when she noticed where Jane was looking. “I really didn’t think they’d actually come,” she whispered. “But apparently mentioning I was worried you wouldn’t have anyone to dance with was enough incentive to bring them en masse.”
�
��He…I don’t think he’s coming, Mama,” Jane said, knowing her mother knew who she was talking about.
Rana reached out and clasped Jane’s free hand and gave it a squeeze. “He’ll be here.” She laughed softly. “He’s probably trying to figure out how to tie his tie.”
“Oh God, he probably doesn’t even own a tie, and he’s not coming because he doesn’t have anything to wear.”
Rana gave Jane’s hand another squeeze. “Alec didn’t exactly strike me as a man who would let the lack of proper clothing stop him from going after something he wants.” Her eyes twinkled in the chandelier light. “He’s of highlander descent, so I wouldn’t put it past him to show up naked if he thought it would further his cause.”
“Where do you suppose Sir Garth and Niall are?” Jane asked, fighting a blush at the thought of Alec’s naked body as she looked around the ballroom. She gave a soft snort. “I can understand Niall dragging his feet, but when I saw Sir Garth this morning, he had such a triumphant gleam in his eyes that I was sure he’d be the first one here.”
“Maybe he’s not feeling quite so confident after seeing your father’s other guests arriving this afternoon,” Rana said, nodding at the table where Titus was sitting with several modern-dressed men and women, who were hanging on his every word.
Titus had invited some close acquaintances—most of them royalty—from various eras dating back as far as prebiblical times, not only to show off his son’s magically epic wonder, but to also encourage them to start going to Maximilian when they needed a theurgist to work out whatever problem they were having.
Her father sure wouldn’t ask them to come see her, Jane thought, covering up her snort by taking another drink of wine. Because what would a mere woman know about repairing some natural disaster, discovering why animals or crops were suddenly dying, or stopping some stupid, senseless war?
Courting Carolina Page 25
