THE RISK OF LOVE AND MAGIC

by Patricia Rice

  “I’m cutting back. Pigeons will do,” Magnus said gravely. “Is the studio unlocked?”

  Nadine took a deep breath of relief realizing he wasn’t abandoning her just yet.

  They had a wedding to survive before she went about picking up the pieces of her life to see what was left.

  Thirty-two

  Assured that Mikala was safe and nothing would go boom anytime soon, Nadine followed Magnus down the desert path to Pippa’s studio. It rose like a giant white mushroom out of the sand and cactus on the hill below the guest cottage.

  “It’s a privilege and an honor to be allowed inside Pippa’s safe place,” Magnus informed her as he punched in the key code. “This is where she comes when she wants to scream. Either Oz is feeding her tranquilizers, or he’s good for her.”

  “I’m thinking the latter,” Nadine said absently, entering the windowless high space. All sound from outside disappeared when he shut the door. “Sound studio?”

  “Recording studio, not that she records for the public anymore.” He unerringly located the refrigerator amidst all the high-tech equipment lining the walls.

  Nadine grabbed an apple from a table and hunted for anything resembling a shower. She found a rack of clothes first. “Costumes?” She fingered the colorful, light fabrics in wonder.

  Unwrapping a cheese sandwich, Magnus came over to examine the array. “Pippa said wardrobes. That’s my tux.” He separated out a black coat. “Dinner suit.” He pulled aside a blue coat, a few shirts and ties, then studied the vibrant selection remaining. “The rest is for you. Pippa had fun.”

  “Where?” Nadine asked in wonder, pulling out a floor-length, apricot-colored sheath wrapped in wisps of shimmering overskirt. “Cirque de Soleil?”

  “Oz is a producer. Fashion designers jump when he snaps his fingers. She’ll send back anything you don’t like. The one you’re holding is pretty.”

  “It’s the most beautiful, extravagant gown I’ve ever seen,” Nadine corrected. “And I’ll look like a sausage in it.”

  “Go shower. You can try it on later,” he advised. “I don’t think Pippa will ruin her production by costuming her players in anything unflattering.”

  “Maybe.” Nadine wrinkled her nose. “But I’m not in the wedding party, so she has no reason to dress me.”

  “You’ll understand when you get to know her better. Trust me.”

  “Will I ever have your certainty about people?” she asked wistfully, hanging up the gown again. “Computers never had ulterior motives. People do.”

  “So, read their minds. I want that shower when you’re done. Hurry it up.” He returned to the refrigerator to frown at the drink selection. So much for hearts and flowers.

  She didn’t hit him for his cluelessness. He was keeping his hands off her, doing nothing to encourage her to leap back in his arms again. That didn’t feel right, but she’d be damned if she tried to read his mind.

  She grabbed her bag with her meager belongings and retired to the luxurious shower.

  After drying her curls and donning the long nightshirt retrieved from her bags, Nadine emerged from the shower room feeling as if she might survive.

  Magnus was punching buttons on Pippa’s sophisticated equipment, playing and rejecting various recordings. Wordlessly, he grabbed his bag and entered the room she’d just left, shutting the door behind him.

  Confused by his cool behavior and trying not to show it, Nadine stared at the refrigerator’s contents without seeing them. Finally grabbing the milk and a bag of prepared salad mix, she sat down at the bistro table and studied the Murphy bed on the far wall. Someone had pulled it out and made it up with an avalanche of inviting pillows.

  She tried to imagine having sex with anyone except Magnus on that bed and couldn’t. She might be a nerd with her head buried in computers, but she was female. She noticed men. Magnus had been the only man to crank her hormones. Without him, she would just have to be a spinster, thank you very much.

  Without Magnus, she would be a lonely pathetic geek who never danced again. Where else would she find a man who would understand that she occasionally went catatonic and wouldn’t die of it?

  Where else would she find a man who wouldn’t think she was crazy? She loved him for that, if nothing else.

  But there were so very many reasons to love a man like Magnus—

  And who was she to think she could have him? That he would want her?

  Crap.

  She cleaned up her salad and climbed into bed. She needed sleep or she really would be catatonic.

  She listened to the shower stop and her heart pounded with expectation. Maybe she should get up and brush her teeth.

  He was turning her into a gawky, self-conscious thirteen-year-old again.

  She was better than that. Magnus had given every indication that he wanted her. He had shown appreciation of her mind and her ability. Either she’d been an easily fooled idiot—or something else was happening here.

  She might still be a wuss but she was not helpless. Librarians found answers.

  ***

  Politely wearing clean boxers and a t-shirt, Magnus left the shower room, hoping Nadine had gone to sleep. He didn’t know how he would survive the next twenty-four hours, much less the days that followed when she went off to start a life without him.

  She wasn’t asleep, and his pulse escalated as he studied her warily. She occupied the center of the small bed like an angry elf, fuming, if her scowl was any indication. He picked up one of the pillows she’d discarded off the side of the bed. “I can sleep on the floor.”

  “Why?” she demanded, flinging a pillow at him. It hit him squarely in the head. “Have I worn out my usefulness? Is your next project rescuing some poor lonely nerd in Outer Mongolia? What the hell is wrong with you, Maximus Grandus?”

  She kneeled and swung another pillow at him.

  He caught the corner and yanked it from her hands. He couldn’t help noticing that her cotton shirt clung to every unfettered curve. A cold shower hadn’t cooled his engines. Combat sure the hell wouldn’t either.

  “I’m not a womanizer.” He growled at the insult and flung the pillow across the room.

  She bombarded him with small fluffy round pillows that he couldn’t snatch from her grip. It was like being hit by marshmallows. Magnus located a bigger pillow and swatted her arm to halt her. She grabbed the other end and yanked.

  “Then why?” she yelled senselessly, trying to extract the pillow from his grip in a futile tug-of-war. “Why sleep on the floor?”

  “So you can get some rest?” he suggested, although even he was doubting his logic. He released the pillow and let her swat him with it.

  She complied, swinging and hitting him upside the head. “Dolt! Idiot! You think you can just turn me on and off like a faucet?”

  This was starting to sound a little too uncomfortably like a Diane argument. He almost walked away. Almost. But the image of Nadine bravely stunning a guard, racing from an institution with foil on her head, and unerringly finding his car reminded him forcefully that Nadine might act crazy, but only with purpose. Nadine had the brains and courage of a dozen Dianes.

  She was trying to tell him something, if he could just learn to translate woman-speak.

  He bent to gather all the marshmallow pillows. “I’d be an idiot if I wanted to turn you off. Is that what you think of me—that I’m as blind as the general? Then you’re not as smart as you think you are.” He flung the whole load at her, burying her up to her curvy hips.

  Before she could retaliate, Magnus shoved her back against the pillows and sprawled on top of her, taking down her ammunition as well as her throwing arm. She felt like heaven, and he was having a damned hard time thinking straight. “Quit wiggling or I’ll do what comes naturally and forget talking.”

  She quit wiggling and glared at him with suspicion. “Talking doesn’t come naturally?”

  “Not when I have you under me like this.” He yanked her shirt up over her
hips and cupped her bare ass, pulling her against his erection. “I’ve been damned well trying to turn me off, not you. I wanted to give you space. You’ve had a whole lot happen in a little bit of time and you need time to process.”

  “I don’t need to process this.” She grabbed his ears and dragged his head down to hers.

  With a gasp of relief, Magnus quit thinking and shifted to action mode. He smothered her mouth with kisses. She returned to wriggling. Her shirt came off. So did his boxers. She kissed the place on his neck that shot him into overdrive. He teased her nipples until she dug her fingers into his arms and arched into him.

  All the tension of the last twenty-four hours burst free. Magnus shoved her legs apart and nailed her in a single stroke. Nadine twisted her hips and nearly blew off the top of his head. They rocked together, both struggling for domination until nature took over. She groaned, threw back her head, and surrendered. Her climax wrung him dry at the speed of rocket propulsion.

  “Only you,” he muttered, rolling over and dragging her on top of him.

  “Exactly,” she murmured in what sounded like satisfaction. “Remember that.”

  ***

  The apricot gown fit perfectly. Nadine swung around in front of the full-length mirror and admired the way the gauzy panels added allure and concealed the excess pounds. There might possibly be less excess after this past stressful week. She couldn’t be sure.

  “I like that color on you,” Magnus said, leaning over her shoulder to look in the mirror and straighten his tie. “It will look even better when you get rid of the brown dye.” He wrapped one of her curls around his finger and kissed her.

  “Ummm.” She licked the sweetness of his lips. “Fortifying yourself with mangoes before dinner?”

  “Pippa stocked the place with raw everything except steak. This rehearsal better not last long.” He straightened and backed off so she could apply lipstick. “We still need to talk.”

  Reassured that he still wanted her, Nadine attempted to mimic his lifted-eyebrow look. “I believe I recall how the last discussion ended. Is talk a euphemism for sex?”

  “Don’t get cocky, woman. I’m having second and third thoughts. Are you ready? We’re already late.”

  “Then stop thinking,” she ordered. “I created a monster when I told you to think instead of act.”

  He opened the door for her, and they hurried into the chilly evening. Nadine clung to Max’s arm so the tiny heeled sandals she wore didn’t send her sprawling into the gravel.

  “Maybe that’s it. I should just heave you over my shoulder and haul you off to my cave,” he countered, walking slowly so she wouldn’t stumble.

  “You don’t have a cave. Ponder that for a while. Is the rehearsal being held in the pool?”

  Nadine studied the myriad twinkle lights ahead with delight. Wrapped around palm tree trunks, dangling from plumeria, decorating hibiscus, they turned the heated pool garden into fairy land.

  “Probably rehearsal for the wedding reception,” Magnus said. “The whole town is invited tomorrow.”

  “Vera said Jack is bringing her up with more of his family. What about your family? Are there more than your brothers?”

  “East coast contingent is staying at Oz’s place in L.A. They’ll be up tomorrow, too. Tonight should be just an intimate evening with the first hundred or two of Dorrie’s family,” he said dryly.

  Seeing Francesca and several others with Dorrie’s distinctive Asian features waiting on the terrace, Nadine giggled. “They’re a fascinating family. I want to meet all of them, but I’ll never remember their names.”

  “Frankie the psychic, Bo the navigator, Jack the bodybuilder . . . The bride’s father is a big chap using a cane. Call him Irish Ryan Franklin.”

  She kissed his cheek. “Try introducing them that way and see what happens.”

  Her first night of freedom, without fear of the general or his expectations breathing down her neck. Nadine wanted to embrace it all, but she was on sensory overload. Too many people made her nervous. The brilliantly artistic décor kept her open-mouthed in wonder.

  The stunningly handsome man at her side, wearing a deep blue suit and tie, held her awestruck. Magnus kept a possessive hand at her back while he shook hands and introduced her and her tongue froze. She needed to get her thinking cap back on. This crowd blocked her brain worse than wearing aluminum foil.

  She had almost decided to pull out her phone and text Vera just so she could get words out when Pippa took her elbow and steered her away from Magnus.

  “Dorrie’s niece Alexis is bouncing off walls. I thought Mikala might calm her down, but Mikala is equally excited. She wants to talk to you. If you’ll take Mikala in hand, I’ll take Alexis. Then I hope you’ll help me direct the crowd to the pergola so we can at least pretend to rehearse the ceremony. I knew that gown was perfect for you.”

  Her chatter carried them up the mansion’s stairs and didn’t require that Nadine do more than relax and admire her surroundings.

  More quietly understated than the beach home she and Magnus had stayed in, the Oswin home featured light natural wood accents, warm southwestern colors, and windows that captured starlight. Despite its size, it felt like a home and not a showplace.

  “Alexis is almost the same age as Mikala, so they’re sharing a room.” Pippa tapped lightly on a door. “Coming in!”

  Dressed in long, flowered gowns, the girls guiltily dropped back to their trampled beds, but Mikala brightened at seeing Nadine. “I talked to Mama!”

  “Did you now? And what did she say?” Relieved that her tongue was still operational, Nadine sat on the low twin bed beside Mikala.

  “She said she has to find me another school.” The child didn’t seem happy about that. “She’s going to England soon.”

  “Mikala’s parents are in the diplomatic corps,” Pippa explained. “Mikala apparently doesn’t adapt well to strange places.”

  The child read minds, for pity’s sake. She lived in a world of utter cacophony. Nadine bit her tongue, hard, then produced a smile for the child’s sake. “Well, maybe we can find someone better to run your school. Did you like the teachers?”

  “Some of them,” Mikala said with a pout. “Some were real mean. I don’t like oatmeal or the stupid tests.”

  “Oatmeal is good for you. What stupid tests?” Nadine asked, her mind suddenly whirling so fast that she feared it would come off its rims and blow out her ears.

  “Looking at blank papers and telling teachers what number is behind them. Or color. That’s just dumb. Can’t I stay here?”

  “You need a school where you can learn. Mrs. Oswin doesn’t run a school. Why was the test dumb? Was it too easy?” Nadine didn’t open her mind to let the child see what she was thinking, not until she was more sure of herself.

  “They were looking right at the numbers!” Mikala cried, as if that made sense.

  It did to Nadine. “So you saw the numbers in their heads?” Mikala nodded, pleased that she’d understood.

  “Yeah,” Nadine agreed, “that was way too easy. I’ll find harder tests for you. We need to go down to the party, but we can talk again tomorrow.”

  They sent the little girls racing down the stairs ahead of them. Nadine was silent as she walked beside Pippa.

  “We don’t have teachers who can really help these kids,” Pippa said when they reached the bottom. “Their parents need to be more understanding.”

  “If their parents are in any small way psychic or empathic, they may be more valuable in the diplomatic corps than as teachers,” Nadine pointed out. “I’ve studied our genealogy, read the general’s library. Hundreds of years ago, families stayed at home and helped each other. The world was a smaller place. We can’t do that anymore.”

  “Maybe, we could each take a little time to visit the school?” Pippa asked tentatively, before a guest called to her from the kitchen, and she had to hurry away.

  “Maybe,” Nadine whispered to herself.

  T
hirty-three

  Magnus stood under the bougainvillea-draped pergola with his brothers, watching the women emerge from the guest bungalow garden. The rehearsal might reduce the bride’s wedding anxiety, but Conan was tensely jiggling coins in his pocket and shifting from foot to foot.

  At Dorrie’s arrival, the groom focused on his bride to the detriment of all else, but at least he finally stood still.

  Oz continued giving clipped orders into his ear phone.

  Restless, Magnus searched the guests for Nadine.

  A cell phone emitted a discreet alarm. Dragged from his focus on his bride, Conan scowled. He rummaged in his pocket for the culprit, glanced at the screen, and handed it to Magnus. He returned to watching Dorrie give instructions to her flower girl niece.

  Magnus didn’t recognize the number on the screen but answered anyway.

  “Oswin? This is Deputy Black with the sheriff’s department. Do you know where we can find Miss Nadine Malcolm?”

  That didn’t sound promising. His stomach clenched while his gaze traveled across the crowd, hunting for a splash of apricot. “This is Magnus Oswin. I can give a message to Nadine.” The man had called Conan, so presumably he knew the players here.

  Deputy Black cleared his throat, stalling. A low voice in the background apparently spurred him on. “We have some bad news for Miss Malcolm. Perhaps it would be best if you can tell us where to find her.”

  “In El Padre, with all the rest of us, at a wedding party. Is this news that can wait until after the wedding tomorrow?” Magnus hadn’t worked in war zones without recognizing the hesitation and the reason, so he prompted the speaker. “If it’s about the general, you’d best tell me now so I can judge the best time.”

  “Joseph Adams died in the hospital an hour ago, after ingesting an unknown substance,” Black replied. “The medical examiner has been called.”

  “Friggin’ son of a bitch bastard . . .” Magnus searched his vast vocabulary of curse words but couldn’t find appropriate ones to express emotions running the gamut from fury to regret. The damned general had found one final way to make Nadine suffer. “Suicide,” he concluded. “Have you notified his sons?”