Spellbound Falls [5] For the Love of Magic Page 2

  As Zack headed out the door, his father stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Which is something you also need to keep in mind, son,” he said gently. “Men are staking their lives on your work.”

  “Wasn’t a day went by that Pops didn’t tell me the same thing,” Zack said, staring level into eyes the mirror image of his as he gave his father a nod. “And not only do my welds hold, they’re pretty, too,” he added with a wave over his shoulder as he strode onto the porch.

  Gene closed the door against the crisp March air and stared out the window.

  “You must be very proud of Zachary,” Rana said into the silence, “as I can’t remember ever dealing with such a well-grounded and personable young man. I often have to remind myself that he’s barely eighteen.”

  “Thank you, but I’m reserving my pride for the day Zack comes to me holding a college degree for any profession that doesn’t require scrubbing half a pound of dirt off his hands every night.” He shoved his own hands in his pockets and turned to her. “I appreciate your hiring the boy for a fair wage, and you have my personal guarantee that he’ll keep this place in tip-top shape. But,” he continued, his tone growing as direct as his gaze, “I’m going to have to insist he pay you for the use of your equipment.”

  “That really isn’t necessary, Gene.”

  “Yes, it is. I don’t want Zack getting the notion he’s entitled to anything he doesn’t earn.” His hazel eyes lit up with his grin. “And I certainly don’t want him getting in the habit of taking advantage of soft-hearted women holding checkbooks.”

  Rana arched a brow. “Have you considered that maybe I’m the one taking advantage of Zack?”

  Gene gave a soft snort and shook his head. “The boy will pay you twenty-five percent of whatever he earns in your shop using your equipment.”

  “Fifteen percent,” she countered, even as she realized negotiating against herself only confirmed her soft heart. “And I’ll make him pay for any material he uses from the stockpile.”

  “Twenty-five percent,” he said with another shake of his head. “And you promise that you won’t accidentally start forgetting to collect your share as summer wears on.”

  Rana turned to the counter and opened her checkbook. “I would have thought I learned my lesson negotiating with you last week, when you included a sailboat in the price of the house but failed to mention the sails were locked in a shed I can’t access.”

  Gene walked over to stand beside her. “You won’t get lax about collecting?”

  She looked up from signing the check and nodded. “I respect your desire to raise a self-reliant young man, and I—”

  Rana froze at the sound of a smooth but obviously powerful engine pulling in her driveway, and went to the sink to look out the window at the same time Gene headed to the door. Stifling a muttered curse, she ripped out the check and rushed over to hand it to him. “Thank you for the fair price on the equipment,” she said, opening the door to usher Gene outside—only to bump into him when he didn’t move.

  “That’s your husband, isn’t it?” he said, frowning at the tall, leather-clad man getting off the shiny red motorcycle and pulling off a matching helmet to expose a head of wavy white hair. Gene looked at her. “Titus, isn’t it?”

  She nodded, then once again bumped into him when, instead of moving, Gene Latimer folded his arms over his barrel chest and subtly widened his stance. “I’ve got no place I need to be,” he said quietly, “if you’d like me to hang around for a while.”

  Rana stilled in surprise, then gave a small laugh. “Thank you, but I assure you that isn’t necessary,” she said, finally just walking around him. Her amusement was short-lived, however, when she found herself having to brace a hand on her husband’s chest to stop his advance up her porch steps.

  Not that Titus was paying any attention to her, since he was busy glaring at Gene, who still hadn’t moved. “Behave,” she whispered tightly just as another valiant rescuer came running in her driveway, the previously clean knight now covered in rust and carrying a hammer.

  Sweet Athena, would she ever be free of overprotective males? She understood Titus’s posturing, since few husbands would be pleased to find a strange man standing in their wives’ kitchen door posturing back at them, but the Latimers shouldn’t be putting themselves in harm’s way for a woman they barely knew.

  “Gentlemen,” she said brightly when Zack halted beside the motorcycle, “I’d like you to meet my husband, Titus. Honey, this is Gene Latimer,” she said as Gene moved up beside her. “And his son, Zack,” she added, nodding behind Titus, who gave only a cursory glance over his shoulder before returning his piercing gaze to the elder Latimer. “I purchased this beautiful home from Gene, and we were just going over some final details of the sale.”

  Titus moved away from her hand still pressed to his chest by simply backing down the bottom two steps. “I will wait at the shoreline then, while you conclude your business,” he said, giving Gene a nod and Rana a slight bow before striding away with his helmet tucked under his arm.

  Rana echoed Gene’s barely perceptible sigh as her husband disappeared around the side of the house, even as she motioned for Zack to come closer. “Thank you both for your obvious concern.” She turned to Gene. “But before you worry that Zack might rush into the middle of a domestic dispute as he did just now, I can assure you that despite his size and somewhat formidable demeanor, Titus would never hurt me.” She turned to Zack as she lifted her arms and let them fall back to her sides. “And please don’t assume my lack of male physical strength means I’m helpless, or we’ll be in for a long summer if you drop what you’re doing and come running every time someone pulls in the driveway.”

  The boy looked down at the hammer in his hand, but not quickly enough to hide his scowl, then gave a silent nod and turned away.

  “Are you certain you’re not proud of him right now?” Rana asked softly, watching Zack walk out the driveway.

  “Yeah,” Gene said on another sigh. “I guess I am.”

  “You have my word that your son will be safe in my employ. Titus and I are—”

  “What the heck?” Gene yelped when his truck parked across the road suddenly roared to life before idling back to a rattling rumble. “I don’t have a remote starter,” he said as he rushed down the steps, his words trailing behind him as he broke into a run. “It must be an electrical short or something.”

  “More likely someone,” Rana muttered, aiming a glare at the motorcycle she knew for a fact had been purchased the day she’d moved into her new home. The sleek red machine appeared to be nothing more than two wheels attached to a large chrome engine, and she couldn’t help but wonder what Titus thought he was doing racing around on the twenty-first-century equivalent of a powerful stallion. He no longer was a young warrior who needed to intimidate foes or impress women; the man was older than the mountains surrounding Bottomless!

  Chapter Two

  Rana went in the house, softly closing the door behind her. “Yes, well, he better not think he can roar in here unannounced whenever the mood strikes him,” she said, walking through the living room crammed full of furniture as eccentric as its previous owner. Stopping at the door, which led onto an even larger porch facing the water, she watched the love of her life casually stroll from her shed to the beach, where he then stood with his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out at the inland sea their son had created four years ago in an epic attempt to impress the love of his life.

  Rana stepped onto the porch, wondering how many times her daughter-in-law had wanted to run away from home over the last four years. She was sure the notion had crossed Olivia’s mind a time or two, she decided with a smile as she headed down the expansive lawn studded with patches of melting snow.

  Titus turned to her, his hands still clasped behind his back and one regal white eyebrow lifting with his gaze as he looked past her at the house. “You’re living in a hovel,” he said as she approached. “And a crooked one, a
t that.”

  “Really?” She halted and turned around. “And here I thought I’d purchased a quaint seaside cottage.” She canted her head to study her new home as he moved up beside her. “And I believe its being crooked is a deliberate illusion, as I’ve recently discovered that Averill Latimer, the deceased owner of my beautiful cottage, had a diabolical streak. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was attempting to keep the taxes low, which is probably why he also never got around to painting the trim.”

  “Is that also why he installed a diabolical lock on the boathouse?” Titus walked back to the small shed tucked into the trees at the northern edge of the lawn and jiggled the clasp. “To keep out the tax collector?”

  “No, that was to keep his grandson from taking out the daysailer,” she explained, gesturing at the sailboat sitting on its side just above the low tide mark, its mast more tilted than her house, “after someone filled Bottomless with whales and sharks.”

  “Those magnificent beasts pose no threat, but are in fact protective.”

  “Tell that to the good people of Spellbound Falls and Turtleback Station when they spot a pod of orcas swimming offshore of the town beaches. What are you doing here, Titus?”

  He bent to study the intricate lock on the shed door. “A man doesn’t have the right to see where his wife prefers to live?”

  “What I prefer is that you not drop in unannounced, as it more or less defeats the purpose of my leaving in the first place.”

  He turned to her. “And what again is the purpose of your leaving—other than the misguided notion that you need a breath of fresh air?”

  She shot him a serene—albeit tight—smile. “We’re not having this conversation again, husband. If you weren’t listening the first five times, why would I think you’re interested in what I have to say this time?”

  He started toward her, his entire countenance darkening. “Because this time we’re having the conversation in front of a hovel you now live in. Do you hope to make me prove—” He halted in midstep. “By the gods, woman, you didn’t have to go to such lengths. You merely had to say you were feeling unappreciated.”

  Rana dropped her head and stared down at her size D bosom. “I suggest you go home now, Titus.”

  When he didn’t respond, she looked up to see him brushing at his jacket. “My home is wherever you are,” he said thickly.

  “Not right now it isn’t.”

  He snapped his head up. “Need I remind you that our vows were for forever?”

  “Forever being relative,” she growled right back at him, only to immediately regret her words when he paled. She took a calming breath. “I’m still your wife, Titus, now and forever.” She went to the old wooden lawn chair and picked up his helmet, then walked over and handed it to him. “We’re simply not living together at the moment.”

  “I can’t completely protect you off the mountain.”

  “I remember how to protect myself. Or have you forgotten the day we met?” she quickly added, deciding to redirect yet another conversation that was going nowhere.

  His glare only intensified. “I practically had to go down that beast’s throat to get you away from it while you were punching its nose and screaming bloody murder.”

  “I was screaming at its owner for training the beast to sneak up on tournament goers and steal their purses.” She narrowed her eyes at the sudden amusement in his. “That dog had snatched my friend’s coin bag just the day before, which is why I had lashed mine to my waist.”

  “Which is why that spawn of Cerberus was dragging you off.”

  “Every drachma I’d pinched and saved for an entire year was in that bag, and I wasn’t about to let some thieving mutt abscond with it.” She rested a hand on his broad chest, the memory of that long ago day making her smile. “But then this tall, handsome young warrior broke through the crowd of onlookers and valiantly pulled me and my coins from the jaws of the beast, then sent it running away with its tail between its legs.”

  He touched her cheek. “At which time the beautiful young maiden I had saved disappeared into the crowd,” he said gruffly, “leaving me with nothing to show for my valiant efforts but a torn shirt. I didn’t even get the requisite kiss.”

  “I was aware of the custom,” she said, staring at the zipper on his jacket in hopes he wouldn’t notice her blush, even as she wondered how he’d manage to turn the tables on her again. “I was also worldly enough to know who you were, and that a lowly blacksmith’s daughter had no business kissing a . . . man of your stature.”

  She heard his helmet thud to the ground just as he pulled her into his embrace. “It wasn’t a blacksmith’s daughter I wanted my reward from, but my future queen.” He threaded his fingers through her loose hair and tipped her head back, his chuckle completely ruining his scowl. “Even though she made me spend two full days scouring the tournament grounds to get it.”

  “Yet it took my father a mere two minutes to know you were trouble when you swaggered up to our booth and purchased all our ironware.”

  “It was the only thing I could think of to get you away from your accursed duties long enough to come watch me compete.” He touched his forehead to hers. “Such a stubborn maiden you were, Stasia,” he said softly, using her birth name that he’d imperially changed to Rana—which was Sanskrit for queen—upon marrying her.

  But then, who would dare question a divine agent of human affairs—better known in that long ago time as a theurgist—who was determined no one ever mistook his wife for a lowly blacksmith’s daughter? Certainly not his fifteen-year-old bride. And definitely not the bride’s parents, who had still been reeling from the speed of Titus’s courtship, which had ended with their only child’s vow of forever not two months after their magical son-in-law had saved her from the coin-stealing beast.

  “Come home with me,” he whispered, his breath on her cheek making her shiver all the way to her toes.

  Holy Hades, where was that hammer-carrying young knight when she needed him? Because despite her best intentions, she was sorely tempted to climb onto that powerful motorcycle, wrap her arms around her big powerful husband, and go home. That is until one of his hands slipped down to her backside—where it stilled, then softly squeezed, then stilled again—and she remembered why she’d run off in the first place.

  “Have you gain—”

  She leaned back and pressed her hand to his mouth. “I had hopes you might grow wiser with age. Go away, my love, before you say something you truly will regret.” She met his sudden glare with a threatening glare of her own. “Besides my purchasing a hovel and having gained a few pounds, not to mention my misguided need to breathe fresh air.”

  He took her hand from his mouth and tucked it between them, effectively trapping it there by tightening his embrace. “How in Hades can you use my love and go away in the same sentence?” he asked, apparently not regretting anything. His deep green eyes darkened with his complexion. “I can force you to come home.”

  “But you won’t.” She dropped her forehead to his chest. “Because you love me.”

  “Tell me how to fix this,” he whispered against her hair, making her shiver again.

  “Even your powerful magic can’t fix this, husband.” She tilted her head back. “Only time can.”

  “How much time? A week? A month?” He looked at the house. “A century?”

  She stepped free of his embrace with a soft laugh. “Longer than a month but definitely less than a century.” She turned serious. “How it passes is the true question, Titus, and the only thing you have any real control over. You can choose to spend our time apart being angry and resentful and eventually alienating everyone who loves you, or you can take this opportunity to reacquaint yourself with the small, everyday wonders of this beautiful world.”

  “Poseidon’s teeth, I’m not the one going through a midlife crisis.” He gestured at Whisper Mountain looming to the north. “I knew something like this would happen if we spent too much time here. It’s this acc
ursed century, with all its postulating about getting in touch with our true natures.” He snorted. “In my time, all a man need worry about was surviving to fight another day.”

  Rana turned to face the sea. “It was merely a suggestion,” she said, shrugging to disguise the fact that her shoulders were shaking with laughter. Sweet Athena, the man was clueless. “Because personally, I intend to spend this time cutting and welding metal into what I hope will be beautiful works of art like that one,” she said, gesturing at the large metal statue of a whale breaching just above the low tide mark. She turned back to face Titus and smiled at his obvious shock. “Do you have any idea how often I’ve wondered who I would be today if my life had taken a different path?”

  “You would be thousands of years dead,” he snapped.

  “Would I have died happy, do you think?”

  The breeze blowing off the water ruffled his crown of wavy white hair as he bent to pick up his helmet, forcing her to lean forward to hear when he muttered, “You likely would have died in a crooked hovel giving birth to some toothless bastard’s child.”

  Rana straightened with a gasp. “Well, fine,” she said as she spun away. “Angry and resentful it will be, then.”

  He gave a deep-bellied laugh and caught her before she’d taken two steps. “Ah, little one, but you love firing my blood.” He suddenly sobered, his eyes searching hers for several heartbeats before he looked toward Bottomless and blew out a heavy sigh. “At least you had the good sense to live within reach of the sea creatures.”

  “Contrary to popular belief, I haven’t taken leave of all my senses.”

  “Am I permitted to call on you?” He held up his hand. “If I phone first?”