by Erica Ridley
Kissed by Magic
Magic & Mayhem #1
Erica Ridley
Contents
Kissed by Magic
Also by Erica Ridley
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Thank You For Reading
Must Love Magic
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2014, 2019 Erica Ridley
A previous edition was published as Let It Snow.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
Kissed by Magic
Adventurer Lance Desmond needs to produce a fortune before his arch-rival collects the bounty on his head. He risks an ancient curse to retrieve treasure hidden within icebound Castle Cavanaugh, only to become trapped inside. Not with the gold he so desperately needs, but with medieval Princess Marigold who's been cooling her heels since... well, medieval times.
* * *
The lonely princess refuses to acknowledge the blossoming attraction between them. Not just because she deserves a better future than a penniless rogue. But because at midnight, he'll vanish like all her other would-be heroes. And the evergreen in the parlor will have one more figurine hanging from its boughs...
Enjoy this Outlander-meets-Frozen romantic comedy!
“Erica Ridley’s romps are swoon-worthy romance with heartwarming laugh-out loud moments. I devour every one! When I want to feel good, I read Erica Ridley.”
—Darcy Burke, USA Today bestselling author
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Also by Erica Ridley
Magic & Mayhem:
Kissed by Magic
Must Love Magic
Smitten by Magic
* * *
Gothic Love Stories:
Too Wicked to Kiss
Too Sinful to Deny
Too Tempting to Resist
Too Wanton to Wed
* * *
Rogues to Riches:
Lord of Chance
Lord of Pleasure
Lord of Night
Lord of Temptation
Lord of Secrets
Lord of Vice
* * *
Dukes of War:
The Viscount's Tempting Minx
The Earl’s Defiant Wallflower
The Captain’s Bluestocking Mistress
The Major’s Faux Fiancée
The Brigadier’s Runaway Bride
The Pirate's Tempting Stowaway
The Duke's Accidental Wife
* * *
The 12 Dukes of Christmas:
Once Upon a Duke
Kiss of a Duke
Wish Upon a Duke
Never Say Duke
Dukes, Actually
The Duke’s Bride
The Duke’s Embrace
The Duke’s Desire
Dawn With a Duke
One Night With a Duke
Ten Days With a Duke
Forever Your Duke
Chapter 1
Five decades from now
After the return of magic
* * *
After another long spell of swashbuckling and bounty hunting, soldier-for-hire Lance Desmond could barely wait to hang up his sword. The twenty-four-hour Pawn & Potion tucked between a pair of towering steel-and-glass skyscrapers might look like a dingy hovel of ill repute—and it was—but it was home. The first floor catered to all walks of life, but the second floor belonged to Lance.
It was three o’clock in the morning. A week before Christmas. And if the gods were with him, maybe he could sleep straight through to the new year. He jerked to a stop a few feet before the front door.
The gods, it seemed, were not with him.
There, next to the magically fluorescent OPEN sign, was a glossy, three-foot-high broadsheet bearing Lance’s own likeness. The initial rush of pleasure upon finding himself immortalized in full color was greatly tempered by the boldface type just above his face:
* * *
WANTED
Dead or Alive
* * *
The fine print across the bottom was little better: “Ten thousand silver drachma to the first person to bring Lance Desmond’s head to Ivan Radko. Attached body optional. Void if paid in full: one hundred thousand drachma.”
“Radko.” Lance ripped the poster from the dirty wall. “That asshole ruins everything.”
He shouldered his way into the Pawn & Potion. This late at night, barely a dozen customers roamed the well-stocked aisles.
Sancho—shop owner and Lance’s best friend since childhood—glanced up from straightening a pile of magic carpets. Delight spread across his face. “You’re back! Please tell me you have your rent money. Also, I’ve been researching churches with the best choirs, and I think this year we should do midnight mass over at—”
“No rent.” Lance held the crinkled poster up. “But I did get an early Christmas present.”
Sancho’s face fell. “Dead or alive. Great. What are you going to do? There’s no way you can come up with a hundred thousand drachma before someone decides to collect the bounty on your head.”
Lance cleared his throat. “Thing is, I did have a hundred thousand. That’s what Radko’s so honked off about. It all started when the new rajah hired him to find a handful of diamonds that had fallen from a plane over Mount Everest.”
Sancho closed his eyes as if in pain. “And you found them first.”
“Of course.” Lance lifted a shoulder. “It’s not my fault Radko didn’t realize the diamonds were gone and kept on looking.”
Sancho sighed. Then, his eyes flew open. “Wait. Then where’s the money?”
Lance averted his gaze guiltily. “I bought a pirate ship.”
Sancho’s face went bright red. “You spent a hundred thousand drachma on a pirate ship?”
“Two hundred and seventy-five thousand,” Lance corrected. “A proper Spanish galleon. It’s on layaway.”
“Sell it back! You can use that money to get the bounty off your head and still have enough left over for a down payment on a different ship.”
“Can’t. No returns. And no ship until the balance is paid off.” Lance knelt to straighten the fallen carpets. “Besides, I earned that money fair and square.”
Sancho’s humorless laugh filled the room. “Since when has Ivan cared about being fair? Let’s cut to the chase. There’s a price on your head that you can’t afford to buy off, and you’re hanging around the one place even the worst bounty hunter will think to check.” He took a deep breath. “I think you should run.”
Lance drummed his fingers on the hilt of his sword. Run? How could he? Lance had never run from anything in his life.
On the other hand, he couldn’t disagree with the central notion that s
omething had to be done, and fast. Those who crossed Radko had a history of losing their heads. Lance very much valued staying alive. But how?
There wasn’t enough time to get another commission. Or raise a defensive army. He needed magical intervention. He needed a Christmas miracle. He needed—
“Castle Cavanaugh,” he said slowly, the words as tentative as the idea.
“Castle—what?” Sancho spluttered in disbelief. “The mythical Golden Bloom of Eternal Youth? You can’t go after that! Are you insane?”
“Undoubtedly, but what’s that got to do with anything? That flower is legendary. My cut would be millions. Billions, maybe. Enough to buy us both pirate ships, pay off your mortgage, and still have plenty left over for ale. It’s the perfect plan.”
“It’s suicide! No one who’s ever attempted to infiltrate Castle Cavanaugh has made it back alive, much less with the Golden Bloom of Eternal Youth. It can’t be done.”
“If someone else had already made it back with the Bloom, there’d be nothing for me to go find,” Lance pointed out. “That’s what makes it such a good plan.”
“It’s a terrible plan. A death plan!”
“Since when did you get so excitable?” Lance toyed with the poster. “It’s just a flower. Easy peasy. I’ll be back in a week or two.”
Sancho snatched the poster from Lance’s hands. “A fabled golden bloom, hidden deep within a castle so cursed, no living creature has returned from its property line in six hundred years. That’s no big deal?”
“‘Problems are just challenges in work clothes,’” Lance recited firmly.
“You’re the one who’s challenged,” Sancho scoffed. “How are you going to breach an unbreachable castle? You going to rely upon your magicless sword? Or maybe your precious smartphone? Is there a ‘breach unbreachable castle’ app I don’t know about?”
“Take some calming breaths and find your center. Everything’s under control.”
Sancho rolled up the poster and glared.
“Fortuitously, we happen to be standing in a shop called the Pawn and Potion.” Gesturing around the small room, Lance flashed his most charming smile. “I don’t suppose you can extend a wee bit more credit?”
Steam all but rolled out of Sancho’s ears, but in the end, he nodded defeatedly. “Just tell me what you need.”
“Something to breach an unbreachable castle, of course. Dynamite, perhaps?”
Sancho tapped the scroll against his chin. “Fresh out of dynamite. How about… a spellbook?”
Lance sighed. Sancho had spent the past decade trying to get his customers to purchase spellbooks. But once the most popular spells had been digitized and put online, witches and warlocks started carrying e-readers instead of heavy, mildewed tomes. Sancho hadn’t moved a single ink-and-paper book in over a year, despite having relegated the entire lot to a bargain bin labeled FREE, right by the front register.
Nonetheless, Lance nodded his acceptance of the gift. His self-styled ninja suit—modeled after the iconic Batsuit in spirit, not in looks—contained enough hidden compartments to easily tote a dozen spellbooks, if that was what he wanted. (It wasn’t.) He’d make room for a thin volume on his back where he kept a quiver of arrows, but he wanted the bulk of any extra weight to be more practical items. Like maybe nunchucks. Or grenade launchers.
“I need firepower,” he said decisively. “Got any weapons of mass destruction on sale?”
Sancho looked unconvinced. “Isn’t the castle cursed with impenetrable cold, in which no human can survive? What would you need to use firepower on? Abominable snowmen?”
“Don’t be stingy. What’ve you got?”
Sancho hesitated, then turned his back on the late-night shoppers. He motioned for Lance to follow. “Come back to my office. I’ll show you what just came in.”
A thrill raced through Lance’s blood. Partly because Sancho was frequently the first to know about the most cutting-edge advances in magical technology, but if he was honest—and Lance was always honest—mostly it was because Sancho was right.
A price on Lance’s head meant that coming home was the worst destination he could’ve chosen. Bounty hunters would be crawling all over the Pawn & Potion at any moment.
He would love to stay and fight, but there wasn’t time to waste on swordplay. He had to save his neck. And his new boat.
Sancho shoved his office door closed and beckoned Lance over to the wall safe he kept unimaginatively hidden behind a motel-grade watercolor.
Lance shook his head. The paintings on his walls were of much higher quality. His art didn’t hide wall safes full of valuables. They were his valuables.
With a flourish, Sancho flung open the safe door and pulled out three ten-inch cylinders with a single tiny button on one side. “Check these babies out!”
Lance picked one of the cylinders up doubtfully. Gray plastic wand. Ribbed grip, black accents, red button. “It’s a… knockoff lightsaber?”
With a roll of his eyes, Sancho reached out to take it back. “No, man, it’s—”
Lance depressed the button.
With a loud pop and a bright flash, a perfectly spherical three-foot hole appeared in the wall before them.
Acrid smoke laced the air as tiny orange embers floated from the burned circumference toward the floor. With a hiss, ice-cold water sprayed in jets from the ceiling as the automatic fire alarm clanged into action. On the other side of the gaping hole, customers streamed toward the exit, ducking to avoid the water spraying overhead.
“No way,” Lance breathed, cradling the cheap plastic with renewed respect. “I’ll take them!”
Sancho looked torn between tossing Lance through the hole he’d just made and clapping his hands with delight over the epicness of the destruction.
Delight won out. It was clear from the chortles of wild laughter that Sancho hadn’t yet tested the merchandise for himself, and found the results to be undeniably awesome. But then he snatched the lightsaber from Lance’s fingers, and tossed it in the garbage.
Lance smacked his hand. “Why are you always throwing the best stuff away?”
Sancho pushed his wet fauxhawk out of his eyes, then disabled the fire alarm from a control panel. “Fire swords are single-use. So now it’s useless.”
“Not useless. Give it to the broom-maker’s kids. I promise they’ll love it.” Lance picked up the other two fire swords and hooked them on to his utility belt, mindful not to press the buttons. “Order about a thousand of these. Maybe do a Facebook ad. You’ll be rich.”
“I wish.” Sancho rifled through a bookcase, then tossed Lance a medium-sized pouch. “Take this, too.”
Lance loosened the drawstring and peeked inside. “A blanket? What are you, my mother?”
“Heat resistant. Clinically proven to provide full protection against fire-breathing dragons.”
“Doubt there’ll be much fire. I’m more likely to run into a pack of yetis. The castle is cursed with impenetrable layers of ice, remember?”
Sancho shrugged. “Then use it to keep warm. Pseudo-microfiber. Stain-resistant and useful for quickly wicking away water.”
“Quickly wicking away—is this really dragon-proof?” Lance asked suspiciously. “Or is this another of your late-night infomercial purchases?”
“Oh, here’s that spellbook,” Sancho said, without answering the question. He tossed Lance a leather-bound volume before taking a slow glance around the shop. “Can you think of anything else?”
“Snacks?” Lance suggested hopefully. He always carried a decent supply of high protein power bars, but sometimes a man wanted to eat something with little-to-no nutritional value.
After a few seconds of rummaging, Sancho managed to come up with a Snickers bar and a fistful of Slim Jim beef jerky. Fair enough.
“Thanks.” Lance glanced around the now-soggy magic shop. If Radko found him here, the madman would level the place. Sancho would be lost if his shop got demolished. Lance absolutely had to find the treasure. Fo
r both their sakes. “I guess that’s it. Thanks for… thanks for the store credit, man.”
Sancho blinked hard, as if he’d heard the words Lance had truly meant, rather than the ones he’d actually spoken.
“One last thing,” the big man said gruffly, reaching up behind his thick neck to untie his cherished necklace. He held it out to Lance. “Never take this off.”
“But… the shop!” he stammered, his heart pounding.
“You’re saving the shop and buying both of us pirate ships, remember?” Sancho crossed his arms. “Just don’t bind yourself to something stupid, like a glass of ale.”
Lance stared at the string of human bone fragments coiled in his palm. “Is there a magic word or anything? A ritual to make it stick?”
Sancho shook his head. “The necklace simply binds its owner to whatever they love most. That thing can’t be taken from you as long as you wear the necklace.”
Lance tied the ends behind his neck. Every ward helped, but no quantity of talismans guaranteed success. Although his reputation for being mercenary and invincible was well-earned, he wasn’t foolish enough to believe Fate wouldn’t someday catch up with him.
His resolve hardened. Never getting his coveted pirate ship out of layaway was one thing, but leaving Sancho in dire straits was another, and it was wholly unacceptable.
“If I don’t make it back…”
Sancho recoiled, horrified. “You have to make it back. You’ve never failed at anything!”