* * *
Julia woke up to find herself being carried into the house—through the magically one-way door—and up the stairs without Nicholas even bothering to stop and take off his boots. She looked over his shoulder to see the cats sprawled on the hearth soaking up what was left of the dying fire, barely lifting their heads when Solomon walked over still carrying his mangled prize in his mouth. He jumped up beside them and used the hat as a pillow.
Still not saying anything even though he obviously knew she was awake, Nicholas set Julia on her feet beside his oversize bed and silently started undressing her. Only he didn’t stop with her coat and boots, but took off her fleece and pants and socks in between shedding his own clothes until they were both completely naked.
Still not quite sure of his mood, Julia still didn’t dare say anything as he ran his gaze over her, his bright sky-blue eyes seeming to glow in the muted light shining down the hall from the blazing floodlights in the peak of the house.
He reached out and palmed her cheeks to tilt her head back, then kissed her.
Julia sighed into his mouth, slipping her arms around his wonderfully healed ribs as she started to melt into him, only to feel one of his arms move around her shoulder as he tucked her head in the crook of his arm to continue kissing her and his other hand slipped behind her knees to lift her off her feet. He laid her on the bed, following her down without breaking the kiss, and settled himself intimately over her.
His mouth left hers to move across her cheeks, his hands roaming over her body as he appeared to be giving her a tactile inspection to confirm his eye’s assessment she was okay. And so Julia started doing the same, reveling in the feel of his wonderfully strong, hard muscles shuddering beneath her fingers.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he quietly growled, his lips capturing her earlobe.
“I’ll—”
He reared up just enough to glare down at her.
“I will try really, really hard not to,” she said, pulling his mouth down to within an inch of hers. “I love it when you try flexing your muscle at me. It makes me . . . hot.”
He touched his forehead to hers. “It’s supposed to make you behave.”
“Like that’s ever going to happen,” she said on a laugh—which ended abruptly when he flexed several really interesting muscles and gently slid inside her, and the madwoman who’d patiently been waiting an entire friggin’ month for him to come home suddenly . . . exploded.
She had a wonderful time, too, now that she didn’t have to worry about anything other than enjoying herself. Well, and making sure he was enjoying himself. But not ten minutes into her one long lovemaking orgasm, he rolled onto his back so that she was sitting straddling him.
“Come for me, Julia.”
She suddenly stilled, certain she must have misheard him—only to realize she hadn’t when he reached for her hand. “But . . . but you said I didn’t have to,” she cried hoarsely, pulling her hand free. “That you weren’t even going to try.”
The directness of his gaze made her stop breathing as he took hold of her hand again and moved it down between them. “Come for me.” He began working her fingers through her slickness. “Let me feel your pleasure.”
Julia closed her eyes to escape the intensity in his, only to shudder again when he arched his hips as he continued to . . . assist her. “I’m sorry,” he softly drawled, “am I scaring you?”
Julia snapped open her eyes to his provocative grin, realizing she’d said those exact words to him the first time they’d had wild passionate sex on the floor of the event planner’s cottage. The muscle-flexing atavist; he was calling her bluff.
She shrugged his hand off hers, then closed her eyes again on his chuckle and continued what he’d started. He clasped her hips in his big strong hands to anchor her down over him as she felt the tension slowly build inside her. The heat of his hard body, hearing his labored breathing as he strained to hold himself still, the very idea that he would be the first man to see her lose it completely; it all grew so overwhelming that Julia suddenly, gloriously crested, the power of her orgasm tearing a sob from her throat as Nicholas joined her passionate explosion with his own shout of pure masculine pleasure, the salacious tremors going on and on for what seemed like forever.
She finally collapsed, utterly and completely boneless, against his heaving chest. “Ohmigod. Ohmigod,” she got out between ragged pants. “Oh . . . my . . . God.”
He brushed the hair off her face and kissed her forehead, then slid a hand down her trembling body to weakly pat her bottom as he gave an even weaker chuckle. “I think you might have just loosened some of those rods holding the house to the ledge,” he thickly rasped as he also gulped in air. He kissed her again, leaving his lips against her forehead. “Thank you, Julia, for sharing that with me.”
She gave his shoulder an equally weak pat. “You . . . um, you don’t mind I had to . . . that I . . . helped?”
He shrugged, shrugging her with him. “I’ll admit to being a goal-oriented man, but I’ve never worried much about how something should happen.” He gently lifted her off him and spooned her into the heat of his body as he splayed a hand across her belly. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever get to make love to you in a bed. All we’re lacking to fulfill my fantasy are the cats.”
Julia snorted. “We’re going to need a bigger bed.”
He rested his head to nuzzle her shoulder with a sigh. “So tell me,” he continued. “If you fell in love with me the night I kissed you at the event planner’s cottage, why did you continue to fight my pursuit?”
Julia smiled at the opposite wall, wondering if Nicholas even realized he was a chatty-after-sex lover. “I fell in like with you that night.”
“But this morning—no, yesterday morning—you told me that’s when—”
“I told you that was the beginning of our forever,” she said, cutting him off. “I didn’t fall in love with you until later.”
“When, later?” he asked, a bit of an edge creeping into his voice.
“When I read the journals you deliberately left for me to find and realized that I had to save all the poor unsuspecting women in Spellbound Falls by taking you off the market.” She turned inside his embrace to cup his jaw. “Because,” she whispered, “true atavists are rare even out here in the middle of nowhere, and I really wouldn’t wish you on my worst enemy.” She patted his scowling cheek, beaming him a big bright smile as she gave a shrug. “So I figured your chances of finding a lovely lady willing to love you even after learning why you don’t have a last name are even rarer.” She snorted. “And finding one who’s willing to live with six cats would be nearly impossible. So,” she said, rolling onto her back with a sigh, “I guess that means you’re lucky I’m not easily intimidated, or you’d be rattling around alone in this beautiful house for at least a couple of more . . . centuries.”
“Or instead of being lucky,” he whispered, rolling to settle intimately between her legs, then gathering her hands and pinning them to the bed, “maybe I’m merely better at storming castles than you are at defending them.”
She suddenly sobered when she felt the evidence of what was nothing short of a magical recovery pressing against her as she recognized the look in his . . . yes, those were definitely Nordic blue eyes. “Nicholas, is . . . is Odin your father?”
“I’ll tell you in about eight or nine years,” he murmured against her mouth as he slipped inside her again. “The day you give me my sixth son.”
Epilogue
Julia sat on the bench in the gazebo in the early March sun and furiously filled the pages of her beautiful calendar book with notes to herself, because she really didn’t want to screw up the most important event of her four-month career—especially after just telling Olivia she was permanently accepting the position of Nova Mare’s director of special events.
That is, if she survived the Oceanus wedding, since this was her first major event without her unflappable mentor holding h
er hand because, as the mother of the bride, Rana had to be holding her daughter’s hand.
And already mother and daughter and father were at odds as to the wording on the wedding invitations—which should have been sent out over a week ago. Daughter wanted Jane; Father was insisting on Carolina; and Mother was suggesting they go with Carolina/Jane.
At this point, Julia was tempted to get the bride alone and suggest she elope.
“What about leaving the reception in a hot air balloon?” Olivia asked, sitting down on the bench beside Julia. “I don’t believe we’ve done that before.”
Thank heavens Peg spoke up, since Julia was too busy gaping to say anything.
“Alec will never go for it,” Peg said, sitting down beside Olivia. “Not with Jane being almost nine months pregnant by then. I say we stick with the horse and have them ride off into the sunset.”
“But that’s been done so many times now that it’s becoming clichéd,” Jane said, sitting down on Julia’s other side. “The irony being that Alec and I are the original wilderness hikers.” She glanced over at Julia’s calendar book, then tapped the top of one of the pages. “Don’t forget that Trace Huntsman in Midnight Bay has agreed to provide the lobsters. Oh, and I’ve decided to have Gabriella Killkenny play solo instead of getting a singer. She’s really quite a talented violinist.”
Feeling dumb for forgetting that Trace was a lobsterman, Julia crossed out the note to have Aeolus’s chef order the lobster and started furiously writing again.
“Well, this is certainly a sight,” Rana suddenly piped up, standing in the middle of the gazebo smiling at them. “Four beautiful women glowing with the promise of new life,” she continued as she pulled a camera out of her pocket. “I believe this calls for a picture. Tighten together,” she said, waving one hand. “Peg, give me a smile.”
“We just learned we’re having twins,” Peg growled. “And they couldn’t find even one penis on the sonogram. I’m having two friggin’ girls.”
Julia stared down at her calendar book to hide her smile. Peg talked the big talk, but Julia knew her friend was over-the-moon excited. Peg just didn’t want Duncan to know she was, because the guy was already strutting around with his chest puffed out like a big strong proud stud.
“Come on, ladies,” Rana said with a sigh as she held up the camera. “Smile.”
“I’m having all the wells checked,” Olivia grumbled. “Does anyone know if there’s such a thing as naturally occurring fertility minerals that might be in the water? Because I have no idea how I got pregnant.”
Peg snorted. “Need I remind you that you share a bed with a friggin’ wizard? You think some silly little IUD is gonna stop his boys from reaching your girls?”
“Ladies,” Rana sputtered. “Behave. Those scowls are ruining your beautiful glow.” She lifted the camera again and clicked the shutter without warning, then set up for another picture. “On the count of three—smile!”
She took several more pictures, even making them smooth down their jerseys and place their hands on their bellies—although Olivia was only two months along, and Julia was just barely starting to show. Peg, however, already looked as if she’d swallowed a small basketball, and Carolina was . . . well, she had a very elegant, regal-looking baby bump sitting on top of those really long legs.
Rana walked to the opposite side of the gazebo, propped the camera up on the rail, pushed a button, then rushed over and squeezed in between Julia and Olivia, throwing her arms behind them to encompass all four women. “Say cheese, ladies.”
They all gave varying degrees of smiles, holding them until they thought they heard the shutter snap, then Rana dropped her arms to her lap with a sigh. “I’ve been thinking it might be a good idea to invite Nicholas’s mom, Maude, to come midwife for us. What do you think, Olivia?” she asked, looking at her daughter-in-law. “Would you have a position on your staff for a royal gardener if the White-Clouds were to move to Spellbound Falls?”
“Oh, I’d love to have Mathew working his own special magic at Nova Mare. Your palace grounds are absolutely gorgeous.”
Which Julia knew personally, since Nicholas had kept his promise of taking her to Atlantis. And yeah, she wouldn’t mind having her in-laws around, since they absolutely adored her for loving their big strong scary son.
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Jane piped up. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to broach the subject with Maude about coming for an extended visit near my due date.”
“That’s good to hear,” Rana said, leaning back with a smug smile. “Because I’ve already asked if she’d be interested in setting up a small clinic in town, and she’s already agreed.” She shot Olivia an apologetic smile. “And Mathew is already studying up on Maine’s indigenous plants and planning an alpine children’s garden.” Her smile went back to being smug. “In fact, the White-Clouds should be arriving any day now.
“So, ladies,” she continued, standing to turn and face them. “What do you say we throw ourselves one all-inclusive baby shower? The spring equinox would be a good day to celebrate the little miracles created with wonderfully feminine magic, don’t you think? I’m sure we could get the weather to cooperate, and we can have a bonfire down on the beach of the beautiful home I’ve just purchased.”
She was met with stunned silence.
“You bought a house?” Carolina whispered, eyeing her mother suspiciously. “On Bottomless? But I thought Daddy refuses to live off the mountain.”
Rana looked down and brushed a speck of lint off her royal purple chambray shirt. “Oh, I’m sorry; did I not mention that I’m leaving Titus?”
And that, Julia decided, was one of the big scary dangers of loving a big strong contrary man—not that she’d trade hers for all the kissable frogs in the world.
* * *
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LETTER FROM LAKEWATCH
March 2013
Dear Readers,
You’re the best! Romance readers are unrivaled as fans, I think because authors and readers and the fictional characters we come to love all share the same dreams, desires, and passions. (I know I’ve said this before, but some things are worth repeating.) Real and imagined people are optimistic or pessimistic, easygoing or easily offended, heroic or cowardly—all of which are traits that can and often do get in the way of happily-ever-afters.
So for those of you who have been following the ongoing trials and tribulations of my larger-than-life and sometimes over-the-top men and women, my question is: Do you believe in the magic yet?
If you’re not sure what I’m talking about, then let me put it another way: Has anything ever happened that you couldn’t really explain but that made you stop and think: Hey, this could be what that crazy lady in Maine is writing about! Have you ever experienced something amazing that should have been totally improbable if not downright impossible, and found yourself running around telling everyone you know (and sometimes total strangers) about it because you want them to be utterly amazed, too? Well, that’s what I’ve been doing to you. I’ve discovered that magic really is real, and I hope to make you believe it’s real, too.
But there seems to be a problem with the way I’m going about it. Based on some of your e-mails and letters, many of you think you have to come to Maine to find all this wonderful magic I’m writing about. (And all those big strong handsome highlanders, although that’s a whole other Letter from LakeWatch). But I promise that you don’t have to travel anywhere, because the magic is everywhere. In fact, I saw another example of it just the other day you might be able to identify with; proof positive that miracles are always waiting to bless the unsuspecting.
I have two grandchildren who, at the time of this writing, are seven and five years old, boy and girl. Besides being pretty neat little miracles themselves, Alex and Abby are . . . well, let’s just say that at times they’re less than angelic. With a few years separating them and being opposite genders, they aren’t always interested in
playing nicely together. But last Sunday, after everyone in my family returned to their respective homes, I realized we had all witnessed a daylong miracle.
“Did you notice,” I asked my husband as we crashed onto our recliners, utterly exhausted, “how well Alex and Abby played together today? Not one argument that turned to fisticuffs, no huge crocodile tears or even any tattling on each other. They spent a good hour of collaboration lugging monstrous rocks to the beachfront to build a castle, and actually took turns using the frog-catching net. Heck, they even helped each other lure those poor unsuspecting frogs with pieces of hot dog. They didn’t use the fishing poles as weapons, and they rushed to each other’s rescue when Jaden (my son’s exuberant chocolate lab) tried to climb into the kayak with whichever one of them was having a turn.” I smiled in contentment. “When was the last time we had such a picture-perfect Sunday afternoon?”
Robbie got a familiar look in his crinkled blue eyes. “The first Sunday we finally had an empty nest.”
Not that our sons moved very far. I could probably throw a rock and hit either of their homes. But Sunday family gatherings, especially once grandchildren and puppies arrived on the scene, became more a study in chaos than a Norman Rockwell painting. (Note to impending empty-nesters thinking of downsizing your homes: Don’t! You’re going to need those bedrooms for sleepovers and a bigger kitchen and living room and dining table, because your family is going to grow exponentially.)
Sorry, I seem to have a bad habit of digressing.
So back to the magic being everywhere and happening all the time; some might say that Alex and Abby are merely growing up, but I’m old enough to be a grandmother and I still torment my brothers and sister. (I do not, however, intentionally cast my fishing lure on top of theirs so they can’t catch the big fish that just swirled.)
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