Beyond Magic (Magical Love Book 1)

by Lizzie T. Leaf

  While Emma nervously prowled around, Ian called room service and ordered a bottle of whisky. “It’s a sherried blend, the kind you like.”

  “Good.” She sat down in the single wing-backed chair and crossed her arms, everything in her look challenged him. “So talk.”

  The time had come. Telling how Morgana fabricated an illusion for what Emma saw happen between them wasn’t going to be easy. He perched on the arm of the couch across from her and then changed his mind.

  Best to be on your knees when you start this conversation, old man.

  Kneeling beside her chair, he took her hands in his. Her fingernails blushed with a coat of pink polish. He ached to have her hands trailing over every inch of him, exploring and touching as they had in the past.

  A knock on the door bought him additional time to get his need to caress her under control. The room service waiter set the tray down on the small corner bar and offered to pour.

  “Thanks. I’ll take care of it.” Ian slipped money into the man’s hand and opened the scotch before the waiter managed to close the door.

  He studied the row of glasses on the shelf before selecting two and poured. Come on, old man. You’re procrastinating and you know it.

  He handed her a glass of whisky and stalled for more time by taking a sip of his. The situation called for a little false courage.

  “Enough, Ian.” Emma stood and approached, stopping inches away from him. “Either say what you brought me here to tell me, or I’m out of here.”

  The rose and vanilla smell of her mixed with the spiciness of the scotch, and his cock throbbed. His hands developed a will of their own. Before he could form a thought, he pulled her into his arms to consume the luscious strawberry red lips.

  Emma stiffened with resistance when his mouth claimed hers, then he felt the thaw just like at the bookstore.

  “What the hell?” Emma pulled away.

  Ian saw the same passion that roared through him reflected in her eyes as she began to unbutton her top.

  “I love you.” Ian reached out, caught her hands, and stopped her efforts to remove her blouse. “I’m not just here for sex. I’m here for you. To win your heart as you have mine.”

  I’m a fool to believe him, but I do.

  “You don’t have to win my heart. You have it already.” Fear consumed Emma for a moment, but she forced it aside. If Ian could put his emotions on the line, so could she. But a little voice of doubt played through her head.

  What if he’s lying? He’s lied before.

  Ian pulled her into his arms again and smothered her mouth with a kiss. Doubt evaporated, replaced by passion. It had been a while since she’d been laid—months, in fact.

  Face it girl, you’re a slut at heart.

  If tomorrow brought the discovery he’d played her again, she’d deal with it. For now, she wanted—no, needed—to believe he loved her.

  All the pent-up frustration and pain evaporated, and she let him complete the job of undressing her. Nude, she tumbled back onto the bed. Ian shed his clothes. She smiled. He did wear underwear under his kilt when he traveled.

  She recalled her brazen display on the moors shortly after they met. He’d been commando, and that discovery had brought out a side of her she didn’t know existed.

  So much for the genteel Southern girl I used to believe I was. She disappeared that day.

  Now, like an artist, she appreciated the full extent of his beautiful male body. The strong masculine shoulders tapered down to a broad chest. The slim waist gave way to strong thighs. The whole package framed the pecs that danced with every move he made removing the remainder of his clothes. The underwear dropped to the floor, and he stepped out. She hungered at the sight of his strong erection. Perfection at its best. The throbbing need she saw in the stiff organ sent stronger waves of desire rippling through her.

  Stretched out beside her, Ian drew her close. His strong mouth claimed hers, and the promised anticipation of what was to come grew deep inside her taut body. Their tongues warred briefly before he pulled away and dropped lower, his breath tickling her heated skin. He gently captured a nipple between his teeth and teased the hard bud into burning hunger before he crossed to the other. Creating the same need there, he released the aching nub and started a trail of heat with his breath down her stomach.

  Lips never touched her body as he moved his head up, down, and around over her skin, hot puffs of air creating desire deep in her core. This was without a doubt the most sensual of her sexual experiences. She never realized how intense desire could become without touching.

  Unable to resist the need to feel him, Emma reached over and grasped his cock. She shuddered as it became stiffer with her touch.

  “By the Powers, be careful.”

  With each stroke of her hand his ragged gasps became louder. If he’d only touch her, they could make the trip over the edge together.

  Ian’s hand covered hers, stopping her strokes. “When that happens, it will be inside you,” he whispered against her ear. He rolled her onto her back and positioned himself between her knees. “But first, you need to be taught a lesson.”

  Her arms pinned to her side, Emma could only wither and squirm as he once again trailed hot breaths down her body until he reached his goal. His tongue played her heated folds like a musician’s beloved instrument. Screams tore from her throat as he hit her high notes, and before the last of her spasms subsided, he entered her, building another crescendo of fire.

  She raised her hips to meet each of his demanding strokes, determined to create in him the same intense need for release strumming through her. They plunged over the edge of the ravine together.

  Exhausted and sated, Emma cuddled against him. This time they had made a connection stronger than sex. Maybe she could trust his words of love.

  The scene she’d witnessed in the castle library was behind them. Who knew what temptation the woman had used to lure him back to castle and into her clutches that night? It was time to forgive and forget.

  Though you know how hard the forgetting part is going to be.

  She bit back a sigh of frustration. She had to face facts. If she wanted this relationship to work, she’d have to address that night. There would have to be complete honesty.

  She caressed his face and ran her fingers through his hair. She liked this longer style he now wore. She toyed with an earlobe and trailed up to outline his full ear.

  What’s this?

  She paused.

  I don’t remember his ears being pointy.

  “When did you become an elf?”

  Ian stiffened and pushed her hand away.

  “Hey, don’t take it personally. I don’t remember the points, but then, I wasn’t focused on your ears.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him and leered.

  He didn’t smile. Instead, he sat up and placed the covers over her.

  How’s that for a blow to the ego?

  He swung his legs off the bed, and reaching down, he picked up his kilt, pulled it around him, and walked over and poured two more drinks.

  Handing her one, he sat on the edge of the bed and his mouth curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’d better take a long sip. You may need it when you hear what I have to say.”

  Emma’s heart plummeted.

  Oh, shit. Here we go again.

  Emma’s face turned white and her lips trembled. Ian briefly picked up on her thoughts. She expected him to tell her tonight was their grand finale. When he finished, she probably would wish that was what he had said.

  “Emma, there are things about me and my life you don’t know.”

  “Like the fact you’re Ian Nordic, not Ian McCabe?”

  “Actually, it’s the other way round. Ian Nordic is a play on my ancestry.”

  Confusion grew in Emma’s sherry-brown eyes. “It comes from my father’s side of the family, his father. My paternal grandfather is Odin, the Nordic God of Wisdom.”

  “Yeah, right. And mine was Zeus
or one of those Greek gods.” Emma fell back on the bed and clutched her sides in laughter. “Ian, you crack me up. It’s okay if your family has a shady past or something. I’ve studied enough history to know all the noble families weren’t so noble.”

  This was going to be more difficult than he’d thought. “No, the Greek god side of my family comes from Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love. She’s my paternal grandmother. My father is the result of a little liaison between Odin and Aphrodite.”

  Doubt tangled with the humor on Emma’s beautiful face.

  “My mother is a faerie princess. Her parents are the King and Queen of the Fae line that immigrated to Scotland. And I know about what you saw at the castle the night I went to London. Morgana confessed all. You see, she’s a faerie too. She used an illusion to make you think I’d lied to you.”

  Emma shook her head. “This sounds like one of your books. You wrote the part about your parents and grandparents in one of them. Ian, you’ve crossed over into believing your own stories.”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks, and he reached out to take her hands. Jerking away from him, she slid to the other side of the bed and jumped up. She searched to find her scattered clothes, muttering as she dressed. “Crazies. I’m surrounded by crazies.”

  “Emma, wait. Let’s talk about this.”

  “Ian, there’s nothing to talk about.” She opened the door. “Please don’t contact me again. I can only deal with one crazy at a time. And there’s someone on the list ahead of you”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Emma eased the door closed behind her. The last thing she wanted at three o’clock in the morning was to face an inquisition from Cori. The tears hadn’t stopped since she fled Ian’s hotel room.

  Ian’s stunned face played before her eyes at her parting remark. “I’m sorry, Ian. I can only deal with one crazy at a time.”

  At the top of the list right now is my crazy bitch sister.

  Maybe she should move up her trip to Charleston. It would give her a chance to digest the bombshell Ian had dropped on her. The escape would give her time to think about how she ended up with yet another nut case man to stomp on her heart.

  Isn’t it bad enough my roommate is convinced she’s a witch? Now the man I love thinks he’s descended from faeries and immortal gods.

  Were there no normal people left in the world?

  “Is that you, sweetie?”

  Shit!

  Emma cast a wild glance around the room to see where her roommate lurked.

  Cori tossed aside the blanket and bounced up from the couch, covering the distance between them in the blink of an eye. “What the hell happened?” She opened her arms and Emma collapsed into them. “When you left the bookstore with the hot Scot, I thought you were in for a fun night, since I had the distinct impression you two were rekindling something. Instead, you come home a tear-streaked mess.”

  Pushing away from Cori, Emma wiped her arm across her face to remove a river of tears, only to have a fresh wave replace them. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Excuse me!” Cori propped a hand on each hip and glared. “There’s no vote here. I’ve let you slide the past couple of months on not telling me what the hell happened on that damn trip that brought you home in such a funk. But that ends now.”

  “I’m going to bed.”

  “No, you’re not.” Cori blocked Emma’s retreat to her room and stood, tapping her foot.

  What the hell?

  Cori’s knowing what a fool she’d been would be embarrassing. But Emma getting involved with yet another bad-for-you man, probably wouldn’t come as a surprise since Cori knew her so well. “Ian Nordic is a man I met in Scotland and he”—she took a deep breath to calm the thud against her chest—“he broke my heart.”

  There. She’d bared a little of her soul and proven all the experts wrong. Sharing pain didn’t make it easier. “He went by a different name and lived in a castle, which, it turns out, was probably rented.” Emma took several deep breaths to fight back another flood of tears. “Add to that, he’s great at acting too. His little role play as laird of the manor didn’t give away the fact he’s delusional from either drugs or plain insanity.”

  “Wait a minute.” Cori headed for the kitchen and motioned for Emma to follow. “I think this is going to call for martinis. Lots and lots of chocolate martinis.”

  Emma followed, protesting the drink idea. “No, Cori. The last thing I need is alcohol.”

  “Wrong, heartbroken one. What you need is large quantities of mind-altering booze to wash down all the chocolate we’re going to consume. It will take the edge off while you tell me the full story. Cori handed her a filled glass. “I just bought a new stash of chocolate.” She set an already opened box on the island between them.

  Emma took a tentative sip of her drink. What the hell? Her hips would love the cream. Instead, the rich taste made her want to pour the martini out. Why couldn’t she convince the ditzy blonde to use non-fat milk instead of cream?

  She took another sip and decided to keep the drink. Experience told her it would get better with time.

  Several martinis later, Emma had bared her soul. All the details from Scotland and what had happened tonight with Ian’s grand confession were now out of the closet, and her friend reacted in typical Cori fashion.

  “It’s a good thing you discovered the lying, cheating, pond scum bastard is crazy now. It would have been worse if you’d done something stupid, like marry him.” Cori sloshed more vodka over the ice in the shaker and picked up the bottle of chocolate mix. “Hmmm…” She studied the empty bottle and shrugged. “What the hell? Here.” A sloppy attempt to divide the contents from the shaker resulted in more on the counter than in their glasses.

  “My fault entirely.” Emma set her empty glass down and braced against a cabinet to keep upright. “You know how bad boys attract me.”

  Only Ian hadn’t appeared bad—or insane—when I met him. How could a girl tell?

  “Bad boys, my ass. All men are bad boys.” Cori stumbled over to the trash and dumped the empty bottle. “But what are really going to be bad are the hangovers we’ll have in the morning.”

  The hairs on the back of DooNell’s neck tickled. Something wasn’t right. The old hag placed a hand to her aching back as she shuffled to the cabinet to get her crystal ball. Her lumbago had kicked up again today. When one was born old and lived to be ancient, magical being or not, one had aches and pains. She had delayed another visit to the Healing Faerie for far too long this time.

  She got the crystal ball and weaved her hands across the top. A murky image developed, and a few more hand weaves over the glass brought the picture into focus.

  She watched Emma and her roommate consume what was obviously more than one martini, and without any sense of guilt, the Cailleach listened to their conversation.

  “It’s a good thing you discovered the cheating bastard is crazy now.” Cori declared as she weaved around the kitchen.

  The hag shook her head. To discover what happened, she’d have to use magic for a playback of the events.

  But wait, what was Emma saying?

  “You know how bad boys attract me.” Tears trickled down her cheeks and she took another drink from her glass.

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t sound like he came across bad when you met him.” Cori hiccupped several times. “Or ready for the funny farm. If I come across the bastard again, I’ll tell him to bite me.”

  It appears Ian told Emma the truth, and she doesn’t believe him.

  The old woman tapped her foot and thought for a moment.

  Best to know for sure, though. The trick will be to play back only the portion where he tells her, not anything that may have happened before. That would be none of my business.

  She shuffled over to the cabinet and shoved aside several jars until she reached the one she wanted. She unscrewed the lid, pinched a bit of the dusty contents and blew them into the air.

  “Show me, Powers that b
e

  What was said between the Prince

  And she.”

  DooNell saw what she needed to know when Emma gasped and shook her head as Ian shared his heritage.

  Sighing, the old woman searched for another jar and pulled it from the back of the cabinet. She set it on the table and waited for Emma to sleep. It was time for a dream connection to try to knock some sense into this half mortal.

  “Emma. Emma, lass. We need to talk.”

  Emma opened one eye and peered at the outline of someone sitting on the edge of her bed. “Go away, Cori. The room is spinning, and I don’t want to talk.” She pulled the covers over her head and groaned. “Sleep. I need sleep.”

  “Nae, lass.” A tug brought her attempts to block out the world to an end.

  Lass? Why in hell is Cori using Scottish terms? The ditz has never been there.

  Another shake, and she opened her eyes. “What? Who? Oh, crap. You’re the crazy old woman from Edinburgh.” When Emma dreamed, she did it well, especially after consuming more than her share of vodka.

  “What am I to do with you, lass?” The old woman shook her head, and sighed.

  The strong burr that rolled from her tongue beat through Emma’s head like the Edinburgh tattoo. Shit, she needed aspirin and lots of them.

  “You’ve been given the chance at love, but your heart can’t trust, can it?” The old crone placed her gnarled hands on the stick she had in front of her and rested her chin on them.

  “Look, old lady. I don’t know why you’re in my dream, but I’ve had enough crazies for today. So get lost.”

  “DooNell. I be DooNell.” She made no attempt to leave. “I’ve come to speak with you, lass. You had a wee bit of a shock, and I fear you’re in for more.”

  “In for more? I really don’t think I can take much more fun in the way of loonies or shock. Any more of either will get me a nice padded cell at a funny farm. Understand?”