Charmed by His Love

by Janet Chapman

  Duncan leaned back and grabbed his own harness. “That’s plain crazy. It’s a fact of life that men are more likely to die in accidents because we’re more often in harm’s way.” He started to slide his sword in its sheath but suddenly stilled. “Are you saying Peg honestly believes she’s cursed?”

  “William Thompson died on his thirtieth birthday.”

  “In a construction accident,” Duncan said, finishing sheathing his sword. “Curses can’t actually kill people because they’re not real.” He stilled again. “Are they?”

  “It doesn’t matter if they are or not; what matters is that, according to what she told Olivia, Peg believes she can’t ever remarry.” Mac shook his head. “She’s afraid even to care for another man, much less fall in love with one.”

  “Love can’t kill a person any more than a curse can.”

  “Nevertheless, I’m afraid your attraction to Peg is going to involve battling more than her pride and contrariness.” He suddenly grinned. “But as I said earlier, you’re a quick study—assuming you wish to win this particular war. Because if you decide you do, Duncan, then you best be prepared to battle your own demons as well as Peg’s.”

  “What in hell are you talking about? I don’t have any demons.”

  Mac arched an imperial brow. “No? So it’s common practice for modern men to threaten to put a woman over their knee just as they did in your father’s time?”

  “I was angry, dammit.”

  “I suggest you choose a world, my friend—either this century or Callum’s—because if you continue trying to straddle both while taking your perceived lack of magic as a personal affront, I promise that you’re going to lose the war … and the woman.”

  Duncan rolled onto his hands and knees and then pushed himself to his feet. “Right now the only war I’m focused on is the opposition to your resort. They fired the first salvo at me last night, and I’m damned well taking that personally.” He bent down and picked up his sword and slipped the harness over his bare shoulders. “And you can take your damned magic to California with you, Oceanus, because I don’t need it or Matt’s or Ian’s to do my job.” He swiped his shirt off the ledge and snagged his jacket off the tree and used them to point at Mac just as several more raindrops fell. “And I can damn well get the girl all by myself, too.”

  “MacKeage,” Mac said quietly when Duncan started striding away.

  He stopped and turned back, saying nothing.

  Mac swept his hand in an arc. “Pick a mountain—any mountain—and I will make it yours to command.” He grinned, patting the ledge. “Except this one.”

  “I already have a goddamned mountain.”

  “TarStone is the source of Ian’s power.” Mac gestured again. “Pick one.”

  “I don’t want one.”

  The wizard pushed himself to his feet, then stood his sword on its tip and crossed his hands over the hilt. “The energy has been building inside you for thirty-five years, and if you don’t find a way to ground it, Duncan, it’s going to destroy you. Pick a new mountain or I’ll pick for you.” He arched a brow. “In the century of my choice.”

  Sweet Christ, the bastard was serious. “That one,” Duncan said, pointing to his right without even looking just as several fat raindrops hit him hard enough to sting.

  Mac sighed. “I believe you could teach Peg something about contrariness,” he muttered. “It’s done, then; all that the mountain has to offer is yours to command.” He suddenly grinned. “Enjoy your walk home … neighbor,” he finished just as the sky released a deluge of numbingly cold rain—except on Mac, Duncan noticed as he turned away and walked into the woods to the sound of the wizard’s quiet laughter.

  God dammit; he hadn’t done one thing to deserve this.

  And what in hell had he been thinking, anyway, picking a mountain on the other side of Bottomless? It was going to cost him a goddamn fortune to build a road around that damned fiord just to reach it.

  Peg blinked at all the strange vehicles lining both sides of the road the entire length of town; most of them cars instead of pickups, mostly wearing out-of-state plates. Which is why she ended up having to drive all the way past where the old train tracks crossed the road before she found a place to park, after she had to stop no fewer than four times to let people cross in front of her. Spellbound had actual pedestrian traffic—most of them gray-haired tourists wearing cameras around their necks. By summer when school was out, Peg guessed as her van’s engine rattled backward before finally shutting off, the town was going to be bursting at the seams.

  “Okay, gentlemen,” she said, turning in her seat to give the twins her I-mean-business scowl, “your challenge for today is to stick beside me like glue. Hand-holding is an option, but only until one of you gets more than five feet away, and then it becomes a requirement. Got that?” Peg turned her scowl into a smile when they both vigorously nodded. “And after we pick up the mail and stop into the Trading Post to find out what I owe on last month’s bill, if the three of us are still stuck together like glue I guess you’ll have no choice but to follow me into the Drunken Moose for a grilled cheese sandwich.”

  “Can’t we have a cimminin bun instead?” Peter asked.

  Peg immediately turned her scowl back on. “Considering there were a dozen buns on our porch this morning, I would say you’ve had your month’s quota.”

  “How come your shotgun was on the porch, too?” Jacob asked. “It’s usually in your closet with the rifle.”

  “I had loaned it to the bun fairy, and she returned it with the buns.”

  “What’s the bun fairy need a shotgun for?” Peter asked.

  Peg stood up, hunched over, and started unbuckling them out of their booster seats—that were looking more tired than her van. So she made an executive decision to get new ones with her very first check from Duncan. “Well, you know, fairies are very sneaky and secretive, so this one never really told me why she needed the shotgun.”

  “I bet she needed it to shoot cimminins,” Peter said, jumping out of his seat. “To put in her buns.”

  “Cinnamon is a spice—a plant,” Peg explained, turning to grab her purse before sliding open the passenger side door. She stepped out and straightened, looking eye level at the boys. “And last I knew, you don’t need to shoot a plant to eat it.”

  “I think she borrowed it ’cause everyone wants them buns, and someone might try to steal them instead of going to the Moose,” Jacob declared with great authority.

  Peter frowned. “Then why she’d give it back if she’s gotta protect the buns?”

  Peg swung Jacob out of the van with a laugh, deciding she’d lied herself into a corner. “Forget the shotgun,” she said, swinging Peter out next. “And focus on today’s challenge.”

  She slid the door closed and headed along the side of the road to the old railroad bed without bothering to lock the van—because honestly, if someone was desperate enough to steal the heap of scrap, they were welcome to it. Oh yeah, the second thing she was buying was new transportation, she decided as she started down the old rail bed the Grange ladies had turned into a nature trail ten years ago.

  “Mom, who are all them people?” Peter asked as he skipped up to her left side, Jacob falling into step on her right. “What are they doing here?”

  “They’re tourists who have come to check out the new Bottomless Sea. And you know why that’s such a big deal?”

  “Because we got whales and sharks and jellyfish now?” Peter asked.

  “Well, partly. But mostly because Bottomless isn’t supposed to be a sea because it’s so far from the ocean.”

  “The earthquake made it salty and tidy,” Jacob declared with great authority. “And it pushed them two mountains apart and made that ford flood our pit.”

  “That’s right, the earthquake created the fiord.” She stopped and stepped back to have both boys face her. “And you two,” she said, “witnessed history being made.”

  “What’s history?” Peter aske
d.

  Peg laughed and started walking again. “History is what happened yesterday and last year and a hundred years ago. History is in the past, today is the present, and tomorrow is the future. And forty years from now you’ll be able to tell your children and grandchildren that you felt the earth tremble and saw Bottomless go from being a freshwater lake to an inland sea. What happened is called an historic event, and you were privileged to witness it.”

  “But all these people missed it,” Peter said, pointing at the old train trestle that crossed the Spellbound Stream just below the falls. “So why are they here now?”

  “So they can take pictures and go home and tell everyone they saw the new Bottomless Sea, because there isn’t another place like this in the whole wide world.”

  “There ain’t no other seas?” Peter asked.

  Peg gave him a nudge. “Don’t say ain’t; it’s not polite. Yes, there are other seas, but none that were formed in recent history, and none that have a massive underground river that allow whales to travel hundreds of miles inland.”

  “Wow, that means Spellbound Falls is unic,” Peter said with his own authority.

  “Yes, it’s definitely unique,” she corrected with a laugh.

  “Peg!”

  She stopped and looked across the road to see her neighbor, Evan Dearborn, waving at her. He looked both ways and bolted between oncoming traffic. Well, he bolted at a grandfatherly speed.

  “Hey there, Pete and Repeat,” he said when he reached them, nodding at one boy then the other without knowing which was which. He looked at Peg. “Me and Carl been meaning to mosey over to find out what’s going on at your place.”

  “I’m expanding my pit to sell gravel to the outfit building a road up the mountain. Or haven’t you heard that Olivia and her new husband are building a resort?”

  “We heard.” Evan’s eyes suddenly widened in alarm. “They ain’t setting that road up behind our land, are they?” He glanced at the boys, then stepped toward her, and it was all Peg could do not to lean away when she got a strong whiff of eau de skunk. “I mean, jeeze-louise, Peg,” he whispered, “we ain’t exactly sure where our back boundary line is, and we might of … it’s possible we …” He sighed, thankfully stepping back as he scratched his beard. “I guess we’re gonna have to forget about expanding our garden this year.” He suddenly grinned. “Well, good for you then, girl. A road up that mountain’s gonna take a passel of gravel, so you’ll be rolling in dough.”

  “Why would Mom want to roll in dough?” Peter asked. “It’s sticky.”

  Evan looked startled, then reached out and ruffled Peter’s hair with a chuckle. “Well, Repeat, I guess she wouldn’t wanna then, would she?”

  “I’m Peter.”

  “I knowed that. I was just checking if you did.” He looked at Peg again. “I thought that horseback of yours ran in our direction.”

  “It apparently runs north, up the hillside.”

  “Well, okay then,” he said as he started backing away. “If’n you hear that they’re gonna set the road anywhere near our back border, you give us a heads-up, okay?”

  “I’ve been led to understand they’re going in off the main road about a mile up from us, so I think you’re clear.”

  “Good enough,” he said with a nod. He stopped just in time to avoid backing into traffic. “Hey, what’n was all that commotion over to your place last night? Me and Carl snuck through the woods to see, but it was over by the time we got there.”

  Peg shrugged. “Just some idiots looking for free diesel fuel, but Mr. MacKeage, the owner of the equipment, sent them away empty-handed.”

  He stepped back over to the path, looking both ways to see who was nearby. “I heared talk that some folks ain’t happy about that resort being built. It appears they’re forming some sort of committee to try and stop it.”

  “Locals, or people from away?” Peg asked.

  Evan snorted. “Out-of-staters who own land up here and think they know what’s good for us locals is more like it.” He stepped closer. “I heared they’re gonna try to get some big nature group to back them,” he said in a whisper, “by claiming it’s gonna ruin the wilderness.” He looked around at the people and traffic and snorted again. “They’re too late, I’d say. That earthquake already turned this place into a tourist trap. And me and Carl was down to Turtleback yesterday, and it was standing room only. They’re gonna have to put in a gosh-dang stoplight at the intersection.” He suddenly grinned. “You run out of dirt to sell, Peg, you can always turn your pit into a campground now that you got lakefront property.”

  “A campground?” Peter asked, tugging on her jacket. “What’s that, Mom?”

  “It’s sort of like Inglenook, only people sleep in tents instead of cabins.” She looked at Evan and arched her brow. “Wouldn’t you worry my campers might go roaming through your woods looking for wildlife and trample your … garden?”

  That wiped away his enthusiasm. “Gosh-dang it, I hadn’t thought of that.” He sighed and started backing away again. “I’ll be seeing you, then. You hear that road’s going near our property, you give us a holler, okay?”

  “You’ll be the first ones I tell,” she said, starting down the path again.

  “Are we gonna make a campground, Mom?” Jacob asked, walking backward in front of her. “And have campfires every night?”

  “Nope. Because we’re not going to run out of gravel for a long, long time if the amount of land Mr. Duncan is clearing is any indication.”

  Jacob realized they’d reached the trestle and immediately scurried back and took hold of her hand. Peter refused when she held out her hand to him, but he did grab the hem of her jacket as they walked across. And even though Peg would have liked to stop and watch the sixty-foot falls cascading down in a thundering roar just a stone’s throw away, she knew neither of the twins were comfortable lingering on the bridge. She often wondered if maybe they’d heard her talking to someone about Billy having been working near a bridge when he died. It’s not like it was a secret or anything, but maybe she should have a conversation with all four of her children about exactly what happened—since it appeared they obviously thought about it, judging by Jacob’s talk with Duncan last night.

  They finally reached the post office, and Peg handed the key to Peter since it was his turn, making him read the number on their box before he opened it. “Mom, look! We got another special delivery,” he whooped, pulling out two lollipops and handing one to Jacob. “They’re grape ones this time, Repeat. We’re gonna have purple tongues.”

  “What is all the caterwauling out here?” Thelma Banzhoff asked as she came through the door from out back. “Oh, it’s Pete and Repeat,” she said in mock surprise, only to suddenly frown and bend down to peek in the open box. “Did that mail fairy sneak in here again and leave you two little heathens another special delivery?” She shook her head, making a tsking sound. “I warned the little imp that it’s illegal to mess with a United States post office box, but it seems she’s powerfully determined to make her deliveries. And sneaky, too, because I made sure all the doors and windows were locked when I left here yesterday.”

  “Locked windows and doors ai—isn’t gonna stop no fairy,” Peter said. He held his thumb and finger almost together. “’Cause she can fit through a crack this big.”

  Thelma pointed at the prize in his other hand. “Then how does she get the lollipops through a crack that small?”

  “By magic,” Jacob piped up around the pop already in his mouth. He pulled it out and grinned up at her. “Just like the tooth fairy. See, I lost my tooth this morning and tonight she’s gonna bring me a quarter. But only if I’m asleep, right, Mom?” he asked, looking up at Peg. “You told Pete when he lost his tooth that if he tries to stay awake all night she won’t come.”

  “That’s right.” Peg reached in the box and pulled out the few envelopes and several sale fliers. “Now thank Mrs. Banzhoff for not having the mail fairy arrested for delivering your spe
cial deliveries.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Banzhoff,” they said in unison.

  “Peg, could I speak with you a minute?” Thelma asked, nodding for her to move away from the boys.

  “Okay, new challenge,” Peg said, herding the twins over to the bench under the window. “Unglue yourselves from me and work on turning your tongues purple, okay, while I go over there.”

  “Can we kneel on the bench and watch all the terrists?” Jacob asked.

  “The what?” Thelma yelped.

  “The tourists,” Peg said to Jacob after shooting Thelma a smile. “You may watch the tourists, but keep your sticky fingers off the window. What’s up?” she asked softly as she walked to the other side of the vestibule with Thelma.

  “Land sakes, my kid-talk is rusty,” Thelma said with a laugh. She suddenly turned serious, touching Peg’s sleeve. “You’ve heard there’s talk in town about forming a committee to fight the new resort, haven’t you?” she whispered.

  “Evan just said something about it, but that was the first I heard.”

  Thelma glanced over her shoulder at the boys, then turned and bent her head next to Peg’s. “Well, I’ve overheard more than one conversation in the last few days where your name’s come up.” She touched her sleeve again. “Please don’t ask me who was doing the talking, Peg, because I need to be discreet about gossiping. But it appears some people feel that you’re … Well, I just want to warn you that some folks aren’t too happy that the gravel for the resort road is coming out of your pit.” Thelma clutched her sweater closed at her throat. “I heard them saying that you’re just letting that outfit from away come in here and … and rape your land,” she whispered, “for no good reason other than to make a truckload of money.”

  “Are you serious?” Peg growled, clutching her own throat in a futile attempt to tamp down her anger. “I’ve owned that pit for nearly ten years, and nobody had any problem with it existing before now. They’re really calling it rape?”