Myth and Magic

by Mae Clair

  Her gaze dipped to the floor as a sudden wave of melancholy washed over her. As much as Caith missed him, she missed him, too.

  “I know you like Caith.” Trask grinned at her, his eyes bright blue beneath the brim of his ball cap. He chewed on an ever-present wad of gum, then blew a huge bubble. It popped, and he immediately sucked the pink glob into his mouth. “Becky Kessler likes him, too. I think she’s gonna ask him to the Sadie Hawkins Dance.”

  Veronica flung her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t care what Becky Kessler does.” Her gaze dropped to the pebbled bank beneath her feet. Walking along the edge of the creek always made her feel good, especially when she was with Trask. He was more understanding than Merlin, and his nearness didn’t make her heart pitter-patter or her palms grow sweaty like they did when Caith was around. “Becky only likes Caith because he’s rich. Besides, she’s gossipy. Caith likes girls who are smart.”

  Trask picked up a stone then discarded it for another. “Like you?” He forked his arm to the side and the smooth pebble skipped across the water three times before plopping below the surface.

  Veronica picked up her own pebble. “He’s just a friend.” She shot the stone across the creek, sending it skipping five times to the opposite shore.

  Trask blew a huge bubble. “Bet you’d kiss Caith.”

  It was a challenge. She stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and tried to decide if she should be honest. She’d heard some of the older girls at school talking about kissing, and for weeks now had wondered what it was like. Sometimes she’d lay in bed at night and dream of kissing Caith. Once she’d hugged her pillow close, pretending it was him, but she’d felt foolish and embarrassed. “Maybe.”

  He grinned broadly. “So you do like him?”

  “Maybe.”

  Trask found another stone. He was silent, weighing it in his hands. “Hey, Ron?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you do kiss him, can we still be friends?”

  “What a stupid thing to say.” She elbowed him in the ribs. “It’ll always be the four of us.”

  “I guess so.” He sent the stone across the creek and this time it made it to the other side. “Hey, did’cha see that? It went farther than yours.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did too.”

  And soon they were both picking up pebbles trying to outdo one another, boasting and bragging, enjoying a camaraderie Veronica had thought would last forever.

  The thoughts flitted away as something moved behind her. The man she’d wanted to kiss all of her life wrapped a silk-clad arm around her waist and dragged her firmly against him. She watched in the mirror as he lowered his lips to her ear, tugging aside the black scarf that covered the bottom half of his face. “What’s this? A genteel lady strayed from her coach?”

  His voice was low, rich in timbre, bordering on dangerous. He’d donned the full costume with cape and hat, even gloves. The combination of so much black with his raven hair set off the electric blue of his eyes. “I can’t let you go without payment, milady.”

  Veronica’s breath caught as his teeth nipped her ear. He trailed his fingers down her side in a light caress, igniting goose bumps under her gloves. The sleeve of his costume was milk white, but the wide-cuffed leather gauntlet was black as India ink. It made a startling contrast against the soft rose hue of her gown, the starkness strangely intoxicating.

  “And what do you demand, good sir?”

  He blew in her ear, a gentle breath that sent a shiver racing to her toes. “A touch.”

  She closed her eyes, melting against him as his black-gloved fingers skimmed over her hip. “Only a touch?”

  He slipped a finger beneath her chin, drawing her lips to his. “And a kiss.”

  She consented, nipping at his lips, smiling, teasing. It didn’t take long for her playful squirming and soft moans of pleasure to push him toward aggression. With a throaty groan, he pressed her against the dresser.

  Her eyes widened in shock. “Caith what are you doing?”

  He covered her mouth before she could protest further, kissing her with such possessive hunger it left her whimpering.

  “Remember all those tales about highwaymen ravishing innocent women?” He tossed his hat aside with a backward flourish and grinned wickedly. Her eyebrows shot up in alarm. Before she could so much as squeak out his name, he gripped her by the hips and lifted her onto the dresser.

  “Cai—” His kiss silenced her protest. With his hand cradling the back of her head, he moved his mouth over hers, molding their lips in a slow, sensual rhythm. When the kiss ended, Veronica inhaled unevenly. “We have to go. Derry’s waiting.”

  “I know.” His breath was ragged. “That doesn’t make it easier. I’m going to dream about making love to you all night.” He bowed his head against her neck in a visible effort to collect himself. “That damn dress isn’t helping. If anyone so much as looks at you.…”

  Her lips curved. She touched his cheek, drawing his head up. “And if someone does, would that make you jealous, Caithelden?”

  Humor sparkled in his eyes. Stepping backward, he drew the sword belted at his hips. “Jealous, milady?” His voice rang with a lofty, staged accent. “I’d skewer the rake.”

  She giggled and scooted out of the way. “In that case I’d better defend myself. You were always lousy with a sword.”

  “Hey!”

  Veronica made it to the door just as Derry appeared on the other side. He grinned at his father in the highwayman’s outfit, then shyly told Veronica she looked pretty. A few minutes later Caith piled them into the Explorer.

  “Wait a minute. I forgot something,” he said.

  “Dad,” Derry whined, fidgeting in the back seat.

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised.

  Veronica fussed with Derry’s costume, adjusting his ears, making sure he had his trick-or-treat bag while Caith ran back into the lodge. A few moments later he returned, an oversized binder tucked under his arm.

  “What’s that?” she asked as he slid it between them.

  “Nothing important.” He flipped up the visor and started the ignition. “Why don’t you call Aren on my cell and tell him to meet us in town since we’re running late?”

  Veronica nodded, knowing Derry was eager. It would be another half hour before it grew dark, but Coldcreek’s children would already be out in number, going house to house. Twenty minutes later, they met Aren, Melanie, Matt, and Noah in BI’s parking lot.

  “What a fun-looking group,” Veronica commented when they drew together.

  Noah was dressed like a pirate, and Matt as Spiderman. Impeccably dapper, Aren sported a wide-shouldered, black pin-striped suit, offset by a red tie and spectator shoes. A white hat banded in charcoal crowned his long hair, which he’d slicked down to exaggerate the length.

  “The same goes for the three of you.” With a flirty smile, Melanie sauntered over to Caith. She might have stepped from the roaring twenties, decked out in a beaded flapper’s dress, short black wig, and sequined cap. “My, my, Caithelden, I didn’t know you had it in you. What a hot-looking highwayman.”

  Aren rolled his eyes. “She always did have a thing for underdogs.”

  Melanie laughed. Returning to her husband’s side, she wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his lips. “You know I only have eyes for you, hot stuff.”

  “Eww, Mom, do you have to do that?” Noah protested.

  “Yeah,” Matt chimed in. “We want to go trick-or-treating.”

  Derry added his voice to the chorus, prompting all three children to prance restlessly.

  “All right, all right.” Aren held up a hand. “Let’s get this show on the road. Who wants candy?”

  The boys let loose a wallop of cheers. Soaring on adrenaline, they raced ahead, forcing the adults to follow them into town. Veronica strolled leisurely at Caith’s side, delighted by Derry’s obvious excitement. It wa
sn’t long before the sun dipped below the trees, replaced by a full moon. Bloated and orange, it hugged the horizon like a lidless eye. A goblin moon, Morgana would have called it, whispering of winged creatures who roamed the sky and wraiths that slipped silently from nesting shadows.

  Within the hour, the children had filled their bags with candy. Up and down the street, jack-o-lanterns flickered in windows and on doorsteps. Children raced among the sidewalks, waving glow-sticks while their parents trailed at a slower pace with flashlights. Higher in the hills, organ music drifted from outside speakers at the Breckwood mansion, sounding like the prelude to an Edgar Allen Poe movie.

  “Are we going to the party now?” Derry asked his father. His trick-or-treat bag was already overflowing, but knowing Caith’s mother, it would likely double once he was inside. “I wanna see the decorations, and I wanna have some candy.”

  “Only a few pieces,” Caith warned. “You’ll be in bed in another hour. Tomorrow’s a school day.”

  “Dad…” Derry drew out the name in exasperation.

  Caith glanced down at his son. “Derry…” he mimicked with the same inflection.

  Derry laughed. He hooked his hand into his father’s oversized glove as the group walked back to the car. Caith was doing an amazing job of keeping the spirit light, despite the heavier thoughts Veronica knew had to weigh on his mind. Hopefully, he’d manage the same ease at the party.

  The house was teeming with people when they arrived. Costumed guests mingled in rooms transformed to mirror Halloween showcases. One resembled a night-time forest with leafless trees and moon-silvered, mist-covered grounds. Strategic lighting and portable fog machines created the effect. In another room, a miniature rendition of Stonehenge surrounded a band dressed as Druidic priests. Unlike the organ music pumped from outside speakers, this was upbeat and contemporary with a wide dance floor for those who wished to indulge. Ghosts, vampires, scarecrows, and an assortment of other creatures gyrated to the heavy bass beat pumped from hidden amplifiers.

  Goblins and winged creatures threaded among the crowd, butlering silver platters with flutes of wine and hot hors d’oeuvres. Gossamer spider webs draped most every corner, and life-sized trolls greeted visitors in the foyer. Every time a door opened, it triggered a cackle or shriek. Dressed with black china and blood-red goblets, tables of food were scattered in every room. The lighting was low and muted, sometimes replaced by electric candles with flickering orange flames.

  Caith kept a hand latched tightly on Derry’s shoulder, preventing him from straying. “It’s really crowded,” he muttered.

  Veronica wondered if he knew the guests came from neighboring towns in addition to Coldcreek, a few even flying in from out of state. The Breckwood Halloween party was an event not to be missed in the corporate world.

  “It’s early yet,” Aren told him with a grin. “An hour from now and you won’t be able to move without bumping elbows.” He nodded toward the stairway. “Let’s get the kids upstairs and out of their costumes. Melanie said she’d take them home once they’ve had a chance to wind down.”

  Caith nodded.

  The children were not so easily put off, however, and kept up a steady stream of protests until allowed to race room to room, ogling the extravagant decorations and even more extravagantly costumed guests. Eventually, they collected their own bags of special Halloween treats from Morgana and Stuart, and reluctantly traipsed upstairs to change.

  Veronica waited while Caith saw Derry safely tucked away in a bedroom with his cousins. She traded snatches of conversation with a few friends before rejoining him as he came down the steps. “How is he?”

  “Begging to stay up all night and skip school tomorrow.”

  She chuckled. “Like that’s going to happen.”

  “Excuse me.” A woman dressed as a belly dancer bumped into them as she turned the corner. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.” Her face was completely masked, her eyes covered by brightly colored veils, spangled with flecks of gold. By contrast, her costume was composed of a skimpy strapless bra and low-riding harem pants. Veronica wondered how she managed to keep the bra in place.

  “Veronica! Uncle Caith!” Within seconds, Balin appeared at the woman’s side, dressed in the heavy brown robes of a Franciscan friar. Grinning, he slipped his arm around her waist. “Can you believe it?” He leaned forward to be heard over a particularly loud guitar riff rolling from the room with the band. “Grandma and Grandpa just make it better every year. Dad’s around here somewhere.” He waved a hand behind him. “We’re gonna get something to eat.”

  Veronica nodded, preparing to introduce herself to Balin’s date but the two left before she could utter a word. Unfazed, she smiled up at Caith. “Looks like Balin’s having a good time. You might, too, if you’d relax.”

  “How? I’ve seen at least four guys leer at you since we walked through the door.”

  “Only four?” She enjoyed his jealousy. “I’m disappointed. I should have worn something skimpier like Balin’s date. Besides…who’s going to make a pass at me when I have a dashing highwayman as protector?”

  Earlier, he’d shed his hat, cloak, and face scarf, hooking the gauntlets through his wide belt. The sword was gone, too. Yet dressed in a black leather tunic with a white poet’s shirt, she could easily believe he’d ridden from the myths of their childhood.

  He raised a brow. “Who’s going to protect you from me?”

  She had no will of her own when he looked at her like that. How could a man turn on charisma and sex appeal with the cavalier flip of a switch? Too bad Aren hadn’t thought to add a paper fan to her outfit. She could use one right about now. “I think we should refocus on the party.”

  “I’d rather be back at the lodge with you.” Linking an arm around her waist, he tugged her possessively against his side. The brush of his lips sent warm shivers racing down her spine. “In bed.”

  She placed a palm on his chest, enforcing distance. As seductive as he was, she wasn’t going to compromise herself at a party. “Maybe we should dance.”

  He tightened his grip on her waist. “Or go upstairs to my old bedroom.”

  “Caithelden.”

  He chuckled. “Or dance.”

  The band had moved into a slow, sensuous song by the time they reached the room. False stars and a sickle moon hung suspended from a ceiling draped in black. The floor was shrouded in man-made fog, furthering the illusion of night on a desolate moor. Recessed lights cast an eerie blue glow on monolithic slabs of rock meant to resemble Stonehenge.

  Veronica knew she was in trouble the moment Caith slid his hand onto the small of her back. The touch of his fingers was electric; heat raged through her veins. She linked her arms around his neck, gazing into his eyes. He moved with ease, guiding their bodies in a seductive rhythm. Nothing else mattered. Sound filtered into the background, distant and forgotten. She felt only the flow of their bodies twined together, heard only the thump of her heart. When he bent his head to kiss her, the world stilled, then shattered.

  Shaken, she rested her head on his chest. “Caith, I’m in love with you.” She cringed, horrified she’d spoken the words aloud.

  Not now. Not on Halloween. Not on the anniversary of Trask’s death.

  How could she have been so stupid? She hadn’t meant to tell him. Never to tell him. It was the magic of the night—their costumes, the music, the romance of the moment. She hadn’t meant to say anything, only to feel it and hold it close to her heart. To know without a doubt he was everything she’d always wanted.

  “Caith, I’m sorry.”

  “Veronica.” He tensed and drew back.

  “Hey, mind if I cut in?”

  She blinked, startled to find Merlin at her side. Not the Merlin she was used to seeing, but Merlin dressed in the flowing silver robes of a wizard. He wore a wide-brimmed pointed hat and a sash embroidered with planetary symbols around his waist. A thin beard dangled over his stomach, bleached the sa
me shocking white as the dye he’d used on his hair.

  His hazel eyes darted to Caith. “How about it, rogue? Share your spoils?”

  Looking unsettled, Caith released her hand. “I’ll be in the other room.”

  “Hey.” Merlin cast Veronica a puzzled look as Caith threaded quickly through the crowd. “What’s the matter with him? He looks like he got hold of some bad food or something.”

  Veronica’s stomach twisted in a knot. “Or something.”

  “Whatever it is, he’ll get over it. He’s edgy because it’s Halloween.” Merlin swept her into a dance. “He was always too intense, even as a kid.”

  “I suppose.” She managed a weak smile. As the music swelled, she sent a worried glance to the doorway, certain she’d made the worst mistake of her life.

  Chapter 18

  Caith headed to a room he knew was private and off-limits to party goers. His father’s study. On the way there he passed Galen, looking imposing and regal as a Mongol warlord, but didn’t stop to talk. His brother was deep in conversation with their mother and a small group of people Caith didn’t recognize. His mother easily outshone the others, dressed in a flowing white gown with silvery overlay. Gossamer wings, a wig of flowing blond hair, and a crowning circlet of wildflowers made her look the part of the Faerie Queen.

  Myth. Magic. Happily ever after.

  She’d taught him to believe in such things, to dream of what-ifs and might-have-beens. When he was a child, he’d enjoyed her love of fantasy and make-believe, but life had taught him harder lessons. Crueler lessons. People he cared about could be snatched away, all because of who he was.

  A rich man’s son.

  Caith slammed the door to the study. Veronica was in love with him. More importantly, she wasn’t afraid to admit it. She deserved someone who could say it in return. Someone whose throat didn’t close up at the thought of uttering the words, who was able to separate love from fear.