Finding the Magic

by Cait Miller

  Amazing. In the space of one afternoon, she had gone from being a grocery store clerk, who had almost stopped living, to this. Car chases and bad guys, an isolated mansion house and a brooding man. There was no doubt about it, Cameron Murray had brought life screaming back into her life in vivid Technicolor.

  Things had begun to change the day she had answered Megan’s call, but who knows how long she would have procrastinated about it if Cam hadn’t shown up on her doorstep. Jayne stood and tested the temperature of the water before turning off the taps. The sudden silence hung in the moist air as she stepped into the tub. She pictured the man downstairs, with his warm, golden skin and the secrets that seemed to hide in his eyes. He was so big. Jayne was tall, so it was unusual to find a man who was so much taller than herself. The kind of man who usually attracted her was also usually slighter in build. A million years ago, when she was still having sex.

  Cameron was anything but slight with his broad shoulders and muscular chest and arms. I bet he has a six-pack. She’d never touched a real six-pack before. He was certainly a temptation that any woman would be hard-pressed to resist, let alone one who hadn’t had sex for as long as herself. Judging by the kiss they had shared at the wedding and the incendiary glances he had given her today, that attraction seemed to be returned. However reluctantly. A shiver of anticipation ran through her at the thought, raising goose bumps on her skin. She sank deeper into the warm water and closed her eyes. Cameron Murray had no idea what he was in for.

  Hah. Yeah, right, Jayne.

  She grinned and shook her head, it was a nice thought. Cameron Murray was a man, in every sense of the word, and the last time she had tried to seduce anyone, he had definitely been a boy when compared to Cameron. Jayne had a feeling she was playing with fire.

  * * * * *

  The man punched his code into the keypad and waited for the light to flash green. Heavy steel doors slid open with a hiss and he walked into the hallway beyond. The walls were bright white and the reflection from the fluorescent lights stung his night-adjusted eyes. His boots squeaked on the gray vinyl flooring, he winced and shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. He wished he had been able to change out of the damn uniform before he had answered the summons. He hadn’t dared though. He had delayed his report long enough while he had watched the house in the hope he would be able to salvage the operation. He was no coward, had served and fought for his country with pride. Until his commanding officer had caught wind of his retirement scheme. It’s not like anyone would have missed those guns anyway. Better than leaving them lying to rust where some kid might pick one up and shoot his mate with it. The way he saw it, he was doing a public service. Still, his knees shook as he knocked on the door to the office.

  “Come.”

  The office was softly lit by a brass lamp on the desk and the vinyl flooring gave way to thick carpeting. A coat stand in one corner held a dark gray suit jacket and a white lab coat. The other corner held a single, locked filing cabinet. A slim laptop, closed at the moment, and two security monitors filled a table against the far wall. One screen was flickering through the various surveillance cameras around the building. The other showed a split-screen of the holding facility where several of the inhabitants paced behind the glass walls. Some were human, some were…not.

  The man who sat behind the heavy, wooden desk looked up as he entered. He was fiftyish and still fit, with broad shoulders and a trim waist and dark hair just beginning to be threaded with silver. His shirt was a pristine white and his tie was precisely knotted. He placed the papers he had been reading on top of the pile in front of him, squaring the edges up neatly with his fingertips. When he spoke, his voice was pleasant, friendly even, but his blue eyes were icy.

  “Henry. Explain to me why I am sitting here reading papers instead of in the lab with a new subject.”

  “He wasn’t alone, Professor.”

  “I see.” He steepled his neatly manicured fingers and studied him over them. “And did your surveillance not indicate that he was a largely solitary creature?”

  “Yes, sir. However, his routine seems to have changed since Dr. York targeted his friend.”

  The professor lowered his hands to the desk where he drummed his fingers on the table. “Then you’re saying the failure of the capture was my fault.”

  “No! No, sir!” Cold sweat dampened Henry’s forehead and trickled down his spine. His stomach roiled greasily. “Dr. York’s contributions to the project were invaluable.”

  “Very true, though his lack of caution in his hunting methods was lamentable. I hate to waste resources but…he was a necessary sacrifice. I do believe he was quite mad toward the end.”

  The fingers on the table stilled and Henry took a shaky breath as he continued his explanation. “Murray had Jayne Davis in the car with him. She helped him escape.”

  “Now there’s an interesting twist of fate. Two marked females who are close friends. Coincidence or some kind of biological attraction? It might be interesting to study.” The professor’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you catch them?”

  “They made it to Murray House, it has extensive security and we weren’t equipped to take them there.”

  “Careless.”

  That one word was enough to turn Henry’s knees to water again. The professor’s eyes narrowed. “Has he changed yet?”

  “I don’t believe so, sir. We still have him under close surveillance.”

  “It’s only a matter of time before he takes her, if he hasn’t already.” He paused. “I hate breaking in a new employee, but I have no use for a head of acquisitions who can’t acquire. One last chance, Henry, make sure you are properly prepared this time. I suggest you and your men move quickly. He’s of less use to me if they bond.”

  * * * * *

  Cameron groaned as consciousness stole over him. His head pounded in time with his heartbeat and his neck and back ached. Did someone get the license plate of the truck that ran over me? He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position and nearly fell off the bed. His eyes flew open in surprise and he found himself stretched out on his leather sofa. What the hell am I doing in the living room? Memories of the previous night flooded back, from the punch of the needle in his side, to the suffocating effects of the drug as he fought it in a frantic race to reach his estate. He didn’t remember reaching the house, his memories became fuzzy as they approached the access road, then nothing.

  Jayne. Was she safe? No sooner had he thought it, he registered the faint prickle of magic on his skin that signified her presence. Relieved, he closed his eyes again and concentrated his senses on the house around him. He detected her scent mingling with the comforting smells of home and it felt…right. Beneath the ticking of the grandfather clock and the familiar household sounds, he could hear her laughing with Mary in the kitchen at the back of the house. How did they get to the house? He knew she couldn’t drive, could he have driven the final part of the journey and not remembered? Unless she had walked. It was a mile of gravel road through a forest, in darkness. He knew enough about her to know that she wouldn’t hesitate if she felt it was the only option. Anger filled him at the thought of her having to put herself at risk like that. Anger at the men who had ambushed them and anger at himself for letting it happen.

  Had they used the same ruse with Nick? It was clearly well equipped and practiced. Did Nick have time to be angry at himself for falling for it? The drug they used was powerful and thanks to Jayne’s intervention, he suspected he hadn’t received the full dose. Nick had been alone and outnumbered and that was his fault. Cameron wouldn’t rest until he found the men responsible and made them pay. It was the least he could do for a man who had been like a brother to him.

  Wearily, he rolled to his feet and stretched out the kinks the sofa had folded into his long body. He scrubbed a hand over his chin and found that the stubble was fast on the way to becoming a beard. Jayne’s laughter rang out again and he turned toward it, letting her warmth wash over his
skin. He should go upstairs and try to put some distance between them but her voice drew him like a siren’s song. He found himself following it until he stood unnoticed in the kitchen doorway surrounded by the energy of the Ceangal. The two women were at the sink with their backs toward him, chatting as they washed and dried the delicate china. Their topic of conversation seemed to be movie stars and Cam didn’t know whether to be relieved or irritated that they weren’t talking about him. Or worried that the subject had come and gone and he’d never know what had been said.

  Mary had worked for his family for twenty-five of his thirty-three years and had been his only family since he was sixteen. She knew everything about him, it wouldn’t take her long to see the connection between himself and Jayne. She disagreed, intensely, with his decision not to take a mate and would see this as an opportunity to change his mind.

  Jayne turned toward him as he stepped into the room and, for endless minutes, he found himself unable to look away. The sound of a throat being cleared jolted him and he scowled and headed for the coffeepot. More shaken than he cared to admit, he kept his back to the women and concentrated on pouring himself some coffee.

  Mary broke the silence first, her voice soft with concern. “Are you all right, Cameron, dear? I checked on you in the night and you seemed to be in a more natural sleep so I thought it best to leave you alone.”

  He fought the urge to squirm like a teenager in the face of her easy affection in front of Jayne and shrugged. “I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache, that’s all.”

  He could feel Jayne’s relief and curiosity and did his best to ignore both as he turned back to face them. Mary took a step toward him but stopped when he glowered at her. He knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she had poked and prodded at him but he’d be damned if he would let her do it here. He studied his houseguest through narrowed eyes, satisfied that she seemed to be uninjured. She looked well rested. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and her creamy complexion was clear of shadows. He suspected that her lilac sweater and jeans might cover some bruising but she seemed to be unaffected by it.

  “How did we get to the house?”

  “I drove us.”

  A blush crept over her face as he watched and an image flashed through his mind of Jayne sitting between his legs in the front seat of his four-wheel drive. Irritated with his body’s response to the provocative memory, he glared at her.

  “I thought you said you couldnae drive?”

  She frowned at him. “I can’t. I have, however, had some lessons, they were enough to get the car moving and get us here. Mary helped me get you into the house. You should be thanking me, not snarling at me.” She swept out of the room before he could answer and he growled in frustration. Movement caught his eye and he turned see Mary smiling at him. He held up his hand to silence her. “Dinnae say a word, dinnae even think it. It’s not goin’ tae happen.”

  The smile was gone but her eyes twinkled. “Okay.”

  “Ah mean it.”

  “Fine.”

  Cam shook his head and walked away from her. He had work to do, maybe now that he knew Jayne was safe, he would be able to get on with it. He was on the stairs when Mary’s triumphant whisper reached his sensitive ears.

  “Yes!”

  When he stepped from his shower twenty minutes later, his mood was worse, rather than better. The coffee sat untouched on the bedside table where he had left it when his stomach had revolted at his first sip. His head was still pounding with the lingering effects of the tranquilizer, despite the pain reliever he had taken. He swiped a towel over his body in quick, angry strokes. A cold shower had done nothing to dampen his lust. A condition intensified by the fact that his housekeeper—ex-housekeeper—had put Jayne in the bedroom next door. He could feel her there.

  She was unpacking. Relaxed and faintly excited, looking forward to exploring the house and grounds. Their connection wasn’t strong enough yet for him to catch more than the occasional thought or emotion, especially when his guard was up. But that didn’t prevent the flow of magic between them. It washed over him like waves over sand, wearing away his resistance. Taking a piece of his control with it every time it ebbed away. Cursing, he threw his towel into the laundry basket and dressed with quick efficiency in worn jeans and a sweatshirt. As he tied his damp hair back with a strip of leather, he felt a jolt of annoyance from Jayne. Abruptly, he remembered his addition to her luggage and cringed.

  Endless moments passed before the expected knock on his door came.

  “Come in.”

  He braced himself but the woman who entered the room didn’t look angry. Instead she looked…happy. He frowned at her, confused by the mixture of happiness and sorrow she was broadcasting. She was close enough to touch and he balled his fists to prevent himself from doing just that. Her smile faded and she cleared her throat as though she too felt the building tension.

  “Why did you put the paint box in my bag?”

  “I don’t know, it was an impulse. I saw it under the bed and…” He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, watching her warily. “You’re very talented, I wanted to see you paint.”

  “Thank you, maybe you will.” She laughed softly. “Cameron, you can stop looking at me like I’m an unexploded bomb. I’m not angry.” She took a step closer and laid her hand on his arm and he felt the contact go through him like electricity. “Oh, I was annoyed at first. I haven’t painted in a long time. It was a part of me I put aside for reasons I’m not even sure of anymore. But things are different now, I’m different now. I suppose you are partly responsible for that, so thanks.”

  She leaned forward and placed her lips on his. He froze, muscles trembling against instinct. He closed his eyes and felt the softness of her mouth and was surrounded by the light, vaguely floral scent of her perfume. It overlaid the unique scent that was Jayne, a scent he couldn’t have described if there was a gun to his head. A scent he knew he would recognize anywhere. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as it pumped the heady rush of his excitement through his body.

  And then she was gone.

  He opened his eyes and watched her walk out the door, aching to follow her.

  Chapter Six

  Fat snowflakes swirled and drifted down onto the wide lawn and coated the pine trees like icing sugar. Jayne sat in the cozy warmth of the kitchen conservatory and watched them fall from a sky heavy with clouds. As they had been falling more or less nonstop since the first morning she woke here. If it didn’t stop soon, she was going to have to brave the elements and go outside anyway. She was starting to get a bit stir-crazy. The house felt empty though she knew it wasn’t. Mary was in her private quarters at the far end of the building and she knew that the housekeeper would join her if she asked. She wasn’t going to ask though, because the woman deserved a little time to herself. She had been entertaining Jayne for the last two days.

  They had spent part of the first day exploring Murray House. Cam had inherited it when his parents had died. Mary had reluctantly told her that his mother had died when he was fifteen and his father when he was sixteen. There had been both sadness and anger in her face and she wouldn’t say any more. Jayne didn’t press, she knew from personal experience that it was a sensitive subject. After that, Mary had avoided most questions about Cam, focusing instead on the history of the house.

  It was enormous. Jayne had counted sixteen bedrooms on the first and second floors with rooms on the opposite side of the hallways set up as separate sitting rooms. She could see now that the kitchen was an addition to the back of the house. The original had been tucked away in the basement where there was now a bright fully equipped gym. Very fully equipped. The housekeeper had showed her a secure room behind the mirrors, complete with a computer connected to the house security system, a phone, weapons, a cot and enough food and water for a week. The fact that Cameron felt the need to have one spoke volumes about his life.

  Mary had a suite on the ground floor in the left wing. The rest of t
he rooms down there were entertainment and living areas, including a large library that made her green with envy. The house was decorated in a strangely appealing mixture of modern, Victorian and Georgian styles. Even Jayne’s untrained eye picked out a multitude of antiques throughout. Here and there, the mermaid clan crest was repeated on fireplaces, furniture, china and other, smaller things. The motto “Tout Prest” she had discovered meant “Always Ready” and from what she had seen so far, it was one the current laird lived up to.

  It was clear that Cameron Murray was a very wealthy man, indeed. And a private one if the absence of staff was any indication. Didn’t he ever get bored? Jayne wasn’t exactly a social butterfly anymore but this much solitude would give her the screaming meemies in a very short time. She hoped, fervently, that they didn’t get snowed in.

  The man of the house was in his office where he had spent most of his time since their conversation in the kitchen. He had better be working on finding out who the fake policemen were ‘cause she couldn’t stay here indefinitely. She suspected he was avoiding her. Lunchtime had come and gone and he hadn’t come down to eat. He had missed breakfast too. In fact, she hadn’t seen him at any of the mealtimes. She suppressed a twinge of worry, but he was a big boy, perfectly capable of looking after himself. He probably had a minibar complete with refrigerator and snacks up there. If he wanted to creep around and eat alone, who was she to argue?

  He was lonely.

  She knew it with a deep down certainty. She didn’t question the knowledge, she just felt it. The more time she spent near him, the more she felt she knew him. Somehow her feelings had slipped past lust and into something far less easy to define. Which was ridiculous, because they had hardly spent ten minutes in each other’s company since they arrived.