This Rough Magic

by Heather Graham

  “As I was saying to you,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “I’m not trying to hurt you!”

  He slammed her down onto the bed. Even as she tried to rise, he straddled her and with his palm pressed her lips against her teeth. Panic sizzled through her. She felt the cold anger in his gaze and admitted at last that Jasmine was right; this was a man with something to hide.

  “I’m going to let you breathe,” he told her curtly. “How is that for starters? But don’t scream. Do you understand?”

  His thighs were tight about her hips. He kept his weight off her, but she felt the power of his hold. He was in control, so she had to fight another way. She nodded.

  He moved his hand away. “Who were you talking to? Who was in here?”

  “No one.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “Why not? You’re adept at the art!”

  “What?” He sat back slightly and eyed her as he might a particularly difficult puzzle that he was just beginning to unravel. “Ah...well, something at last.”

  “Yes, something!” Carly retorted. It hurt so damn badly. She’d wanted to believe in him more than she had ever wanted anything.

  Jasmine was safe, so Carly could meet him with the truth, she realized.

  Anger gave her a surge of strength. She freed her hands from the prison of his body and pounded suddenly against his chest. “You liar! Just who the hell are you?”

  “What?”

  “You aren’t Jon Vadim.”

  Startled, he grabbed her wrists and secured them high over her head, a slow smile starting to play at his lips. She didn’t know whether his smile was evil and menacing—or simply amused.

  “Who said I wasn’t Jon Vadim?”

  “You aren’t, are you?”

  “Who told you?”

  “So it is true!” she whispered in dismay.

  “Your clandestine visitor has been bearing tales, I see. Damn it, Carly, tell me. Who the hell was here?”

  “Admit it! You aren’t Jon Vadim.”

  His eyes narrowed, he released her and rocked back on his haunches. For a man still half dressed in evening clothes, he was very agile, she thought. He could move with great coordination, and at the whisper of a sound. Her heart sank further. He had practiced the art of silent and supple stalking; he was some beast of the night who was at home with crimes in the moonlight.

  “What’s the matter, Carly? Were you that desperate for a title? Were the name and the money and the castle what really mattered to you?”

  “What?” she shrieked.

  He placed his hands over her mouth again. “Shut up, will you?”

  She slammed his hand away. “You’re the crook, and you dare to say something like that to me?”

  “It seems true enough.”

  “You stupid liar! I don’t even like this castle, and I hate the horrible basement! Titles don’t mean a damn thing to me. I’m an American. But lies and murder, yes—whoever the hell you are!—they do bother me. Tremendously!”

  “Murder?” He eyed her warily.

  “The real Count Vadim!”

  He leaped off the bed as nimbly as a wolf and dragged her along with him. “Come on!” he said roughly. He had her hand.

  Panicking, Carly tried desperately to free herself from his hold, but he was striding toward the wall and she couldn’t begin to ease the vise of his fingers around her wrist. “Oh, my God! What are you doing?”

  He’d seen what she had seen on the balcony, the hard stones far below, and he meant to toss her over. “No!” she cried.

  He came to the wall. He touched the light sconce, and a panel silently opened and gave way to a dim corridor beyond.

  Carly gasped. She stared at the secret panel, and then at him. He didn’t mean to kill her. Not immediately.

  He couldn’t kill her, she decided. He couldn’t have held and touched and loved a woman as he had done with her and intend to snuff out her life.

  But he had been in her room before; he had come through the panel in the night.

  She kicked him. He swore and stared at her in new fury. “What the hell was that for?”

  “You’ve been in here before at night.”

  “Yes—”

  “Oh! As well as being a liar and an impostor, you’re also a—”

  “I came in to see that you were all right. That you were alive and well, you little fool. Now, let’s go.” He jerked on her arm, pushing her forward into the passage.

  She stopped inside. There was a hint of perfume still on the air here. She knew now where Jasmine had disappeared to. She could see, too, how she had missed the narrow little alley when she’d looked at the structure of the building. It ran the length of the hallway and beyond, but the stones of the castle were so thick as to make the passage undetectable.

  He came behind her, and the panel slid shut behind him. The only light in the narrow alley came from shafts near the roof that let in the moon’s glow. He shoved Carly in the small of the back, and she started walking. She stopped suddenly, and he ran into her. She swung around, trembling. “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Oh, no I won’t. If you’re going to kill me, you’re going to do it right here and now. I won’t help you leave my body in some deserted cave!”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, I’m not going to kill you! How could you possibly think such a thing? Now, walk!” He pushed her forward again.

  Carly felt the adrenaline rushing through her. The floor was rough on her stockinged feet, and she bruised her toe. Crying out softly, she stumbled and grabbed the injured part. Hobbling, she turned on him again. “Who are you?”

  “I’ll tell you in a few minutes—”

  “No! You’ll tell me now! What’s your name?”

  “It is Vadim—”

  “Don’t lie to me! I know that you’re a fake!”

  “Fine,” he agreed irritably. He caught her arm and took the lead.

  Her toe wasn’t that bad, she thought, but it would have been nice if he had cared. “My name is Vadim. It just isn’t Jon Vadim. I’m Dustin.”

  “Sure,” Carly retorted.

  He shrugged. “Have it your way—Watch it!”

  He dragged her against him as they passed a sudden hole to one side. Carly gasped, then realized that it was a narrow, winding staircase that probably led to the courtyard. He barely noticed her reaction, but she decided he couldn’t mean to kill her. If he had wanted her to die, he could have given her a shove and she would have gone crashing into eternity.

  Her heart began pounding too quickly again. She lagged back, gasping for breath. “Please, whoever you are, just wait—”

  “Oh, no, sweetheart. You started this tonight. Let’s finish it.”

  “No, you started it! You lied!”

  That time he stopped. He turned on her, towering over her. Their bodies touched, and his eyes glowed at hers with a searing reproach.

  “I told you that others were involved! I told you that nothing about us was a lie. And you just blinked those lovely turquoise eyes and said you loved me. And I believed you. Hell, I didn’t want to lie to you. Oh, never mind!”

  He swung around again, curling his fingers around hers, and dragged her on down the passageway. He stopped abruptly again and placed his hands against the wall. Carly saw that it was another secret panel.

  Light poured in on them. She blinked and saw that they were in his bedroom. No, they were in Jon Vadim’s bedroom.

  And the real Jon Vadim was curled on his bed in his smoking jacket. He held a glass of champagne, and when she and this Vadim first appeared at the far right of his bed, the count didn’t notice them. He was in earnest conversation with the dark-haired woman who sat curled up beside him. She, too, held a glass of champagne and was listening to his every word with a tender and forgiving smile.

  It was Jasmine.

  “Jasmine!” exclaimed the man at Carly’s side. “I should have known.”

  “Oh!” Jas
mine spilled her champagne. Nervously she jumped off the foot of the bed, staring at the two visitors. “Dustin. Carly.”

  “I say there!”

  The real Jon Vadim stepped more regally off his bed and rescued the fluted champagne glass from Jasmine. Carly decided at last that “her” Vadim was telling the truth—Jasmine had just called him Dustin.

  “Dustin, you’ve frightened Jasmine. You could have given us some warning,” he said reproachfully.

  “I’m losing my mind!” Carly muttered.

  “I really am sorry—” Jasmine began.

  “Well, Jasmine, damn it, this time you should be,” Dustin cut in. Hands on hips, he strode into the room. Carly gazed from one man to the other. The two were incredibly alike. Only when they were together could she tell the difference between them. But maybe if she had known that there were two of them, she would have seen more of the subtle differences.

  “Twins?” she inquired.

  Dustin stopped and stared back at her. “No, not twins. We’re cousins. You do see that the real Jon Vadim is alive and well,” he said flatly.

  “Jasmine,” Carly snapped. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Carly, please, don’t be angry—”

  “Don’t be angry! You drag me halfway across the world and then disappear and I’m worried sick and then—”

  Dustin broke in, angry as well. “And then you decided to drop in on your sister via the secret panel. And you tell her that I’m not Jon, but you neglect to tell her who I really am!” He was shouting by the end of his tirade. His cousin came up to him and grasped his shoulders, shaking his head and murmuring, “Dustin, stop. Someone might hear.”

  “Dustin, I am sorry,” Jasmine said sweetly. “Really. I didn’t know who was coming, so I thought I should disappear. I didn’t realize I had made Carly think that you were a criminal.”

  “Please!” Carly implored them. “Will someone please explain this to me?”

  Dustin threw up his arms, exasperated.

  “Carly, have some champagne,” Jasmine suggested, and went to find more glasses. Carly noticed that her sister was completely at home entertaining in Jon Vadim’s bedroom. There was something very heavy between Jasmine and Jon Vadim. Carly realized that now. But not between Jasmine and Dustin. In his way, she knew, Dustin had been honest with her. He had asked her to believe. Nonetheless she still felt betrayed, for none of them had trusted her.

  “I’ll explain,” Jon said. He indicated a grouping of chairs before the fireplace. “Sit down, will you, please?”

  She must have been staring at them all with a great deal of hostility, for Jasmine added earnestly, “Please, Carly?”

  Carly accepted the champagne her sister handed her and sat down. Dustin remained standing stiffly in the middle of the room. Jasmine sat before Carly, and Jon Vadim stood behind Jasmine’s chair. “You know that a village girl was killed last year?” he asked Carly.

  She frowned. “Yes.”

  “They blamed Jon,” Jasmine broke in, her tone defensive. “Well, there were insinuations, you see. But Jon didn’t do it.”

  “The inspector couldn’t find any answers, Carly,” Jon continued. “The way that the murder occurred—a full moon, Halloween night and all that—I was afraid of something happening again. It seemed as if I was being used for someone else’s lunacy. Do you understand?”

  Carly noticed that his eyes were hazel, too, and had the same fascinating golden glow to them as Dustin’s. The men were very much alike when they smiled as the real Count Vadim was smiling at her now.

  She was about to be charmed a second time, she thought. “Go on. I’m still listening,” she said curtly.

  “Dustin and I are cousins. We’ve always been very close. Our fathers were brothers who married sisters, which makes us as close as can be without being siblings, I suppose,” he said.

  Dustin, still in a foul temper, didn’t say a word.

  “Anyway,” Jon went on, “Dustin used to be in the Queen’s special services—”

  “British CIA?” Carly interjected.

  “Not exactly, but close enough. We didn’t even know how much we looked alike until last year. I went to see him in London when he opened his private practice—”

  “Private practice?” Carly repeated, staring straight at Dustin.

  “Investigations,” he said flatly.

  “Of course,” she murmured.

  “I needed help, Carly,” Jon Vadim said with dignity.

  “So you switched places?”

  Jon grinned. “Dustin had to trim his hair and shave his beard, but it worked. Only really close friends and relatives could tell.”

  “But—”

  “Carly,” Jasmine said, sighing, “someone attacked me in the barn in the middle of October. I escaped, and I began to wonder if I was imagining things. But I wasn’t. Jon knew it, and I knew it. And of course this whole thing has been tense. Jon and I fought, and I decided to leave. I was frightened. I didn’t know then about Jon and Dustin changing places.”

  Carly breathed a little easier. “So you haven’t been here all this time?” she asked her sister.

  Jasmine shook her head. “I came in last night. I knew something was going on. I was trying to understand what. When I saw that you were here, I was frightened for you.”

  “But you couldn’t stay away from Jon long enough to finish your story to her,” Dustin observed dryly.

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize that I was creating a problem.”

  “Oh, hell, Jasmine!” Dustin protested. “How would I know that you were hiding behind the panels! I was scared to death. I thought the real murderer might be in with your sister.”

  Jasmine lowered her head. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

  Carly swallowed her champagne, then looked up at the three of them. “There have been two more murders.”

  Dustin nodded grimly.

  “And do you know who the murderer is?” she asked.

  “Someone in the castle,” Dustin replied.

  “But not Jon,” Jasmine said quickly.

  “Dustin has a good idea,” Jon said.

  “Who?”

  Dustin shook his head. “I can’t say, not until I’m sure. I might cast suspicion on an innocent man, and as Jon can tell you, it isn’t pleasant.”

  “Oh...” Carly murmured uneasily, looking at Jon—the real Jon. She was still in a tangle of emotions over Dustin and didn’t want to meet his gaze. “Does the inspector know that there are two of you?”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Jon said. He frowned. “Why?”

  “Well, once he knows that there are two ‘Jon’ Vadims, he will really be suspicious, and no alibi in the world will be believable.”

  Jasmine groaned miserably.

  “There isn’t really a problem,” Dustin said quickly.

  Carly could see now that he didn’t want to upset her, however angry he might have been at Jasmine. “Why not?” Carly demanded.

  “Because I intend to catch our murderer—by the next full moon.” His gaze fell only on Carly. “The murders take place only by the full moon, you know.”

  Shivering, she bit into her lower lip. By the light of the full moon... And she had to believe that the Vadims were innocent, both Jon, whom Jasmine so clearly adored, and Dustin, who...

  She was still in love with him. His name wasn’t Jon, and he wasn’t the count. But that didn’t change anything. She really did hate the castle, her French was atrocious—but Dustin Vadim lived in London.

  She lowered her head and realized that she was light-headed with relief and exhausted. And she was still in love; she had really believed in him. Even when she had been confronted by the lie, her instincts had told her that she could hold him, that she could thrill to his kiss and lie down beside him and forget everything else.

  It wasn’t over. She winced and smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt. She looked up at Dustin at last. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

  “I couldn’t
. I didn’t know where Jasmine was. She really did go to Paris. I didn’t know how to make you understand. You might have thought that we were both demented. You might have gone to the inspector.”

  She nodded. “Did you steal the letter from my purse?”

  He frowned, shaking his head. “No. Jon?”

  “No, of course not. I wouldn’t have gone into a woman’s purse.”

  Dustin shrugged and grinned. “That’s the difference between the nobility in the family and the P.I. I would have gone into your purse if I had thought it necessary. I just didn’t.”

  Carly shivered. “Then someone else was in my room.”

  “Oh, Carly!” Jasmine said worriedly, glancing with reproach at Jon.

  “I told her to go home,” Dustin said to Jasmine. “She wouldn’t leave without you.”

  “You should go home,” Jasmine told her sister.

  “And leave you here?”

  “But Carly—”

  “If you stay,” Dustin interrupted sternly, his gaze still focused on Carly, “you stay with Jasmine.”

  She started to tremble. She wanted to meet his eyes but couldn’t. She knew he meant that she could forgive him, or she could leave.

  She could sleep with him here....

  Or he would send her home alone. And she would take the chance that she would never see him again. Never feel the sweet tempest of his touch again or know the golden-glowing fire of his eyes. “I—I can’t leave now,” she said.

  “But Carly—” Jasmine began.

  Carly realized her sister hadn’t understood Dustin’s words.

  “It’s all right, Jasmine,” Dustin said. He came over to Carly and reached for her hand. “I’ll be with her. Carly, come on. Let’s let these two...” He paused, then shrugged. “Let’s let them get to bed.” He didn’t wait for her assent. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Good night,” he said to Jasmine and Jon.

  The two were silent and Carly couldn’t believe that she was silent, too, as Dustin propelled her back through the secret door. She remembered that she had wanted to wring her sister’s neck. Once they were all out of this alive, she was going to do just that.