Legend of the Sorcerer

by Donna Kauffman

  She turned away just as the typing stopped. She heard a deep sigh and the chair creaking. Just as she was about to second guess her decision, the typing started again. With a sigh of her own, she walked toward her bedroom. She paused at his bedroom door and contemplated waiting for him there. They had slept together every night for several weeks now. But in Wales it hadn’t been the same. It had been sleeping, and occasionally clinging to one another. She wondered now if he still needed that bond, that reassurance.

  She walked on to her own door and made the unsettling realization that she did. She didn’t want to sleep alone. Ever again.

  She closed the door behind her, fed Fred, stripped down, and slipped into bed.

  Cai’s fingers flew over the keys. His conscious mind was well lost in the sorcerer’s world he’d begun in The Quest for the Dark Pearl. He’d contemplated calling Eileen and asking if there was any way he could alter the title or get out of doing the remainder of the series. It was a painful remainder of something he’d rather not think about excessively. Alfred was gone, Dilys was on vacation, and the nightmare had come to an end. He didn’t need to seek explanations for things that likely had none. It was better left forgotten, part of his past.

  But he knew his commitment to the series of books would have to be honored. He hadn’t called Eileen. Instead, he’d opened the file of the last chapter he’d been working on, and reread his work. He’d trashed half of it, then begun reworking what was left. Before long he was lost in his work. It felt so good to find that place again, that one place where everything else ceased to exist but the words on the page and the corresponding images in his head.

  He gave into it willingly, with a sense of relief so profound, he didn’t question it.

  He worked well into the night, stopping to brew coffee in the pot he kept in his office, then kept on going. His eyes grew scratchy, his shoulders stiff, and his wrists numb, but he never stopped. If he stopped, he’d have to think. About Alfred, about what had really happened in Wales, about Dilys’ defection. About Jordy and his feelings for her.

  About what in the hell he was going to do with his life now that the only person he had to consider was himself.

  He was still typing when the sun broke the horizon.

  FORTY-THREE

  Five days passed, and five nights, and Jordy was still just as confused as when they’d stepped off the boat. She worked all day, Cai worked long into the night. They hadn’t slept together once. Hell, they were lucky to do more than grunt at each other as they passed in the kitchen to grab something edible before heading to bed or back to work.

  Jordy poured her frustration and pent-up emotions into her work, damning herself for returning to a routine she’d sworn she wouldn’t fall into. But Cai had closed himself off, and after spending the first three days making excuses for him and herself, she’d finally been forced to admit the truth. She was scared.

  If she confronted him like she wanted to and forced him to deal with all the issues left unresolved between them, she had the feeling he’d retreat even further away from her. So she told herself he just needed more time to find his way out of his grief, to come to terms with what he wanted. And she prayed like hell she was part of that. But as three days turned into four, and four into five, and the calendar told her she had very little time left before she had to go back to her apartment or lose it to another tenant, she knew she was going to have to conquer her fears and speak up soon. Or she was going to lose him anyway.

  And soon was right now. The dragon was done.

  She rolled her shoulders and stood. It had to dry and be fired, then she had to apply the finish, but the dragon existed now. She smiled, then pumped her fists.

  “Thank you, Alfred. He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” She wouldn’t have been in the least surprised if he’d answered her, but the air was silent. Still, she knew he approved. It was the best work she’d ever done.

  She washed her hands and cleaned her tools and carefully put away a week’s worth of clutter. She was done. Her work on Crystal Key was completed. Alfred had talked about other commissions, but she wouldn’t allow Cai to honor them. Alfred had already done everything for her. He’d given her back her life. A life Cai apparently didn’t want to be a part of.

  She swallowed the pain and focused on the positive. After all, that’s what she’d come down here to find. She’d have laughed at that if her throat hadn’t been so tight.

  Photos, she thought, forcing her mind to the task. She’d take photos of the dragon. She had done the same for many of her pieces, or Suzanne had, but she would use them, too. She would pull them together and create a portfolio, with the dragon as her centerpiece. She would go out, haunt the galleries in Richmond, and Washington, D.C., if she had to, hound anyone who’d listen to her. It only took one yes, one person who’d believe in her enough to commission one piece. And one piece would lead to another. It would take time, probably a long time, but she had plenty of that. Her own studio was a long way off. And she’d have to get a part-time job somewhere, something to keep her in macaroni and cheese and Fred his fish flakes.

  She closed the cottage door and headed to the house. It was now or never. There was nothing keeping her on Crystal Key. It was time for her to go home.

  Unless he asked her to stay.

  She opened the door to the house, terrified he wouldn’t, terrified he would.

  He wasn’t in the kitchen and he wasn’t in his bedroom. She didn’t hear the shower either. She’d already been past his office. The door was open, the lights were off. She checked the dock, she even checked her own room. Empty.

  “Where is he, Fred?”

  Fred was too busy swallowing his flakes to respond. She smiled. Fred seemed to be a bit rounder now that all was right-side-up with his world. Fat and happy. “Some fish have all the luck.”

  She wandered out to the hallway. There was only one other place he could be.

  Cai didn’t look up when the door to Alfred’s office opened. He was sitting behind Alfred’s desk, in his chair, staring at his typewriter. He hadn’t touched a thing. He wasn’t certain when or if he would. Perhaps this was better left for Dilys. He still felt unwelcome here. Fifty years could pass, a hundred, and this would still be Alfred’s domain—only his.

  Jordy didn’t wait for his invitation. She came in and quietly began looking at the framed photos and newspaper accounts that covered the opposite wall.

  He found his attention drawn away from his memories, his fears, his grief, drawn instead to the woman in front of him. He’d been avoiding her. Avoiding making the decision of what came next. And she’d let him do it. She was probably hurt. Maybe angry as hell.

  Or worse, she didn’t care at all.

  She’d seemed as easily caught up in her work as he had been in his. Maybe he’d been hoping she’d make the decision for him. Maybe that was precisely why she was here now. He wasn’t ready.

  He wasn’t ready to say good-bye to someone else he loved. It would rip him to pieces.

  And yet he sat there, silent. Unable to open his mouth and tell her he loved her. Unable to ask her to change her plans, change her dreams, and stay here with him.

  He told himself he was being unselfish. That because he truly loved her, he was letting her follow her dreams without the burden of his own. But he was a coward. He was hurting. He was confused. He was in love. A hell of a combination.

  “Your grandfather accomplished more in his last eighty years than some men could in three lifetimes.”

  His last eighty years. Was she going to go there, then? Was she going to force a discussion of what had happened in that dank chamber in Wales? Already it seemed like some long-ago nightmare to him, surreal and fictional. Except the images that haunted him in his sleep, of Jordy strapped to that table, a glinting blade suspended over her abdomen, were all too real. In that nightmare, he didn’t always make it in time. His indecision costing her life.

  He didn’t need a course in Jung or Freud to analyz
e the meaning of that one.

  She turned abruptly and sat down in the wing-backed chair. “I finished the dragon.”

  If it were possible, he stilled further. “You what?”

  “I’m finished.” She grinned. It was cocky and bold and it made his entire body ache. “It’s pretty damn good, too. It has to dry yet, and there are several more time-consuming stages, but the sculpting is done.”

  “How long will the rest take?” His palms were sweating.

  “Several weeks at least, perhaps longer. I’m going to have to ship it to Virginia and have it fired there.”

  “Virginia.” So this was it. This was what his indecision was going to cost him. Every last thing he had.

  She nodded. “I’ll want your approval first, of course, since you’ll be the one making the final payment on it. And I’ll need you to sign a few forms stating you won’t mind if I use photos of the piece in the promotional literature I plan to put together.”

  “Promotional material?” The last part of his life was crumbling before his eyes and all he could do was parrot her like an idiot.

  “Yes. I’m going to use photos of the dragon as the centerpiece of a portfolio I’m planning to put together as a showcase of my previous work. That way I can begin to solicit commissions right away, instead of working on actual pieces first, pieces that might not sell. If I get even one gallery or shop interested, it will be a start.”

  He was angry. No, he was mad as hell. In fact, he was furious. How dare she have plans? How dare she have been sitting out there in that cottage, blithely planning her entire future? A future that didn’t include him.

  Because you’re a goddamn moronic coward, that’s why.

  “Jordy—”

  Her eyes lit up and she shifted forward. “Yes?”

  “I …” She’d made plans. She’d told him all along she was going home. It shouldn’t be so goddamn shocking. It shouldn’t be so shattering. And he had no right, not one single right, to ask her to change any of them. This was what she’d wanted. To return home strong and whole and ready to kick ass. “Congratulations. I know how much this means to you. I know Alfred would have prized that dragon. I—” He stood and reached out his hand. “I wish you the very best of luck. I know you’re going to go back and show them all how tough and special you are.” He should leave it at that, but he couldn’t. “Personally, I don’t think they deserve you or the art you create. They didn’t stand by you when it counted. But I know it means a lot to you. You deserve all the success I know you’re going to achieve.”

  Her brows gathered together. “What did you just say?” She stood and stalked to the opposite side of his desk and all but spit at his extended hand. “Are you really serious? You want to shake hands? Shake hands!” She slapped his hand away. “How dare you. How dare you be all polite and conciliatory.”

  “You made plans. They obviously didn’t include me. I’m trying to do the right thing.”

  “The right thing? I made plans because you seemed to want a life by yourself. You shut me totally out. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

  “What do you want me to do, Jordy? You’ve said all along you were going home.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not getting off that easily.”

  Now he was mad. “Easy? You think letting you go is easy?”

  “Well, it sure as hell seems to be.” She took a shaky breath and her eyes grew suspiciously bright. “Let me ask you something. What in the hell happened in Wales, huh? Where is the man that held me all night long? Where is the man that made sweet, incredible love to me in that stone house? Where is the man who pretended to be a dark sorcerer to save my life?” She smacked the desk with both palms. “Where in the hell is the man I fell in love with? Where did he go?” Tears gathered in her eyes now and she dashed them angrily away. “I want that man back.” She spun around and growled. “God, I hate it when I cry.”

  Cai was around the desk and pulling her into his arms before his heart could leave his throat.

  She pounded on him and he let her.

  “Don’t let these tears fool you,” she ground out between huge gulps of air. “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take this lying down. Do you hear me?”

  “Perfectly.” He gripped her chin and held it so she was forced to look at him. “I love you, Jordalyn Decker.”

  “Yeah, well, I know you’re grieving, but I don’t want to hear about—What did you just say?”

  “No. It’s your turn to repeat it first. I want to hear you say it when you’re not screaming it at me.”

  “I’ve fallen in love with you,” she said fiercely, defensively. Then reached up and gently stroked his face. “I love you, Malacai L’Baan.”

  “I love you, too.”

  She wiped her eyes. “But you were going to shake my hand and let me walk out of your life? You weren’t going to even ask me if I’d stay?”

  “You could have asked me to come with you.” That stopped her.

  “Would you have?”

  “Would you stay here if I asked you to?”

  “You just lost your grandfather. You have a whole new life, with only your own desires to limit your choices. I wasn’t sure I fit in that picture.”

  “Exactly. You’ve planned your triumphant return to Warburg since you got here. How could I ask you to change that? But I can’t say my motives were completely selfless. In fact, I’d have asked you in a heartbeat, completely and totally selfishly. But I was afraid you’d say no.”

  “Would you have come if I’d asked?”

  “I would have followed you to the ends of the earth. I can write anywhere. Would you have stayed?”

  She sobered and he hated the tiny thread of doubt that wove back into his heart. “Something you said, just before you insulted me with that handshake thing, jolted me.”

  “Which conciliatory polite thing would that be?”

  She grinned, which relieved him greatly. “I’m serious. You said the people of Warburg hadn’t stood by me when it counted and that they didn’t deserve to benefit from all my hard work.”

  “I know it means a lot to you to go back there, but yes, I believe that.”

  “I think you make a lot of sense.”

  “I do? I mean, yes, I do. You should listen to me.”

  “Maybe you should tell me what you’re thinking more often.”

  He bent down and kissed her soundly and deeply on the lips. “I promise I will, if you will.”

  “I really love you, Malacai L’Baan, that’s what I think.” She kissed him hard. “Now it’s your turn.”

  It took him a moment to regroup. “Are you sure?”

  Her eyebrows lifted at his provocative tone and she smiled, then frowned, then smiled again. “I think I am. Yes. Yes. I’m certain. Go ahead.”

  “Well … I think you should contact Eileen and get her to put together a list of possible agents. Not literary agents, but I’m sure she has some contacts in the art world in New York City. I say to hell with Warburg, you should shoot for the stars.”

  Obviously insulted, Jordy said, “That’s what you were thinking? About calling Eileen?”

  “Yeah. Why, what did you think I was thinking?”

  “Well, I thought you were going to ask me to—”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Say it. You have to say it.”

  “Fine. I thought you were going to ask me to marry you or something ridiculous like that and if you laugh at me I’m going to knee you.”

  “So, are you asking me then?”

  “Asking you?”

  “Yes. Are you asking me to marry you?”

  She started to respond, then paused, calculating. “If I did, would you say yes?”

  He grinned. “What do you think?”

  She smacked his chest, then yanked his face down to hers. “I think you’d better say yes, then I think you’d better take me upstairs and make love to me until neither of us can think straight. Besides, sle
eping alone sucks.”

  He scooped her up in his arms. “Jordy Decker, I like the way you think.”

  She laughed and threw her arms around his neck. “Is that a yes?”

  “I think so.”

  EPILOGUE

  Two years later …

  Jordy stood and stretched, rubbing her lower back. She swore she was carrying this baby between her knees. She smiled at the piece she’d just finished. The bronze patina was perfect. Her agent, Leonore, was going to flip when she saw it. It would be the centerpiece of the show. But it wouldn’t be for sale. This one was personal. This one was for Cai.

  She rubbed her tummy and swallowed her trepidation. Her first New York show was still four months away, but with the baby due any day, she hadn’t thought she’d finish in time. Eileen had picked a winner with Leonore. And this time, Jordy kept her hands in all avenues of her career and was enjoying it. But with the baby coming, she’d begun to worry how she’d handle it all. Her agent had been great, telling her to relax and enjoy nesting, that the pieces already done were enough.

  “But wait until she sees you.”

  Just then a tight pain wrapped the muscles in her lower belly into a fist. She clutched the table for support. “What timing.” She waited until it passed, trying to breathe like she and Cai had learned in class. Breathing, hell, this hurt.

  Cai chose that moment to knock on the door. “Is it safe?”

  She’d been snarling at him for weeks to keep out until she was finished. She couldn’t believe she’d kept it a surprise, but she had. She straightened and took a deep breath. Her lower back still ached, but she pasted on a smile. “It’s safe.”

  He walked in, then stopped dead. He stared, open-mouthed at the figure of a man astride a great winged horse. “It’s incredible.”

  She walked over to him and slid her arms around his waist. “It’s from a drawing I did of you right after we met. I think I knew even then that you would dominate my thoughts for the rest of my life. It’s yours.”