Spellbound Falls [5] For the Love of Magic

by Janet Chapman

  She clasped his face in her tiny hands to look him directly in the eyes. “Gram’s here,” she whispered excitedly. “You must go tell her that you love her and miss her and want her to come home.”

  “I must?”

  She nodded solemnly. “And if she won’t listen to you, then steal her truck keys so she can’t leave.”

  Titus arched a brow. “You believe I should force her to stay?”

  Ella looked down with a fierce frown. “No,” she said, her large, troubled green eyes lifting to his again. “Then beg her to stay, Grampy.”

  “Oceanuses—male and female—do not beg,” he growled in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

  “You are so stubborn,” she growled right back at him, squeezing his face for emphasis—only to suddenly get a familiar gleam in her eyes. “Then kiss her.”

  Titus rested his forehead against hers in defeat. “Where’s your mother?”

  “Working.”

  “Then where is your brave new Atlantean tutor?”

  She straightened away with a shrug. “Likely searching for me.”

  He walked out onto the porch and scanned the path, then gave Ella a stern look. “A princess does not sneak off like a common thief in order to shirk her duties. And at three years old, your most pressing duty is to be good for your mother and tutor.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t change the subject. Are you going to go tell Gram you love her and miss her, or not?” She suddenly threw her arms around him in a fierce hug. “She’s living in a crooked old house, Grampy,” she whispered, “and all her furniture is lumpy.” She leaned away just enough to eye him again. “Do you think she misses Atlantis, and that’s why she went to live by the sea? Because if it is, then you must go live in her crooked house with her so she won’t be alone.” Ella nodded, apparently liking her plan. “Henry and Sophie and I promise to visit.”

  Titus pressed her head against his shoulder to hide his grin and walked down the steps. “Or,” he said as he started toward the resort offices, “you could leave courting your grandmother to me and concern yourself with being a well-behaved princess.”

  “Ella! Where in Hades are you?”

  Ella straightened with a gasp. “Sweet Zeus, Mum sent Nicholas after me!” She clasped Titus’s cheeks again. “Please, Grampy, don’t let him make me sweep all the cobwebs out of the tunnels. They go on for miles.”

  “There you are, you little termagant,” Nicholas muttered as he jogged up the path toward them. He stopped and pulled a small resort phone from his pocket. “I have her, Olivia,” he said into the phone. “She’s with Titus.” He suddenly grinned. “No, that’s okay. She can spend the rest of the afternoon with me, and I’ll bring her back in time for dinner. But she’s probably going to need a bath when she gets home,” he drawled, “and you might have to burn her clothes.”

  “Grampy,” Ella squeaked, her arms tightening around his neck when Nicholas shoved the phone back in his pocket. “You must save me.”

  “Come on, princess,” Nicholas said, holding out his hands. “I believe there’s a broom with your name on it waiting for you.”

  Titus must not have disguised his amusement quickly enough when Ella leaned away to give him one of her well-practiced pouts, because she suddenly made a sound of disgust and wiggled for him to put her down. “Well, fine then,” she snapped as she stormed past Nicholas with all the dignity of a haughty princess. “I’m not afraid of any stupid spiders.”

  Nicholas turned to watch the little cherub stride away, and Titus saw the warrior violently shudder. “I almost feel sorry for Mac.” He glanced over his shoulder and shot Titus a grin. “Almost,” he repeated, shoving his hands in his pockets and whistling a merry tune as he followed.

  • • •

  Concluding that Kitalanta had decided to run down the mountain rather than ride back with her, Rana gave up waiting for the wolf and climbed in her truck. “You are brave simply for being a woman,” she said aloud, fastening her seat belt with a decisive click. “And besides, you’ll be on the inside of the road for the descent.”

  But despite her pep talk, she couldn’t seem to start the engine. Drat it to Hades; it was different driving the mountain alone, with no one to keep her mind off the fact that she was higher than most birds flew. She should have persuaded Macie to come home with her instead of letting Olivia give the still-shaken woman a hotel room, complete with room service and the security of knowing she was safe from Sebastian and Johnny and anyone else who might come after—

  What was that smell? Rana took several deep sniffs as she looked around the interior of the truck, only to stiffen when her gaze stopped on the passenger seat and she saw a small towel wrapped around something that appeared to be the size of a—

  Finally placing the scent, Rana snatched up the bundle with a squeal of delight and peeled back the towel to reveal an oversized peach that she knew for a fact was perfectly ripe and juicy and unbelievably sweet. “Sweet Athena,” she groaned, holding the peach to her nose on an indrawn breath, “I don’t care how you got here, only that you’re all mine.”

  She took a huge bite, closing her eyes on the explosion of juice and groaning again at being instantly transported back to her palace garden. “Ohhhhmigod,” she hummed as she squished the sweet pulp into every corner of her mouth and used her fingers to capture any escaping juice, not wanting to miss even a drop. She rotated the fruit and took another bite, chewing and humming and groaning—then nearly choking when she heard a tap and snapped her eyes open to see Titus staring at her, his intense green eyes locked on her mouth.

  She turned the key and rolled down her window. “One?” she mumbled past her mouthful of peach as she shook the fruit at him, making him lift his now-laughing eyes to hers. “You brought back only one?”

  He plucked the peach out of her hand, took a really large bite, then handed it back to her. “I have more,” he said around his own mouthful, arching a brow as he quickly swallowed without even having the decency to savor it. “But knowing their value, I decided to put them up as a prize.” He gestured at the peach oozing juice all over her hand, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “That one was merely to whet your appetite for a little wager. Say, an entire bushel of Atlantean peaches to the winner of a race between that pretty racing sloop of yours and my new boat.”

  Rana took another bite as she thought about having a whole bushel all to herself, seeing how Titus didn’t have a single boat in his little fleet that could touch her sloop. In truth, it would be like taking candy—no, taking peaches from a baby.

  “And,” he added roughly when she started licking juice off her fingers, “if you somehow manage to beat me by at least half a league, you will also win . . .” His eyes lifted to hers. “One favor from me.”

  She stopped licking. “What sort of favor?”

  “Your any wish will be my command.”

  She looked down at the peach in her hand. “And if I should lose this wager?”

  “You will give me your first metal sculpture.”

  She shot him a smile. “Then prepare to be—”

  “And,” he continued, “grant me one favor.”

  She stopped smiling. “What sort of favor?”

  His eyes dropped to her mouth again. “My choice.”

  Rana took another huge bite to disguise her scowl. The dirty rotten scoundrel; he knew how much she loved peaches, and was only using them to get what he really wanted. She shoved what remained of the fruit at him. “Here, you’ve obviously overestimated the value of your prize and underestimated me.”

  “Forgive me, madam,” he said, his eyes lighting with laughter again as he took the peach. “I thought I was challenging the reigning queen of the regatta, not some shy young maiden who hadn’t even boarded a boat until she sailed off on her honeymoon.”

  Rana snatched the peach back before he could sink his teeth into it. “Well, fine then,” she snapped, hitting the button to lift her window. “Consider yourself challenged.” S
he stopped the window halfway up. “And it had better be a full bushel.”

  “Wait,” he said when she clamped the peach in her teeth and reached down to start the truck. “The weather is supposed to be warm tomorrow with a stiff breeze. Shall we meet at the point of land guarding the fiord at ten A.M. and lay a course down Bottomless, around its most southern island, and back?”

  Still sucking on the peach, she merely nodded and hit the window button again.

  “Wait,” he repeated, his eyes turning serious as he gestured behind him, where she only just noticed his motorcycle parked beside her truck and realized she must have been too busy humming and groaning and savoring to hear him arrive. “I was just on my way to the Drunken Moose for dinner,” he continued, “and wondered if you would mind following me down the mountain.”

  Now what was he up to? Rana pulled the peach from her mouth and batted her eyes at him. “Why?” she murmured, running her tongue over her lips and stifling a smile when his gaze dropped to her mouth again. “Are you hoping to impress a shy young maiden with your prowess for handling a hundred horses on a winding mountain road?” Seeing he was still staring at her mouth, she pouted. “Or do you hope to throw me off my game tomorrow by giving me a glimpse of your recklessness tonight?”

  And there was that gleam again when his gaze lifted to hers. “It’s a hundred and sixty horses, and I was hoping to impress a beautiful—” He went silent when she started sucking her sticky fingers, and turned away with a very un-kingly curse. “Just try not to run me off the mountain,” he growled as he strode to his motorcycle.

  “Take that, you blackguard,” she muttered, starting her truck as she scowled at him slipping on his helmet. “Thinking to trick me with your little wager, were you? Let’s see how clever you’re feeling tomorrow afternoon, when I’m sitting in my crooked little hovel with my bushel of peaches and you’re swimming back to the marina.”

  But her scowl soon turned into a smile when she pulled up to the guardhouse behind the shiny red motorcycle and realized she wouldn’t be descending the mountain alone after all.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rana stopped tightening her jib line when she spotted the tall mast traveling behind the narrow peninsula separating the fiord from the main body of Bottomless, and frowned that she didn’t recognize the brightly colored sails—only to gasp when the fast-moving vessel rounded the point. She then watched in utter and complete awe as the modern catamaran caught the strong sea breeze and one of its pontoons lifted clean out of the water, exposing a narrow, mid-hull dagger and equally long tiller.

  For the love of Zeus, forget his being a blackguard and scoundrel; she was married to a no-good-rotten cheater.

  Rana scrambled to finish tightening her jib, then rushed back to the helm and turned her sloop to catch the wind, planting her feet against the steep cant of the deck as the boat rolled onto its side and surged forward. She glanced over her shoulder at her competition and realized that even though their sails were nearly equal in size, her sloop was probably twenty times the weight of that catamaran. And two skinny fiberglass pontoons—even with both of them in the water—had very little drag compared to an ancient wooden mono-hull.

  Where in the name of Hades had he gotten that boat? “New,” she whispered. “I was so busy savoring that damn peach that I didn’t even notice when he slipped the word new into his challenge.” Sweet Athena, not only had he known exactly how to distract her, he had actually had her acting like a fifteen-year-old starry-eyed maiden. Forty years of marriage and she was still falling for his tricks.

  “Good morning, wife!” the no-good-rotten cheater shouted as he pulled up off her port side as effortlessly as if she were dragging an anchor. He loosened the line on his mainsail to dump some of the wind so he would keep pace, then reached into a large dry bag lashed to the trampoline, pulled something out, and sank his teeth into—

  A peach! He was eating one of her peaches!

  “That better not be from my bushel!” she yelled.

  Despite the distance between them, she could see his brow arch as he chewed and grinned and nodded. “Pretty damn sure of winning, are you?” he said around his mouthful of sweet, succulent peach.

  “That’s not even your boat!”

  “It is now,” he said, licking the juice running down the side of his hand. “Care to put that pretty sloop back on its mooring and spend the day on a real racer? I’ll let you drive, and I might even be persuaded to share my prize,” he magnanimously offered, gesturing at the bag on the trampoline.

  “You can’t share something you haven’t won yet,” she called out, even as she adjusted her course to fill her sails with wind again. “Play fair,” she shouted over her shoulder as she angled away, “and perhaps I’ll share my prize with you!”

  Rana laughed when her husband straightened in surprise, only to gasp when he tossed the half-eaten peach in the water in order to reef in his mainsail.

  And with that, the race was on. Titus might in theory have a faster vessel, but Rana knew from personal experience that skill and timing and even plain old simple luck could just as easily carry the day. So with that knowledge fueling her determination, she set a course toward Spellbound Falls.

  Surrounded by mountains covered in spruce and pine and various hardwoods, Bottomless was more than fourteen miles wide at its northern end and, not counting the fiord, stretched thirty-nine miles south to Turtleback Station. The large inland sea was dotted with islands varying in size from small exposed ledges to several hundred acres, its seemingly endless shoreline coiling in and out of the rugged terrain to narrow the waterway to only a few miles in several places.

  As Titus had predicted, today couldn’t have been more perfect for sailing if it had been custom ordered. The air temperature flirted with sixty degrees, which was veritably balmy for northern Maine in early April, and a stiff breeze hovered around fifteen knots. After a glance back to see her competition had apparently decided to tack southeast rather than follow her, Rana altered her course to avoid a raft of kayakers paddling out from town. Satisfied the few fishing boats scattered about were holding steady courses, she locked the wheel to run parallel to the shoreline, then relaxed back against the stern with a sigh of delight to be at the helm of her beloved sloop again.

  Probably the thing she loved most about sailing—right behind feeling powerful to be controlling the wind—was the solitude. She enjoyed being alone with her thoughts at sea; her senses sharpening to the task at hand, no one but Mother Nature demanding anything of her, and time seeming to stand still as the rest of the world simply faded away.

  She often found it hard to believe she’d never set foot on a boat until she had met Titus, no more than she could believe she had spent the entire first day of her honeymoon throwing up over the side of his beautiful sailing ship. However, that might have had less to do with the rolling swells and more with her being the fifteen-year-old bride of a rich and powerful and very magical young warrior.

  “If only you hadn’t been so handsome,” she murmured past her smile, “I might have stood a chance.” And charming. And humorous. And so very tender. “Well,” she said with a laugh, “tender when you were certain no one was looking.”

  And persistent. Sweet Athena, the man had skulked around for weeks trying to catch her eye. And once he’d gotten her attention, he’d gone after her heart.

  It scared her sometimes to think that she might have missed out on a lifetime of loving Titus but for her mother’s wisdom. Annabelle Proust hadn’t seen wealth or power or even the magic when Titus had introduced himself to her; she had seen a man desperately needing to be loved.

  What mother encouraged her mere mortal daughter to marry a god, Rana remembered crying in dismay. A mother, Annabelle had quietly answered, that had raised a daughter who was brave enough not to let what he was stop her from marrying the man her love would make him.

  It had been known far and wide that Titus Oceanus preferred living with mortals rather than in
the ethereal world, and that he in fact had little stomach for the violent wars the gods constantly waged against each other at mankind’s expense. Within a year of marriage he’d started making plans to do something about it, but little had Rana realized his decision to champion humanity would eventually send him—and her and young Maximilian—into exile.

  It was then she’d learned that not only was Titus capable of being just as violent as his fellow gods, but that her mighty husband was really quite devious. While slowly gathering mankind’s knowledge into what he referred to as the Trees of Life, he’d also set about building a secret island upon which to safeguard the mystical grove. He had then scoured the earth to find a small, hand-chosen army of intelligent and courageous mortals, personally trained them in the ways of the magic, and charged those first drùidhs with protecting the Trees while nurturing—and sometimes nudging—mankind’s conscience.

  But not three months before Carolina was born, the gods finally caught wind of what he was doing and Titus had been forced to move his young family into his partially completed palace, scatter most of his Trees and drùidhs around the world as an extra precaution, and sink the island and everyone on it into the ocean. And thanks to her devious husband and now Maximilian, mythical Atlantis had remained out of reach of the gods and demons bent on destroying it, and out of sight of unbelieving mortals.

  Becoming aware that she could hear the fast-approaching catamaran cutting through the water, Rana continued looking toward the western shoreline to hide her smile, and even managed not to flinch when Titus crossed her stern close enough that she could have reached out and touched him. She did yelp in surprise, however, when a big, fat, juicy peach landed on her lap, then burst into laughter when she picked it up and saw a bite had been taken out of it.