Spellbound Falls

by Janet Chapman

  Sophie went over and sat down beside him, and patted his knee. “Don’t worry; Isabel can’t bug you in the classroom, and I’ll protect you during lunch and recess.”

  Henry looked downright horrified as he stared at Sophie. “Girls don’t protect boys! It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

  “Sure they do, young man,” Sam interjected, sitting down on the step above them beside Ezra. “Why, in some parts of the world, women . . .”

  Olivia stopped listening to the conversation in favor of backing away to take in the entire scene, not stopping until she bumped into a big broad chest. She sighed when a pair of big strong arms encircled her, and melted against him. “Do you realize that in a matter of only a few days,” she said, smiling at the lodge steps, “I went from being an orphan to having a huge family?” She glanced up at Mac, then back at the lodge. “Can you keep Sam safe, so he can stay?”

  “It’s already done, Olivia. If his enemies continue pursuing Sam, the trail will lead them to a death certificate issued for Sergeant Kelly Waterhouse three years ago, and then to his grave in Arlington. And,” he said quietly when she sighed, “if you request a copy of your birth certificate, you will find Sam Waters Dodd listed as your father.”

  She leaned her head back to look up at him. “You told me you used up all your magic moving the mountains.”

  He shrugged, shrugging her with him. “Not all of it.”

  She faced the lodge again, only to see Titus and Rana and Carolina emerge from the path leading from their cabin to join Sam and Ezra and the children on the steps. “I think we should give your parents the main lodge.”

  “Why?” Mac asked, a slight growl in his voice. “Are you deliberately encouraging them to stay longer?”

  “I can’t have your parents sleeping in a leaky cabin, Mac. All your mom’s clothes got wet during the hurricane because the roof needs to be reshingled.”

  “Then give them your cottage. After Saturday, we’re going to be a family of four.”

  Olivia laughed. “No, we’re going to be a family of nine.” She tilted her head back to smile up at him. “And that, husband, is the real magic that came to Spellbound Falls.”

  LETTER FROM LAKEWATCH

  Winter of 2012

  Dear Readers,

  Fairly early on in our marriage, my husband found out that a big strong hug cured just about any ailment a woman might have. Sadness, anger, frustration, fear, low self-esteem, hopelessness, bad hair—nothing stands a chance against a powerful hug.

  Now I can’t imagine it’s easy to step up and hug an angry woman, but from the perspective of the person being hugged, I can tell you that love trumps anger every time—even when it’s the hugger the huggee is angry at.

  It wasn’t long, however, before I discovered that I had unwittingly handed my husband a tool that has gotten him out of more than one uncomfortable situation, many of them not involving me. “Wow, this is powerful stuff,” Robbie told me one day, looking two inches taller as I suspiciously eyed the wet spot on his shirt. “She started crying and I didn’t know what to do, so I just hugged her.”

  This particular her was our next-door neighbor who also happened to be our tenant at the time. She was a single woman with two dogs that had once again just frightened some children walking to the school bus, and the woman had finally reached the conclusion that the overly aggressive and very old dogs had to be put down before they ended up biting someone—hence the tears that had precipitated the hug.

  And with that revelation forever etched into his psyche, Robbie has since gone on to hug eighty-year-old women, babies with boo-boos, total strangers at a yard sale, widows, orphans, nuns, and even the waitress who dumped dinner all over me. (Now, in case you’re worried about my husband going around hugging other women, he’s very careful not to hug the same one twice, lest she get the wrong idea and hugs him back, because… well, he claims taking care of me is a full-time job and he really doesn’t actively go looking for more trouble.)

  But I feel I should caution you that hugging only works in one direction, because everyone knows that when a man hugs a woman she sees it as an emotional thing, but have a woman hug a man and he immediately thinks, “Hey, she’s touching me, so that must mean she wants to have sex with me right now.” Ladies, they’re guys; a smile means you want to have sex with them.

  So, where am I going with this? Well, those of you who’ve read my books may have noticed that my big, strong, intimidating heroes give my heroines quite a lot of hugs. That’s because being the smart men they are, it isn’t long before they realize how well hugging works. And personally, I like men who are just that smart, so I write them that way because I can. Judging by the letters I get from readers, women the world over share the fantasy of big tough men being brought to their knees by the one woman who in turn is smart enough to love them for the guys they are.

  Teach your man to hug. I promise it will be the best thing you ever do for your relationship. Just realize that once you give him such a powerful weapon, he’s liable to use it—preferably on you—every chance he gets.

  Until later, from LakeWatch, you keep reading—and hugging—and I’ll keep writing.

  Janet

  Read on for a special preview

  of Janet Chapman’s next

  Spellbound Falls romance

  Charmed by His Love

  Available June 2012 from Jove

  Peg rounded a curve in the peninsula’s winding lane and gasped in surprise when she spotted the strange man striding across the parking lot with Jacob thrown over his shoulder. Even from this distance she could see the sheer terror in her son’s eyes as Isabel skipped backward in front of them, trying to get the man to stop. Peg started running even as she sized up her adversary: tall, athletic build, short dark hair. Yeah, well, instead of traumatizing defenseless little children, Claude the mad scientist was about to find himself on the receiving end of a healthy dose of fear.

  “I swear I’ll kick you if you don’t put him down, mister,” Peg heard Isabel threaten. “He wasn’t hurting your stupid machine none. He’s just a baby!” And then the six-year-old actually did kick out when the guy didn’t stop, only to stumble backward as he merely sidestepped around her. “Charlotte! Peter!” Isabel screamed as she scrambled in front of him again. “Come help me save Jacob from the scary man!”

  When she saw him hesitate, Peg was alarmed that the guy intended to go after her daughter. Without even stopping to think, she lunged onto his back. “Put him down!” she shouted, wrapping her arm around the bastard’s neck as she tried to pull Jacob off his shoulder with her other hand. “Or I swear I’ll rip out your eyes!”

  The guy gave his own shout of surprise and suddenly dropped like a stone when Peter slammed into his right knee. “You leave my brother alone, you scary bastard!” Peter shouted as he rolled out of the way, dragging Jacob with him.

  Peg reared up to avoid Charlotte’s foot, which was swinging toward the guy’s ribs, although she didn’t dare loosen her grip or take her weight off him, fearing he’d lash out at her children. He suddenly curled into the fetal position with a grunt when Peter landed on him beside her.

  “Get away from him!” she screamed over her shouting children, trying to push them off when they all started pummeling him. “Run to the—” Peg gave a startled yelp when an arm came around her waist and suddenly lifted her away.

  “Sweet Zeus,” Mac muttered, dragging her up against his chest as he took several steps back. “You will calm down, Peg, and control your children,” he quietly commanded even as he tightened his grip against her struggles.

  “Ohmigod, Jacob, come here!” she cried, holding out her arms. Jacob and Isabel threw themselves at her, actually making Mac step back when he didn’t let her go. “You’re okay, Jacob. You’re safe now,” she whispered, squeezing both trembling children. “You’re a brave girl, Isabel, and a good sister.”

  Charlotte called out, and Peg saw the girl pull away from Mac’s fathe
r just as he also released Peter. Both children ran to her, giving the bastard rising to his hands and knees a wide berth. Peg took a shuddering breath, trying to get her emotions under control. “You can let me go,” she told Mac over the pounding in her chest. Holy hell, she couldn’t believe they’d all just attacked the giant!

  Mac hesitated, then relaxed his hold, letting her slip free to protectively hug all four of her children. “Mind telling me what incited this little riot?” he asked the man who was now standing and wiping his bleeding cheek with the back of his hand.

  The guy gestured toward the lower parking lot. “I was taking the boy to find his parents, because I caught him inside my excavator not five minutes after I’d just pulled him off it and told him to go play someplace else.” He shrugged. “I figured his mother or father could explain how dangerous earth-moving equipment is, since he didn’t seem to want to listen to me.” He suddenly stiffened, his gaze darting from Jacob to Peter and then to Peg. “They’re twins.” His eyes narrowed on the boys again. “Identical.”

  Pushing her children behind her, Peg stepped toward him. “I don’t care if they’re sextuplets and were driving your excavator or stupid submarine.” She pointed an unsteady finger at him. “You have no business manhandling my kids. And if you ever touch one of them again, I swear to God I’ll—”

  “Take it easy, mama bear,” Mac said, dragging her back against him again. “He was only concerned for Jacob’s safety. As well as yours, apparently,” Mac said quietly next to her ear. “Did you not notice he didn’t defend himself when you and your children were attacking him? Duncan’s intentions were good.”

  Peg stilled, a feeling of dread clenching her stomach. “D-Duncan?” she whispered, craning to look at Mac. “He… he’s not Claude, the scientist?” She lifted her hands to cover her face. “Ohmigod, I thought he was the guy who scolded Jacob for climbing on the submarine yesterday.”

  She peeked through her fingers at the man she and her kids had just attacked, horror washing through her when she saw the blood on his cheek and scratches on his neck. “Ohmigod, I’m sorry,” she cried, jerking away from Mac and rushing to her children. Even though he was over half as tall as she was, Peg picked up Jacob and set him on her hip as she herded the others ahead of her, wanting to flee the scene of their crime before she burst into tears. “C-come on, guys,” she whispered roughly, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. “Let’s go to the van.”

  Mac’s father plucked Jacob out of her arms and settled him against his chest, giving the boy a warm smile as he smoothed down his hair. “That was quite a battle you waged, young Mr. Thompson,” Titus Oceanus said jovially, shooting Peg a wink as he took over herding her children away when Mac pulled her to a stop. “I’ll have to remember to call on you young people if I ever find myself in a scary situation,” Titus continued, his voice trailing off as he redirected them toward the main lodge.

  Damn. Why couldn’t Mac let her slink away like the humiliated idiot she was?

  “It will be easier to face him now rather than later,” Mac said, giving her trembling hand a squeeze as he led her back to the scene of her crime. “Duncan’s a good man, Peg, and you’re going to be seeing a lot of him in the next couple of years.”

  Wonderful. How pleasant for the both of them.

  “Duncan,” Mac said as he stopped in front of the battered and bleeding giant. “This beautiful, protective mama bear is Peg Thompson.”

  God, she wished he’d quit calling her that.

  “She’s not only Olivia’s good friend, but Peg is in charge of keeping the chaos to a minimum here at Inglenook.” He chuckled. “That is, when she’s not creating it. Peg, this is Duncan MacKeage. First thing Monday morning, he and his crew are going to start building a road up the mountain to the site of our new resort.”

  MacKeage. MacKeage. Why did that name sound familiar to her?

  All Peg could do was stare at the hand her victim was holding out to her, feeling her cheeks fill with heat when she saw the blood on it. Which he obviously only just noticed, since he suddenly wiped his hand on his pants, then held it out again.

  Peg finally found the nerve to reach out, saw his blood on her hand, and immediately tucked both her hands behind her back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to lift her gaze above the second button on his shirt—which she noticed was missing. “We… I thought you were the man who scared Jacob yesterday. He had nightmares all night and I barely got him back here today.”

  He dropped his hand to his side. “I’m the one who needs to apologize, Mrs. Thompson, as I believe you’re correct that I shouldn’t have touched your son.” She saw him shift his weight to one leg and noticed the dirt on his pants and small tear on one knee. “I assumed he was the boy I’d just told to get off the excavator. And having a large family of young cousins, I thought nothing of lugging him off in search of his mother or father.” He held out his hand again. “So I guess I deserved that thrashing.”

  Damn. She was going to have to touch him or risk looking petty. Mac nudged her with his elbow. After wiping her fingers on her pants, Peg finally reached out, and then watched her hand disappear when Duncan MacKeage gently folded his long, calloused fingers around it.

  Oh yeah; she had been a raving lunatic to attack this giant of a man. Not that she wouldn’t do it again if she thought her kids were being threatened.

  Okay, maybe she was a protective mama bear.

  It seemed he had no intention of giving back her hand until she said something. But what? Nice to meet you? I look forward to bumping into you again? Have we met before? Because I’m sure I know someone named MacKeage.

  Damn. She should at least look him in the eye when she apologized—again.

  But Peg figured the first three times hadn’t counted, since she’d mostly been sorry that she’d made a complete fool of herself trying to gouge out his eyes with her bear hands. But looking any higher than that missing shirt button was beyond her. “I’m sorry!” she cried, jerking her hand from his and bolting for the main lodge, her face blistering with shame when she heard Mac’s heavy sigh.

  Duncan stood leaning against the wall of Inglenook’s crowded dining hall, shifting his weight off his wrenched knee as he took another sip of the foulest kick-in-the-ass ale he’d ever had the misfortune to taste. He wondered if Mac was trying to impress his guests by serving the rotgut or making sure they never darkened his doorstep again. He did have to admit the ancient mead certainly took some of the sting out of the claw marks on his neck, although it did nothing to soothe his dented pride at being blindsided by a mere slip of a woman and her kids.

  Hell, if Mac and Titus hadn’t intervened, he’d probably still be getting pummeled.

  Duncan slid his gaze to the bridesmaid sitting at one of the side tables with her four perfectly behaved children, and watched another poor chump looking for a dance walk away empty-handed. Peg Thompson appeared to be a study of innate grace, quiet poise, and an understated beauty of wavy blond hair framing a delicate face and dark blue eyes—which was one hell of a disguise, he’d discovered this morning. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had left her mark on him, much less taken him by surprise, which perversely made him wonder what the hellcat was like in bed.

  She was a local woman and a widow, raising her four children single-handedly for the last three years, Mac had told Duncan just before leaving him standing in the parking lot bleeding all over his good shirt. After, that is, Mac had subtly explained that he also felt quite protective of his wife’s friend. A warning Duncan didn’t take lightly, considering Maximilian Oceanus had the power to move mountains, create inland seas, and alter the very fabric of life for anyone foolish enough to piss him off.

  But having been raised with the magic, Duncan wasn’t inclined to let the powerful wizard intimidate him overly much. He was a MacKeage, after all, born into a clan of twelfth-century highland warriors brought to modern-day Maine by a bumbling and now—thank God—powerless old drùidh.

/>   And since his father, Callum, was one of the original five displaced warriors, not only had Duncan been raised to respect the magic, he’d been taught from birth not to fear it, either. In fact, the sons and daughters and now the grandchildren of the original MacKeage and MacBain time-travelers had learned to use the magic to their advantage even while discovering many of them had some rather unique gifts of their own.

  Hell, his cousin, Winter, was an actual drùidh married to Matt Gregor, also known as Cùram de Gairn, who was one of the most powerful magic-makers ever to exist. And Robbie MacBain, another cousin whose father had also come from twelfth-century Scotland, was Guardian of their clans and could actually travel through time at will. In fact, all his MacKeage and MacBain and Gregor cousins, whose numbers were increasing exponentially with each passing year, had varying degrees of magical powers. For some it might only be the ability to light a candle with their finger, whereas others could heal, control the power of mountains, and even shape-shift.