Enchanted Magic

by T. M. Cromer

  “He’s teasing you, Mack. They are alive and well.” Arabella bit her lip. “Or mostly well, if you disregard the fact they are both madder than a March hare.”

  “I don’t know what to say to that,” Mackenzie admitted with a laugh.

  “No need,” Sebastian assured her. He kept his hands locked behind his back and nodded toward the now-open door. “After you.”

  Today, Mackenzie was wearing flats, and although she was on the tall side, she barely reached Sebastian’s chin. As a result, she had to tilt her head back a bit to meet his dark, dancing eyes. “You think I’m going to be the first to walk into a house with creaking doors and haunted halls?”

  He chuckled and held out an arm for her to take. And oh, how she wanted to, but she was afraid of what she’d see again. Just as he was about to lower his arm, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. She released a relieved sigh when no visions slammed into her.

  “Is everything all right, Mackenzie?” His charming veneer dropped to show legitimate concern.

  “Yes, I…” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Sorry. I don’t touch many people. I don’t always care for the feelings I receive.”

  His eyes met hers, and he nodded. “Last night makes more sense now. What did you feel?”

  “Nothing that made any sense, really,” she hedged.

  “You’re not being completely truthful with me,” he said. “But your secrets are your own to keep. I understand all about the need for such things.”

  “Thank you, Sebastian.”

  “Baz. All my close friends call me Baz.”

  “I don’t know that I’d classify us as close friends.”

  He smiled at her teasing tone. “I would, because it won’t be long now.”

  Her breath stalled, and she found it difficult to take in air.

  The intent behind his comment was clear; Sebastian Drake desired her and would do everything within his power to make her his lover. Mackenzie’s ability allowed her to feel his seriousness. The want in those mocha eyes was plain for anyone to see.

  The two of them were locked in the moment. Each lost in the magic of the other’s gaze and the possibility of becoming lovers.

  Arabella cleared her throat, and the spell was broken.

  Or mostly.

  Sebastian’s hot-eyed gaze dropped to Mackenzie’s lips, and he shifted as if he intended to kiss her.

  “Sebastian!”

  Arabella’s scold had done the trick. He jerked slightly and shook his head. “Right.” Once again, his eyes met Mackenzie’s. “Right.”

  Placing his other hand over hers where it still rested in the crook of his arm, he guided her toward his sister at the top of the stone stairs.

  Trying not to attract notice, Mackenzie inhaled deeply to restart her lung function. Goddess, the man was sex on a stick. All yummy and tempting, making her insides gooey.

  He was correct; they’d become lovers. But that didn’t mean she was going to make it easy for him.

  She suppressed a grin at the thought.

  “What has you so amused?” he asked in a low voice.

  “You. Me. Us.”

  He paused in the entry hall to stare down at her. “The idea of us amuses you?”

  “The upcoming dance does.”

  The light of challenge sparked a fire in his dark eyes, and an appreciative smile eased the hardness of his rugged features. “Me, too.” He leaned in until his lips were a mere inch from the shell of her ear. “You should know, I’m a master dancer.”

  Removing her hand from his, she stepped away. “I’ve no doubt. But you should know, I can dance circles around you, Baz.”

  His grin widened to encompass half his face.

  “What has you so amused?” she parroted his earlier question.

  “You. Me. Us.” He had replied as she expected he would.

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “You called me ‘Baz.’ It shows you’re already warming to me.”

  She gave him an arch look and turned away to admire the hall. “Your home is gorgeous.”

  “Not nearly as gorgeous as you,” he said smoothly.

  “First, if you want to charm me, Lord Kilbride, I suggest you discard the practiced-flirt routine. I don’t like it, and for each time you lay it on thick, it will set you back by at least ten steps and kill your game.”

  “I’ll make a mental note of it. And second?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You said ‘first,’ which implies a second.”

  The twinkle in his eyes was genuine, and it derailed her thought process. “Yeah, I got nothing.”

  His deep laughter was like a thick blanket on a cold day. She wanted to snuggle down and get comfy.

  “I like you, Mackenzie Thorne.”

  Raw honesty shone on Sebastian’s face, and Mackenzie’s heart unlocked enough to crack the door to possibility. It wasn’t necessarily an open invitation for him to step through, but she wasn’t shutting him out either. Maybe he’d taken her at face value and decided to be himself instead of some over-the-top Lothario. She’d like him so much more if he was genuine.

  Because she feared her face displayed her longing, she glanced away, looking for a distraction, and realized Arabella was missing. “What happened to your sister?”

  “Her first action is always to check the welfare of the aunts when we return.”

  “Arabella is such a lovely soul.”

  “You can tell that after such a brief acquaintance?”

  “Call it a gift.”

  “Ah.”

  She stopped her inspection of his home and spun back around to face him. “Your ‘ah’ holds a wealth of meaning. What are you thinking?”

  “Simply that you’re insightful. It explains why you dislike it when people put on an act with you.”

  She gave him a single nod to acknowledge he’d guessed correctly.

  “Tell me, Mackenzie. Are you like your cousin Alastair?”

  “In what way?”

  “An empath.”

  “Somewhat. My ability goes deeper.”

  He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder to gain her attention and direct her toward another room, but just as quickly removed it. “In what way?”

  “I have psychic visions.” She’d turned back around when she said it so she could see his reaction.

  He nodded thoughtfully. “What did you see when we were on the balcony last night?”

  “How did you know?”

  “When I touched you, you had a visceral-type reaction and responded with a shudder. You then said it wasn’t me. That leads me to conclude you had a vision. So again, I ask, what did you see?”

  “They were more impressions, really. Nothing concrete.”

  His eyes narrowed, and his mouth curled down with distaste.

  “I’m sorry, Baz. My line of work doesn’t allow for confidences.” She shrugged and gave him a rueful smile. “I’m constantly on guard against the world because of who I am. It wasn’t meant to make you feel bad.”

  The hardness in his features softened. “Forgive me. As I said, you’re entitled to your secrets.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. When I’ve had time to decipher what I saw, I promise to share.”

  He nodded and held out his hand. “Come. Let me show you my home.”

  * * *

  Sebastian could spout facts regarding the estate without lending much thought to the conversation, but he remained silent whenever Mackenzie stopped to admire a painting, an antique, or the room in general. Because he knew a simple brush of her fingers along the surface told her more than he ever could, he gave her time to absorb the energy from the object or space.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” she said, giving him a curious look.

  “I didn’t think you needed me to regurgitate unnecessary details when you could simply touch an object to know about its history.”

  She bit her lip to hide her smile. The gesture irritated him because he wanted to enjoy t
he pleasure of her wide grin. When she relaxed enough to tease or flirt, her eyes sparkled and her lips curved, showing her mischievous side. A side Sebastian would dearly love to see more of.

  “You’re stunning when you smile,” he blurted. The comment surprised both of them. Perhaps him more so than her. She was, in all likelihood, used to constant compliments, which was why she detested them.

  Instead of grimacing or turning away in distaste, she laughed. “Genuine compliment. I’ll take it and thank you for it.”

  “Good. I’m glad you recognized it for what it was.”

  The fun light in her eyes disappeared, and she looked as if she wanted to ask him something. A slight frown came and went, and she started to turn away.

  He stopped her with a hand on hers. “You can ask me anything, Mack.”

  “Now who’s the insightful one,” she teased with a light laugh.

  He recognized her desire to divert his attention from her seriousness a moment before. Remaining silent, he lifted his brows in question.

  “Last night, you mentioned my cousin GiGi.” She met his gaze head-on. “Do you love her?”

  “No.”

  “Did you?”

  “No.”

  Her shoulders dropped, and he imagined her sigh was one of relief.

  “Would it bother you so much if I had?” He asked the question to quench his curiosity and found himself eagerly awaiting her response.

  She studied the vase of fresh flowers next to her. With a slight shrug, she said, “Yes. I suppose it would.”

  “Mackenzie.” His tone commanded attention.

  When she looked up, Sebastian said, “Your aunt is a beautiful woman. Both inside and out. I found her attractive, and I flirted shamelessly when I believed she was going to divorce Ryker.” He shifted forward and brushed a lock of her outrageously red hair from her face. “I hadn’t met you yet, but I can tell you now, I didn’t feel half of the desire for her that I do for you.”

  His heart rate increased as he waited for her to process his comment and respond. Her happiness brightened her eyes, and again, she bit her lip to hide her smile.

  “Don’t do that,” he ordered softly, touching the pad of his index finger to her lower lip. “Don’t hide all your loveliness from me. Please.”

  Anything she would’ve said was forgotten as his aunts, Gwendoline and Theodora, scuttled into the room.

  “Oh, dear me. She’s perfect, wouldn’t you say?” Aunt Gwennie said, her hands fluttering the black lace veil she still insisted on wearing sixty years after her husband’s death.

  “I’ll say,” Aunt Teddie agreed, her voice a whisper compared to Gwennie’s commanding tone. In contrast to her sister, Teddie tended to wear all white. A symbol of her unmarried state from a time when debutantes wore light colors to denote their innocence.

  “Perfect for what, or don’t I want to know?” Mackenzie asked in an aside.

  “Who really does with these two?” Sebastian murmured. “Just smile, but never nod. Otherwise, you’ll encourage them, and no one wants that.”

  She shot him an admonishing glare and crossed to the elderly women. “How do you do? I’m Mackenzie Thorne.”

  She had held out her hand, but quickly drew it back when Gwennie hissed her displeasure.

  “A Thorne? Oh, dear. Oh, dear!” Teddie cried as she wrung her hands and ping-ponged her head back and forth between her sister and Mackenzie. “What do we do, sister? What do we do?”

  The oddest thought occurred to Sebastian that Teddie and his now ex-friend Hugh might somehow be related based on their speech patterns alone. Before he had time to form a sentence to convince Mackenzie everything was fine and this was the norm, Arabella skidded into the room. Apology in every line of her body.

  “They escaped. I’m sorry, Baz.”

  “Escaped? I beg your pardon!” Gwennie snapped.

  “And this is why we never invite guests back to the estate,” Sebastian whispered into Mackenzie’s delicate ear.

  A sparkle lit her eyes, and she smothered a laugh. “They’re delightful,” she countered.

  “Not in the least. You’ll see. You’ll see.” He’d purposely mimicked Teddie to draw another giggle from Mackenzie.

  Her eyes flared wide, and she did the thing where she bit her lip to hold back her amusement.

  Sebastian wanted nothing more than to lean in and taste those plump pink lips, but he figured he’d send the aunts the rest of the way into madness.

  “Tea is served.”

  They all pivoted toward the far end of the drawing room, where the Drakes’ ancient butler proudly stood with his tie askew and one stocking bunched around a painfully thin ankle. The poor old bugger still dressed as if he belonged in the time of carriages, balls, and bustles. The only thing out of the ordinary—or maybe it wasn’t—was the bright-pink lipstick peppering his jawline.

  Teddie and Leopold had been at it again.

  Sebastian closed his eyes and sighed.

  Of course this was happening when he wanted to impress Mackenzie. Why wouldn’t it? Such was his life.

  “Tea? Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever had proper tea.” She practically danced in her eagerness.

  “Don’t get too excited,” he told her in a low voice. “The scones are always rock hard and the milk curdled. Do play along, but be sure to replace what’s in your cup with something consumable and not likely to poison you, won’t you?”

  Hearing her choked laughter brought heat to his cheeks. He didn’t have the courage to see if she found all this a lark or whether she was secretly appalled, unable to get away fast enough.

  Tucking her arm through his, she tilted her head to stare up into his face. “Should we work out a signal? Something to let me know what’s edible and when I should pull the old switch-a-roo?”

  Releasing a pent-up breath, he chuckled. “I’ll tap a finger to the side of my nose if you need to swap out the food or drink. Although, I must say, you’ll probably want to with everything that crosses your plate. It’s what Arabella and I both do.”

  “I think I’m going to love it here.”

  Sebastian drew her to a halt and let the others go on ahead. When they had the room to themselves, he said, “Thank you. I truly hope you do.”

  Chapter 3

  Later that afternoon, as Sebastian attended to business and Arabella wrangled the aunts down for a nap, Mackenzie escaped to the gardens with their maze of herbs, boxed hedges, and large oak trees.

  She truly loved this place.

  The temperature consistently sat in the mid-seventy-degree range, or as any country other than the States registered temperature: twenty-three degrees. Although she’d traveled extensively for her modeling career, she still needed to stop and think about the conversion from Celsius to Fahrenheit when she was in a foreign country.

  Laughing at her own silliness, she swirled a hand in the air to kick up the currents. The trees around her danced, and the wind through their branches whispered her name. The fallen leaves rose and formed in the shape of a heart before morphing into something entirely different.

  A child’s giggle came from behind one of the trees bordering the garden.

  With a slight grin, Mackenzie swirled her hand to gather more leaves. This time, she formed the words, “Hi, I’m Mack.”

  A dark-haired sprite of a child peeked from around the tree. The smile slowly died from the girl’s face as she looked at her. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what, honey?”

  “For what my grandmother will do to you.”

  This precious girl’s sincere apology struck Mackenzie’s psyche like a physical blow. Her blood turned to ice, and her heart hammered double-time to pump the frozen sludge through her veins as a feeling of doom struck her. “Who’s your grandmother?” She wanted to ask why the hell the woman would target her, but she didn’t want to frighten the child.

  Before she could answer, an instantaneous flash of light split the space between them, and a black-haired, bl
ack-eyed man appeared in front of the girl. Obviously her father, based on the resemblance. He looked a bit harried, and irritation turned his full mouth down at the corners as he gave Mackenzie a once-over.

  Dismissing her, he faced his daughter. “What did I tell you about leaving the estate, beastie?” he ground out.

  With his hands on his lean hips, his muscular upper body was displayed to advantage. His stance triggered a memory.

  “You’re Damian Detheridge. The Aether,” Mackenzie blurted. She’d seen him years ago when she was younger. And holy hell, the man never seemed to age. With his power, he probably could glamour into the divine creature before her.

  “She was making the leaves dance, Papa,” the child said, coming out from behind the tree and skipping toward her. All sense of worry for her grandmother’s impending deeds seemingly gone as a mischievous grin took the place of her somber frown. “Will you show him, Mack?”

  Unbidden, a wide smile formed on Mackenzie’s lips. This little girl was too precious for words. “Of course. Tell me what you wish to see?”

  “A dragon!”

  “Huh. Well, now we know why your papa calls you a beastie. Seems as if you like the darker side of nature,” Mackenzie teased as she called forth all the fallen leaves from the ground. She moved her hands as if she were sculpting a great work of art, careful to get the proportions of the dragon’s head and body correct for what she had in mind. The darker crinkly leaves formed the scales of the creature’s chest and the triangular tip of the tail. For the claws, she used broken twigs.

  “There. I think that about has it, don’t you?” she asked the girl.

  “Make him growl!”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Damian shake his head with an indulgent half smile. Obviously, he was used to the girl’s precocious ways and adored her.

  “Of course. What’s a dragon without a fierce growl?” Mackenzie bit her lip to hide her amusement and, once again, waved her hands about. “Abracadabra! A growling dragon you shall be!”

  She was careful to soundproof the garden so any mortals in the surrounding area didn’t crap their pants at the echoing roar.

  The child’s eyes flew wide in delight, and she ran forward as if to hug Mackenzie. She was stopped short by her father’s hand on her shoulder, but it didn’t kill her enthusiasm. “Oh, thank you! Thank you!”