Mystical Love (10 page)

With a contented sigh, Janice hiked her knees over the arm of the sofa and dropped her bottom into the belly of the cushions to continue viewing the set. To her left stood a fantasy bedroom, decorated with lace, ribbons, and roses. The main occupant, a four-poster brass bed, was straight out of an erotic novel and Janice's pulse quickened at the thought of two bodies making heated love beneath the silken sheets.
Dispatch that disturbing image to the back of your mind, Janice, and make it stay there.

Obeying the command, her gaze swung to the mini-fireplace and the oil painting housed above it. The vitality of the young woman in the portrait struck her at once. So who was the woman and what did she mean to Adrian? Janice let her imagination run wild. She was a long ago lover. No, that was too simple. She was the woman Adrian wanted but couldn't have. Yes, she liked that idea. Adrian brought to his knees by a beauty who had twisted him around her little finger and then callously dumped him. No wonder he hated women.

“What a perfectly adorable set.” Janice jumped at the sound of the lilting tones and then hid a smile as Muriel dropped onto the cushions alongside her. “One can well imagine the grandeur of being part of Queen Elizabeth's royal court,” she stated with a sigh.

“Or a love-sick debutante, courted by impetuous dandies,” Janice added.

“Exactly, my dear. We seem to be on the same wavelength again.” They shared another smile, and then Muriel was studying the room on her own, her eyes, too, finally coming to rest on the oil painting above the fireplace. Janice sensed Muriel was as moved by the portrait as she.

“I would never have suspected that beneath Adrian's cranky exterior there lurked a sensitive, romantic side,” Muriel commented. “His jaded wit is so overwhelming, it quite takes your breath away. I think I have done him a grave injustice.”

“Do you believe the concept of the set is his?”

“I do. Don't you?”

Janice gave a quick nod, realizing she did. Furthermore, as much as she hated to admit it, Adrian seemed to be loaded with artistic talent. Blast the rotten swine! Why did he have to have an eye for arranging beautiful things in a most sensual, romantic way?

“Never judge a book by its cover,” she quoted softly. “We all could learn from that lesson, don't you agree?”

When no response came to her question, Janice swung about, expecting to find Muriel's attention still riveted on the oil painting. Instead, she found her studying the entranceway, her lips tilted in delight. Janice followed her gaze to the door, and spying the star-spangled figure poised there, murmured a breathless “wow.”

Arms resting on the doorframe, Ginger stood in a dramatic pose, smiling at them provocatively. To say that she looked sensational was an understatement, Janice realized. She was quite literally a page out of a Victorian novel, and her gown, if it could be called a gown, sparkled and shimmered under the tray of overhead lights. As she walked toward them, the dress showcased her tiny waist and ample breasts. With a pang of envy, Janice tugged uncomfortably at her oversized, baggy sweater.

Reaching the sofa, Ginger made a small pirouette before them.

“Is this a sensational costume or what!?”

“You look absolutely ravishing,” Muriel complimented.

Ginger attempted a small curtsey in thanks, but ended the bow with a quick clutch to her bosom. She gave a bright laugh to cover her embarrassment.

“As you can tell, I'm an overendowed substitute for Adrian's sexy stage sirens. They rarely stay clothed long enough to worry about popping out of their costumes.”

“Can we look forward to some Vegas nudity, Ginger?” Janice teased lightly.

“God, no. This performance is strictly PG-rated.”

“What can we expect?” Muriel asked quickly. “I must confess I've never seen a magician at work before.”

“We'll be doing three of Adrian's most popular illusions. He thought since Carrington House has such a rich historical background, he'd set the scenes Victorian style.”

“Is it his concept and design?”

“Every bit.”

“It's magnificent.”

Janice saw Ginger's lips curve upward.

“Trust me, it's not nearly as magnificent as Adrian under the spotlight. His first illusion will astound you. It's called the Vanishing Lady and I do mean vanishing. It segues immediately into the Artist's Dream, my personal favorite.” She pointed directly at the oil painting nearby. “How Adrian accomplishes the illusion still baffles me every time I perform it with him.”

Janice's gaze followed her pointing finger.

“Who is the girl in the painting, Ginger?”

Ginger's look at the painting was brief.

“Sylvia Parker. Adrian's number one assistant. Beautiful, no?”

“Beautiful, yes,” Janice replied, emphatically.

“Well, I better find Adrian,” Ginger said. “He always has last minute instructions before a performance.”

Muriel's hand arced through the air.

“No need to go far — there he is now. And he looks as breathtaking as you do.”

Janice's head whipped around, eager for a glimpse of Adrian in costume.

Muriel was right. He was breathtaking in his frills and satin, and like Ginger, he was a page out of a Victorian novel. Only he resembled no impetuous dandy. In his skintight breeches — and they were skin tight — he was every Victorian mother's nightmare. A man who radiated a vitality that drew women to him like magnets.

Deep in conversation with Lloyd and Jasper, he didn't seem to notice the hot looks in his direction. Janice wondered if he knew the effect he created wearing those breeches. Lord, he had to, she decided. There was a maddening air of arrogance that lived about him. Out of nowhere, she sensed he liked turning women on, perhaps even counted on his ability to do it. Disturbed by where her thoughts were heading, Janice realized forming an attraction for Adrian Magus would be fatal for a woman, a complete loss of her peace of mind.

He seemed in no hurry to join them, even seemed to ignore them. And then in the next second, his gaze was riveted on Janice's face. He gave a slight bow in greeting and Janice wondered why she should feel so strangely flattered by that steady gaze. And then he was all business again, whistling for Ginger who hurried to his side and was catapulted out the door. In seconds, Jasper was jumping the stage ramp and skidding to a halt in front of them.

“We're minutes away from the start, ladies,” he remarked. “Time to find our front row seats.”

He held out his hand to Muriel, who slid forward and allowed him to pull her up. Janice popped up and swiftly traced her way down the sloped ramp to the back of the solarium where Lloyd was finishing the final chair arrangement. He held a seat out for her, nodding.

“For you, mademoiselle.”

Janice dropped down with a cheeky grin, settling herself in for a comfortable stay. She felt a shadow by her side almost immediately and looked up to find Jasper hovering close. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and she responded by raising her eyebrow. He bent down to her ear level.

“I have been dispatched by Adrian to take your compass, Janice.”

“My compass!” Good Lord, how did Adrian know she carried a compass? She slid her hand into her slacks pocket and withdrew the oblong cylinder. “How did Adrian know?”

“I told him. He needed some personal effects for his illusion. He took my pipe. He wants Muree's wedding band. And since you brought no purse, he'll take your compass.”

Janice dropped the compass into the middle of his outstretched palm.

“I'm not sure I like it that you can read minds so effectively, Jasper. It makes it hard to keep a secret from you.”

He grinned affably, wrapping his palm around the compass, and then retrieving the ring Muriel held out to him.

“Harmless hobby, really. I never intrude where I'm not wanted.”

Janice laughed cheerfully, waving him away. Whirling, he sped out the door, but was back in seconds, pausing only long enough to switch the room lights off before slipping into his chair alongside Muriel.

In less than two minutes, music cut through the dark, streaming about their heads and bouncing off the walls. Center stage, a spotlight snapped on and Adrian stepped out of the dark into the light.

“Oh, my.”

The words were out before Janice could stop them.
Gorgeous, he really is absolutely gorgeous.
His smile broke then, warm and spontaneous, and his gaze penetrated the darkness between them. Janice had the uncanny feeling that he had been able to read her thoughts just then. She stifled a shiver; however, in the next instant, the shiver fled, cut off by Bette Midler's rich, velvety tones and Ginger's sudden appearance from between the parted curtains. Adrian held out his arms and she stepped into his embrace, pressed her open lips to his and immediately vanished from his arms and their sight.

In the same instant, Janice felt a sizzle along her temple, her mind suddenly colliding with another's. In her mind's eye, a vision erupted, drowning out the room around her and sending a faint buzzing along the rim of her eardrums. Caught off guard, she gripped the chair arms in preparation for the phantom pain she knew would soon begin skittering along her pulse point. She hated unexpected tap-ins. They were painfully unnerving. She tucked her chin into her chest but was a fraction of a second too late. A flood of light came, followed by the sudden clear vision of a frightened young girl cowering in a crawlspace.

The woman's lips moved, but no sound emerged — at least none Janice could hear through the din clogging her ears — yet she knew the girl was calling for mercy from someone who was stalking her beyond the crawlspace. The vision lasted no more than thirty seconds before it began to fade, yet Janice attempted to hold on to it, hoping for a chance to memorize the young girl's face. It was a struggle; the more she tried to center her mind's eye on the girl, the more someone or something pushed the image from her mind.

And then the vision evaporated completely, leaving her dizzy and light-headed. The solarium room walls swam back into view and her gaze latched onto the drawing room set center stage and to reality. The buzzing in her ears ceased, and once again, Bette Midler's dulcet tones filled her ears. On stage, Ginger rematerialized in Adrian's arms and he lowered his mouth to hers. As their lips met, waves of nausea rocked Janice's stomach and it took all of what was left of her flagging energy not to black out under the phantom jolt. And then, like thieves fleeing down a darkened alley, both Adrian and Ginger vanished from sight. Her nausea and pain fled with them, leaving her even more lightheaded. A second later, one perfect red rose appeared on the floor in their place. In her ears, Janice heard a last haunting refrain: “In the spring, becomes the rose.”

FRIDAY — MINUTES LATER

Janice held her breath, her whole body wedded to the music. As the last tender strains of guitar strings faded away, the spotlight on the rose dimmed and the rose vanished from sight. At first, there was no movement or sound and Janice felt immense relief. It was heaven to have her pulse quieting and returning to normal.

Center stage, the birdcage began to twirl on the tabletop and though the tune was distinctly familiar, for the life of her Janice couldn't remember its title. No matter, the sweet sound was like the tinkle of crystal bells and acted as a welcome tonic to her frayed nerves. And then the soft, breathless sound of Michael Crawford sprang from the speakers. With seductive entreaty, he identified himself as the Angel of Music and called out to his ladylove, Christine.

In response to the musical plea, the drapes over the window casing began to slide back. The mood music changed from mysterious to romantic. Tremulous organ chords gave way to strings and percussion, and a single spotlight came up on the drapes highlighting the window frame. To Janice's surprise, the draperies revealed not a window as expected, but a life-size picture frame with blank canvas.

In sweet syncopation to the music, color began to seep through the pores of the canvas material and Janice gasped along with the others. Before their eyes, the blank canvas began to take shape and form, transforming itself into a life-size portrait of Adrian in all his Victorian splendor. And then the portrait came to life and Adrian stepped from it into the den.

Janice caught her lower lip between her teeth in surprise. He was good. Damn good — just as her sister had raved.

Mesmerized by his appearance, her eyes followed the seductive lift of his hands back toward the painting. A warm glow flowed through her as the painting transformed itself once again. Going blank, it rearranged colors, and to Janice's delight, reformed into a portrait of Ginger seated upon a garden swing. And then the spangles on her spectacular gown took on life, shimmering profusely, and Ginger stepped from the swing into Adrian's waiting embrace. They shared a brief kiss and the music swelled in perfect harmony.

Janice heard a low, pleasurable sigh emanating deep within her own throat and swallowed hard to keep it from being heard. She kept her gaze glued to the clinging couple, leaning forward in her chair, awed by the fusion of music and movement. Never had she seen it so skillfully blended or so ably executed. That it had been designed to create an emotional impact on the five physical senses was clear, right down to the seductive, soft fragrance of jasmine permeating the air. She realized Adrian had meant to move the viewer with the romantic beauty of the piece, and she knew that no viewer would be immune. She was moved by the illusion, sensed by their reverent silence the others were, too.

On stage, Ginger fled Adrian's embrace, drew close to the portrait and vanished once more to still life. Adrian reacted instantly, raising his hand to the portrait hanging above the fireplace. With split-second timing, the two portraits traded places. Stunned by the quick change, Janice emitted another sigh of appreciation. She studied Adrian's profile and saw his concentration was intense as he stared at the portraits. What was the secret? Where was the power? How was he able to maintain such a high level of energy, while being drained so physically and psychically?