The Matchmaker's Mark (23 page)

"It's not just the tree. I want you."

"Yeah. I noticed." Her breath hitched. He heard it, would swear he'd felt it in his own lungs. His entire being seemed to have one goal – her – yet his awareness was expanding as fast as his arousal.

"Try to focus on the Matchmaker."

Ashamed, he did try, but Lily had no idea how much she affected him, crowding out all logic, any mission, every worry.

"We're almost there. Promise me you won't do anything…foolish?"

He nodded, speaking the vow for himself as well as for her. "I'll behave." He could already see the white church spire she'd mentioned.

"The canopy is massive," she warned.

He knew she meant the mystical effect of the tree would hit him long before he would see the core of it. As if the recent mistake wasn't warning enough. "I'll manage," he growled.

"Good."

She practically bounced ahead of him, making him wonder what effects she was fighting. Her ponytail was a pale stream down her back, a beacon calling to him. He stomped ruthlessly on his need for her; he owed her that much decency at least.

She veered slightly off the dirt road and he felt the punch of power. Timeless, endless power. It surged around him, sank quietly into his system. He'd never felt so alive or invigorated. With every step, it intensified. He was absolutely king of the domain, right here and now, in this moment. And the peace beneath it all, the thorough stillness, only made it more vibrant.

His eyes adjusted to the dark, took in the vast expanse of the Angel Oak. Awed, he knelt and offered his honor to the ancient tree.

He didn't know how long he rested there, didn't care how long it might take, he just let time flow around him as he bared his heart and laid his thoughts open to the wisdom within.

He hoped for passage to the nearest House of Elves to ask for assistance in tracking the Matchmaker, in providing better protection.

Reverently, he reached for the tree, laid his palm gently over the bark of a branch hundreds of years older than his earliest memory.

Beside him Lily sighed. "Be well, on the journey Dare," she said, laying her palm over his, adding to his supplication.

The tree did not respond and though his blood heated at her touch, he did not pull his hand away.

When her palm turned, when she laced her fingers with his, pressing closer and tipping her face up for his kiss, he did not turn away.

Nothing inside him, around him, said 'Stop'. Everything inside him, around him, said 'Stay'.

With the tender quiet of the moment and an equal measure of reverence, he laid his mouth on hers for the second time.

She rocked her body into his and he prayed it wouldn't be the last time. Bracing her against the tree he gladly accepted all she graciously offered. Her taste was sunlight and springtime and he drank it in, forgetting everything that shouldn't happen in favor of the heady moment of everything that was happening.

He wrapped her closer, stroked the length of her spine when she moaned into his mouth. Her supple body heated in his arms, light flashed beyond his closed lids and the scent of fresh grass was everywhere.

Then he had that soft body under him, where she fit so perfectly. "Lily," he murmured against her warm skin as her head rolled back, giving his mouth access to the fine column of her throat.

Her sudden, panicked scream was not the reaction he'd anticipated in his vivid fantasies.

His eyes flew open, senses too, looking for the threat.

Shocked, he stared at a moonlit clearing, ringed by trees, all too similar to the venue of his youthful dreams. Where – or when – had his magic taken them?

Beneath him, he heard Lily's horrified whisper. "Gods. What have I done now?"

My dearest Amy,

There are days that simply warm the heart and will forever be remembered. Today was such a day for Campbell Consulting. It was one of our smoothest negotiations and everyone left the table content and hopeful. Instead of the typical summary meeting with the team, I threw a party for them. They are such a fine crew. I hope you have such good people to support your work.

A leader is only as effective as the team she inspires.

Love always,

Auntie Camille

Amy was tired of driving and feeling more than a little foolish. Not to mention whiny. And wimpy.

She'd parked at a rest stop to walk Guinness and nap at mid day, only to be startled awake by his long cold nose on her neck. Right in front of her car, a state trooper and a woman were exchanging dopey, lovesick grins. She quickly backed out of the area and hoped for the best.

If she couldn't control the power she was sending off in her sleep, she was doomed to a very solitary, possibly even sleep deprived life. Had Camille been forced to live in some sort of lead lined trailer better suited to a flakey conspiracy theorist?

It was terribly disconcerting to think she was radiating some magical, 'love-the-one-you're-with' vibe. She'd been trying not to ponder all of that in the hours since the rest stop, blasting the radio from one oldies station to another, enjoying the brief moments when Guinness would sing along in his greyhound 'roo-roo-roo' voice.

It shouldn't be a surprise that even the less graphic lyrics turned her thoughts to romance and sex.

Desperate for a better distraction, she reached for her cell phone, pressed the button for her office and listened to it ring before remembering it was still Sunday.

She was about to hang up when a deep voice rumbled, "Hello?"

Startled, she bobbled the phone. "Who is this?" she demanded after getting the thing back up to her ear.

"I'll answer if you will."

The audacity of the man! "What have you done with Emily?" Although if it was Sunday, her stalwart assistant would be home with her husband and grandkids. "How did you get into my office?"

"Your office? Hmph. Ah. That must make you Ms. Campbell." There was a grunt and a shuffling noise before he continued. "I'm not in your office. Got tired of waiting on you."

"How on earth – "

"Had your calls forwarded. Are you coming back anytime soon?"

How had he done that? Of all the bold, presumptuous things to do. "Who are you?"

"Call me Mac. I left my number on your desk. The package I'm babysitting is safe, if you get my meaning."

The package. The book. "Y-yes."

"So call me when you get back. G'night."

Amy had all sorts of things she wanted to call him now, but he'd already disconnected. Her thumb poised to call back, she realized the futility.

Irritated with yet another radical curve ball thrown her way, she put her mind toward getting home.

Home, away from oceans, mad mermaids, and stoic bodyguards. Home, where she could review every letter Camille had ever sent in peace.

In the meantime, where was she supposed to spend the night?

She didn't know the back roads well, but she had a good sense of direction and having left the Atlantic Ocean far behind, she resigned herself to drive-thru and another rest stop. Some place remote enough that no one would be drawn to the power shimmering around her.

So obvious now, how much magic Dare had applied to allow her to walk so easily in Charleston. There had to be a way for her, as the Matchmaker, to protect herself. It was silly to believe a Matchmaker needed a bodyguard to get through the most basic of days.

Even with this change, she wasn't any different, just more aware of those things she should never have forgotten. As an independent woman, an accomplished professor, a second job sort of thing like matchmaking couldn't really be beyond her skills.

Empowered, she cruised over yet another bridge without even looking for the faces of bitchy mermaids or disgruntled trolls this time.

Her pace slowed as the roads climbed and curved around foothills, then mountains. She decided she was probably the only driver to wish for a rest area inside a tunnel. The belly of the mountain was the first place that gave her any sense of peace since she'd started this run. Until she thought of trolls looking for a soul mate.

Sticking with her plan, she got fast food with the minimum of love-sickness and shortly after found a lovely rest area at the edge of a wooded hillside.

She could handle this – would handle this – her way. She walked Guinness again and set out food and water for him when they returned to the car. As he ate, she told herself the feeling of being watched was a result of her overactive imagination and Dare's incessant warnings. No one else had pulled in. No one else was here or Guinness would alert, and try dragging her off to make a new friend.

Weary, she leaned back and closed her eyes, remembering the stories Camille used to tell her. Stories she'd thought were merely fairy tales.

There'd been the requisite tales of otherworldly creatures, elves, mermaids, shape shifters – of which Camille showed a distinct, inexplicable preference for werewolves – and countless more varieties. Plus the rare group of individuals who'd been blessed by gods with immortality or advanced skills to accomplish a specific task.

Now that she knew they were real, she wondered how few of them remained.

Her mind hopped from one image to the next. Maeve's love-sick morning, the werewolf's eyes when she marked him by mistake, Dare and Lily in the churchyard, and always, the moody mermaid.

The mermaid bothered her most of all. Not just because that coral, coiling hair put a damper on her goal of a warm January. While it was disconcerting to be recognized before she'd even fully accepted the Matchmaker role, she now believed in the underlying magic that made such a thing possible.

What a risk the creature had taken to surface, to make herself known.

How had Camille – or another Matchmaker – wronged her?

For the first time, Amy felt a willing urgency to see the Matchmaker's book.

Picking up her phone, she dialed the office.

"What d'ya want now?"

Clearly the pleasantries were over. "Have you opened the package?"

"Course not. Are you home?"

"Not yet."

"Then why are you calling?"

Amy barely held her tongue. From scolding or apologizing, it didn't matter. "Open the package."

"No."

She launched her argument, was more than halfway through it, when she realized the line was dead. She confirmed the cell signal wasn't the problem and dialed again.

"Are you home?"

"Don't you ever hang up on me again." Temper had her thinking all kinds of dire threats she refused to speak aloud. "Is the package addressed to me?"

"Only if you're Professor Campbell."

The sneer in his voice grated across her senses. "I am. So open it already."

She blinked at the phone when a string of curses sailed through, followed after a moment of silence, by a weary sigh.

"For once my brother was right."

"Beg your pardon," she said sweetly.

"Nothing for your concern. I cannot open this blasted package. I will not say why over the phone. If you're too daft to figure out my reasons it won't matter anyway."

A string of beeps accompanied the irritable grumbling this time.

"Are you trying to hang up?"

"For all the bloody good it's doing me. What sort of creature are you that you'd curse a man through a damned phone?"

"Funny. To my ear all the cursing is coming from you."

"Women!"

"I'd hoped you might read a passage or two to me."

"As if I've nothing better to do with my time than read to children."

"Is this a bad time?"

"I should put down the phone until you hang up."

"But you won't."

"I'd likely wake up as a frog."

"Thanks for the idea." She smothered a laugh while he muttered some more. "There's a seal of sorts on the label?"

"Naturally."

Naturally. She had too many hours of driving ahead of her, even if the roads were clear and thawed.

"Well?"

"I'm thinking." She paused. "Would you bring the package to me? I'll pay for your time."

"No. You'll have to come here. I cannot just leave."

Driving back and forth would take too long. She was due back in class – if she could even teach class again. Dare had implied the book would help her understand how to mute her effect on people, but was that a spell she could master quickly?

Did it really matter anymore? Camille had lived in relative seclusion with her team, only stopping to see family for brief visits. He'd effectively told her she was headed toward the same lifestyle – just without his expert security assistance.

She wondered how she'd find the people who would be on her team. Was there some sort of mythical job placement service she could call? Dare had said there were factions and individuals waiting to use the matchmaker's power and services for their own purposes. How would she know who to trust?