Trolls in the Hamptons (37 page)

Except someone shouted that the speedboat was like to blow up next. Fafhrd decided we were not moving fast enough away from danger. He put Nicky down as gently as if he were a butterfly, then jumped overboard and started kicking and pushing until he could stand. After that he just shoved us toward the armada from shore.

They threw ropes across, then leaped onto the barge and ran to pat Grant's back, hug me, touch Nicky's cheek. Everyone marveled at the miracle of how the barge and its towboat had appeared at just the right time and place. No one commented that there was no tug in sight.

Ambulances and fire trucks waited onshore, with hands reaching out for Nicky. I wasn't letting him go, not out of my sight, not to any hospital. He was limp in Grant's arms, barely holding his own head up, his eyes drifting shut. “We'll take him to Grandma Eve,” I said, and no one argued with me.

Lou took Borsack's suitcase off the barge when Grant pointed to it. I hadn't known he'd taken the case, but appreciated his foresight in that horrible moment. God only knew what Borsack had, or what it could do to the water or the fish or anyone swimming in the bay.

All the villagers lined a pathway to a fire-rescue truck. They nodded, smiled, said what a good job we'd done, and encouraged Nicky to feel better now that he was home where he belonged.

He didn't look any better to me, by the lights in the truck. We took off, sirens blaring, red lights flashing, which should have thrilled a little boy. Nicky barely moved, but he did hold my hand tight.

Grandma was waiting on the porch for us, crying because she'd been afraid for me, crying because I was safe. Once she touched my shoulder, she went back to being Eve Garland, the tough old bird. “You let the EMTs patch up all those cuts and bruises, Willow. You, too, Grant. Then go find dry clothes. I'll take the boy. Everyone else, you go on home. There's nothing more you can do.”

I was staying. So was Grant. Colin and Kenneth stood by the front door, on guard, until a healer from DUE and a pediatrician from East Hampton arrived.

The medical doctor couldn't do much without blood tests and heart monitors, but he shook his head. The healer told us to talk to Nicky while she worked, so I did, telling him what a wonderful life he could have, school, friends, a whole town as family, as many dogs as he wanted.

Grandma spooned some tea into him. If her ingredients didn't help him, or the words she mumbled, maybe the honey she stirred in would.

Grant spoke, too, while the healer ran her hands over Nicky's body. No one had any idea what Grant said, of course, except Nicky, who fluttered his eyelashes at him. Grant looked sad, and I knew what he was going to say.

Grandma said it first, after a look from the healer: “He cannot stay here. We cannot care for him.”

I always knew that, in my heart. I lifted him in my arms and held him close to me, accepting the blanket Grant wrapped around both of us.

“Nicky, my love, do you want Fafhrd to take you home with him?”

He gave me a shadow of a smile, touched my lips, and whispered, “Pls.”

I carried him out to Grandma's porch. “We'll both think of him, then, shall we?” I asked. “So he'll come. Think of how strong he is, strong enough to keep you safe forever. And brave, brave enough to break the rules to find you. He'll bring you to your grandfather, who will love you the way we love you here.”

We could hear trees crashing, as something very big hurried to us.

I brushed his hair back off his forehead. “I'll miss you, baby. I hardly knew you, but you were part of me, you know.”

He touched his heart. And mine. “One life. One heart,” I said.

He chirruped.

Grant interpreted: “One life. One heart. I and thou. One forever.”

I tried to swallow my tears. “We better go down to meet Fafhrd before he tries to climb Grandma's wooden stairs and falls straight through.”

Nicky spoke again, in his own tongue.

Grant laughed, so I demanded to know what Nicky said.

Grant touched Nicky's shoulder and smiled. “I think you could translate it as ‘He ain't heavy, he's my brother.' ”

“How is that possible? Nicky's mother was human, his father an elf.”

They conversed a minute, half in the eldritch language, half in their minds. I could tell that from Grant's concentration, and I was jealous that I couldn't do it anymore.

“D'ref could alter his form,” Grant explained, “and cast a glamour over his victims so they saw what he wished. He tricked the prettiest troll maiden in the land, a princess among her people, Fafhrd's mother. Her family insisted he be stripped of his magic for his sins.”

Then Fafhrd was in front of us, kneeling, his hands out. I kissed Nicky's forehead, then laid him in Fafhrd's arms. “Keep him safe, my friend. I'll miss you, too. But I'll put both of you in my books. So we can be together. You and I, forever.”

Grant cursed. “Damn, I wish I could see him, just this once.”

I understood, because I envied his ability to talk to Nicky.

Nicky smiled, and whispered something to Fafhrd. I didn't notice any change, but Grant sighed. “Thank you. For everything. Go in peace.”

They disappeared

 

Now it was just Grant and me. I couldn't hear any voices, only spring peepers calling. I guess Nicky's magic let me be a telepath for a bit, or Borsack's. Or maybe just hysteria, the way people could lift buses in a panic. Either way, I was on my own now, the way I'd always been, and more afraid than ever. Life was scary.

“We have a lot to talk about, Lord Grantham.”

“Can't it wait until morning? I think we're both exhausted and emotionally drained.”

“No. I'd never fall asleep tonight anyway.”

We walked back to my mother's house, touching, but not talking. I made coffee. We both changed into dry clothes. I found a first aid kit; he found a bottle of brandy to add to the coffee.

We sat next to each other on Mom's sofa, which was covered with crocheted afghans to hide the dog stains. Red had collapsed onto a pile of towels in the kitchen.

“I love you,” Grant said at the same time I said, “You are a British peer.”

He brushed that aside. “It's only a courtesy title, carrying no seat in the Lords, no duties at court. My father is the earl, and he is young, healthy, and expected to live to a good old age.”

“Expected by the seers and Gypsy fortune-tellers, I suppose?”

He shrugged. “They are usually right.” He let his hand drape across my shoulder so his fingers could fiddle with my hair, twining it around his fingers. “I never mention it because people see me differently then. I wanted you to see the man, not the title. I don't have to live in England full-time, if that worries you. And I love you.”

That's what worried me more. “I was chosen for you to love.”

“Chosen, or chance met by moonlight, I still love you.” He kissed me, long and deep, and as stirring as ever.

I pushed him away. “No. You were sent here because we were paired up, like an old-fashioned arranged betrothal to wed money and titles and land. Only this time it's talents and bloodlines and genes your matchmakers look at.”

“And character. But they chose right. That is, they suggested right. No one ordered me to marry you. No one could force me to love you. I know you love me. I saw it in your thoughts when we were in danger. And the sex is magnificent. We can work everything else out.”

“No, we cannot, and keep your hands to yourself. Sex is not the answer to everything.”

“It's not?” he teased. “You could have fooled me.”

“You don't understand. You were goddamned
chosen
for me. Even if you call it a suggestion. We'd be like my parents' marriage, and see where that led.”

“To you.”

He was getting frustrated, in more ways than one. “And so what if they told me we'd be good together? We are. I did not choose to be an earl's son, or a linguist. I'd rather have inherited my mother's talents. You did not choose to be an artist or a writer; you had the gift for it. You couldn't give that up any more than you could chop off your right hand.”

Which he had in his, and was kissing each finger. I wondered what his mother's magic involved, but I had to get my mind back on track. “I could have been anything.”

“You might have tried, becoming an insurance actuary or a saleslady at your Bloomingdale's, but you'd never be happy.”

“Who's to say I'll be happy with you?”

“Did I mention the magnificent sex?”

“There has to be more.”

“Dash it, Willy, there is. I love you and you love me. You've never loved anyone else, and no other woman has ever satisfied me. Nor have I cared so much about satisfying my partner. You
are
my partner, a part of me, the part that makes me want to be whatever and whom-ever you need. I am already a better man, for knowing you, for loving you. I and thou, one forever, remember?” He touched the charm at my neck. “One life. One love. You're stuck with me.”

“No,” I insisted. “People find second loves, find that their first ones don't work after a year or two. Or fifteen, like my parents.”

“Not us. We're too smart to let the wonder of it die.”

“How can you know? Because it's written in the stars somewhere? I cannot accept that. I want to be loved for myself, not because you were told to, not because some genetic genius decided we'd make beautiful children.”

“Bloody hell, Willy, I was willing to die for you. I was ready to kill for you. Isn't that enough to prove my love?”

“No, you had Nicky and a world to save. I was a minor player. Listen, would you give up the earldom for me, when your father passes on? Would you give away your wealth because I don't trust rich people? Would you end your connection to DUE, which is dangerous and scary?”

“No.”

“There, you see?”

He didn't bother to answer. “Would you leave the States for me? Give up your writing because being a countess takes a lot of time? Would you walk away from your parents and Paumanok Harbor?”

“Um, no.”

“I would never ask any of those things of you. I wouldn't love you half as much if you weren't so loyal and true, so creative and talented, so brave when your knees are shaking.”

“You felt that, did you?”

“In my soul. All I wanted was to keep you safe, and I would spend the rest of my life protecting you from danger. Love is like that, and it's all about compromise, sweetheart, give and take. We can work it out; I know we can. Look what we've already been through together. That has to form a base no one could predict or plan for us.”

He made it sound so easy, and his hand rubbing my back, then stroking my breasts made me want him more than ever. “I do love you. But I need time.”

“That's all right, Willy. I have to go to England with what I've learned, to teach others. I'm going to ask about having the Royce Foundation buy up the Rosehill estate to make a satellite study center. Paumanok Harbor is too unique, its citizens too valuable to the world to let anything happen to them.”

“They are kind of wonderful, aren't they?” I guess I could say it now.

He took tiny nips at my neck, my earlobe. “You are the most wonderful of them. No one like you should have to uproot yourself to learn about your talents, so maybe I can convince the trustees to come to the source.”

“That sounds good.” And his tongue felt better.

“I'll come back as soon as I can. Or you can come visit there, see how you like it, see if you could be happy writing part-time in an old castle. We have ghosts, you know. All respectable castles do, of course.”

“Of course.”

“You could put them in your stories. I won't give up, Willow Tate, and I won't give you forever to decide, either. I want those beautiful children. I want you at my side always.”

“I'll think about it.” When my head wasn't filled with thoughts of getting him naked.

“That's good enough, for now.”

So was his tender lovemaking, for now. It had to be. He left with Lou before daybreak.

They were going straight to the Air National Guard airport in Westhampton with Borsack's suitcase. They'd fly to Washington, then board a secured, secret government flight to England.

And I would go back to my apartment in the city.

I'd finish my book. I already had a sequel in mind,
Night Mares in the Hamptons
. I'd see about flying down to visit my father if I could face the plane ride. If I could, maybe I'd apply for a passport and book a trip to England, just to see.

Or I could call Van and invite him out to Paumanok Harbor for a long weekend.

 

A bouquet of roses was waiting when I smuggled Red into the apartment. The enclosed card had the symbols from my mother's wedding ring, along with some new ones Grant must have figured out to represent One life, One heart, I and Thou, One forever.

Under the symbols he'd written,
You and me, babe.

Maybe I'd apply for that passport tomorrow.