Lone Star Magic (28 page)

She had to prepare herself for a life without
him.

“May I see your sword?”

Back to her, Alrick froze. A second later,
the double meaning of her question struck her as funny. She choked
back a chuckle.

“Beg pardon?” Turning slowly, his polite
expression made her want to shake him.

Instead, she made herself smile politely. “I
would like to learn to use your sword. That one.” She pointed to
his scabbard, leaning against a knotty mesquite tree.

He took a step back. “No. My sword is a
powerful, Fae weapon. It would be dangerous in human hands.”

Lifting her chin, she stared him down. “Not
if you teach me. I want to defend myself.” Again her hand strayed
protectively to her middle.

Alrick followed the movement and his gaze
darkened. “I see.”

“No. You don’t see. If it’s going to be me
and Lance against the world, I need to become a better
fighter.”

He crossed his arms. “For self-defense?”

“That too. But I’m tired of running. The next
time the Warlord shows his face, I want to take him down.”

“How can you, when he never stays long
enough? For Myrddin’s sake, don’t you think I would kill him if I
could?”

“Still, I want to be prepared. What I’m
saying is that I don’t want to be a passive victim. If I had my old
Winchester rifle, I’d feel better. But I don’t have it. So give me
a weapon. Teach me to us it. If something happens to you, don’t
leave me unarmed.”

“You don’t like blood.”

“True. I still don’t. But if it’s to be me or
him…” She moved closer. This time, he didn’t retreat. Another step
brought her near enough to touch him, as she’d been longing to do
all day. But she didn’t want to be distracted by his body, not now.
She wanted answers. Instead of caressing him, she poked him in the
chest. “Well? What do you say?”

“The only weapons I have are my crystal sword
and my crossbow.”

Not an outright dismissal. She took heart
from that. “Then those are what I need to learn to use.”

His nostrils flared. “I doubt you could even
lift the crossbow.”

“You’re probably right.” She conceded the
point with a slight smile. “But I can hold your sword.”

“Barely. The crystal is heavier than it
looks.”

“If I use two hands, I can do it.” Back to
square one.

“The sword never leaves my side.”

“Then get me one of my own.”

“Get you a…? How do you suggest I do
that?”

“You have magic. Send to Rune for a woman’s
sword. Surely your women have weapons of their own.”

“Of course they do.” Running a hand through
his shaggy hair, he looked bemused. “But if I use magic, we’ll have
to deal with the weather.”

“So? We’ve dealt with the weather
before.”

He tried again. “Magic will let the Warlord
know exactly where we are.”

“He seems to find out irregardless.” Carly
shrugged.

“Have you ever killed anything? Hunted,
fished?”

Slowly, she shook her head. “Well, no. But
there’s always a first time. At least think about it.”

“Tomorrow,” he said finally, turning back to
TM and the stone he’d honed to use to clean the horse’s hooves.
“We’ll see about arming you tomorrow.”

When Carly awoke the next morning, shivering,
the temperature had dropped at least sixty degrees. Snow swirled
from the summer sky, a freak phenomenon sure to make the history
books – snow in Texas in June. Brushing herself off, she sat up and
rubbed her eyes. Partially covered in snow, a shining crystal sword
lay on the ground next to her.

ALRICK WAS furious. Illogical, yes.
Irrational and unrealistic, he knew. But how
dare
the mage
send Carly a sword without first consulting Alrick? He scanned the
sky, looking for Tinth. If he saw that blasted bird now, he’d pick
it out of the sky with one of his arrows.

“Don’t sulk.” Still beaming, Carly hefted her
sword above her for the tenth time. The crystal glittered in the
sunlight, like the blade was made of diamonds. “I love this. It’s
perfect.”

“You’re holding it wrong,” he growled.

“Am I?” She adjusted her grip, still wrong.
“Teach me. Better?”

“No.” Before he thought about what he was
doing, he’d already closed the distance between them and adjusted
her grip. “Hold the hilt, here. Like that. Now swing.”

She stepped back and swung gracefully. The
sword whistled melodically as she sliced through the air.

“You have about as much chance of hurting the
Warlord with that as a mouse has against a hawk.”

Laughing at him, she hefted the weapon again.
“Better this than nothing.”

Despite the sudden chill and the snow, he’d
woken with a raging hard-on. Watching her lithe beauty now, holding
a weapon forged by one of his kind, filled him with a savage,
desperate lust. A desire so familiar to him now, that even the
rapid arrival of the sun and her glee over the Mage’s unexpected
gift hadn’t been able to douse it. With the quick climb of the
temperature back to the normal sultry heat, he performed his
morning exercises at twice their pace, punishing himself with
exertion and sweat.

Despite all this, still the need remained.
One look at Carly was all it took to re-ignite the simmering flame
inside him. Around her these days, desire always seethed below his
skin.

He found himself wishing he’d met her in
another time and place.
Wishing
? Romantic dreams were
Cenrick’s specialty, not his. Alrick had never been one for foolish
imaginings or for wanting what he knew he could not have.

And he could not have Carly. He needed to
remember that.

“Let’s break our fast.” A trace of impotent
anger leaked into his tone.

Her impossibly green eyes widened. Moving
reluctantly, she slipped her new sword into the beautiful gilt
scabbard she now wore around her waist.

“I want a Belgian Waffle, with strawberries,”
she told him, defiance in her voice. “Maple syrup. Warm. And
coffee, pots and pots of coffee, with cream and sugar. Oh, and
throw in some OJ while you’re at it. Got that?”

“I can’t use magic to bring us food. Just
because the Mage—.”

“Oh, lighten up Alrick.” She sounded on the
verge of tears. “I was joking. Joking, get it?”

Since her mood appeared to match his own, he
turned away without another word. He’d gather their foodstuffs in
the forest, as he always did. Then, once they’d eaten, they needed
to talk. They couldn’t run forever. It was well past time they came
up with some sort of strategy.

After they’d eaten the morning’s meager
pickings, Carly stood. “I’ve got the perfect plan.”

Cautiously, he motioned for her to
continue.

“The best defense is an offense.”

Shades of Lothar, she was beautiful when she
was angry.

He forced himself to concentrate.
“Explain.”

“We’ve got to think of some way to set a trap
for the Warlord. The next time he shows his face, we nab him.”

“He’s never here long enough.”

“Each time he seems to be able to stay
longer.”

She had a point. Still… “All right, say the
next time he’s able to materialize for more than a few seconds.
What are you proposing we do?”

“You have magic. You tell me.”

“It’s worth a try,” he said slowly. “As long
as you promise me you won’t take any foolish chances.”

“Hey, I’m armed now.” For further emphasis,
she fingered the hilt of her sword in what he guessed she thought
was a menacing manner.

Actually, the movement of her slender fingers
only looked sensual. He groaned, dragging his hand across his
mouth. “I will not permit you to try and taunt the Warlord. You
have no idea—.”

“I know, I know. I have no idea what I’m
dealing with. I never said I wanted to
taunt
him. Just let
me distract him, while you swoop in and nab him.”

He noticed she didn’t say
kill
. “The
Warlord will not allow himself to be captured. When I take him on,
it will be a fight to the end.”

She shot him a look under her lashes and
swallowed. I just think we should use me as bait to distract him.
That’s all. Then, when he swoops in to kill me, you zap him. Take
him out.”

“Zap him?”

She waved her hand. “Whatever. As long as it
works.”

“No. Too dangerous.”

“Hey, I’m not going to be in any danger.
Especially since I might be…”

“Might be what?”

She shook her head. “Trust me, it will work.
I’ve seen the same thing happen often enough.”

“You’ve seen the same thing? Where?
When?”

“In movies.” She grinned, not at all abashed.
“They have to be realistic. They do research and everything.”

Gritting his teeth, he kept himself
completely still. “This is not a game.”

“Don’t you think I realize that?” Again she
cradled her abdomen protectively.

“You could be carrying our child.”

Though her eyes filled with tears, her smile
had more brilliance than a thousand Texas suns. “I know.”

“I will not risk it. Or you.”

“Me neither. I’ll be careful.”

“No.”

“Alrick…” Color high, she advanced on him,
meaning to argue.

He kissed her instead.

When he slanted his mouth over hers, she
melted. For half a second. Then she stiffened. “Oh, no.” She pushed
against his chest. “You cant’ distract me this time… mmmmm.”

When he deepened the kiss, her arms came up
to wind around his neck. She pressed against him, and he pushed
back, letting her feel the strength of his arousal. He felt
invigorated, alive, and randy as a young stallion.

They might have made a child. Together.

Their clothing was an unwelcome barrier
between them. Even as he grabbed at hers, she tugged his. Then,
bare skin to bare skin, they came together, intertwined. When he
entered her, he felt like a starving man given a feast. Poetic, yes
and unlike him, true. But he had no other words to describe what
this woman had become to him.

She was everything.

He didn’t know how he ever was going to leave
her.

Stupid. Foolish. She had a destiny to
fulfill. And he, he had a kingdom to run.

After they’d made love again, Alrick had held
her. For the space of a heartbeat or two, Carly allowed herself to
wallow in the awful/wonderful sensation of being loved. Then,
because she was not a stupid woman and didn’t believe in
self-delusion, she pushed herself out of his arms. He let her go
without a word, as she’d known he would. Child or no child, he had
his own path to follow.

They’d cleaned up, climbed on their
respective horses, and began again the journey towards nowhere.

Falling slightly behind, she allowed herself
to memorize the perfect shape of Alrick’s shoulders, the sinewy
muscles of his massive arms, the thick, dark hair curling at his
neck. She had touched this man, loved this man, and her

life would be forever changed, child or no
child.

Alrick’s lovemaking made her a new woman, a
different woman, and while part of her felt sorrow at letting go of
her widowhood, another part of her realized it was past time to
move on with her life. Time to heal.

But how could she, when she’d chosen a man
who could only leave her?

She was utterly, achingly tired of fleeing.
If the Warlord were to show up now, she’d confront the sick
bastard, just to be done with it.

“Alrick.” She rode up beside him. “It’s
time.”

The wary look he gave her made her almost
want to laugh. Almost.

“Time for what?”

But looking at him, at the belligerent set of
his sensual mouth, she knew she didn’t want more discussion. “No
more talk,” she said softly. “No more running, either. Time for
action.”

With a slight salute, she kicked her mare
into a run. As they raced off away from a startled Alrick, Carly
drew her sword and held it high above her head.

“Be ready,” she called over her shoulder. Her
heart pumped, her blood raced, and she felt pure joy at being
alive.

“Carly!” Alrick came after her. She’d known
he would and knew too that TM could easily outrun her sleek mare.
So now, while she was still ahead of him, was the time to put her
daring plan into action.

“Warlord,” she screamed, lifting her sword to
the sky. “I’m here. Come and get me.”

“Carly, no! Don’t taunt him!” Alrick was
gaining on her, TM’s pounding hooves stirring up dust and closing
the distance fast.

But he would be too late. Even she felt the
shift in the air pressure, the shivery sensation skittling along
her skin.

Magic. The Warlord. Taking up her
challenge.

“Come on, Warlord.” Bringing Merry to a
sliding stop, Carly brandished her sword.

Hooves pounding as Alrick rode hard to catch
her.

Above, an image flickered. Black hooded robe.
Icy, blue eyes. The Warlord!

“Carly,” Alrick shouted, almost there.
“Run.”

The black-cloaked figure solidified, hovering
in the air twenty feet above them, emerging from the clouds like
the second coming of a dark anti-Christ.

“Run!” Alrick slid to a stop next to her.

“No. No more running.” She jumped to the
ground, keeping her back against her mare. She drew her sword. “You
can help me or not. But I’m going to fight.”

“Damn it, no.”

The Warlord solidified.

“Yes. Showtime.” Knowing her smile looked
more like a snarl, Carly wished she could see her enemy’s face.

Alrick vaulted to the ground beside her. With
her Fae warrior at her side, she took a deep breath. “I’m
ready.”

“If he stays, you’ll get behind me.”

Without taking her eyes from the flickering
shape above them, she nodded.

“I’ve never wanted to kiss you more. Then,
throw you over my shoulder and run like hell.”