This Rough Magic Read online

“Will what?”

  She shrugged. “They’ll know what we’ve been up to.”

  Laughing, he pulled her to her feet and drew her close. “I’m sure everyone has been wondering why it hasn’t happened yet. My feelings for you are certainly obvious.” He kissed her.

  Carly gazed up at him, searching out his eyes. “Are you sure?...”

  “Am I sure of what?” he demanded.

  “Are you sure that you never...that you never had something—anything—going with Jasmine?”

  “One more time, Carly. No. I did not.”

  He had to be telling the truth, she thought. He couldn’t look at her so honestly and lie, could he?

  He cupped her head with his hand and caressed her nape. “Have you enjoyed these days?”

  She rested her palms against his chest. None so much as this one! she longed to admit. But she needed to keep her heart in reserve; she still didn’t know where this passion and sweet obsession might lead. “Very much,” she replied, and smiled. “Except that I’m scratchy as hell from all those leaves, and I’ll never be able to get into the bath now.”

  “You picked the leaves, the time and the place. I would’ve been perfectly willing to share our first encounter on a bed. In fact, I tried for a first encounter on a bed.”

  Carly lowered her lashes. “You don’t understand—”

  “I do understand,” he told her gently. “And the time and the place were up to you. But you did pick the leaves.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Will you mind going home?” he asked.

  “Home?”

  “To the castle.”

  “No, of course not. Wait—yes! Perhaps I shouldn’t go back to the castle. Not now—”

  “Damn it, Carly, don’t start that!” he said with annoyance.

  Her eyes widened at the tone of his voice, and she started to push away from him, but he held her fast.

  “You’re too sensitive, and you have an outrageous temper,” he said, laughing.

  “I don’t,” she insisted.

  “Then don’t get mad over little things.”

  “But really—”

  “I want to go back to the castle, Carly, so that you can take a bath whenever you like. Come on. Let’s head back. We’ll pack, and we can be home by tonight.”

  She found it difficult to resist his will. She had met her wolf in the forest at last, she realized, and the wolf had staked his claim.

  And absurdly, she was thinking now, when it was way too late, that perhaps she should have run after all. He was a very demanding wolf.

  CHAPTER 6

  There was a small silver-gray car parked in the driveway when the five of them reached Castle Vadim late that night.

  Carly wasn’t quite sure why, but as soon as she saw the car, she felt an icy nail pierce her heart.

  “The inspector’s car,” Jon murmured, frowning. He seemed distracted. “I wonder what he’s doing here.”

  He opened the car door for Carly. “Come on. Let’s see what has happened.” He hurried along, practically dragging her with him. Geoffrey, Alexi and Tanya followed.

  They entered by the terrace, as usual. Marie was the first to see them, and she welcomed Carly with a nervous “Bonsoir” and went on to speak rapidly to Jon in an anxious tone. He nodded and again led Carly along at an ungodly speed.

  “What is it?” she demanded.

  “Another murder,” he said curtly.

  Carly gasped, chills cascading down her spine. There had been so much magic.... But of course, she thought, magic was only pretense. It couldn’t be real. They had left behind the enchantment when they’d reached the castle. Murder was real. And it cut between her and Jon Vadim as cleanly as a blade. She felt his withdrawal from her, felt the coldness and the hardness.

  And she felt the fear within herself.

  “Come on!” Jon urged her impatiently.

  “Jon—” she started to protest. He still held her hand, but now the touch was cold. As cold as ice.

  “Damn it, Carly, hurry. I want to know what happened this time.”

  “This time?”

  He didn’t say anything. They reached the library door, and Carly caught his hand before he could open it.

  “Jon, talk to me! Why should the inspector be here? We’ve been gone a week. How could any of us be involved?”

  “The girl has been dead over a week,” he told her, then took her hand from his and opened the door.

  Inspector LaRue was sitting on the corner of Jon’s desk, pensively tapping his chin. When they came in he rose, extending a hand to Jon. “I’m sorry to greet you so, Count Vadim. I called this morning, and your maid said that you would return tonight.”

  Jon nodded. Carly thought he seemed wary. “You said we shouldn’t go far—we didn’t. Marie tells me that you’ve found a body.”

  LaRue nodded. “Just like the one last year.”

  “Last year?” Carly whispered.

  The inspector stared at her. Carly wondered whether he read the relationship between them and pitied her for being fascinated by the count, a dangerous man. Suddenly she sensed that at best Jon would tire of her quickly and leave her.

  At worst he might be a murderer.

  “I’m sorry,” the inspector said. “I did not mean to startle you, Madame Kiernan. I thought that your host might have mentioned the trouble last year.”

  Jon shrugged. “People die violently every day. I didn’t know that I was obliged to tell Ms. Kiernan about them all.”

  “But Rochelle died here, Jon.” The voice came from the doorway. It was Alexi, speaking apologetically.

  “Rochelle?” Carly murmured.

  “A very, very lovely little eighteen-year-old girl from the village who was working at the castle. She was found hideously mutilated in a cave in the woods. On the count’s property,” the inspector explained, watching Carly’s reaction.

  She hoped she appeared as impassive as Jon Vadim seemed to be. She was praying that no one would tell her that the count had been involved with the girl.

  “And this time?” Jon asked.

  The inspector reached into his suit pocket, found a picture and tossed it onto the desk. Everyone in the room—Jon and Carly, Alexi, and now Geoffrey and Tanya—moved forward. Tanya looked white and ill, and Carly realized that she herself probably looked ashen, as well.

  The young girl in the picture had an abundance of blond curls and very dark eyes. She was laughing and looked very lovely.

  “You found her where?” Jon asked.

  “In the caves?” Alexi suggested uncomfortably.

  “In the caves,” the inspector said, picking up the picture as he shook his head unhappily. “So young, and so very beautiful.” He pocketed the photo.

  Jon walked across the room and reached into his bottom desk drawer for the brandy carafe and glasses. “Anyone?” he inquired politely.

  Everyone nodded.

  “You don’t seem terribly concerned, Count,” Inspector LaRue said reproachfully.

  Carly lowered her head as she accepted a glass of brandy from Jon. She had to agree with the inspector. Jon took his time before answering. He was watching her reaction carefully, but didn’t seem shocked or horrified. Rather, she thought, he seemed cold. He left Carly and offered glasses of brandy to the others.

  “Au contraire, mon ami,” Jon replied at last. He tilted his head and drank his brandy, then set the glass back on his desk with a sharp crack. “I am very concerned. It is my property, of course. And it is I whom you seem to be accusing.”

  “I am not making accusations.”

  “Then you are making insinuations, and I resent them heartily.”

  “I am asking questions. I must. The coroner thinks the girl was killed a week to ten days ago. She was viciously mauled, her throat torn as if an animal had ripped it apart.”

  “You’re sure that it wasn’t wolves?” Geoffrey inquired.

  “Wolves do not strip their victims and lay them out with the a
rms folded and the fingers entwined as if in prayer, Monsieur Taylor. No, it is the work of a man,” the inspector replied.

  “Or a woman,” Tanya suggested.

  The inspector stared at her sharply. “What made you say that?” he snapped.

  Tanya almost jumped. “I don’t know! Because it’s a liberated world, I suppose.”

  Inspector LaRue turned his sharp gaze upon Carly. “You have not heard from your sister, Madame Kiernan?”

  “Er, no. No, I haven’t,” Carly admitted. She looked guiltily from the inspector to Jon. He was staring at her. Coldly. Now he had erected a wall against her just as he had done with the inspector. He smiled, cruelly, mockingly, and looked back at the inspector.

  “I think that Ms. Kiernan will find a note from Jasmine in her room.”

  “What?” Carly cried out.

  “Marie told me that a forwarded letter has reached you at last. It went to your home, then to the American Express office in Vienna, and now it has come here.”

  Carly swung around, looking at the inspector. “May I?”

  He lifted his hand. “Of course. I would like any light possible shed on this situation.”

  Carly nodded and ran out of the room.

  The upstairs was dimly lit. Walking along the beautiful corridor, with its ancient marble flooring, she started to shiver as the reality of it all hit her. A year ago someone had cruelly murdered a young girl, stolen life and beauty and innocence. And now it had happened again. Here.

  And the inspector obviously suspected Jon Vadim.

  Carly paused at her door. Her heart was beating furiously. Was she a fool? Was she so immersed in falling in love with the man, in falling beneath his spell, that she couldn’t see the truth? Was he a heinous murderer?

  He had warned her that he was a wolf, a wolf prowling the forest. And wolves could be dangerous. She remembered that the two girls had had their throats ripped out as if an animal had attacked them....

  “No!” she whispered, opening the door to her room. She paused when she heard a soft whirring sound. Again, an awful feeling of cold panic possessed her as if icy fingers were closing around her heart, around her throat. Someone was in her room. Someone silent, someone furtive.

  Forcing herself to move, she turned on the overhead light. The room was flooded with sudden brilliance.

  It was empty. The French doors from the terrace were closed and locked. Her suitcase from the trip lay on the rug at the foot of her bed.

  Gathering her courage, she hurried across the room to the bathroom, clicking on the light. The bathroom, too, was empty.

  She sighed and nearly sank to the floor on wobbly knees. She pressed her hands against her cheeks and found them cold. She was imagining things, she told herself. She had imagined the whirring sound, and she had imagined that someone had been here.

  She forced herself to turn around. She hurried to the dresser, where she found the letter that Jon had referred to. She cried out when she saw it—the handwriting was definitely Jasmine’s, and it bore at least half a dozen different postmarks. The village had forwarded it here. She picked up the letter and anxiously slit it open.

  Carly,

  I’ve been trying to call you all night. Where have you been? You know how I hate to write, but this is important. Don’t come! Please don’t come here. I know that this sounds crazy, but I’m leaving myself. There might be some danger. Sounds terribly gothic and dramatic, doesn’t it? But you know me. Love you, sis. Stay home, and I’ll make it all up to you. I promise.

  Jasmine

  She reread it, then turned it over in her hands to study the postmarks. She had to admit it seemed as if Jon was telling the truth.

  A slight noise startled her, and she almost screamed. She brought her hand to her throat as she stared at the doorway.

  The hall was still shadowed, so that the man standing there was nothing more than a silhouette that seemed to fill the doorway with his presence. She realized quickly that it was Jon. He was the man she had wanted so badly that she had gladly lain down with him on the bare earth in a bed of fall leaves, and suddenly, despite Jasmine’s letter, she was frightened of him.

  “Did you find it?” he asked, moving toward her.

  Carly nodded, unable to speak.

  “May I?” He reached for the letter. Smiling, he moved his hand to the nape of her neck in an idle caress. She didn’t mean to jerk away, but she did.

  His gaze left the letter and fell on her. His lip curled, and he dropped his hand, then returned his attention to the letter. “Thank God,” he murmured. “At least this puts me in the clear on the matter of Jasmine.”

  “Yes,” Carly said. As he stared at her, she couldn’t smile, and she couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t numb.

  His lip remained locked in the derisive curve as he asked, “May I give this to the inspector?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.”

  He moved aside, indicating with a sweeping gesture that she should precede him. She did so. She wanted to turn around and say that she was sorry, except she wasn’t quite sure what she was sorry for. She was painfully confused. She couldn’t believe he could be a murderer. But she was afraid, anyway, mainly because she had been falling in love, so deeply and so completely that she just might believe in his innocence because she was blinded by that love.

  She knew he was walking close behind her. She felt the warmth of his breath against her skin. On the stairway, he drew level, though he didn’t touch her. They didn’t speak until they had returned to the library.

  Tanya was on either her second or third brandy. Alexi and Geoffrey both looked up guiltily, as if they had been discussing Jon.

  “So,” the inspector said. “This letter has not disappeared.”

  “No. It’s very much here,” Jon said.

  Inspector LaRue read the letter quickly. He looked at Carly. “It seems that she is well enough—somewhere.”

  “Yes, I most certainly hope so,” Carly said.

  “She mentions danger,” LaRue said to Jon.

  Jon sighed with exasperation. “Jasmine is one of the most dramatic people I have ever met. She thrives on any kind of excitement. I have no idea what she is referring to.”

  “Why did she leave so hastily when she was planning to be here for your party?” the inspector inquired.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I understand you had a falling-out.”

  Jon cast a sharp gaze toward Alexi, then narrowed his eyes on Geoffrey. “I don’t know what was said. Jasmine and I had no argument. Her sister will tell you. Jasmine does have a quick temper. If she wasn’t pleased with some arrangement I made, she might easily have decided to leave.”

  Inspector LaRue nodded and smiled. “I understand that she ran screaming from the stables just days before the party.”

  Jon was still for a minute, his features tense. He shrugged. “Something startled her.”

  “Perhaps someone attacked her,” the inspector suggested.

  Jon threw up his arms. “Are you ready to arrest me, Inspector? If not, I’m tired, and I’m weary of innuendo and insinuation. Please, if there is nothing more concrete.... It is late.”

  “No, no, there is nothing.” The inspector bowed slightly to the group. “I will, however, appreciate it if you all stay close at hand. Please, don’t cross any borders.” Shaking his head, he smiled at Carly. “What puzzles me is that I can’t seem to find any record of your sister having crossed the border into any other country.”

  “What?” Carly said worriedly.

  “That’s no great dilemma,” Jon said flatly. “They barely glance at the passports half the time when we drive from country to country.”

  “But Jasmine carries an American passport, and in this region they are stricter with Americans.”

  “Jasmine could bat her lashes and go anywhere she wished,” Jon said dryly.

  Carly felt cold waves envelop her again. He sounded as if he knew her sister so well. But he had denied that the
y’d had a relationship. And she had believed him.

  She suddenly sank into one of the plush library chairs. She wanted to talk to her sister, wanted to have her right in front of her, in the flesh. She was frightened, and only Jasmine’s appearance could change that. Two women and a man were dead, and she had almost been killed in a coach herself. Though she hadn’t wanted to admit it before, she knew Tanya had implied that there had been something between Jon and Jasmine.

  “Good night,” the inspector was saying.

  Carly looked up. He was leaving. Jon accompanied him. When the door closed behind them, Geoffrey, Alexi, Tanya and Carly stared at one another in a complete and explosive silence.

  “Oh, don’t be absurd!” Tanya burst out. “Jon did not do it!”

  Carly felt she herself should have been the one saying it.

  “Of course he didn’t,” Geoffrey agreed. He stood up, stretching, and walked across the room to pour himself another brandy. He leaned against the desk and smiled around the room at them. “Heck, if being here is the only motive, every single one of us was here last year, too, when the other girl was murdered. Except for Carly, of course. But then, Jasmine was here last year. Carly is taking her place.” He smiled at her, lifting his glass to her. “To Carly, the one and only innocent among us.”

  “The lamb to the wolves!” Tanya agreed.

  “Hear! Hear!” Alexi said.

  Carly jumped to her feet. “Stop it, will you! This is tragic!”

  Geoffrey sobered quickly. “I’m sorry, Carly. You’re still worried about Jasmine, aren’t you?” He came over and squeezed her hand. “Jasmine is fine. I promise you.” He yawned. “I’m going up. Excuse me, will you all?”

  Tanya, too, stood, staring at Carly and Alexi almost belligerently. “I’m going up, too. I’m exhausted. Please, say good-night to Jon for me.”

  She followed Geoffrey out of the room. Carly hadn’t been able to move.

  Alexi poured fresh brandies for himself and Carly, then forced the glass into her numb fingers. “It’s all right. Really, it’s all right.”

  She gazed up at the handsome, earnest young man. “Why is the inspector so down on Jon?”

  Grimacing, Alexi hesitated as if trying to elude the question. “Well, the family is old, you know. Older than the legends of Vlad Dracul. They’ve been counts of this region before Christianity was even embraced here.”