This Rough Magic Read online

  The kiss that she had shared with Jon had been special to her, had seduced her to the point where she’d longed to make love with a man she barely knew.

  Carly shook her head. Where was her customary common sense?

  “What car did you bring?” Jon asked Geoffrey.

  “The Volvo.”

  “It’s a good thing Jasmine isn’t here,” Tanya remarked sweetly to Carly. “She just hates the Volvo.”

  “Does she?” Carly said coolly.

  “The Lamborghini is her car,” Tanya said. She smiled, and swirled around, swishing her cat’s tail as she started down a dark path that led to the road, where Carly could just barely see the shape of an automobile.

  Jasmine wasn’t like that! she wanted to scream.

  Then she realized that she’d really barely seen Jasmine for some time. Her sister had stopped by Carly’s apartment in early September to be fitted for the harem outfit, then later in the month to pick up the costume. Other than that, Jasmine had been traveling. She didn’t have to conduct any of her tours; she had well-trained, well-paid employees for that. But she was a wonderful guide and really seemed to love the world. She’d built up a clientele among the noble, the rich and the famous, and everyone knew that the tours Jasmine herself led would always be the best.

  Carly was brought out of her reverie by the plaintive cry of the wolf. Ahead of Carly on the trail, Tanya cried, “Those wolves!”

  “I thought you liked wolves!” Geoffrey called out to her.

  Carly watched as Tanya turned around and cast him an evil glare. Then she screamed suddenly. Someone had stepped out from the foliage and onto the trail.

  “Alexi!” Tanya gasped.

  “Tanya! I’m sorry—”

  “Alexi, you scared me to death!”

  “Tanya, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to see if Jon had found Jasmine’s sister. Ah! I see that he has.”

  “Yes, he has,” Jon said, stepping past Carly. He caught her hand and pulled her forward.

  Alexi was a handsome young man with wavy brown hair in a twenties mob-style pin-striped suit. He smiled at Tanya and at Jon and looked at Carly with undisguised curiosity and a naked admiration that flattered her despite herself.

  “So this is the sister,” he said in a heavy accent. “Sister Carly, it is pleasure!”

  Carly noticed that he had brown eyes and a charming, boyish smile.

  “This is Alexi Moreau,” Jon told her. “He’s a neighbor of mine. He has a wonderful old family manor quite near the castle.”

  “You will see it,” Alexi Moreau assured Carly.

  “Will I? Thank you so very much.”

  She felt Jon Vadim’s fingers tighten around her arm as he said, “If you wish, Carly, I will take you there.”

  “Come with me now,” Alexi suggested. “I’ve brought the Mercedes.”

  “She’ll come with me,” Jon insisted with quiet but undeniable force. Carly, again, felt flattered, but she was bound to resist him. “Actually, I—”

  “The Mercedes,” Tanya said, interrupting her. “Let’s all go back in it, and someone can pick up the Volvo tomorrow. Please, let’s get back to the party!”

  “I’m sure the party is still in full swing,” Jon said. “But Tanya is right. We should get back.”

  Carly found herself in the back of the Mercedes with Jon Vadim and Geoffrey, while Tanya rode with Alexi.

  In the darkness of the car, Jon Vadim reached over for Carly’s hand and closed his warm, strong fingers around hers. Then he leaned forward, pointing into the distance.

  “Castle Bran lies that way, just over the border. They call it Dracula’s castle, though Vlad Tepes had little to do with the place. We’ll go there tomorrow.”

  “Vlad Tepes?” Carly murmured.

  “Vlad the Impaler,” Alexi supplied.

  “Actually,” Jon said, his eyes wickedly aglitter in the darkness, “Dracula is not so much a name as a description. It means ‘son of the dragon.’ His father’s name was Vlad, too.”

  “But he was never a vampire,” Alexi said.

  “No, he was much, much worse. He was known to execute up to thirty thousand people at one time. To others he was quite a hero, for he despised the Turks and kept them at bay. But once, he was angered by the people of Brasov, the village down in the valley—we’ll go there, too. Well, the villagers refused to submit to his command. He solved the problem by doing away with them. Men, women and children—he impaled them all.”

  “With a very special finesse,” Alexi interjected cheerfully.

  “Ah, yes. When impaling a man, he took great care not to hit any vital organs. It would take two or three days for the poor victim to bleed to death.”

  “That’s horrible!” Carly exclaimed.

  “Terribly cruel,” Jon said amiably.

  “Stop it!” Tanya cried with a shudder. “You’re frightening me. You’re—frightening Carly!”

  Carly felt Jon’s eyes on her, though she didn’t look his way.

  “I’m not frightened,” Carly insisted, then she turned to look at him. He was indeed watching her.

  He smiled slowly, almost challengingly, then said, “No, I don’t think you are.”

  “Not of the past,” she added.

  “No, of course not.” He still held her hand. His knee brushed hers, and she felt the warmth of him. “You would fear only the wolf that you could see, in the here and now, right?”

  “Right,” Carly said.

  “And do you see a wolf, here and now?” he asked.

  “No.” She spoke firmly, without hesitation. His smile deepened, and she didn’t know if he was pleased or disappointed.

  “That’s good,” he said lightly. “In this place it is not wise to give way to fantasy or to the power of imagination.”

  “The people still believe,” Alexi murmured from the driver’s seat.

  Carly caught his brown gaze in the rearview mirror.

  “You will see, Carly, that our villages have changed little since the Middle Ages. The people hang crosses upon their doors to ward away evil. And along the very road we travel there are many shrines to protect travelers from the dangers of the night.”

  “Pity I didn’t stumble upon any of the shrines,” Carly said with a laugh. “I stumbled upon a—”

  “There.” Jon Vadim interrupted her almost curtly. “There—we have reached the castle.”

  Alexi drove through a massive iron gate that broke the outer walls.

  Up close, Castle Vadim was far more awe-inspiring than frightening. It was built of some native stone, and seeming to rise straight out of the rock, it was harsh and gray, yet it was graceful, too, for it boasted turrets and towers and parapets. Arrow slits were the only openings in the tower rooms, but on the ground level, the edifice had been brought into the twentieth century with reconstruction. Great picture windows enclosed an elegant terrace where couples swayed and danced to a hard rock band.

  “Well?” Jon Vadim said. Carly felt his gaze on her again.

  She stared up at the castle, then turned and smiled at him. “It’s—it’s magnificent,” she said.

  “It’s intriguing,” he said softly, then helped Carly alight from the car. She looked down ruefully at her soaked gown.

  “I’m a mess.”

  “You are a mess, sweetie,” Tanya agreed. “I’ll just take Carly upstairs, Jon, and dry her out a bit.”

  He nodded, watching Carly.

  “Come on,” Tanya urged her. “You’ll get a better tour later. For now, we’ll just hurry.”

  They didn’t enter by way of the terrace. Tanya led Carly up a flight of worn and narrow stone steps to an arched doorway, then pushed open a massive nail-studded door.

  A dim hallway attractively decorated with old swords and shields and coats of arms led to a wide, curving stairway. “This way,” Tanya encouraged her.

  At the top of the stairs they entered another room. It was ancient, but a rug lay before the hear
th, the massive brass bed was covered with a quilt, and a silver tea service was set on an occasional table. On a matching table on the other side of the fireplace was a television set.

  Carly noticed an overnight bag on the bed. The mirrored dresser to the left of the bed was strewn with brushes and makeup.

  “You’ve been staying here?” Carly asked casually.

  “Of course,” Tanya replied. “The place is huge. Geoff stays here, I stay here, Jasmine stays here. He could have twenty guests at a time if he wanted. Of course, Jasmine—” She broke off, shrugging.

  “Of course Jasmine what?” Carly demanded.

  “Nothing. I thought she’d finally caught the elusive count, that’s all. And then she leaves. Who knows?” Tanya shrugged again, then, to Carly’s surprise, smiled. “Sit down. I’ll get the blow dryer.”

  “That’s okay Tanya. I can manage.”

  “Come on, please! I know I come on a little strong. I’m just not a hypocrite, that’s all. I have a little sister, too. Let me give you a hand.”

  Carly sat on the bed, and Tanya set to work with the hair dryer.

  “Now stand up,” Tanya commanded at last. “I’ll dry your dress.”

  “What?”

  “It will work. I swear it,” Tanya promised.

  And actually, it did. Carly still felt a little squishy inside, but she was able to stand before the mirror and admit that she didn’t look much different from the way she had when she’d left the hotel in the ill-fated carriage.

  “There! As good as new,” Tanya insisted with pleasure. “Now, let’s go downstairs. There’s a party going on.” She smiled.

  Carly decided that Tanya was still a cat, but an honest cat, and she was really okay as long as her claws were sheathed. “Thanks for the help,” she said.

  “No problem. We’ll take the grand stairway this time,” Tanya told her.

  The stairway was indeed grand, carved completely from oak and covered with a maroon velvet runner. It swept down in dual outward curves. To the rear were family portraits that Carly saw dated from the Middle Ages.

  “This is fabulous,” she whispered. “It’s almost decadent!”

  Tanya cast her a quick glance, then laughed. “You would think so, I guess. Come on, will you?”

  Tanya dragged her down the stairway and around the corner. The rotunda opened onto the terrace. A tuxedoed servant came by with a silver tray full of champagne glasses. Carly scooped up two and handed one to Tanya.

  “Oh! There are the Seybolds!” Tanya said. “You must meet them. They’re friends of Jasmine’s. He’ll be a candidate in the next presidential race. And that’s Lord Bowden with them—he’s in the British parliament. The Marquis de Grasse...the de Grasses are in wine these days—no money in just being noble...”

  It seemed to Carly that Tanya had adopted her for the evening. Carly met a charming Russian diplomat, a dime store heiress, a tire king and dozens of politicians. They were dressed as princes and princesses, monsters and ghouls, fruit, vegetables, cats, dogs and astronauts. Carly danced with a frog who assured her he was really a Lithuanian prince. She found herself in high demand and was very glad, because they all spoke so admiringly of Jasmine. And they all expressed surprise that Jasmine had not stayed in the duchy for the party.

  Carly didn’t realize that through it all she had been looking for someone—until he found her. She was still in the arms of the frog prince when she espied Jon Vadim. He was in the midst of a crowd, but his gaze was on her, with no apology. When he caught her eye, he set down his champagne glass, murmured something to his other guests, and came her way.

  He cut in on the frog prince just as the rock band began to play a Viennese waltz. Carly slipped into his arms. Jon stared deeply, penetratingly into her eyes. He held her close and he whirled her around the room.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

  “Yes. Tremendously.”

  “I wasn’t. Not until this moment.”

  Carly arched a brow. “Is that a line?”

  “No. It’s the truth. I swear it.”

  She smiled with a shrug.

  “Do you believe in fate, Carly?” he asked. “In destiny, in things that were meant to be?”

  She paused. Her feet were responding to the music and she was painfully aware of the simple thrill of being in his arms. What had happened to her? she wondered. This was not real, not the man, not the castle.

  And she was shivering and trembling. She wanted to know him, wanted to feel his eyes upon her forever, wanted to stay in his arms forever, dancing beneath a full moon.

  “I don’t usually believe in fate,” she replied finally. “I do believe, however, that you’re a busy, busy man.”

  “Cruel blow, lady. And not true.”

  “Everyone seems to think that you and Jasmine were quite an item.”

  “I told you the truth,” he stated firmly.

  “Then there’s the matter of a lovely little cat.”

  “Wolves and cats just don’t get along. You should know that,” he parried.

  “Really?” She cast her head back and smiled. “Wolves prefer innocent lambs. Is that it?”

  “Are you such an innocent lamb?”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Good. I’ll feel no guilt.”

  “About what?”

  He ignored the question, smiling at her and saying, “I imagine...”

  “Just what do you imagine?”

  “I imagine, Carly, that your trust is hard to earn. That you do not fall in and out of love, but when you do, you do so deeply. I imagine that when you believe in someone, you do so with all your heart. And perhaps your faith will be unshakable.”

  She smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t understand you.”

  “How could you?” he murmured.

  More than ever she felt the mystery of the night. First Jasmine and now Jon Vadim.

  “Jon...” Her voice faded as she realized that he was no longer looking at her. Still holding her, he stopped dancing and frowned as he looked past her to the terrace entrance.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Why, it’s the inspector. Inspector LaRue. Excuse me.”

  Jon made to leave her there, but she followed. She watched as the two men shook hands then the newcomer spoke swiftly. Count Vadim’s brows knitted.

  “Jon, what is it?” Carly repeated, coming up behind him.

  “Carly—”

  “Good evening,” the inspector interrupted quietly, reaching out to shake her hand, too.

  He was a slim man with a drooping mustache and sad eyes. He seemed proud of his English, Carly thought.

  “Madame Kiernan?”

  “Yes.”

  “He found the coachman, Carly. Dead,” Jon told her gently.

  “Oh! How terrible!” she exclaimed. “Did he fall from the box at that speed? Oh, the poor man.”

  “Yes, the poor, poor man,” the inspector agreed.

  “He didn’t fall,” Jon Vadim said. He looked at Carly, his eyes seeming to pierce her as if he sought something.

  “He was murdered. His throat was slit.”

  CHAPTER 3

  It had to be the longest night of her life, Carly thought.

  The party went on, but she and the count were absent, closeted with the inspector in the library. The inspector first questioned a number of the count’s servants and dismissed them. Then he wanted to talk to Jon and Carly, Geoffrey, Alexi—and a very irritated Tanya. Poor Tanya wasn’t destined to see much of the band, Carly mused.

  The inspector was very polite; he didn’t want to ruin the party. Tourism was big business in the duchy; he appreciated the financial aspects of Count Vadim’s party. But he had to speak to them all, he had to ask questions, he was very sorry, and he hoped that they understood.

  It was mainly Carly and the count he talked to. She could dimly hear the band playing as the inspector asked her again and again to tell him about the carriage ride from begi
nning to end. Jon leaned against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest and listened with a frown, occasionally warning the inspector that he was being rude to an American guest. He assured the inspector that he had hired the village man to drive merely because extra help had been needed for the party and the man had needed the extra money. He had barely known the man.

  “All of this over a coachman!” Tanya complained with a sniff. “Inspector, you should see to the village drunks!”

  “The village is not full of ignorant drunkards, Miss Bannister,” the inspector said irritably.

  “But perhaps the man did have enemies among his neighbors,” Carly suggested.

  “Anything is possible,” Jon Vadim murmured.

  “Madame Kiernan. I don’t suppose you have any enemies in Westphalen,” the inspector remarked dryly.

  “Please!” Tanya groaned. “Carly has never even been here before!”

  The inspector looked at Tanya. “I find it difficult to comprehend the murder of a simple village man. Here we have little in the way of drugs, robbery—or murder. Someone meant to hurt Madame Kiernan, I believe. Or perhaps to hurt someone through her. You, miss? Or the Vadims? One or the other, I am certain.”

  “I really don’t know anyone here,” Carly assured him. “I just came in from Vienna this evening.”

  The inspector nodded, glancing around the room. “Where were you all this evening when the coachman was killed and the carriage burst apart?”

  “Oh, no!” Tanya complained. “I don’t believe this! Some yokel gets himself killed and the entire party is ruined!”

  “We were here at the party,” Jon said.

  “Well, no, that’s not quite true,” Alexi said guiltily, looking around at all of them. “Well...we were worried, you see. Jon had told us that he had hired a driver to pick up Jasmine’s sister. When she didn’t arrive, Jon left on Satan to look for Ms. Kiernan—”

  “Jasmine!” Carly whispered suddenly.

  “What?” The inspector narrowed his eyes upon her.

  “Actually, Inspector, I am concerned,” Carly told him. “You see, I came here to meet my sister. I arrived, and she wasn’t here.”