Spellbound Page 6

  "Have you forgotten we’re immortal?"

  "That may be true, but he still killed her." He leaned toward her, his eyes blazing with emotion. "Why do you think I believed we could die? Despite the fact that we live so long? Despite the fact that none of the other wizards have aged appreciably?"

  He stared at her expectantly.

  "Death said it was because you saw humans age and die and you just assumed our lives followed the same phases but over longer time periods."

  "Hogwash!" He startled her with the adamancy of his response. "I believed we could die because Clarissa did die." Pain flickered in his eyes and his fist tightened. "She was the first wizard to die."

  Lucinda tried to organize the thoughts spiraling through her brain into some kind of order, which was very difficult with Rand staring at her with intense, unblinking eyes. True, Rand was the only wizard who had aged to the appearance of old age, but she had thought it was because he was much older than the others. And she had thought no wizard had ever died.

  "The first? You mean, there are others?"

  He waved his hand in irritation. "I don’t want to get into that. Right now we’re talking about Nyte, and the fact he’s dangerous."

  "Rand, this just doesn’t make any sense. If she was immortal, and she could protect herself with magic, how could he have killed her?"

  He slammed his fist on her desk. "I don’t know. Damn it, don’t you think I’ve been struggling to understand? But I just don’t know." He paced several steps one way, then back again.

  "Perhaps Death is wrong and we can die, if our body is destroyed, but...." Rand’s eyes clouded and she couldn’t read the emotions there. "But I have reason to believe even that may not be enough. At least, not for Nyte’s kind."

  "What do you mean Nyte’s kind?" Lucinda asked, eyes narrowed.

  "Nyte is a different kind of wizard than we are. More powerful. More knowledgeable about the working of magic. Where the best we have accomplished is ten levels of magic, he is level twenty or beyond."

  A wizard with twice the capability of what she thought was the limit?

  "But how is that possible?"

  He shrugged expansively. "Just like with mortals, I guess prodigies happen sometimes. An Einstein or a Nostradamus will be born who surpasses those around him. The point is, Nyte is substantially stronger than any of us and I believe he has the capability of killing the average wizard."

  A shiver cascaded down her spine. Did Nyte have the ability to kill wizards? And if he did, would he use it?

  From what she sensed from him, the answer was no.

  "Rand, this is all speculation. I don’t believe he would do that."

  "Lucinda, whether you believe Clarissa died or not, I know Nyte intended to kill her." He raised his hand dramatically at his side. "And she is no longer here."

  He clenched his fists in front of him, and his voice softened. "She hasn’t been for thirteen centuries."

  As she watched him slump into her visitor’s chair, she realized that Rand cared very much about this woman Nyte had loved.

  Good heavens, had Rand been in love with Nyte’s woman? Was that possible? If so, it might explain why he’d never developed those kinds of feelings for Lucinda. Thirteen hundred years was a long time to miss someone. The long centuries could have whittled away at his heart until he’d had little left to share.

  If he had loved Nyte’s woman, it also explained his animosity toward Nyte.

  Lucinda knew Rand was wrong about Nyte killing Clarissa. There would be some nugget of truth to the whole thing, since clearly Rand was worried about Lucinda with Nyte, but she had to do what she had to do. As for Nyte being dangerous, other than to her heart, she believed wholeheartedly that Nyte would never harm her.

  She leaned against the edge of her desk.

  "Even if what you say is true, I still have an obligation to help him. I must--"

  Rand’s flattened hand slashed through the air. "No! Perhaps Fate is taking care of Nyte, but I intend to take care of you." His sharp blue gaze locked with hers. "I don’t want you spending time with him."

  Lucinda bristled. She jammed her hands on her hips. "Now wait just one minute."

  Maybe Rand had done a lot of taking care of her over the decades, but that was when she’d needed taking care of, before she’d become a mature wizard. She jabbed her finger against his chest.

  "For one thing, I don’t need anyone taking care of me." She jabbed again. "And for another, I will spend time with whomever I please. And as far as spending time with Nyte, I have been called to be his mentor and I intend to fill that role to the best of my ability."

  His sharp blue gaze locked with hers and he stared at her for several long seconds. She stared back, hard resolve setting her gaze in ice. His harsh features melted into softer lines. He dragged his fingers through his thinning white hair.

  "Lucinda, how do I make you understand?"

  The partially open door swung wide and Nyte strolled into the room. "Maybe you should trust the lady’s judgment and assume she does understand. And that she can take care of herself."

  All softness left Rand’s face and he glared at Nyte. "Why don’t you stay out of this?"

  "Because this is about me. And it’s about Lucinda." He folded his arms across his chest. "As a matter of fact, it seems the only person here this isn’t about is you, so why don’t you stay out of it?"

  Anger flared in Rand’s cobalt blue eyes.

  He tugged up his sleeves and marched toward Nyte. "You’re the one who doesn’t belong here."

  Nyte shifted his stance and Lucinda watched the two men square off in readiness to do battle. Alarm spiked through her as she realized one bolt of lightning from Rand and Nyte would be toast. He wouldn’t die, of course, but he would experience a lot of pain.

  "Rand, don’t be ridiculous," she cried. "You’re a tenth level wizard and he hasn’t even begun his training. If you two want to fight, at least wait until it will be an even match."

  Nyte raised an eyebrow. "That time will never come."

  By the confidence in his voice, Lucinda knew he wasn’t talking about Rand’s superiority over him. Surprisingly, Rand didn’t make a cutting remark in return. In fact, she saw what looked suspiciously like wariness flit across his face, before he hardened his expression to one of calm indifference.

  Rand glanced toward Lucinda, but she noticed he kept Nyte in his peripheral vision.

  "Lucinda, I will see you Thursday night. If you need me before then, call."

  He swept his arms down and up and the air around him rippled like water in a pond. He took on the visual texture of a mirage, shimmering in the heat of the desert, then he faded to nothingness.

  Nyte sank onto the chair and stretched his long legs straight out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. She couldn’t help following the length of black denim from ankle to hip. He sure gave a pair of jeans a shape worth watching.

  She mentally shook herself, like a dog shedding itself of unwanted water. She couldn’t believe she was distracted by a man in tight jeans with all the emotional turmoil Rand had flung upon her.

  Nyte clasped his hands together in his lap. Her gaze slid to his granite eyes, which stared at her with a dark gleam.

  "Why will you see him Thursday night?"

  Her first reaction was to tell him to mind his own business, but she quelled that response. She couldn’t fault him for simple curiosity.

  "Once a month, Rand and I spend an evening out."

  "I thought he was just a friend." His hands shifted to the armrests.

  The proprietary tone of his voice made her bristle.

  "He is. A very close friend. A friend I like to spend time with."

  His fingers tapped against the leather.

  "He intends to take your relationship further than that."

  She snatched up a palm-sized stone from her desk. Sky blue rosasite--one of many crystals that she used as paperweights. The smooth, curved shape fit nicely in th
e palm of her hand, and she felt the soothing properties of the crystal begin to work their magic.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know what I mean, Lucinda." He glanced at the spot where Rand had stood moments before. "I don’t understand why he thinks you’d be interested in a man so much older than yourself."

  She laid the crystal down, feeling much more relaxed than she had all morning.

  "He isn’t really old. He may look seventy-five, but he isn’t."

  "How old is he?"

  Lucinda grimaced. "Well, about fifteen hundred."

  His eyebrows quirked up. "And you don’t call that old?"

  She paced across the office to the credenza on the far wall. "Not relatively speaking. Since wizards are immortal, age doesn’t mean anything."

  "Then why does he look so old?"

  An inky shadow blotted her heart. That was a good question. He shouldn’t look old. It was a constant reminder that Rand wasn’t well.

  "Until a few years ago, we believed wizards were as mortal as humans," she explained, "but with longer life spans. Rand is the oldest wizard and he’s grown old the same way a human would, but at a much slower rate. Once he hit an equivalent age of about eighty-five, his powers, both physical and magical, started failing him."

  She remembered how he’d looked back then, and how she had worried. He had grown old gracefully. Regal lines had carved his face into a landscape of ancient dignity, but many things about him had hinted at the disintegration of his abilities. The slight bend to his back. The thickness of the lenses in his wire-rimmed glasses. The paleness of his blue eyes.

  "He actually decided his life was over, and he wanted to leave this world by his own choice."

  The hollow emptiness she’d felt at his loss still echoed within her, like the quiet wail of Arctic winds across an icy, desolate landscape.

  "You’re saying he decided to die?"

  "Basically, yes. But Death wouldn’t take him."

  Nyte crossed his arms and leaned back against the desk. "I don’t blame him."

  She grinned despite herself, the words snapping her out of her melancholy. Rand could be ornery when he set his mind to something.

  "After that, I met with Death and he explained that Rand had only aged because of his expectations. It boiled down to the fact that Rand believed he would grow older, so he did. It took a lot of energy to maintain the unnaturally old state of his body and that sapped his strength, resulting in his loss of power." And self-esteem.

  That had been a momentous discovery for wizards, and a difficult one for Rand to adapt to. Since then, she had worked with him to help him rebuild his vision of himself and recover his strength.

  But for some reason, Death’s explanation of Rand’s aging had never quite satisfied her. It had something to do with the flicker of pain she sometimes caught in the depths of Rand’s cobalt eyes. And the conversation she’d just had with him made her wonder all the more.

  Nyte picked up the portrait of Rand, framed in oak, which sat on her desk. Nyte’s granite gaze studied the image of her friend.

  "Why does he still look old?"

  She glanced at the photograph, one of the few the camera shy Rand had allowed her to take. It was only a few months old, and a vast improvement on the one stuck behind it in the frame.

  "He doesn’t look as old as he used to. Over the past two years, he’s gradually been taking on a younger form. You see, he isn’t the type to jump into anything."

  He returned the picture to its home beside her favorite pewter figure--a cat sniffing a ruby-tipped wand lying on an open magic book.

  "He was quick enough to jump into your business."

  "Nyte, you’ve got to understand. He worries about me and he wants to take care of me."

  Nyte stepped forward and took her hand. "I can understand that. I’d like to take care of you, too."

  Oh, great. Just what she needed. Two bull-headed men who thought she couldn’t stand on her own two feet.

  "You seem to forget. I’m the one taking care of you."

  He took her hand and his lips grazed her knuckles, sending shivering heat through her.

  "How could I ever forget?"

  With great strength of will, she tugged her hand free. She couldn’t cope with the mind-numbing effect he had on her right now. Despite the fact she’d been worried about him going out with Fiona, she realized she’d been looking forward to some time away from him, to allow her head to stop spinning long enough to figure out a few things.

  "Why are you here and not at lunch with Fiona?"

  Fiona picked that moment to whiz into the room, a can of Coke in one hand and a coffee in the other.

  "I’m sorry about lunch, boss, but we were heading out the lobby door when I mentioned that Rand was the one you had the appointment with and he turned and marched back here, insisting you needed him."

  Lucinda narrowed her eyes as she watched her secretary hand the less-than-steaming cup to Nyte--and his charming smile of thanks--then place the cola on Lucinda’s desk. She wondered how long Fiona had been waiting outside the door for a cue to come in.

  Fiona shrugged and threw up her hands. "I tried to stop him, but it was like tugging backwards on a locomotive."

  Lucinda could imagine. She shifted her gaze to Nyte and tapped her foot. "I needed you?"

  "I feared Randalph would upset you. I wanted to ensure you were all right."

  Fiona leaned against the credenza by the window, her gaze darting from one to the other like a spectator at a tennis match. She seemed to be trying to fade into the decor, but with her bejeweled fuchsia shirt paired with matching pants, she hadn’t a hope.

  Lucinda glared at her. "Fiona, don’t you have something to do?"

  Fiona grinned impishly. "No, not really."

  "Then go find something."

  Fiona shifted forward and shuffled out of the office. When Lucinda saw that she’d left the door slightly ajar, she flung her hand toward it, closing it firmly with a burst of magical energy.

  She turned back to Nyte and folded her arms across her chest. Slowly. Purposefully.

  "Look, mister, get this and get it now. I can take care of myself."

  "You may be able to take care of yourself, but that doesn’t mean you have to face everything alone."

  She nodded. "That’s true. If I need to face anything, I’ll call on Rand."

  She spun around and marched to her desk. Maybe that would make him think twice about his effect on her.

  Nyte watched Lucinda perch behind her desk and pick up the phone. He quelled the surge of jealousy her words invoked, knowing she’d said them to stir just such a reaction. Not that she would ever admit to wanting him to be jealous, but like all females, she couldn’t resist using the innate power she had over him. The ability to stir his emotions to a riotous level, while remaining calmly untouched herself.

  On the surface.

  He settled onto the leather couch near the window and watched her go about her business. His automatic reaction might be to feel jealous of Randalph, but he pushed the edgy feeling aside, knowing with a depth of understanding that was totally unshakable that Lucinda was his woman, and always would be.

  If only he could convince her of that fact.

  * * * *

  Lucinda dropped her bag on the table inside the front door and kicked off her shoes. Four hours at the office and not one thing accomplished. Darn Rand and his interfering. She’d have to go back tomorrow and sort everything out.

  Nyte pulled off his shoes and set them on the mat beside hers.

  "Make yourself at home." She pointed to the shelves full of books lining one wall of the living room. "Help yourself to a book, if you want. There are magazines in the magazine rack beside the shelf. Or you can watch TV. The remote control is in the wooden box on the coffee table." Of course, if what Rand had told her about Nyte being from the past were true, he wouldn’t know what a remote control was. Or a TV for that matter. She switched on the radio and set
it to her favorite soft-rock station.

  "I’ll go make dinner."

  She strode into the kitchen. Merlin leaped off the table and rubbed against her legs. She marched to the large tin full of hard cat food and scooped out a serving, then dumped it in his dish.

  He trotted to the bowl and sat down in front of it, staring at her with unblinking green eyes.

  "No, I’m not in a bad mood. I’m just frustrated, that’s all."

  She grabbed a diet Coke from the fridge and popped the lid. She sat at the table and plunked her head on her palm, then watched Merlin munch down on his food.

  She should make dinner for her and Nyte, too.

  Poor Nyte. Clearly, he’d sensed her mood. He’d held his silence all the way home, then refrained from following her into the kitchen. He probably felt the same sense of frustration at being held off on his training.

  She took a sip of cola, enjoying the tingly feel of bubbles bombarding the inside of her mouth. Maybe, if everything went very smoothly, she could tie up all the loose ends by noon, then she’d be free to start training Nyte in the afternoon. Then tomorrow wouldn’t be a total loss, too.

  She strolled to the cupboard and grabbed a bag of rice, then opened the freezer in search of chicken. In fact, maybe she could explain some of the basics this evening so at least she wouldn’t feel the whole day was wasted.

  With renewed vigor, she tossed ingredients together in a large casserole dish, then popped it in the oven and set the timer.

  * * * *

  She returned to the living room and saw Nyte stretched out on her recliner, his long, lean legs crossed at the ankle, a magazine on his lap. She settled onto the couch.