Darkest Nyte Page 6

  "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 the 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.

  A stack of magazines stood on the table beside him. He held a pen in his hand and marked steadily on the page.

  She waited for him to notice her, but long moments went by and he didn’t. She cleared her throat, thinking maybe he just hadn’t noticed her come in. No reaction.

  "Dinner will be ready in about an hour," she said.

  He nodded, but didn’t look up.

  What was he doing? And why had a magazine suddenly become much more interesting than her?

  Merlin leaped onto one arm of the chair then nudged his hand, and Nyte absently pet him. The cat stretched the length of the armrest and watched Nyte’s pen move across the page.

  This was ridiculous. She had tons of things she should be doing. All afternoon she’d been wishing she had time to herself so she could get some things done, and now, with Nyte happily occupied, she could go do them.

  The special web page she’d been designing came to mind. She had been trying to figure out how to advertise her services without having witch-hunting fanatics try and close her down. She’d come up with the idea of setting up a home page on the Internet with a spell that would allow access only to believers. She still had work to do on that, and she’d been meaning to get to it for weeks now.

  She pushed herself to her feet, intending to sit down at the desk and turn on her computer, but instead she found herself staring over Nyte’s shoulder. It looked like "City Woman" magazine on his lap. She leaned against the side of the chair, aware of his broad shoulder within inches of her and the way he had pushed his long hair back over his ear. Would it feel silky under her fingers?

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  He finished jotting something with the pen, then snapped the magazine closed and stared at her with a satisfied smile.

  "Lucinda, I know you’re fighting the belief that you and I are meant to be together, but now I have proof."

  "Proof?" What in heavens name was he talking about? "What kind of proof?"

  He held up the magazine and pointed to the cover, where the words, ‘Is your relationship the happily-ever-after kind?’ were written in large black letters, along with several other teasers. In smaller letters below, it said, ‘Take our quiz and find out.’

  She stared at the magazine, wondering if this was a joke. When she shifted her gaze to his face, however, she could see he was quite serious.

  "Nyte, the quizzes in these magazines, they’re not really--"

  "I can see you’re going to fight this, too, but I have used your own literature to come up with incontrovertible proof of our rightness."

  Literature? Man, she really had to set him straight.

  He thumped the magazine on his knee in emphasis. "You can’t ignore this, Lucinda."

  "But, Nyte, those questions are silly. They’re so general they don’t mean anything."

  "Before you condemn it, come take a look."

  He lifted Merlin onto the floor then patted the arm of the chair. When she hesitated, he took her hand, sending tingles dancing the length of her arm, and drew her forward. Reluctantly, she sank onto the armrest as he flipped open the magazine.

  "These are all directed at women," he said, "but since we already know how I feel, I’ll put it in the male perspective."

  His closeness and his musky male scent prickled at her awareness.

  He glanced down the page. "Listen to this one." He pointed at one where she could see he’d put a check beside the second answer. "When your partner looks at you, a) does she smile, b) do her eyes widen, or c) does she fidget?" He glanced at her, staring from one eye to the other. "Your eyes most definitely widen."

  He shifted his legs on the chair, dragging her attention to his long, lean body. Her gaze traveled the length of his legs from ankle to thigh, then on up.

  "It says here that intense attraction makes the pupils dilate giving the effect of widened eyes."

  He pushed his hair out of the way as he turned the page. Her gaze traced the curved line it formed across his chest, fascinated by how it caressed his well-muscled contours.

  He lifted his head and smiled. "And what about this next
one? Do you catch your partner watching you when she thinks you’re not looking?"

  She felt her face flame crimson and she shot her gaze to her hands knotted in her lap. "I’m telling you, those questions really don’t tell you anything."

  His fingers stroked her cheek, sending an exciting tingle through her. "I had hoped they’d tell you something."

  She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him, but that didn’t mean they should be together forever. Love was a complicated thing. Even for a wizard.

  Especially for a wizard who had learned that Fate didn’t treat her the same as everyone else.

  She stood up. "What I’m interested in right now is teaching you about magic."

  He stood up, too, with a glint in his eyes and a smile that threatened to topple her already shaky composure. He stepped toward her and took her hands. She felt his fingers slide between hers, entwining in an intimate, lingering caress. Her nerve endings crackled with unsuppressed desire.

  "I would love to learn about magic with you." His words, deep and sexy, rumbled through her.

  She drew in a deep breath, trying hard to ignore the compelling urge she had to step forward and nuzzle the underside of his chin, to feel the raspiness of his whisker-shadowed skin against her lips.

  What in the world had sent him off on this tangent? She glanced at the stack of magazines on the table and large red letters caught her attention. ‘How to put the magic back in your relationship,’ and below it, ‘Use sexual fantasies to light his desire.’

  Great. Just what she needed. Magazines that encouraged Nyte to think about relationships and sex.

  She eased away from him and picked up the stack of offending publications, intent on discarding them in the recycle bin.

  "Nyte, I think I’d better see about a better source of reading for you."

  Lucinda carried the magazines into the kitchen and quickly sorted through them. She put aside the two decorating magazines she’d picked up to give her ideas for her spare room, the Nu Age magazine she’d received yesterday, and a couple of technology oriented publications. The rest she carried to the garage and dumped in the blue plastic bin.