They were deep in the forest when he finally overtook her, catching her by her thin shift—the only bit of clothing she still had on—and pulling her around.
Then he kissed her.
Beatrix sat up in her dark room, heart pumping so fast it was as if it alone had propelled her. Her lips and spine tingled. For one muzzy, not-quite-awake moment, she felt bitterly disappointed that she was in her bed while Blackwell was a full mile away in his. Then her higher brain functions engaged.
What waswrongwith her?
She lay down, shivering, and tried to reassure herself that her dream was not a reflection of secret desires. Of course she didn’t want him. She didn’t want anything to do with him. She was grudgingly indebted to him for his help and relieved—very, very relieved—that he’d replaced the heavy bonds with lighter ones, but there her positive feelings for him ended.
Theo was the one she wanted. Theo, funny and sweet, who had never forced her to do anything. Who was far more handsome to boot.
And if nothing in her life had been as erotic as that phantom kiss, Blackwell’s hands in her hair and body flush against hers? Well—reality never compared with dreams. And thank goodness this one hadn’t been shared. Naturally it hadn’t, because unlike all their unsettling twined dreaming under the influence of the original Vows, this wasn’t a memory of something that had happened.
Naturally.
She squeezed her eyes shut, clasped her hands and prayed:Please let me be the only one who saw it.She experienced the dream as herself. If it had been shared, it was hers—not his.
And she had kissed him back.
Peter wokeSaturday morning feeling unexpectedly happy and spent a while puzzling over why. When he suddenly remembered, he lost his grip on his coffee cup and it smashed on the kitchen floor.
Was it possible to have a more Freudian dream than that? Running her down as she stripped and then kissing her as if his life depended on it—his subconscious must have wanted to make her hate and distrust him even more than she already did. How could he look her in the eye on Monday?
But—but perhaps she hadn’t been along for the ride. Perhaps the new Vows didn’t allow such linked dreaming.
He sent out a fervent prayer:Please.
He proceeded to spend hours trying, or more specifically failing, to come up with a brilliant solution to his Project 96 problem. It wasn’t until he stopped for a break around three o’clock that he spared a thought for how Miss Harper’s conference was going. Had she found replacement meeting space? He attempted to sense her emotions through the connection they potentially still had, but to no avail—unless her stress was indistinguishable from his.
It was remarkable, really, that Washington would sic a dirty tricks specialist on the League, which had managed to get minor restrictions placed on magic use decades ago but hadn’t accomplished anything since. He didn’t see what the Leaguecouldaccomplish. Every nation used magic—none, therefore, could stop. But someone powerful had obviously decided that Lydia Harper was a threat.
How far might they go to neutralize her?
Or the people she relied on?
Sixty seconds later, he was in his car, speeding toward Baltimore.
CHAPTER 24
His panic faded halfway into the trip, and he felt like a fool the rest of the way. How could he hope to find them? He stopped at two downtown hotels and peeked into their conference rooms, but both were filled with men.
Getting back in his car, he thought of going home and focusing on the critically important task of anti-explosives. He didn’t have time to run around after his assistant.
But if anything happened to her, he wouldn’t have time for R&D.
If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.
Stop. Think. Or better yet, feel. In the stillness of the parking garage, he closed his eyes and tried again to sensesomethingabout Miss Harper.
Nothing came to him for several minutes beyond the nervous tension that he suspected—half-feared, half-hoped—was not entirely his.Where are you,he thought.Tell me where you are.
The Key Hotel occurred to him as a possibility. He laughed at the thought, but then he realized Miss Harper might have shown the film to the owner to get him to honor the terms of the original contract.Surelyshe would have realized what a bad idea that was—surely she wouldn’t put herself and everyone else from the League in a location where Dockett and all his employees would be easily able to do them harm. He pulled out of the garage with a bit too much speed and took Light Street to Key Highway, cursing at red lights.
The hotel’s parking spaces sat behind the building. When he strode to the front, he got a clear view of Schoen’s Sugar across the road and discovered with a start that his sixth sense had been off by just a few hundred yards. The League had set up outdoors—outdoors—in a paved lot beside the factory, empty save for barge unloading equipment where land gave way to harbor. A handful of women bustled around under a large canopy. One of them was Miss Harper, wearing her red coat and a wide-brimmed hat, and it was such a relief to see her unhurt that he stood there for a moment, just watching.
Then he vanished himself with a murmur and hastened across Key Highway.
“—and it’s getting cold,” a Black woman with gray hair was saying to Miss Harper. “Oh, this has disaster written all over it.”
