“You decided?” She was working to piece together what was happening, but that piece jumped up and demanded to be addressed right away. “Did it occur to you that women can also be particular about having decisions made for them . . . and that maybe you ought to ask me before you started packing?”

“As a matter of fact it did. Unfortunately, you were busy working a miracle and I didn’t have time to waste. I guarantee you Pavane’s not wasting his.”

It was tough to trump that argument. Slightly deflated, she leaned back and waited while he paid the parking attendant and pulled onto the street. “So you meant it when you threatened not to let me out of your sight.”

He nodded. “My first thought was to just follow you around and keep an eye on you, but I think we need to be more organized than that or we risk having Pavane take us by surprise a second time. It would be a mistake to underestimate him. Our best chance is to pool our resources and face him together. You have magic, I don’t; what I do have is what you’re short on: knowledge.”

She nodded slowly. “Agreed. But why am I the one with the suitcase? It would have been just as easy for you to pack a bag and stay at my place for a few days.”

She was grousing mostly to make a point. She shuddered to think of bringing Hazard home for an indefinite stay, knowing Grand and Rory would relish the chance to pepper him with questions and observe the two of them together. Not that the prospect of staying at his place didn’t put her on edge, but that was for very different reasons.

“I arranged it the way I did because I wanted to keep Pavane away from your house, not lure him there. It’s you he wants, and as long as he has the talisman, he’s going to find you wherever you are. I thought you’d prefer for that to happen a safe distance away from your grandmother and niece.”

“God, yes. Of course.” A new worry caused a furrow between her brows. “But what if he followed Taggart and—”

Hazard stopped her. “He didn’t. I asked your grandmother to drop the suitcase off at a safe location where Taggart could pick it up once she was safely away. It’s possible Pavane could still find his way to your front door if he’s determined enough, but I don’t plan to make it easy for him.”

“I should have thought of all this,” she declared, shaking her head in disgust.

He reached over and briefly covered her hand with his, and the warmth and strength Eve felt made her want to grab it and hold on tight.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said. “You’ve had other things on your mind today.”

“That’s no excuse not to stay on top of things. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to either one of them. I’d never forgive—”

She stopped herself; now wasn’t the time to go barreling down the all-too-familiar road paved with self-recrimination. Nothing had happened to them. And now the odds were nothing would. Thanks to Hazard.

“Hey, Hazard,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for taking care of them for me.”

He shifted his attention from the road just long enough to meet her gaze. “My pleasure.”

Neither of them smiled.

Eve shot him a wry look. “Nice try. I fell for that line last night, remember?”

“I remember last night.”

An understatement, he thought. All day, for long stretches at a time, the memory of last night had burned everything else from his mind. It had also made him cringe at the misguided way he’d messed it all up in the end.

“I need to explain something,” he said. “I was angry last night . . . with myself. For letting myself get too close to you. I knew better and I let it happen anyway and I was angry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, but for what’s its worth, I was trying to do the right thing.”

“By being rude?”

“No. By scaring you off.”

She didn’t smile, but her green eyes sparked with what looked like amusement. “And tonight?”

“Tonight I know you don’t scare that easily. Eve, I’m sorry for the way I treated you.”

“Apology accepted. It was a strange night all the way around.”

“Tonight I really do have wine. Assuming Taggart remembered to pick it up between dropping off your suitcase and embarking on his tour of disreputable otherworld haunts in search of news about Pavane. Let’s find out,” he added, heading toward the kitchen.

Eve followed along. “He’s gone alone to look for Pavane? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Taggart can take care of himself. Just don’t count on seeing him until morning,” he advised, looking around and finally locating a case of wine on the enclosed back porch. He carried it inside and opened it, satisfied with Taggart’s selections. He didn’t give Taggart enough credit, he thought. Starting tomorrow he’d try to do better.

He froze with the corkscrew in his hand. Starting tomorrow? Since when did he think in terms of tomorrow? Never, that’s when. Not for well over a century anyway, and that was close enough to never. It was just one of many things he never did; he never made new friends, never put someone else’s interests ahead of his own, never went around humming a bloody happy tune. Except in the past twenty-four hours he’d done all those things.

What was happening to him?

Unsettled, he pulled a couple of bottles from the case and held them for Eve to choose the one she preferred. She looked up and smiled at him. And he couldn’t pretend not to know the answer.

Eve. Eve was happening to him.

He poured two glasses of the pinot noir she favored and handed her one.

“I have to excuse myself for a few moments to make a phone call,” he told her.

She put her wine down without tasting it, her eyes clouded. “I thought we were supposed to stick together in case Pavane shows up.”

“We’ll be close enough, and I won’t be long. I can’t guarantee it, but I don’t think he’ll be able to get in here uninvited.”

“He didn’t have any problem last time.”

“Last time he had your help,” he reminded her.

“And now he has the talisman. Isn’t that a wash?”

“Not even close. He has the talisman, but to draw on its power he needs you. Besides, this place is a magical fortress; Taggart has been busy setting wards that will reinforce the residual energy throughout the house. According to him, the energy here has a protective feeling, and that makes sense for the home of an enchantress. Your grandmother guarded this place fiercely. The turret especially.”

“That was Grand’s favorite place for magic,” she explained, a faint smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “All her things were kept there.”

“It’s also probably the safest place for you . . . but I understand if you’re not ready to go there,” he quickly added when he saw her smile falter. “You’ll find your suitcase in the guest room on the second floor, a television in the den and plenty of food if you’re hungry.”

“That is good news. I did happen to notice there wasn’t any last night,” she admitted with an unapologetic shrug. “What can I say? I snoop for a living. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who didn’t at least have a jar of peanut butter and some stale crackers hanging around.”

“It’s easier to have what I want delivered when I want it. But given the risk involved, I decided it wasn’t a good idea to have strangers coming and going. You should find most of the food you like; I asked your grandmother for a list.”

“Thanks. But I’m not sure I can eat. My stomach is . . . jumpy.” She paced a few steps and spun back to face him. “Are you worried?”

“No.”

She caught the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth and studied his face, clearly trying to decide if his confidence was genuine. “What then?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Ready. That’s what I am. I’ve dreamed of this . . . getting another shot at Pavane. When it first happened, I didn’t believe he was telling the truth about the curse. Immortality? Everyone knows that’s impossible. When it became clear he was telling the truth, I was happy with the prospect of living forever.” He shook his head, remembering how short-lived that time had been, and how shortsighted he had been.

“Then I started losing people I cared about, everyone I cared about, and others began to look at me strangely, wondering why they changed and grew older and I didn’t. Hell, I was healthier and faster and stronger than ever. I tried to stay ahead of the suspicion and questions by moving from place to place, avoiding attachments. It wasn’t long until I was avoiding everything, and everyone.”

“You didn’t have anyone you could trust with the truth?” asked Eve.

“Did you?”

She looked away. “I thought I did, once.”

“And?” He angled his head so he could see more of her face.

“I was wrong about him.” She said it without bitterness; the soft thread of old pain that wound through her words was almost imperceptible. “It’s a lot to expect anyone to believe, and deal with. Anyone normal, that is.”

He nodded and drew in a deep breath. “I couldn’t live a normal life. And I wasn’t going to end up a circus freak or a specimen in some lab. By the time I was desperate enough to go to Pavane and beg him to undo whatever he’d done to me, it was too late. He was dead . . . and I was forever screwed. Literally.” He took a gulp of wine, suddenly aware of how much he’d revealed. One more thing he never did.

“I’ve waited a very long time to repay Pavane. So yes, I’m ready.” He walked over and took her firmly by the shoulders. “And so are you.”

In the living room she stood and stared at the spot where the ritual had taken place. The rug was back in place, but in her mind she saw the yellow chalk circle and remembered what had happened inside it. And what might have happened if Hazard’s plan hadn’t been ruined by Pavane. A cold, hard knot dropped into the pit of her stomach. If she let herself think about what might have happened, she would shatter, and so she stopped.

She hadn’t chosen this path—at least not consciously—but somehow this is where she’d ended up. She was accustomed to being able to look ahead at life and see exactly where she was going and how she was going to get there. Not now. The road ahead was cloaked in shadows, and like villains in an old arcade shooting game, they weren’t standing still. Instead, they were constantly shifting, revealing new truths and raising new questions. This path had to be walked one careful step at a time. And right now the next step had Pavane’s name written all over it. He could appear out of nowhere at any second, and when he did, she needed to be on-her-toes ready, emotions in check and firing on all cylinders.

Saving the man she loved would have to wait until later.

When had that happened? Yesterday? Last night? During dinner at Settimio’s?

She didn’t even try to tell herself she hadn’t fallen hard for him or that she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. She was sure. Some things a woman knows in her heart long before her head is ready to make a leap of faith. From everything she’d read and seen in movies, she understood that the long, slow slide into love can be wonderful. But she and Hazard didn’t have that kind of time.

Sometimes, when danger looms and the world has been jolted off its axis, even the most sensible and careful woman in the world has to tell her head to step aside so her heart can take the wheel. And that’s what she was doing now. She was going to let her heart lead the way. That was new territory in more ways then one, and she probably ought to feel a little apprehensive. She didn’t. She felt calm, and strong. She was ready for whatever was coming. At least according to Hazard.

She couldn’t wait to see what she did next.

It was a wry, slightly self-deprecating thought, but even before she’d finished thinking it she found herself at the bottom of the staircase, looking up. Standing there she couldn’t see the turret room, but strange as it sounded, she could feel it.

Had that room also undergone a radical change? It was hard to see how it could have. There were no rooms to combine or rearrange, no walls to tear down. The only walls were inside her, and she had put them up herself.

Without giving herself time to think, or lose courage, she started up the stairs, first to the second floor and then up the narrow, curving flight of stairs to the very top of the house, moving slowly and discovering her feet had a memory all their own. With each step, pictures of a snow-covered path and white rose petals and Chloe’s pink flannel nightgown flickered in her mind’s eye. She made no attempt to hold on to any one of them for a closer look, but she also didn’t resist them, not the images or the memories attached to them. She let them come, and go, as they would. Her pulse skittered and her heart pounded as if she’d climbed a hundred flights, but she worked to keep her breathing slow and steady as she reached the top step and crossed the threshold of the turret room for the first time since the night of the fire.

She purposely didn’t turn on the light. The sun was quickly setting, but with windows encircling the room, there was still enough soft light to see. It wasn’t the way she remembered it. No surprise there. What did surprise her was how different this room was from the rest of the house. The color and personality lacking everywhere else were here in abundance.

A deep blue rug with red and gold and turquoise designs covered the wood floor, and custom-built bookcases lined the walls beneath the windows and on either side of the doorway. She wouldn’t have to search very far for something to read; books filled the shelves, and those that didn’t fit, either because they were too tall or simply because there were too many books and too few shelves, had been piled here and there on the floor. Eve had to smile at the haphazardness; some were standing, some stacked, and a handful had been left sticking out as if there might be a need to find them again in a hurry.

She stood for a moment and took it all in. The room, changed though it was, felt right to her, solid and safe. It smelled right too, like night and mystery. And Hazard, she realized, smiling again as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Feeling more at ease, she ventured a little farther, noting the easy chair and ottoman on one side of the room and the daybed on the other. There was just enough light to read the titles on some of the aged leather book bindings, many written in ornate lettering and impressed in gold. Chaos Magic, Ancient Alchemy, The Lost Art of Necromancy. No wonder Hazard was so well versed in the art.

Here was a book lover’s heaven. And it always had been, thought Eve, recalling the hours she’d spent there curled up with a book, Grand busy nearby. She reached to slide her fingertips along the windowsill closest to her, and then the edge of a bookcase shelf. Both were perfectly smooth. Just as she expected. No nicks, no scars, no traces of the past. A clean slate. All the years of messy and wonderful laughing, crying, loving that had been lived within those walls . . . gone. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that, and so she didn’t think about it. Instead, she distracted herself by checking out what else the room held besides books.

There were brass scales and telescopes, as well as other mechanical gadgets she couldn’t name. On a table by the chair was an intriguing hodgepodge of smaller items: a crystal inkwell—complete with ink, she discovered by lifting the silver cover—and a magnifying glass, a letter opener engraved with a Celtic knot, and a fountain pen. A very old and very fine pen, she thought as she picked it up to admire the mother-of-pearl handle and silver grip.

Noticing that there were words engraved on the side of the pen, she brought it closer, but before she could read them, the lights suddenly came on and she looked up. The light wasn’t coming from the overhead light or a lamp, but from a scattering of tiny white lights that seemed to be floating at the top of each glass windowpane, as if someone had tossed handfuls of stars into the air. Eve looked around and smiled. Fairy lights, she thought, and they were. They’d transformed the room into a page from a fairy tale.

She glanced behind her and found Hazard standing in the doorway, watching her.

“How did you—?” She swirled her finger in the air to indicate the circle of light around them.

“I didn’t. The windows were custom-made for the previous owner. The lights are actually between panels of glass, and at night the wires are virtually invisible so the lights seem to be just hanging in midair. The inside panel pops out so you can replace the bulbs,” he added, anticipating her next question.

“Very cool,” she pronounced, doing a full three-sixty.

“Unus est ut unus praesumo,” Hazard said.

Eve turned and looked at him quizzically.

“I noticed you trying to read the inscription,” he explained, nodding at the pen still in her hand. “It’s Latin. One is as one dares. That pen is the closest thing I have to a family heirloom; it was the only thing left to me, all that remains from that time in my life.”

“It’s beautiful. Did it belong to your father?” She asked because “M. Hazard” was engraved above the Latin phrase.

The slight, sudden coolness in his eyes and the nearly imperceptible dimming of his smile might have been missed by someone else, someone not entranced by his every movement and slightest gesture, but the reaction wasn’t lost on Eve.

“Actually, it belonged to my mother. My father, the esteemed fifth Earl of Shafton, left me nothing . . . not entirely unheard of treatment for a bastard son.” He folded his arms in front of him and rested his shoulder against the doorjamb in a display of indifference she was certain he didn’t feel. “He was the love of my mother’s life; she was his mistress from the time she was seventeen until she began to show her age and he found someone younger and more to his taste.”

“I’m so sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t be. It was a very long time ago. And there wasn’t a better mother than Molly Hazard; she taught me . . . everything. She more than made up for his failings as a father.”

“I’m glad for that.” She gazed at the inscription and then back at him. “One is as one dares. If that was her philosophy, I’d say you’ve done your mother proud. Of course,” she added in a dry tone, “you did manage to get yourself beaten and cursed in the process, and that’s only the stuff I know about.”

“It was worth it.”

Eve’s brows shot up. “Really?”

He gave a nod. “Every blow that landed. Every miserable year of being alone and afraid to do anything about it. All the anger. All the frustration. All worth it.”

“How can you say that?”

He came away from the door and walked toward her, slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. His gray eyes were dark with intent, and Eve’s breath caught in her throat.

“A week ago I wouldn’t have said it,” he admitted, stopping only inches away from her, close enough for her to smell the hint of soap on his skin and feel the heat of his body. “Do you want to know what’s changed since last week?”

Eve nodded.

His somber gaze moved over her slowly. “Everything.”

“Because of the talisman? Because you found what you were looking for?”

“No. Because I found exactly what I wasn’t looking for. I found trouble and complications and danger. I found you.”

As he spoke, he lifted his hand and played with the drawstring tie on her shirt, letting the side of his hand brush the side of her breast.

Eve shivered.

Hazard smiled.

And the love she’d only just acknowledged to herself poured through her, filling dark empty places she’d learned to pretend weren’t there.

He moved his hands to her shoulders and held her lightly. “Everything that’s happened to me, every mistake I’ve ever made and stupid thing I’ve ever done, has been worth whatever it’s cost me in blood and tears, because it’s brought me where I am, standing here with you. I choose to believe that this isn’t a random event, that it means something, that it’s the work of someone far wiser than I am.” His tone had become self-deprecating. “Because I never could have made it here on my own.”

“In that case,” she countered, looping her arms around his neck, taking pleasure in the silky caress of his hair on the inside of her wrists, “I’m very glad you just stayed out of it.”

He bent his head and kissed the hollow beneath her ear and the side of her throat and rubbed his mouth along her collarbone. “Staying out of it worked so well for me, I’ve decided to keep doing just that. No more denying what I feel when you’re near me, no more second-guessing, no more trying to save you from myself.”

A ripple of excitement tore through her as he tugged on the drawstring, not playing now.

“No more trying to control myself around you.” He loosened the bow and slid his fingertips inside; she definitely did not want to be saved from this.

“The reasons I gave for bringing you here were true,” he told her. “But there was another, much simpler reason I didn’t mention. You’re here because I want you here.”

Eve’s pulse leapt as he pulled her closer.

He held her gently, his hands exploring only the hollow of her back, but she felt him everywhere, all over her, and she ached for more. His sweater was soft beneath her fingertips, his body hard against her own. And when she drew a deep breath, she breathed him.

Desire built inside her, fed by her senses as just being in his arms flooded them with pleasure, layer upon sweet restless layer. And sweetest of all was knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him, although in a saner moment she would argue that it wasn’t possible, that no one ever had or ever would want anyone as much as she wanted Gabriel Hazard.

He still hadn’t kissed her on the mouth, and the promise of it throbbed in the air around them, the deep rumbling of an approaching storm. He bent his head and his cheek brushed hers, the light contact tantalizing.

“There was an occultist,” he said, his lips close to her ear. “Last century. His name was Levi Eliphas, and he had a very interesting theory.” His cadence was slow and lulling, his voice pitched so low it was almost tangible, vibrating against her skin, as much sensation as sound. “He believed that if a man breathed in exactly the right way, in exactly the right spot on the back of a woman’s neck, she would surrender to him, mind, body and soul.”

As he spoke, he lifted her hair off her neck and the moist heat of his breath sent shivers cascading through her. The blend of sensation and anticipation was excruciating.

Please, please, thought Eve, kiss now, talk later.

“Does that really work?” she managed to whisper.

“I have no idea,” he confessed. “I only know that when it comes to you and me, you don’t have to breathe, you don’t have to touch me, all you have to do is be . . . to exist, and I want to surrender . . . everything. Everything I believe, every vow I’ve made. Suddenly I want what I’ve hated, and feared, for so long. I want to live.”