Amaryllis (39 page)

“Yeah.”

Amaryllis turned her attention back to the fire. “It feels weird somehow.”

“What does?”

“Knowing that it's over.”

Over
. The single word hung in the air between them. It was over. Everything was over.

Amaryllis realized then that her self-imposed mission to
discover the truth about Professor Landreth's death had been inextricably bound up with her relationship with Lucas. The two were not really connected, she told herself. Yet in a way, they were.

Her mission had ended. The end of the affair was inevitable, too. In fact, it was already in sight. She thought about all the forms she and Lucas had filled out for Synergistic Connections. She recalled the interview. It would not be long now.

“Yeah.” Lucas rested his head against the back of the sofa and watched the fire through slitted eyes. “It feels weird.”

Amaryllis didn't need telepathy to tell her that he was thinking the same thing that she was thinking. A great sense of loss welled up inside her.

From out of nowhere Amaryllis felt the tendril of psychic energy seeking a link. Lucas was reaching for her with his mind. This was not the fierce, white hot demand he had sent out earlier when he had been searching for her in the darkness backstage at SynCity. This was a tender, gentle brush of talent questing for synergistic wholeness.

“Lucas.” Amaryllis wrapped her arms more tightly around her knees. She tried to blink away the dampness she could feel in her eyes. “It would probably be better if we didn't do this anymore.”

“Probably.”

“According to every syn-psych theory in the book, we're all wrong for each other.”

“Yeah.”

“It would be stupid to take this relationship any further,” Amaryllis insisted. “Neither of us wants to risk repeating the mistakes of the past.”

“You think we're both afraid of the past?”

The perception in his words startled her. She stared into the flames. “I've been telling myself that doing the proper thing was a matter of responsibility and duty. But maybe you're right. Maybe in the end it just comes down to a fear of the past. We both have reasons to be afraid.”

“Are you going to spend your whole life being afraid?”

Amaryllis was stunned. An entire life spent living with a fear of the past stretched out before her. Every action
guided by fear. A marriage based on avoiding fear. It was a dreadful vision.

“I don't know,” she said. “Are you?”

“I hate to think of myself as a complete and total coward.”

She frowned. “You're no coward.”

“Neither are you.”

“Where does that leave us?” she asked.

“Marry me.”

Amaryllis whirled around on the sofa to stare at Lucas. Shock waves went through her. At first she thought she had not heard him, that she had conjured the words in her own mind.

He hadn't moved. His head still rested against the back of the sofa. His eyes were still narrowed as he gazed into the flames. The Iceman.

“It's okay,” he said without any trace of emotion. “I know the answer. Just thought I'd give it a try.”

“Oh, God, Lucas, I thought you'd never ask.” Amaryllis threw herself into his arms. “What took you so long?”

He caught hold of her mentally and physically. Brilliant beams of psychic energy poured through a crystal-clear prism. Power crashed in glorious waves.

When Amaryllis opened her eyes, she discovered that she and Lucas were safe inside his secret island grotto.

He made love to her there in the hidden grotto, just as he had dreamed of doing. He undressed her slowly beside the fathomless green pool, peeling away blouse and slacks and layers of neat, serious underwear. Her skin glowed pale gold in the firelight that passed easily through the illusory stone walls of the cave. He cupped one graceful, elegant breast in his hand, marveling at the perfect shape and texture of it.

Amaryllis fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and the fastenings of his trousers until he grew impatient with the slow torture.

“Wait.” He sat up beside her and yanked off his clothes with a few brusque movements. Then he stretched out slowly above her.

She reached up to splay her fingers across his bare chest. “I love the feel of you.”

Lucas longed to ask if she loved him as well as the feel of him, but he told himself he would not push his luck. She had agreed to marry him. It was enough for now. Everyone said that when the match was right, love came after marriage.

When the match was right.

This has to be right
, Lucas thought. If it wasn't, he was doomed.

“I'm a beat-up iceman.” He watched her eyes as he caught one of her hands and pressed it to the spider-frog scar on his shoulder. “I spent too many years in the islands to ever be anything else.”

“No, you're gorgeous. Spectacular. Unbelievably sexy.”

“I'm covered with scars and calluses. My manners are rough and so is my accent.”

She dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “Who cares? You've got gray eyes. I was very particular about wanting gray eyes on the Synergistic questionnaire, you know.”

For some reason he had to keep going. He had to make certain she knew everything. “I cheated on my talent certification test. I don't have your high standards when it comes to that kind of thing.”

“You have your own code and you stick to it. That's all that matters.”

“If I could have figured out how to fool the syn-shrinks at Synergistic Connections into thinking that I would be a perfect match for a full-spectrum prism such as yourself, I would have done it in a heartbeat.”

Amaryllis's smile was brilliant. “It occurs to me that the counselors at the agency aren't qualified to find a match for either of us because they've had no experience matching off-the-scale talents and prisms.”

“We're opposites in a lot of ways, Amaryllis.”

“I'm not so sure about that. I feel closer to you than I've ever felt to anyone else in my whole life.”

A great sense of exhilaration drove out the last of his fears. “That pretty much sums up how I feel about you. It's as if I've been waiting for you forever.”

“And I've been waiting for you.” She wound her arms around his neck. Her eyes gleamed. “Do you think I could interest you in using your psychic vampire talent to turn me into a love slave?”

“Actually, I was sort of hoping that you would use your amazing prism powers to turn
me
into a helpless victim of your relentless desire.”

“Hmm.” She drew a fingertip down to his bare stomach and then moved her hand lower. She cradled his heavy shaft in her palm. “The notion is fraught with possibilities.”

“Yeah.” Lucas sucked in his breath. The grotto walls shimmered and dimmed for a few seconds as he diverted psychic energy into old-fashioned self-control. “It is, isn't it?”

“Oh, Lucas, I want you so much.” The teasing light in her eyes was replaced with unabashed need. She brought his mouth down to hers and arched herself against him.

The passion sparked between them, hotter than raw, unfocused psychic energy.

He reveled in the feel of her body. He worked his way downward, tasting the small valley between her breasts, the gentle curve of her belly, the inside of her thigh. When he touched the hot, moist flesh between her legs, she shuddered in his hands.

“Lucas.”

On the psychic plane, the crystal prism winked out of existence. The grotto walls disappeared. Lucas felt a surge of triumph. This time Amaryllis was the one who had lost control of the link.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered.

“You make me feel beautiful.” She shivered again and sank her nails into his shoulders.

Together they found the focus link again. Lucas did not bother to rebuild the grotto. He simply let the power flow in a shimmering river. The sense of deep intimacy enveloped him. He was a part of Amaryllis and she was part of him.

He moved back up along the length of her trembling body. He used one hand to guide himself to the entrance of her snug passage. Slowly he eased himself inside. She closed around him.

When Amaryllis cried out and convulsed in Lucas's arms, he thought that he would lose the mind link again, but to his surprise, it held steady and clear. Unfocused talent flashed through the prism and ricocheted around the psychic plane.

Power and passion flowed together.

* * *

A long while later, Amaryllis felt Lucas disengage himself carefully from her arms. He slid his leg from between her thighs. She opened her eyes as he sat up on the edge of the sofa.

“Lucas? Where are you going?”

“To check the fire. Don't worry, I'll be right back.”

“I'll be waiting.” She turned onto her side, stretched, and propped her head on the arm of the sofa. She watched Lucas as he crossed the room to the hearth.

He was magnificent. Big and sleek and utterly masculine. The firelight gleamed on his strongly muscled flanks and broad shoulders. Just the sight of him sent little frissons of excitement through her thoroughly sated body.

She felt a brush of energy on the psychic plane and silently responded. Lucas held the intimate link with her for a few minutes while he crouched to adjust the supply of jelly-ice.

He finished his small task, rose to his feet, and braced one hand on the mantle. Instead of returning to the sofa, he stood gazing down into the flames.

“You're brooding,” Amaryllis said.

In the flaring firelight, the fierce planes and angles of his face appeared harder edged and more grim than usual. “It won't be easy, you know.”

As if she could read his mind, she understood. “I know. If you come with me to Lower Bellevue to celebrate my aunt's birthday the day after tomorrow, we can tell my family together.”

He turned slowly to face her. With his back to the fire, it was impossible to see his expression. “What will you do if your aunt and uncle refuse to give you their blessing?”

“Marry you anyway. They'll come around in time. They love me. All they want is for me to be happy.”

“Will you be happy with me?”

“I don't see how I could be happy with anyone else,” she said simply.

“We'll argue.”

“Everyone argues at times, even people who are matched through an agency.”

“You'll probably pull that virtuous little founder act on me from time to time, and I'll tell you that you're prissy and straitlaced and too damn picky.”

She smiled. “And then you'll remember that I picked you.”

Lucas came toward her. “Yeah.” His voice roughened. “Then I'll remember that you picked me.”

He lowered himself onto the sofa and pulled her into his arms. His eyes reflected the flames on the hearth as he bent his head to take her mouth.

“Incredible.” Clementine whistled softly as she refolded the newspaper. “Who would have believed it. Senator Madison Sheffield, Mr. Founders' Values man himself. Blackmail victim and murderer. We came too damn close to losing you, Amaryllis. This is one scary story.”

“You're telling me.” Amaryllis poured herself a cup of coff-tea from the office pot. “I tried to tell everyone that Sheffield was unethical and very likely dishonest, but no one would listen to me.”

“I know, I know.” Clementine held up her hand. “Amaryllis, hasn't anyone ever told you that no one likes a person who keeps saying I told you so?”

“The boss is right,” Byron said. “That sort of person is very irritating.”

“Hah. Better get used to it.” Amaryllis smiled blandly. “I intend to say it a lot around here. And I'll tell you something else, when the police reopen their investigation of Professor Landreth's death, they're going to discover that he was murdered, too.”

Clementine's brows rose. “By Sheffield?”

“Who else?” Amaryllis said. “He must have learned about the file that Professor Landreth had made on him. He couldn't risk the possibility that Landreth would go public with his accusations.”

“I wonder if they'll be able to prove it,” Clementine mused.

“Even if they can't tie Sheffield to Landreth's death, they should be able to nail him for killing that stripper,” Byron said.

“Don't count on it,” Clementine said dryly. “He's a city-state senator, after all, and he's denying everything. When was the last time a high-ranking politician did any serious prison time?”

“One way or another, I'm sure justice will be done,” Amaryllis said. “That reminds me, I must phone Irene Dunley. She'll be anxious to hear the details of what happened last night. She's the only one who supported me when I started looking into the matter of Professor Landreth's death.”

“Let me see that paper.” Byron leaned over his desk to snatch the newspaper out of Clementine's hands. He studied the headlines with something that might have been pride. “Wow. Like totally synergistic. Interesting shot of you, Amaryllis.”