The Silver Rose (25 page)

Aden downed the champagne, grabbed another, and moved to a corner to watch everyone as they filtered into the marquee, merging into groups and finding their tables. He searched for potential. Now that his mind was made up, he didn't want anything to get in the way of what he'd planned.

Goran had snagged a local girl when the band started to play and was dancing with her on the grass just outside the marquee under the stars. But once the music ended he returned to Aden's side, his mouth stretched in a victorious grin, and waved a wad of raffle tickets under Aden's nose.

“In here's the winning ticket,” Goran gloated. “So don't bother checking yours.”

It took all Aden's will to fight the impulse to flatten Goran's far-too-smug nose. Instead he studied the main prize standing by the table near the front of the makeshift stage as she chatted to two men, one of whom had more potential than anyone else there.

Jealousy spiked through him as Rosa talked with more animation than she'd ever shown except when pissed at him. Her raven hair curled and flounced in long tendrils down her back. She wore a diaphanous gown of emerald, her shoulders bare except for two thin, diamante straps. Her cheeks were rosy from wine and the constant attention, but Aden could see the worry coloring her aura to a murky gray, and he had no doubt Goran saw it also.

As if she knew he watched, she turned and her gaze caught his. He stopped breathing, and his lightning bolt flared with heat. The two men with her turned also and looked over toward him. Aden saw the man closest to Rosa move in and whisper in her ear. Aden was sure he said, “Is that him?” Rosa nodded. But then Maurice Curtis, the Chairman of Raven's Creek's Festival Committee, stepped up to the podium and tapped on the microphone several times to get everyone's attention.

Both men bussed Rosa on the cheek and walked away. Aden realized his jealousy was completely unwarranted. The two men held hands and looked lovingly at each other.
Get a grip on your emotions. There is too much at stake to lose control now.

“Ladies and gentlemen. In order for the winner of the raffle to enjoy the evening in the delightful company of Rosa Greenwood, we will be drawing the winner in five minutes. So if everyone could take their seats … ”

The organizing committee had placed Aden at the same table as Rosa; he was their star, after all. Making his way through the throng, Aden headed toward her with Goran close on his tail.

“Where's Zelda?” he said to nobody in particular when he pulled out his chair next to Rosa.

“She didn't buy a ticket,” Super Sleuth Ruth volunteered and pulled out a chair on his other side. Aden figured being on the organizing committee had its perks. One of them, choosing where one sat at an event such as this. “She hates these kinds of events. She's never attended a single one.”

And Ruth would know, which meant everyone in Raven's Creek with an ounce of magic was accounted for, except for Zelda.

Aden found his tongue strangely tied. Goran, who had taken the seat on Rosa's other side, had no trouble at all with his tongue. “Rosa, my dear, you're an exquisite jewel that glows more brightly every day.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers one by one.

Rosa's laughter was genuine. “Behave yourself.” She leaned into him and whispered, “Where's your notebook? Don't forget, the rest of Raven's Creek is watching your every move.”

Goran pointed to his temple with his index finger “It's all in here, Rosa. All in here.”

Ruth, her eyes alight with avid curiosity, leaned forward and spoke loud enough for anyone at the adjoining tables to hear. “When will we see your article in print?
Vogue
, is it?”

Goran blinked. Aden wondered if his friend had ever read a women's magazine in his life. “Uh, no,” said Goran.

Ruth frowned. “I thought you said it was
Vogue
? It's definitely one of those high-end glossy magazines.”

“It is,” Goran came back swiftly. “But probably not one you've heard of before. It's read mainly by the jewellery industry, art critics, auction houses, that kind of thing. The magazine is sold by subscription only.”

Ruth was plainly vexed. “Oh, dear. I was looking forward to reading what you thought about our little community.”

“I shall ensure you receive your own personalized copy,” Goran offered.

Singular delight shone in Ruth's eyes. “My own copy! Oh, Mr Thoreaux, how can I thank you?”

“Your appreciation is evident. No thanks are necessary.”

And how that was going to happen, Aden pondered, was a mystery when no such magazine existed. His friend was going to have to get very creative in a short space of time to produce a magazine of quality articles on various artists, even with the aid of magic.

The task should keep him busy and out of trouble for a week or two whilst ensorcelled in Raven's Creek.

• • •

Rosa stood next to the podium, the spotlight shining brightly on her. She had never been so acutely aware of her singleness. She had never felt so alone.
Sweet Goddess, I'm in your hands. Do with me what you will.

Her attention turned to her sisters, who sat side by side, their hands linked together, faces upturned, expectant and hopeful. She looked to Goran. He winked wildly at her. Rosa winked back, and many of the men gathered began to bicker amongst themselves as to whom Rosa had actually winked at.

Finally, she turned her attention to the one man she had offered her heart to and had so callously rebuffed her. Aden Dragunis: Dragon of Marylebone. She now hid that love she had so willingly offered behind a façade of indifference, her mind all the while churning with concern. If he didn't win her, what would she do?

The room erupted in an uproar and everyone was on their feet. Except for Aden and her two sisters. Maurice, it seemed, had announced the winner, and she had not heard a thing. Who was it? She frowned and surveyed the room. Men were tossing tickets on the tables and floor in disgust or disappointment depending on how they felt about the result. Money was changing hands.

And then Goran was at her side.

Rosa's heart plummeted.
Sweet Goddess! This is your will? Surely not!
Gentle words spoke directly to her heart.
Patience. Wait.
The Goddess never spoke to her. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she wanted to ask Her a million questions.

Goran bent down and whispered sternly into her ear. “Smile. Look pleased. And breathe before you fall!”

Maurice pounded Goran on the back. “Enjoy your evening, you two. Providence indeed, Rosa, when Goran is already sitting at your side, but to make the evening more special, the committee has set a small table on the embankment, where you can enjoy the rest of this wonderful night and get to know each other,” his voice dripped with innuendo, “on a more intimate basis.”

The room erupted into wolf whistles and hoots of laughter. Numb with disappointment, she let Goran lead her down the steps back to her table to collect her evening bag.

Aden stood and made a show of shaking Goran's hand before Maurice arrived and pounded Aden on the back. “Worst luck, mate. Better luck next time.” And worst of all, “The better man won!”

Aden's stony silence disappointed her.
Say something.
His dark eyes a pool of black, his aura a brilliant display of light and color, he looked her squarely in the eye, and she had the strangest feeling he was relieved. She was suddenly furious.

“You had your chance — ” she leaned over and whispered, unable to hide her sadness, “ — and you blew it. Do you have to hover over me like vengeance is nigh on my last night as a magical being?”

“I'm not hovering,” he whispered back through clenched teeth.

“Yes. You. Are. Now back off. Goran won. You lost.” She could not be any clearer. If only she did not feel she was the loser in this farce. “Accept it. I have.”

• • •

Fairy lights were strung from one lamppost to another through the trees and along the length of the embankment. People spilled out to dance and chatter under the moonlight as well as in the marquee. Goran was the perfect partner, pandering to her every need when all she really wanted was to go home. But she was made of sterner stuff. She would not hide. She smiled, laughed, and pretended she was loving every minute. No one guessed she was slowly dying inside.

There was Verve Cliquot in an ice bucket at their table. “Drink up.” Goran shoved a glass into her hand. “Pretend to enjoy yourself just a little. For me. You'll ruin my reputation, and my reputation is all I have.”

That caused a small sputter of laughter. “Somehow I don't think one night with me is going to spoil anything for you.”

Goran refilled her glass. “Correction. I can think of one person who's ready to kill me.” He inclined his head, indicating Aden, who stood sentinel on the edge of the embankment.

“I think there's more than one,” she told him, playing along for want of anything better to do. “There's nearly an entire town vying for my hand in marriage.”

“Rosa!” Goran's dramatic exclamation deserved an Oscar. “If I ever get to leave this small but wonderful place, I fear Aden will never let me forget this night. We must concoct a plan.”

That startled and intrigued her. “What kind of plan?”

“One where you end up with him, and I, how do you say, am discarded like an old rag.”

“Get over the dramatics and tell me what you really mean.”

“Aden should be at your side. Not me.”

“I put my life in the Goddess's hands, and you were the winner.”

“Your Goddess has a warped sense of humor.”

“I'm not laughing.”

“And neither am I, no matter how it seems. Aden deserves better. As do you. If you care for him, you must fight for him.”

“I've tried.”

“Try harder.”

“I've thrown myself at him, and he's thrown me right back. I'm done with trying. It's up to him now.”

Goran sent her an overly charming, enigmatic grin. “Well, then. Maybe it's me that should do a little throwing.” He clinked his glass with hers. “Drink up, Rosa. You need to trust I know what I'm doing.”

“What
are
you doing?” Rosa frowned. Goran was meddling in her life now.

“If I tell you, you might disappear, so — ” he touched her nose with an index finger, “ — patience, please.”

Patience. Had she not heard that word from the Goddess? So, as much as she wanted to cut the evening short and run home to cry a bathtub of tears, she allowed Goran to cajole her into drinking the champagne and pretending to anyone that came by to congratulate them that all was as it should be.

• • •

Aden‘s heart pounded as he watched Rosa dancing with his best friend. He, Aden, was a wretched and pathetic excuse for a warlock, standing around doing absolutely nothing while Goran taunted him as he swung Rosa about in his arms. That man was evil and Aden knew his friend was purposely doing it to aggravate him into action.

Could living his life without Rosa actually be more tortuous, more agonizing than losing Lydia? How could he bear it if that was his truth? How could he endure another four hundred years knowing he had passed up a chance to experience love for a second time? To have a partner he could share his life with? To grow old with?

Rosa was soft, gentle, strong, and tenacious. He adored her strength, her loyalty to her sisters. She was powerful and close to mastership. Could he give her up? Could he face a short but loving future with Rosa? Was it better than not loving her at all?

Rosa continued to dance with Goran, their bodies close, her head resting against his shoulder. Aden snarled, and, before he could allow himself to think too deeply, he marched over and tapped Goran on the shoulder. “I need to speak with Rosa.”

Goran twirled Rosa away. “I don't think so. I won her fair and square. She's mine.”

“Excuse me,” Rosa protested, deep within the arms of a man who was more than worthy of her. “I'm not a trophy.”

Goran spun Rosa away again. Aden followed. “You've had your fun. There are a few things I'd like to say. To Rosa. Alone.”

“Do it tomorrow,” Goran told him shortly. “Tonight is for dancing.”

“Yes,” Rosa agreed, her eyes alight with challenge. “I'll speak with you if you dance with me first.”

Goran laughed. “He won't dance. He never dances with anyone.”

Aden's fingers itched to turn his friend into a centipede so he could trample over the top of him. “I can dance.”

Goran cocked a cynical brow and Aden knew why. Only magic would enhance his lack of skill in that department. Aden whipped up a quick spell. “For you, Rosa. I will dance.”

Goran glared at Aden and issued a warning that had nothing to do with dance moves. “Superior or no, one wrong step from you and I'm cutting back in,” and then he thrust Rosa into Aden's arms and disappeared into the marquee.

The silhouettes of Aden and Rosa's profiles under the fairy lights merged into one. Stepping into each other's arms, awkward at first, they swayed on the spot in time with the music.

An intense longing overwhelmed Rosa, making her incapable of speech. It was just a dance. But he had come to her. That was good. Right? She leaned back to gauge what his eyes were telling her. A love to mirror her own was what she sought, and for a fleeting heartbeat, she saw his soul, saw the real Aden. Kind, loving, amusing, confused, lonely, and longing for love. Hope welled within Rosa's heart. She averted her eyes and leaned in, letting the length of their bodies caress in the lightest of touches. She rested her head against his shoulder and reveled in the pressure of his hand against her back.

His heart beat strongly against her ear. This was heaven. Something new resonated within him. There was no need for enchantments or spells. The fairy lights flickered and dimmed, but a brighter light of truth burned in Rosa. The air smelled fresher, the stars shone more intensely, the world pulsed with opportunity.