"Unho!"

"I'll be back in a trice." She slid out of the car and let the dogs out. They stumbled all over each other and the box as their quest for freedom. Cade silently counted to see how long it would take Jack to find the lake. After deducting forty-two seconds for the long pee-stream, Cade figured about fifteen seconds, tops. At eleven, Jack was swimming in circles and lapping the water simultaneously. Rufus kept a barking vigil on the sh.o.r.e.

The front of Juliet's cabin resembled nothing so much as a child's drawing of a house. Stone chimney, steeply pitched roof, weathered cedar shakes, dark green trim, empty flower boxes under the two front windows. She had disappeared up the steps and into the red front door but came out from the wide deck that ran along the lake side of the house. Cade could see that the porch furniture was overturned and covered in plastic. Everything was neat and tidy. She must have a caretaker to mow the s.p.a.cious lawn. Maybe he'd come and check on the property and save Cade from her insanity.

She was still smiling when she came toward the car. With a knife. Long. Serrated. Perfect for dismembering formerly living things. He hoped she was just going to cut the clothesline and not stab him. She opened the door.

"You did very well hopping to the car earlier, but we were on pavement then. The ground here is somewhat uneven. I shouldn't want you to fracture an ankle. Do I have your word that if I cut your ties, you won't attempt to run away?"

Cade gave her an evil a glare as he could. She flinched a bit.

"No kicking, either. Rufus, come!"

The terrier ran up to them and wiggled all over.

"Stay. Guard."

Rufus growled low in his throat. Cade laughed but it just sounded like he was choking. The idea that this stumpy little dog would attack him was ludicrous. He looked back over to Jack, who was swimming after a loon. The dog had absolutely no priorities or loyalty.

Cade was cold and still as marble as Juliet sawed through the ropes at his feet. It took an inordinately long time.

"There!" she said brightly when she was finished. She took the gun out of her pocket.

Nice. Knife in one hand, pistol in the other.

"I imagine you might wish to relieve yourself. I'll help you into the house and the loo. Can you manage with your hands tied? I'm not quite prepared to totally liberate you until I show you...never mind. You seem very cross. If you'd only listened to reason."

Cade growled, giving Rufus a run for his money. He almost fell out of the car in his haste to get inside the house. Thank G.o.d the bathroom was right by the front door and thank G.o.d he was still wearing his pajama bottoms so Juliet didn't have to mess with any b.u.t.tons. After yanking his pants down, she left him to his misery. Four hours of frustration-and yes, fear-splashed into the toilet.

She was right outside the door. He could sense it. He knocked the toilet seat down with his bound wrists and sat down, buying time, looking around the bathroom for something, anything, he could use to get himself out of this mess.

"Are you all right, Cade?"

"Unh," he grunted.

"I'm here if you need me."

Oh, wipe my b.u.t.t, b.i.t.c.h. See how you like that, he thought grimly. But he'd already taken care of his most pressing need. He swiveled his head like he was in The Exorcist. The pink plastic shower curtain was pulled to the side, revealing gleaming white tiles. He wondered if he could somehow tear it down and smother Juliet with it. There was no handy little girly plastic razor on the tub rim, not even a toothbrush in a holder so he could stab her in the eye. The bathroom was scrupulously clean and empty.

"I haven't had the water turned off yet. You can still flush when you finish."

Oh, shoot me now. Just get it over with.

"What's that?"

Cade heaved a sigh. The sooner she showed him whatever s.h.i.t she had, the sooner he could leave.

He hoped.

He got up, flushed the toilet and knocked into the door. He couldn't bear to look at himself in the oval mirror over the sink. He'd drooled on himself most of the afternoon. How did p.o.r.n people think ball gags were s.e.xy?

Juliet opened the door for him, still holding the gun, and he stepped out into the one real room of the cabin. It felt barn-like, with its cathedral ceiling, mellow wood paneling, and exposed post and beam construction. The house was old but in good shape, the wide pine floors not sagging underfoot. The kitchen had pickled cabinets, modern stainless steel appliances, pink granite countertops and ran along most of the right-hand side wall. Juliet had great taste, it was true.

A big old-fashioned potbelly stove was straight ahead of him at the end, hooked up to a fieldstone chimney wall. Two fat beige corduroy recliners sat on either side. There was a round table and four ladder back chairs in the middle of the floor. The left wall was almost entirely floor to ceiling gla.s.s, with a French door to the deck set in the center. Juliet's bed, an elaborate white iron affair, was tucked in the front corner as you first came in.

It was all simple and lovely. If he had been a regular guest, he might even like it. But all he could think of was that she was going to tie him to the bed like Kathy Bates did to James Caan.

He saw a stack of photo alb.u.ms on the dining table and raised an eyebrow.

Suddenly Juliet seemed nervous. She sat down on a dining chair. "Please," she said, pointing to the chair next to her. He chose the one opposite instead.

"I'm going to take the necktie off in a bit. Just be patient."

He watched as she spread the alb.u.ms on the table. Just great. There was nothing more boring than looking at a million pictures of people you didn't know and one person in particular you did and would like to toss in the lake.

And it was colder than a witch's t.i.t in here. He was still wearing his leather jacket, but the pajama pants were summer-weight and he was freezing his a.s.s off.

Juliet must have seen the shiver. "How thoughtless I am. It's very chilly, is it not? I'll make a fire for us." She balled up some newspapers that were in a basket next to the stove, then went out on the deck to bring some wood in. Cade watched her sweet little denim-clad b.u.t.t as she leaned over and poked around.

She'd left the gun on the table. Could he grab it with his toes? Cade cursed himself for sitting so far away. If he got up, she'd only sprint right over and hit him with a log or something.

Well, she'd told him to be patient. He would be.

The fire was crackling along. Juliet turned on some lights before she came back to the table. The sun was low in the horizon and the water had lost some of its sparkle. She brushed the wood shavings from her hands and picked up the most ragged of the books.

"You will think these have been photo-stored."

Cade frowned a second. She meant photo-shopped. It was like English was a second language to her sometimes.

"I a.s.sure you, they're all genuine." She turned a few pages, then got up again and walked around the table. "This is I. And the one on the next page is Tony Macclesfield. Viscount Fforde that was. I met him in Paris a few weeks before his death. Adolphe Disderi himself photographed these cartes-de-visite in his studio. Here, look at the date."

Cade rolled his eyes to the crossbeam in the ceiling. And then he looked. Some guy in a uniform, lots of ribbons, looking proud and pompous. The woman...Cade squinted. The dress was really hideous. Plaid, ruffles, ribbons, lace, huge sleeves where you could hide a toddler with no trace. Poodle-y hair over her ears.

Cute, he thought. When he was a kid his family went to Busch Gardens and did the whole dress-up thing. They had posed in front of a covered wagon, though.

He jerked his head away as her hands came near, but she only meant to untie the tie.

"You need help," he said, his voice scratchy from disuse.

"Look, Cade, really look. I'll turn the pages."

Her hand was shaking. The sc.r.a.pbook paper was so brittle corners kept breaking off, dissolving into dust. He looked. He really looked.

The only sound in the room was the occasional pop of the wood in the stove. Cade saw ticket stubs, programmes, pressed flowers, picture after picture of a sepia or black-and-white Juliet. One alb.u.m turned into the next, and the next hundred years of fashion unfolded before his eyes. Juliet's face stayed the same.

Suddenly she was in color, all faded orange and yellowed out. Big skirts with crinolines. Mini-dresses and white boots. Bikinis. In one picture, she wore bell bottoms and flashed a peace sign, standing in the middle of a mob.

"Woodstock," she said softly. "It was not at all what I expected."

The last picture in the last alb.u.m had been taken a year ago. Cade had a duplicate as his screensaver. He shook his head as if to clear the images from his mind. "How can this be?"

"I told you yesterday. My husband played with fire and I got burned. I was once much like you. Magic was for fairy tales, for children. At first I just thought I was lucky to look so much younger than my friends. I attributed it to clean living," she said dryly. "I was nearly a nun.

"But then I b.u.mped in to an old friend of Joseph's. He'd tippled a bit, and drew me off into a corner to tell me about the society he and Joseph had belonged to. They practiced Black Magic, or tried to. It seems Joseph was the only one who came close to being a success."

"But he died!"

"Ah, yes, but I still live. Joseph's friend postulated that I was the beneficiary of a spell designed to make a loving couple eternally youthful and fulfilled in the conjugal bed. But I did not love Sir Joseph, and cost him his life."

"It wasn't your fault." Cade paused. "Do you think you can untie me now? I'll be good."

"Oh!" Juliet flushed. She fumbled with the knots until Cade told her to get the knife again.

When she was done, he shook his hands to get some feeling back into them. "Were you a Girl Scout? You tie a h.e.l.luva knot."

"I've been a troopleader several times. They didn't have Girl Scouts when I was a child. There was really nothing to do but embroider and paint indifferent watercolors. You're free now. If you want to leave, we can start back to Portland."

Cade put a numb hand to her cheek. "It's late. Looks like you've got a perfectly good bed over there. I think I can take a few days off. Maybe between the two of us, we can mumble an incantation or two."

Juliet threw her arms around him and kissed him fiercely.

"Uh uh. Not yet. The box of food is still in the car and if I remember correctly, I missed lunch because I was getting kidnapped. What's for dinner?"

He was just as crazy as she was.

Chapter 6.

Juliet emerged from the bathroom in a white robe that covered her from ankles to chin. She hadn't felt this nervous since her wedding night, after her mama had finally clued her in as to what Sir Joseph would expect of her.

Juliet could remember recoiling with absolute horror that such a thing was even possible between humans, although as a country miss, she'd seen many a barnyard bridal night in broad daylight.

But she needn't have worried overmuch. Despite his considerable girth, Sir Joseph was built for speed, spilling his seed in the blink of an eye. He had then kissed her forehead and gone back into his laboratory in the cellars. She had lain alone in the enormous tester bed, wishing for a bottle of wine and a warm bath.

Over the next ten years she had learned to stash a bottle or two under her bed to help her get through the nights. In the daytime she did good works and sewed. Put up preserves. Read the Bible from the first page to the last and began again. Read novels, too, much to Sir Joseph's disgust.

She knew now he must have seen the dashing fictional heroes as a threat, for he fell short as a husband in so very many ways. She waited in vain for a child to alleviate her boredom, but was denied that bootied blessing.

Then she was a rich, fashionable widow. Along came the Earl. Much younger than Sir Joseph, certainly, but more interested in his own pleasure than hers. Once he broke off their liaison and married his virginal nitwit, the now-experienced nitwit drove him to drink, debauchery and an early grave within a year. Juliet had no doubt the Earl was glad to take his leave.

Why was she entertaining such troubling thoughts this evening? Soon Cade would help her forget her sorry past. But the specters of the men who had briefly shared her bed were ever on her conscience.

Dear, dear Aubrey, a victim of that dreadful little Corsican upstart. Then le Comte Dufour, who was not quite so dear. She was unable to endure him for more than one and a half encounters, so heavily did he reek of garlic and Gallic pride. But he was handsome in his custom-tailored uniform, killed in a duel when a fellow officer had the audacity to criticize his choice of b.u.t.tons.

Dear, dear Tony, fallen at the Battle of Balaclava. Dear, dear Tommy, shot down over the Channel. Dear, dear Francis Foxworth Lymington III, a Charleston boy who perished in a swamp in Vietnam. Fox couldn't hold his liquor, but he was a divine dancer. Years of dancing school, come-outs and cotillions had seen to that. He'd been devoted to his mama, too. But every man in his family had gone to the Citadel and done his duty. Fox had paid the ultimate price for family tradition.

And last, dear, dear Cade, who lay against a pile of vintage matela.s.se pillows on her iron bed, the bedcovers thrown aside. His T-shirt and pajama pants had disappeared, and the happiness he felt to see her was more than in evidence. Juliet nervously licked her lips.

"You're a little over-dressed, Julie," He grinned, and Juliet's heart did a little flip. He was so very attractive, with just a hint of the naughty boy his mother had a.s.sured her he had been. Juliet felt certain that after tonight, even if they didn't marry, her love for him would be enough to fix her future. She unbelted her robe, laying it on the antique chest at the foot of the bed.

"Much, much better."

She saw the appreciative glint in his eyes. Her figure was not in fashion for the twenty-first century-she was too short and too fleshy. No one would ever mistake her for a heroin-chic model. Her thighs touched when she walked, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bounced. But Cade seemed to like her just the way she was. She lay down next to him and brushed his stubbled cheek with one small hand.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you when we broke up. I was afraid for you."

"Shh. It's all in the past." He laughed at his joke and pulled her closer.

And then his lips covered hers, and a whole year of yearning was quenched by a blistering kiss. There would be no time for finesse or flirtation, or even much foreplay. Juliet took Cade's hand to prove she was ready. More than ready. She bucked as he stroked her, impatiently pushing against him. She wanted him inside her.

He broke the kiss. "Let me get a condom. I think I might have one in my wallet. It's practically an antique."

Juliet knew his wallet was in his jacket across the room. There were no pockets in his pajama pants, after all. This morning she had pointed the gun at him while he threw some stuff in a paper bag for his impromptu lake vacation. She wasn't completely deranged. She knew a man needed a change of underwear and a toothbrush for a quality kidnapping experience. But she was not about to let him leave her now.

She shook her head. "No."

"I-there hasn't been anybody else since you."

She could see the question in his face. "Nor for me. I need you, only you, Cade. I need all of you."

She didn't have to say more. Her eyes closed to keep her tears in check, she felt him center himself over her, waited for the thrill of his thrust. In moments she was wrapped around him in all ways possible, her hands stroking, her lips seeking. The fire from her center coursed to the surface of her pale skin, tiny silver flames racing along each nerve. She shivered, not with cold but heat so intense she thought she would scorch him where their bodies met. Her desire turned to heedless, mind-numbing need. She would do anything to keep him inside her. Forever.

Or however long they had.

"Julie."

Her name a prayer upon his lips. She opened her eyes to see him staring down, his face set in blissful agony.

"I can't-I'm sorry-" He slipped one hand between them again and she joined him as he lost control within her.

This was heaven, although every bit as hot as h.e.l.l must be. He had collapsed over her, his weight nearly overwhelming. Juliet licked a bead of sweat from the plane of Cade's cheek. "I love you. But you need to move."

"I can't. I'm dead." He grinned suddenly and kissed her nose. "But if I must." He rolled to her side in obedience. "You are pink all over."

"You make me blush, sir." She smoothed his hair back. "Thank you, Cade, for this evening. And for tomorrow too, even if nothing comes of it."

"I'm still not clear how I can help."

Juliet sat up, then modestly pulled up the sheet. "I have been looking for a very long while for a way to get back to normal. Recently, a friend found a spell for me, the one you read yesterday."

"Sorry. I really didn't process one word. I was somewhat distracted by...the truth, I guess. Remind me what it says."