Breath of Magic by Teresa Medeiros

Author:Teresa Medeiros
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Tags: Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, Fantasy, Historical, Occult & Supernatural, Time Travel
ISBN: 9780553563344
Publisher: Random House Digital, Inc.
Published: 1996-02-01T07:00:00+00:00

PART III

All the wild witches, those most noble ladies,

For all their broomsticks and their tears,

Their angry tears, are gone.

– William Butler Yeats

Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men's blood.

– Attributed to Daniel Hudson Burnham

25

"Do you now or have you ever had any contact with a man by the name of Arthur Finch?"

"No," Arian croaked, hoarse from answering the same question for the thirtieth time in less than five hours.

"Was Finch the one who gave you the microprocessor and software program now being examined by my employer's team of scientists?"

"No."

"Then who gave it to you?"

"I told you a dozen times. I don't know what you're talking about. The necklace was a gift from my mother."

Her interrogator lit another cigarette and paced around the table, a sad sigh wafting from his nicotine-laden lungs. Levinson was the best to be had and his was a sigh that had broken the spirit of many an embezzler caught dipping their greedy hands in the company till. The private detective had learned his trade by grilling suspected shoplifters at Saks and was currently listed on the Lennox Enterprises payroll as a freelance interviewer. All tidy and perfectly legal.

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"You are aware that fraud is a crime. It would be well within my employer's rights to call the police and have you arrested. If he should choose to press charges, Miss Whitewood, you could be facing not only extensive fines, but possible imprisonment of up to five to ten years." He fixed her with a basset hound's gloomy stare, looking as if his own heart were breaking beneath the burden of her noncompliance.

She didn't even blink. "My name is not Whitewood. It's Lennox. Mrs. Tristan Lennox."

He smoked in silence for several minutes before stubbing out the cigarette in the bottom of his Styrofoam cup. "Perhaps I'm not making myself clear. When was the last time you made contact with Arthur Finch?"

She simply glared at him. Mascara mingled with the smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes. Her tiara of silk blooms had long ago listed to the left, freeing limp tendrils of hair to spill over her face. Her wedding gown was crumpled and stained, her shoulders slumped with fatigue. Watching from behind the two-way mirror in the Security Command Center control booth, Tristan was forced to flip off the hidden microphone and close his eyes, no longer able to bear her fierce and unyielding beauty.

As his strength ebbed, so did his resolve. Behind his aching eyelids, he saw Arian as she had looked the moment after she'd hurled the lightning bolt at his head. Her hair had tumbled around her shoulders like a little girl's and her crestfallen expression had captured his heart. He'd denied it to himself, but even then he'd known that the sweet, dark longing that quickened his pulse each time he looked into her trusting eyes could not be slaked with another woman. Sweet, tantalizing Arian, in his hands, but forever out of his reach.

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