Completely Smitten by Kristine Grayson Page B

scruples. He would have taken her for himself then, the Fates be damned.
    But he knew the price of such an action. The world would be a different place if Camelot hadn’t shattered under the strains of his actions.
    Love, he’d learned slowly and painfully, was something to be respected at all times.
    He wrapped his arms around his legs, hugging his knees to his chest. The plane had to come soon.
    If it didn’t, he’d go back to her and never leave.
    No matter what the cost.
    The eggs were hot, but the stove had cooled down considerably. There were no dirty dishes in the sink, no evidence of anyone else’s presence in the house at all.
    The hair had risen on the back of Ariel’s neck. She was really and truly unnerved now. The egg platter sat on the tabletop with nothing beneath it to keep the eggs warm.
    Maybe she was still asleep and dreaming. Maybe this entire house was a dream—and she was lying on that ledge, delirious.
    She grabbed a muffin and stared at the eggs as if they were her enemy. There were too many mysteries here this morning: the man with the nasal voice, Darius’s disappearance, and now the eggs. Not to mention that in her thorough search of the house, she’d found no evidence of a radio.
    She took a bite of the muffin. It was blueberry, light and fluffy, not too sweet, yet somehow perfect. The best muffin she’d ever tasted.
    Ariel frowned at it. Muffins weren’t supposed to be this good. Just like eggs weren’t supposed to stay warm for an hour, and handsome men weren’t supposed to disappear.
    She finished the muffin and helped herself to another, avoiding the scary, steaming eggs. Then she heard the buzz of a plane’s engine, growing closer.
    Her ride was here.
    She set down the second muffin and went to the porch. The air still held the night’s coolness. Dew dampened the furniture. A brick path wound its way down into the trees. It must have been very hard for Darius to carry her up here. The extra weight, the unevenness of the bricks, must have made him lose his footing more than once.
    Yet he’d managed it, and he hadn’t seemed the worse for wear.
    The plane’s buzz grew louder. She only had a few minutes left.
    “Dar!” she shouted. “Dar!”
    If he were nearby and heard the plane, then heard her yell, he might come back, just long enough to say goodbye. That was all she wanted, really. A chance to thank him.
    A chance to see him one last time.
    Her voice echoed down the mountainside, making her feel alone for the first time on this trip. The buzz had become a roar, and she could see the plane overhead.
    One final chance.
    “Dar! I’m going to have to leave! Please come up and say goodbye!”
    A single-engine plane, battered and old, circled overhead, as if searching for the runway. That didn’t give her much confidence.
    She held her breath, looking all around, at the morning shadows under the trees, the path, the runway to her left. No Darius.
    But she’d give him a minute. Maybe he was running toward her even now.
    Goodbye wouldn’t hurt. One word. Simple, eloquent.
    Darius hugged his legs to his chest even harder, making sure his fingers were laced so they couldn’t create a spell.
    He’d magic the entire problem away—the ankle, the pain—hell, he’d even magic her memory of the entire event away, later, when they were all done. Who would know?
    Besides him.
    He let out a loud sigh. He wasn’t that kind of man anymore. He hadn’t been for centuries.
    If he did that, he’d loathe himself forever.
    Dar!
    She wanted to see him. He wanted to see her. So simple. Except for the pilot, who had only met Darius’s alter ego, Andrew Vari, and who would wonder where Vari was— especially since Vari had radioed in for the plane.
    That had been hard. Darius had to fake the voice that came with the other body—his short, squat, punishment body—and that had been more difficult than he’d imagined. He almost had to spell himself for that too.
    The plane’s engine was