Ever My Merlin (Book 3, My Merlin Series) (15 page)

I blinked. “Th-this isn’t the stop for Ella.”

“I realize that.”

Realization hit me, too. I scowled at him. “You lied to Raj.”

“Of course I did,” Matt said without remorse. “Don’t tell me you’re actually surprised?”

***

Half an hour later, I wondered what the punishment in Sri Lanka was for strangling someone. I hiked uphill, following the bane of my current existence along a muddy trail that squished sticky goo into my brand-new Vans. The tennis shoes managed to survive the mucky streets of Chennai only to be decimated in a hill station full of super-clean, cobblestone walkways. The town boasted Colonial-style bungalow houses with perfectly manicured lawns, a replica of any small village from England. None of which, however, were on the trail Matt wisely chose for us to take... for no other reason than a perverse desire to torture me.

“Nuwara Eliya. Nickname: Little England,” I read from the guidebook and trudged along behind Matt. I flipped the page. “In the central highlands of Ceylon, as Sri Lanka was called during its British occupation, the hill country retreat became a private sanctuary for colonists, civil servants, and tea planters where they engaged in their favorite pastimes of hunting, polo, golf, and cricket.”

I snapped the guidebook shut. “At least it’s not raining.”

The valley below showed off another beautiful waterfall, streaming down between the crevices of a green-carpeted hill, which was lined with neatly manicured hedgerows of tea bushes.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To the hotel,” Matt answered as he continued up a hill of mostly mud.

I took a few more squishy steps forward. “Why didn’t we take a taxi?”

“We need to save the cash,” he called back.

“Then, why are we staying at a hotel?”

“It’s already paid for, and since I made the arrangements myself, I doubt we’ll be found.”

“You doubt or you’re certain?”

“Do you want a shower?”

I shut up… for about a second. “Are you sure we’re going the right way? There are no signs on this road.”

“It’s a shortcut.”

The sky rumbled with laughter. Trickles of rain sprinkled, tapping a happy dance on my head. I pulled my rain poncho around me, which did nothing for the cold, while debating whether or not to throw the guidebook at the back of Matt’s head. “I’m hungry.”

Matt stopped. He waited for me to catch up and took the guidebook from me. He tucked it into his bag protectively. I made a face. He
would
save it from a soaking, but not me.

With a small, internal growl, I pushed ahead. We reached the top a few minutes later. The ground leveled and we passed through a barrier of trees. I almost cried at the sight in front of me. Soft rain kissed the slanted roof of a beautiful white plantation house with a wrap-around porch. Painted railings framed small balconies on the second floor, and halogen bulbs spotlighted a garden with a quiet pond. In the middle of an island jungle, I managed to find a slice of Georgia heaven.

“St. Elizabeth’s Hotel,” Matt announced.

“Room service,” I said happily. Despite aching muscles and an unstable muddy path, I practically ran to the hotel’s stone walkway. I tugged off my ruined shoes before rushing into the lobby.

A clerk in a crisp white uniform and thin mustache eyed me with misgiving, but smiled at Matt. “You will be on the second floor. You were fortunate, Master Northe, because of the festival we’ve been completely booked for months.” The clerk’s smile dimmed as he turned to me. His nose angled down at the sight of my dirt-caked khakis and bare feet. “If
Memsahib
would like, we also have a full-service laundry available.”

I resisted rolling my eyes. “
Memsahib
would like some tea. Can you bring it to the room? Oh, and a dinner menu.”

The clerk perked up. “We serve a high tea in the evenings with a variety of casseroles, meat pies, and a scrumptious milk cake for dessert. Of course, our restaurant has some wonderful local dishes the chef’s prepared for dinner.”

I perked up too. “Really? What kind of dishes?”

“A blend of Indian and Colonial—”

“Tea sounds perfect.” Matt took my elbow and steered me away. “Send it to our room. We’ll eat there.”

“What’s your rush, Master
Northe
?” I pulled my arm away from Matt. We crossed the small lobby and bypassed a narrow elevator to go up carpeted, wooden stairs. I lowered my voice and asked, “What’s a
memsahib
?”

“I think the translation is ‘rich European married woman.’”

“I’m not European,” I sniffed. “And right now, I’m dirt broke.”

“You’re also not married—”

“If you tell me I’m not a woman, I’m going to hit you,” I retorted.

“I haven’t said anything,” he said with a straight face.

I didn’t believe him at all. Rustic wooden tables and oil landscapes lined the long hallway on the second floor. The dark color of the wood made the space seem smaller, and suddenly I became acutely aware that Matt and I were essentially alone. To break the silence, I asked, “Why are we using Vane’s name?”

“I have a credit card in his name he doesn’t know about.”

“What? How?”

Matt shrugged. “Just because I don’t like to use technology doesn’t mean I can’t.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Grey helped you, didn’t he?”

“I don’t reveal my sources,” he deadpanned, stopping so suddenly I almost ran into him. “Does it bother you, Mrs. Northe?”

It did. Worse, it pulled at me. A gut-wrenching smack in the face of what might have been. And here I was—standing in the middle of a strange country with someone who looked so much like Vane. I said softly, “Would you like to be called by your ex-girlfriend’s name?”

“You’re my only ex-girlfriend,” he replied.

The long hallway had run out of room. “We went on two dates, Matt. I don’t think it counts.”

Soulful amber eyes locked on me. “It counts to me.”

“You texted me to break up!”

“I texted you to say I needed some time.”

I moved to enter past him. “It doesn’t matter.”

He caught my elbow and stopped me. “I apologize if my high school speak is off.”

“You wouldn’t have done anything differently.” I faced him. “You would have still chosen the visions.”

“We’ve been over this. The future—our future—depends on them.”

“Not anymore.”

I wasn’t surprised when Matt didn’t reply, although part of me secretly hoped he would. The part of me secretly glad to have this time with Matt. Despite the end of the world looming over the horizon, or maybe because of it, I wanted to find out where we stood with each other.

He started walking. We reached our room in a few steps. Matt used a key—a real iron key, not a keycard—to open the door. I walked past him into the room. The best thing in the grand room was a canopied king-sized bed in the middle of it. A white mosquito net draped the sides of the green fabric bed canopy. Thick, spring-green curtains dressed the sides of the glass-paned windows. In front of the bed, rich red cushions adorned a short divan sofa. Several tartan pillows added to the woodsy Colonial décor. A palm tree swayed just outside.

Matt pulled the curtains closed. “We should sleep soon. We have to be up in four hours.”

I threw my backpack on a low wood table. “Huh?”

“We’re going to climb up Adam’s Peak. It’s going to take an hour by car to get there. The guidebook says to see the sunrise—which is the best part of the climb—you should start at one a.m.”

“We’re going sightseeing?”

“No, we’re going to see a shrine at the top of the mountain while everyone else is distracted.”

The crumb of information was all the explanation I got before Matt picked up the phone and asked the front desk to arrange for a car. With a sigh, I headed to the bathroom for a much needed shower. The bathroom had no lock and a transparent shower curtain. I grimaced, but decided I wanted a shower too much to be overly concerned. A glance in the mirror made me grimace more. Streaks of dirt covered my face and my hair—well, let’s just say that open train windows really miffed the hair-gods, and I found myself with a giant poof of hair that could have trumped any ‘80s Dallas Cowboy cheerleader’s ‘do.

Two minutes after I got into the shower, Matt banged on the door. “Food is here.”

I turned off the mostly cold shower—tropical resorts don’t believe in hot water—and hurriedly got dressed. I pulled on long pajama bottoms—this part of Asia had no concept of shorts (someone might see my ankles and be offended, while bare midriffs on saris produced yawns)—and a long-sleeved top with a tank. I bought the tank separately—an item too shocking to be sold with the pajama set itself. Okay, I sounded bratty, even to myself. I ran my fingers through tangled wet hair and winced as it strained the follicles.

It’s just that—I missed home.

I yanked the door open to find Matt standing outside, one hand lifted in the air, mid-knock. His thin T-shirt stretched over his long, lean chest. A soft rumble of want flickered in his eyes. I must have stared too long because he dropped his arm, mumbling, “Let’s eat.”

I stared after him, my nerves jangling. To my surprise, a small dining table was already set up, the food divided on two plates, and steaming hot cups of tea were poured. Matt sat down. I pulled out my chair and did the same. Vane always waited for me to sit first. Without looking at me, Matt pulled out the same blue guidebook from the train and started reading as he ate. Conversation was not on the menu, it seemed.

I was too hungry to care. I mostly polished off my plate and tea while Matt took small bites of his as he read. Nearly satiated, I paused to chew. “If we have to get up early, should I set an alarm?”

Matt didn’t look up from the guidebook.

I waved a hand in front of his face. “Matt, did you arrange for a wake-up call?”

“Hmm….” He flipped a page on the guidebook, taking a bite.

I put down my fork with a sharp clank. “Are you being annoying on purpose? Because it’s working.”

Matt shut the book and lifted his head to blink at me. He glanced at my finished plate. “The hike up the mountain is long. You should get some sleep. I’ve asked for a wake-up call.”

He was the worst road trip companion. Ever.

I ground my teeth. “Are you going to try to ditch me again while I sleep?”

“I would,” he answered bluntly. “If I didn’t think you would get into more trouble on your own.”

“Thank you. I’m so glad you hold me in such high opinion.” I wiped my mouth with a napkin and threw it down at the table before stomping to the bed. “The sofa’s all yours.”

Matt groaned. “I’m a full head taller than you.”

“Don’t forget to light the repellent,” I said sweetly, pointing to a small plastic burner on the table with a citronella gel pack on top. “The bugs can get nasty.”

“They’re not the only ones,” he muttered.

I climbed onto the large bed, pulling the mosquito net shut. I took off the scratchy pajama top to sleep in the tank. Lying down, I let out a yawn. A hard object jabbed my side. I reached into the pocket of my pajamas and pulled out the
Dragon’s Eye
still wrapped in its handkerchief.

Matt yanked the mosquito net open, his expression seething. He tried to grab the necklace, but I managed to hold onto it.

“You are not talking to him,” he said with wild eyes. “There is too much at stake.”

He was deranged
, I decided. “I was putting the necklace aside so I could sleep.”

He paused, our hands remaining locked in battle. Still, suspicious eyes traveled over me as if he could find some lie in my statement. Then, his brown irises roved on my tank.

My breath hitched.

A flush climbed up to his hairline. “I’ll let you get to sleep.”

He yanked the white net shut. I fell back against the pillow.

The net yanked open again. Brown, shaggy hair fell over his forehead. “Tell me one thing. Why did you do it?”

I inclined my head on the soft pillow and asked, “Do what?”

“Why did you sacrifice me to Vane so easily?”

Every strand of hair on my arms rose at the intensity in his eyes. He gripped the mosquito net so tightly I thought he might rip it. I sank deeper into the bed’s pristine white sheets. “What do you want me to say that I haven’t already, Matt?”

“Say you regret it. Say you’re sorry. Say you feel something. Anything.”

I took in a breath.

“Tell me you haven’t fallen in love with him.”

The breath whooshed out of me.
So that was it.

I sat up. I swung my legs off the warm bed and onto cold hardwood floors. I stood up. Desire exuded from his body, but I couldn’t touch him. Hollowness made my bones brittle. We remained a few inches apart, not touching. I said, “Would it make it easier if I was?”

“I don’t know,” he replied hoarsely.

The atmosphere around us seemed to electrify. Two hands slid along either side of my face, cupping it. His fingers tangled in my hair as he crossed them at the base of my nape. Exerting pressure, he turned my face up. In the dim light of the room, shadows danced across his face, obscuring his expression. Hot breath kissed my skin.

He leaned closer and whispered into my ear, “Do you know the one good thing about not having any visions?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” I replied.

I hadn’t thought about it, but I knew. My daughter of Apollo status stopped his visions. It kept us apart for so long, but now the visions were gone. I flexed my fingers. In this moment, everything could change… if he wanted… if I wanted.

His expression set in brooding lines; his lips grazed mine.

I put a hand against his flat chest. Palm down, my fingers splayed against the surprisingly cool fabric of a soft, cotton t-shirt. Lean, warm muscles contracted underneath. Hot and cold, like him. Part of me wanted to curl my fingers into the invitation his body offered. Part of me held onto sanity. “Matt, we’re here to get your powers back.”

For the first time since the funeral, his expression held a hint of uncertainty. “Yes?”