Daughter of the Spellcaster by MAGGIE SHAYNE Page B

head it melded with the dream, so that she thought they were back there, in the past, still dating. And that nothing in between the day she’d left him and now had ever happened.
    And then she realized she had fallen asleep and dreamed all that.
    “We’re here,” he said.
    She opened her eyes, blinking things into focus and looking out the window at the familiar shape of his father’s Westchester mansion. And then she frowned. “I thought you were taking me back to my hotel?”
    “I am. But, uh—even if you want to skip the socializing, there’s the meeting first. I thought you knew.”
    “Meeting...?”
    “Dad’s attorneys. The will. You’re named in it.”
    “Oh.” She blinked softly. “I didn’t know. That Ernst was going to do that, I mean. It’s not something I was looking for. I don’t need—”
    “Did he know?” Ryan asked. “About the baby?” She met his eyes, saw the hurt in them at the thought that his father would have kept something like this from him. A hurt he’d once worked very hard to convince her he was incapable of feeling. “I honestly don’t know, Ryan. We haven’t been in touch since I left. But...”
    “But?” he prompted when she trailed off.
    “Bahru knew,” she admitted. She felt as if she was tattling. “He knew before I left.”
    “Bastard could’ve told me.”
    She shrugged. “He might have assumed, like I did, that it wouldn’t have mattered.”
    He slapped his palms on the steering wheel, not violently, but in frustration. “Why the hell would you assume that?”
    She frowned at him. “How can you ask me that? Do you really not remember the last conversation we had, Ryan?”
    He looked as puzzled as if she’d lapsed into ancient Babylonian.
    She rolled her eyes, sighed deeply. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” she said. “Bahru did mention that I would have to be present when the will was read, but he didn’t say when. So you’re saying it’s now?”
    “Yeah.” He looked at his watch. “Right now. In Dad’s den.” He looked toward the house, the people wandering in and out. Then he popped the clutch and drove the car around to the back.
    The wide stone deck was devoid of furniture. The umbrella tables had been put away for the winter, and the pool was sealed tight. Even so, the back of the house had a much more relaxed feel to it than the front.
    “Come on, we’ll miss the crowds this way.”
    Lena got out. She was feeling pretty pissed that he hadn’t yet figured out why she had left him, much less apologized for it. Or, God forbid, taken it back. But what the hell? It was water under the bridge. They had tried. And they had failed. She would never regret it. And maybe the whole thing—the vision, the fantasy, his resemblance to her prince—maybe all that hadn’t happened to fulfill their star-crossed love affair from the long-ago past lives she was convinced they’d had. Resolving that, might never have been the reason. Maybe it was all about the baby. She’d found him, been drawn to him, and he’d given her a baby. Perhaps that was the purpose all along.
    He came to her side quickly, his hand on her elbow irritating her for no good reason. She jerked it away from him before she could stop herself.
    “What?” he asked.
    “I’m pregnant, Ryan. Not injured or weak or fragile. I’ve been waddling around just fine without you holding on to me for months now. I think I can make it to the back door without help.”
    “Oh.”
    He stood where he was while she headed up the three broad stone steps onto the deck and across it to the French doors. And then she paused, because she wasn’t sure whether to knock or wait or what the hell to do.
    He came up beside her and reached past her to open the doors, and they headed inside. The French doors led directly into the den, which had been Ernst’s favorite room in the house. And no wonder. From it you could see the entire back lawn and the gardens, and you could walk straight out to the deck and