In the garden the noise of the twilight creatures was low and almost indistinct, vibrating through the undergrowth. Beyond the far wall, the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs reached her.
Celeste breathed deep the scent of the sea carried on the breeze, and the aroma of undergrowth dancing alongside it. The sky was a velvet cascade sparkling with starlight, and the sight of it eased her troubled thoughts. The streetlights beyond always seemed further away at this time, when the spiritual world came alive—as if the real world were slipping away into the night and what remained came to the fore.
Wellington strolled back and forth in front of her, hovering on the edge of the night, his tail wrapping around her legs.
“What is it?”
The cat meowed and looked out into the darkness. Reaching down, she stroked him, assuming he was about to set off into the foliage.
Then Wellington hissed, his back arching.
A momentary sense of stillness made her aware of the presence in the shadows at the end of the garden. Her attention sharpened. Peering into the gloom, she gradually made sense of a solid form in the shadows.
Her defenses locked and loaded.
Moonlight outlined his form as Fox stepped out of the darkness and strolled over to her, closing the space between them, making her breath catch in her throat.
Lifting her chin, she studied him, her pulse speeding as it always did when her old adversary chose to make an appearance. Don’t trust him, she reminded herself, her gaze quickly assessing him.
Despite their mutual distrust and many grievances, she still found him incredibly attractive—which was dangerous in itself. There was always something simmering beneath the surface with him, and yet he had a controlled persona, suggestive of a deep sense of self confidence. She looked him in the eye. “Why have you come back, Viscount?”
“Curiosity.” There was no hesitation in his response, and his mouth moved in a sardonic smile, belying the simplicity of his answer.
There was so much more to it, and Celeste knew it. However, his voice—deep and masculine, and familiar—stirred her deeply, as it always had.
“You have a tendency to meddle,” she replied, “like an old crone who can’t resist dabbling in the affairs of others.”
He laughed softly, easily pushing aside her insult. “Someone has to keep an eye on you, Celeste. Your wayward craft is led by feminine fancies, as if matchmaking can heal the world.”
Bite your lip, she told herself, but it was impossible. “Healing the world was always an alien concept to you. All you want to do is trample it, for the sake of power.”
Tension emanated from the place where he stood. He was letting her feel his will, and his desire.
The age-old attraction hadn’t gone. A ragged sensation ran up her spine as something shifted between them, some balance of power. The magnetic draw was always there, impossible to ignore fully. She just had to control it and not let things go too far. It wasn’t easy. He was an attractive man, and she wanted him. It was easier to ignore in the busy cafe with her brethren around her. Not here in the dark in the place where they had been close—where they’d once been lovers. Ever since their first encounter, many years before, desire wrapped itself around her and melted into her, making her more vital and alive whenever he was around.
No other lover made her feel this way, and that was her burden.
“You look well, Celeste. The years are treating you kindly.”
“A bit of positive energy goes a long way.”
“I agree.” He stepped closer still, insinuating himself into her personal space, claiming some part of her just by being close. Lifting her chin with one finger, he looked deep into her eyes. “What an enigma you are.”
She swallowed. His touch triggered chaos, his very proximity undermining her plans. His eyes flashed silver. She braved herself not to turn away, shielding her innermost thoughts while she met his gaze. He’d sold his soul for those eyes and could see so much more than she could. “Stay out of my business,” she warned.
“It would be foolhardy, when I think you’re acting beyond your reach.”
“You disrespect my efforts, you’ve made no secret of that. It doesn’t bother me. I don’t seek your approval, Fox, not anymore.”
He laughed. “And there was me worrying about you and offering guidance, and you’re still as wild and wary as a feral cat.”
“You bring nothing but conflict to this magical place. That’s why I’m wary.”
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Can’t we relive old times without you reminding me of my ancient wrongdoings?”
Her back was well and truly up. “We are strong now, without you. We don’t need the viscount to guide us. Why not head off on your travels again and leave us be?”
“The ‘goings on’ caught my attention as I was passing by.”
A likely story. There was more to it.
“Your matchmaking, it irritates me. It’s beneath you.”
“Because you cannot appreciate the quality of affection, of mercy, the humanity I find in people. Is it so alien it makes you scrutinize and ridicule?”
“Occasionally, yes.”
He lowered his eyelids, which gave her cause enough to suspect his motives. Could she trick him into saying more? “Why now? You haven’t been here in years.”
“This girl you toy with, the one I saw you with, she has the gift.”
Celeste faked a laugh. “Afraid of a young woman with potential?”
“Perhaps I need a new apprentice.” He narrowed his eyes and a smile lingered around his mouth.
Celeste’s senses keened. “She is Hanna’s granddaughter. She may have the blood, we don’t know.” It was pointless denying it. He’d already figured it out.
“Hanna was a powerful one. Even an ounce of her blood would give cause for interest.”
“On that we agree, but why do you care? Others have come and gone, or settled within our coven. Why her?”
“I am in search of a young apprentice. My last...failed.”
A cold shiver ran down her spine. She pitied whatever fate had befallen the one he’d chosen. “I’ve already paved her way with my coven, and it’s her choice to join us, or someone else.” It was the truth, she saw no point in hiding it. He’d know as much, but she sensed so much more behind his supposed interest. “Are you bored, Fox?”
“A little.” He shrugged. “I miss this place when I’m away. I’ve traveled far and wide and there is no place like this, no bay so filled with teeming energy, extremes both foreboding and inviting. And you, Celeste. I miss you.”
Ignore it, she ordered herself. It was bait, nothing more. “Why do you wander, if Raven’s Landing calls on you?”
“I won’t sacrifice myself the way you have. I simply take what I need.” He stepped away from her, pacing. “Raven’s Landing has drawn some of the most powerful witches of all time. Why do you think that is?” Amusement flickered over his expression.
This was all a game to him. “There you go claiming reasonability again,” she responded, amused by his remark. “You may be Viscount, but you don’t rule my coven.”
He drew to a halt, contemplating her.
“You’ll feel my power soon enough, you’ll be tempted by what I have to offer.” He bent close to her neck, and she felt his mouth whisper across her skin, a ghostly touch that made static cling to her skin.
Curiosity had her firmly in its grip. Beware his magic, she silently chanted.
“Just look at the stars,” he whispered close against her ear. “See how bright they are, now we’re united.”
“We’re hardly united. We’re merely sharing old times.” The denial slipped away like words in the wind, because the stars did seem brighter, and the distant sound of the waves grew louder. Her blood raced, her pulse tripping.
His hands moved to her waist. “The stars grow brighter because my hands are on you.”
It was true. The night sky seemed to explode before her. “A cl
ever trick, nothing more.”
One corner of his mouth lifted, humor and desire lighting his expression. His hand moved, sliding briefly down her throat. “You were the best apprentice I ever had.”
“I know.” Her head dropped back to take his kiss.
His mouth was firm and persuasive, and when she melted and moved against him, he demanded more—thrusting his tongue between her parting lips, slowly moving in and out. The action was both seductive and filled with promise.
Resist. She drew back, breaking his spell. “What do you really want, Fox?”
“You.”
“I’m not a fool.” She shook her head. “I’m only indulging you for old times’ sake.”
“You tell yourself that, my dear. We both know what’s really going on here.”
“You just like a challenge.”
“We’re getting old, Celeste. Humor me, please. Allow me to hold you in my arms the way I used to.”
Her urge to resist faltered. She could slide it back in place easily enough, but she didn’t want to, not just yet.
She saw the power and the desire in him, and it called to her. Instantly, she felt the tug of his power within her, a pulsing sensation meshing them together in this moment. Oh, how seductive he was, how hard to resist. Her heart pounded wildly. There was such a thrill in toying with him as he toyed with her, but it was a dangerous game, and she knew it.
“Ride the night sky with me, Celeste, experience just a taste of what we could achieve together.”
Afraid she couldn’t reel it back if she let it go any further, she pulled away. “I will never be what you want.”
“No,” he replied grimly, and his sinister smile made fear grow in her heart. Bitterness swelled in him. His eyes flashed silver in the darkness.
“I think I’ve had enough reminiscing,” she firmly stated. That path was treacherous, and no matter how much pretty coating he put on his candy, she would never open to him the way he wanted her to.
“In that case, run away to your tinkering magic, your matchmaking.”
There was an accusation in his tone. Was he insinuating something? It struck her again it was Sunny he was really interested in.
“Sweet dreams, Fox,” she said, as she turned away from him and headed into her cottage at the back of The Cauldron.
“Oh, they’ll be sweet, I assure you.” His dark laughter echoed behind her.
She went inside without turning back, closing the door tightly behind her and sliding the bolt across it.
The candle on the kitchen table burned low. She stared down at the two gems tied so tightly together. Dare she risk pursuing her goal, with Fox so clearly interested?
She had to decide quickly, because the man of Sunny’s dreams was trapped right on the edge of time, this very night—and Sunny there with him.
CHAPTER SIX
Cullen Thaine awoke with a lazy yawn then cursed under his breath when he glanced at the window and saw the sun high in the sky. It was near mid-morn. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all. His time with the wench had been particularly pleasurable, though, and it was no wonder he’d drifted off.
He looked down at where she slumbered in the bed, her hair a splendid mess upon the pillows. She wore it loose, and it was the thickest mass of long ringlets he’d ever seen. She was a curious sort with unusual features and dusky skin, and she said the strangest things. He’d never seen her in Raven’s Landing before last night, however. A sad oversight, he reflected, for he would have liked to know her better. He’d quickly developed fondness for the wench, and would gladly offer her his protection, if he wasn’t destined to travel abroad this very day. She had a healthy appetite for pleasures of the flesh too, and his time with her had gone far too quickly for his liking.
He leaned over and pushed back some strands of hair from her cheek with one cautious finger, admiring the pretty upward tilt of her nose. He hadn’t meant to wake her, but when her eyelids fluttered up, he couldn’t help smiling. “I must go. I have to get within sight of the harbor soon.”
She sat up with a start and looked around as if surprised.
Surely she remembered what had passed between them the night before?
After taking in the details of the room, she shrugged, and turned her attention back to him. “Is the ship coming for you now?”
She looked disappointed.
That pleased him. “On the turn of the tide. I have to get to the far cliff to watch out for its approach. I’ll take shelter past the harbor. I’m known hereabouts and wish to avoid questioning.”
She stared at him, her expression heavy with thought.
She was such a pretty wench, with those dark brown eyes and wild hair. When he reached the Americas, he would have to write and thank Nathaniel for bringing him such a timely distraction. She was not only pretty to the eye, but she was also adept at her trade. In fact, she seemed to know more about how to respond to a man and give him pleasure than any other woman he’d ever known. He was fascinated by her. He hadn’t thought he could go at it four times in a row, but that thing she’d done with her mouth...
She suddenly moved with deliberation, pulling her heavy hair back and knotting it at the back of her neck. “I see no reason why I shouldn’t come down to the harbor with you.”
Cullen was surprised at her words, but when he pondered them, he supposed there would be no harm in it. It might be a long day for him, waiting for the Gloriana and contemplating his sorry state. In his heart of hearts, he had no desire to leave on the accursed ship, which would make it an even more difficult wait. She would be the perfect distraction, he decided, and his body agreed, the blood quickly thundering in his loins as he glanced over her feminine form. So beautiful. So ripe for plunder.
He stood up, grabbing his clothing and quickly pulling it on. “Where are your garments?”
She wandered the room, staring oddly at everything. “I don’t know. The dream made me forget, I suppose.”
“We must make haste. The servant girl is due here and we’ll have to find practical garments.” He frowned as he looked down at the floor where the strange, silky undergarments she’d been wearing the night before lay in an abandoned heap. He’d never seen anything like it, and she didn’t seem to have any other clothing in the room. They didn’t have time to hunt for her gown and petticoats, which he assumed she’d left elsewhere in the house. She could collect them later. Besides, the gown would no doubt be totally impractical, some gaudy affair that would hamper her movements. He reached for his knapsack. Pulling it open, he brought out his spare shirt and a pair of breeches. “These will have to do.”
She was still looking about the room. “It’s not my bed,” she commented. “The things are different in the dream.”
He didn’t understand her comments, but his thoughts were already elsewhere. They’d have to depart, for the sun moved across the sky with each moment that passed. He’d no idea what time the tide was due to turn and when the Gloriana would approach. He pushed his possessions into his knapsack then snatched up the flask of rum and the bundle of food Nathaniel had left for him. There was bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth, accompanied by four shiny, red apples. He shoved them all into his knapsack and knotted it closed.
They were almost ready to leave. She had wriggled into his breeches and was pulling the excess shirt material into her hand and tying it in a knot at her waist. She looked adorable and, wearing his clothes, would pass for a ragamuffin lad if it weren’t for her beautiful hair and her striking beauty. Her rosebud lips were more womanly than anything he’d ever seen, and he wanted to kiss them at length.
He glanced down at her pretty feet, still bare. “Where are your shoes?”
She looked around the room. “I don’t know.”
He shook his head and walked over to a cupboard in one corner After some efforts rooting around amongst the contents, he pulled out a pair of pink dancing slippers complete with ribbons. They were no doubt expensive, but they would have to commandeer them
if she had misplaced her own.
“What year is this supposed to be?” she asked, peering at the slippers as if she’d never seen anything like them before.
Supposed to be? Perhaps she wasn’t at her best first thing in the morning. “1820,” he answered cautiously.
She stared at him as if in shock. “And who do these belong to?” she blurted, when he handed them to her.
He shrugged, feeling rather perturbed by her strange attitude. Where had the attentive woman of the evening before disappeared to? “I imagine they belong to Nathaniel’s aunt. This is her house. She’s away on a tour of the Scottish Highlands. She’s a devout scholar of botany and went there to sketch.”
“So this is her home?”
“Yes. Her father’s, too, until he passed away.” He supposed she hadn’t seen a house as grand as this before, which might explain her curiosity. “He had it built.”
It was as if he’d told her she was the sole heir to a grand fortune, because her eyes lit up.
“When, when was it built?” She grabbed his arm, her expression fascinated. When he shrugged, she tugged at his arm most insistently. “The year...it’s important.”
“Well, let’s see.” He cast his mind back, with some effort. “I was a lad. Nathaniel and I used to meet here shortly afterwards, in the late 1790s, so I suppose it was 1769, maybe 1770.”
When she threw herself against him and squeezed him in a mighty grip, he was almost winded because he was so startled.
“Good, good,” he said, wondering if she was perhaps short of some essential thinking matter. Had Nathaniel sent him the local simpleton to take care of his needs? Whatever it was, her odd attitude only seemed to endear her to him even more, for he found he wanted to take her under his wing and protect her. Something to do with her voracious appetite for pleasures of the flesh, no doubt, he told himself with a wry smile.
“Now, come on,” he urged, snatching up his knapsack and his sword. “Let us be on our way, or the Gloriana may leave without me.”
A Coven of Her own Page 4
