Never.
Then why last night when Alisande slipped out of his grasp and floated away...
Damn it, he realized he was shaking his head.
Floated.
Did he hear himself? Was being crazy contagious, or had Alisande cast a spell?
Spell.
He stopped himself from shaking his head, though he rolled his eyes. Now he had himself thinking that the nutty woman could actually cast a spell.
He shut the shower off with an angry twist of the knobs, grabbed a towel from the chrome towel bar and dried himself while mumbling.
“Sure, the witch cast a spell and zapped me out of my bed naked, which of course, being a witch, she knew I slept naked, and plopped me down in a field of heather, where she proceeded to seduce me.”
He draped the towel around his waist and reached for another towel, roughly drying his hair with it. When he finished, he draped the towel around his neck and peered at himself in the mirror.
“Then the crazy witch teases you hard with seductive kisses and leaves, but not before practically begging you to come to her.” He rolled his eyes. “You idiot. Not another thought of her until you get to work.”
He gave himself a quick shave and brushed his teeth, feeling like a new man. With his thoughts more focused and in control he headed for the bedroom to dress.
“It was a dream, nothing more,” he said as he dropped the towel in the hamper on the way out.
A small gurgle of water caused him to stop and check the sink drain. He found nothing and turned to leave, but a second gurgle stopped him short. He walked over to the shower stall and slid open the door.
His eyes rounded in shock as he stared down at the sprig of heather blocking the drain.
Chapter Four
Three days of near sleepless nights would put any man on edge. But three nights of erotic dreams about a woman who claimed to be a witch could drive the sanest man over the edge.
Sebastian teetered on the edge.
He stared at the computer, at the same information he had stared at day after day, nothing new—absolutely nothing—on Alisande Wyrrd. He had put his best men on the case with explicit orders to uncover anything and everything they could on Alisande and the Wyrrd family.
All returned with the same information, basic information that any amateur investigator could uncover. His own personal investigation proved just as fruitless, or was it that he had discovered all he could about the strange woman?
He ran his hand over his face in frustration and glanced at the time on his computer... eleven in the morning. He had spent the last four hours going over redundant material and getting nowhere.
Sebastian hit the intercom button on the phone. “Ms. Smithers, fresh coffee, please.”
Enough. His thoughts had lingered far too long on Ms. Wyrrd. She was an eccentric who dabbled in the absurd and he had no intention of allowing her to interfere with his life.
A gentle knock on the office door announced Ms. Smithers. The thin woman quietly served him coffee and slipped a bowl of fresh fruit in front of him.
Sebastian smiled, “Have I told you how much I appreciate you lately, Carol?”
Wrinkles creased into a wide smile. “Every week in my paycheck, sir.”
He laughed. “Good, I wouldn’t want to lose a gem like you.”
Ms. Smithers cleared her throat and Sebastian looked directly up at her. Carol Smithers had worked for him since he started his business, and when she had something important to say she always cleared her throat. Sebastian always listened, often hearing advice he didn’t favor, yet proved necessary.
“What is it, Carol?”
The woman pulled no punches, she spoke directly. “I’m concerned with your health. You don’t look as if you have been getting enough sleep.”
“I’ve been getting plenty,” he snapped.
“Plenty grouchy,” she retorted.
He was about to snarl back at her but caught himself when he watched her cross her arms over her chest ready for battle.
“I’ll leave early today,” he said, attempting to appease her.
“Good, make it at one since you have a one-thirty at the health club for a massage.” She walked to the door.
“I don’t remember scheduling a massage today.”
“You didn’t. I did.”
Sebastian smiled as the door closed. She was right. He needed to get away early and relax. And she was right about sleep. Too little of it caused tension, and at the moment, he could feel every muscle in his neck and shoulders screaming in protest.
Those damn dreams.
They haunted him night after night. No. She haunted him night after night. He could not for the life of him get Alisande Wyrrd out of his mind. What was even more crazy was that his thoughts of her were intimate, bordering on erotic.
Only this morning he had awoken with the taste of her on his lips, the fragrant smell of her surrounding him and his body aching for her. In his dream he had kissed her until he thought he would go made with the want of her. Those full lips drove him insane and her silky soft skin seemed to pulsate at his touch.
Yet as much as he tasted and touched he felt empty, denied and he knew all too well that was because his dreams lacked reality.
However, the reality was that the very woman whom he fantasized about was a nut. Or was she?
Sebastian straightened in his seat and hit the computer key. He reached for his coffee, took a sip, and then speared a chunk of cantaloupe with his fork. Perhaps he wasn’t seeing this clearly, his mind too focused on sex.
He laughed. How could one focus too much on sex when it was so damn pleasing to the soul? And maybe, just maybe that was Ms. Wyrrd’s intentions all along. She was interested in nothing more than an affair... plain and simple sex with a dash of intrigue to excite.
He studied the computer screen while finishing his coffee and smiled, pleased with his findings. Ms. Wyrrd had had no significant relationship as of late. She had been seen at several fund-raisers with various escorts but no repeat performance by any one in particular.
So was it simply that Ms. Wyrrd enjoyed brief interludes and nothing more?
He grinned. It seemed like a sensible explanation and he had searched in the right places. And presently the right place was an unexpected visit to Alisande Wyrrd.
o0o
The Wyrrd estate took one’s breath away. Sebastian eyes the beauty of the rolling hills and meadows dotted with wildflowers as he drove along the single-lane dirt driveway to the house. The place teemed with history. He could just imagine it a century or more ago before modernization took over, though the Wyrrd’s did seem to retain its dated appearance. It was almost as if you were transported back to another time.
He pulled his black Jaguar to a stop in the circular driveway in front of the house. With a quick admiring glance at the large three-story brick house he strode up the few steps and pressed the doorbell.
He suddenly felt nervous, a strange feeling and one he hadn’t experienced since his teen years. He had learned to control his emotions, keep them at bay. It was a matter of survival. First, when he was twelve and his parents were killed in a car accident. Their unexpected passing devastated him and almost destroyed his orderly life. But sensibility and determination took root and so did his father’s sister, Mildred. She became his legal guardian, and though it had been a difficult adjustment, he had soon come to realize that she was a lot like his father. Practical and sensible. Their similar characteristics helped him to settle in and him and his aunt, to this day, shared a close relationship. She had retired from teaching years ago, moving to Arizona. He visited her whenever he could.
The second time his innate sensibilities and skill to judge a situation wisely and react just as wisely won him the attention of a top government agency. He was hired immediately out of college. He learned quickly that his missions required full concentration and strict attention to detail — that was why he was exceptional when it came to security.
He knew how to track, hunt and capture. And Ms. Wyrrd was about to be captured.
A spry woman in her sixties answered the door and surprised Sebastian when after introducing himself was told that Ms. Wyrrd was expecting him.
As if by magic, the woman in question appeared like a strong warm breeze sweeping into the room and taking his breath away.
She was simply stunning. A flowing dress of white curved and glided over her slim waist and ample breasts and her hair was a riot of curls, some caught up in a gold clip while others fell freely and outrageously around her face.
She hurried to his side, as if he were a long-lost friend and hooked her arm in his, startling him and sending his hormones into overdrive.
“How wonderful you’ve come to visit,” she said excitedly, her naked feet peeking out from beneath the ankle-length, white gauzy dress as she hurried him along beside her. “I was so looking forward to seeing you again.”
He followed reluctantly but inquisitively. What was she up to now? And damn if those bare feet of hers didn’t entice him, especially her right pinkie toe. She wore a gold toe ring and a tiny bell dangled from it and tinkled ever so slightly as she walked. It was barely audible, and yet the gentle chime unnerved him.
The warmth of the solarium hit him as soon as he entered the bright room, Alisande still clinging to his arm. The room reminded him of an old Victorian solarium filled with a variety of foliage, wicker furniture and eye-catching objects like the regal black ceramic cat statue that sat at least four feet high and looked to be guarding the place with its sharp, stunning green eyes.
“Mint iced tea?” she asked and slipped her arm from his, but not before running her fingers over his forearm and squeezing his hand firmly.
He nodded, his breath once again caught somewhere in his throat. This would not do at all. This loss of mental and physical control when around her, she just plain bewitched him.
Damn.
He couldn’t even think of her in any other terms but witching. This had to stop. He had to take the upper hand here and keep firm hold of it.
He accepted the tall glass form her, avoiding the tips of her fingers as they attempted to graze his own.
“Ms. Wyrrd,” he said, clearing his throat and thinking of his secretary’s long-standing habit. “I feel it’s important that we talk.”
“Excellent,” she said and quickly sat on the wicker settee, tucking her feet beneath her, leaving her one foot with the toe ring peeking out.
Tempting.
He shook his head and she smiled at him, patting the spot beside her. “Come join me.”
Her voice was much too soft and her words much too coaxing. He remained where he stood. He spoke firmly and with a sternness that bordered on sounding harsh. “I think you need to explain yourself.”
The warm air rippled with her laughter like wind chimes caught in a summer breeze and his body froze. It was the familiar sound he heard so often in his dreams. Dreams. Just damn dreams. “I would love nothing more than to explain everything... absolutely everything.”
Sebastian placed his glass down on the glass-covered wicker table and waited.
“Please,” she said gently, again patting the seat beside her. “Join me.”
Her suggestive words sent shivers down his spine and testosterone levels soaring. Damn, if he didn’t want to join her, but not to sit beside her, to be inside her. The intimate thought rocked the foundations of his emotional security.
“An explanation,” he snapped sharply.
“Yes, Sebastian, I will offer you an explanation, but will you believe it?”
Casual, confident, competent, Sebastian thought. This woman certainly did not give the impression of being crazy, but then she had yet to offer a believable explanation.
“Let’s give it a try,” he offered and sat in the wicker fan chair looking like a king about to pass judgment.
Alisande studied him carefully before speaking. He was interested, perhaps curious, definitely skeptical, which brought him here. He had to satisfy his doubts, have answers to unanswerable questions and solve the perplexing mystery.
And through it all he appeared in control. His dark hair was perfectly groomed, his face clean shaven, a splash of casual cologne, nothing enticing, pure business cologne. His suit was light gray, smoky perhaps dusky in color with a starched white shirt beneath and a slate blue tie that blended well. The diamonds in his watch sparkled and he rubbed at the gold ring on his right ring finger that carried an insignia of a top Ivy League school.
Yet beneath the controlled and polished exterior he presented, she knew raged unbridled lust. He wanted her and he fought his desire with the tenacity of a drowning man going under for the last time. He was much too practical to accept the impractical. But then, she was much too impractical ever to be content with the practical, and Sebastian Wainwright was about to take a step into the impractical.
She locked her green eyes with his dark ones. “As I said in your office, I am —”
“How did you get past my security guards?” he demanded, darting forward in his chair.
She smiled. Impatient. Mortals could be so easily manipulated through their faults.
“What do you really want to know, Sebastian?” Her question was a whisper, tempting him to ask the unquestionable.
The fresh scent of mint drifted off her and around him. When had he moved so close to her that he could feel her warm sweet breathe on his face?
Concentrate, he warned himself and slid back in his seat. He had come for an answer. “What do you want from me?”
She stretched her leg out and casually rested her foot on his knee, the tiny toe bell faintly tinkling. “I want you.”
Sebastian glanced down at the bell and damned himself for the erotic thoughts that flooded his head.
Alisande continued. “I told you that I am a witch looking for a lover.”
“Not a lover looking for someone to bewitch?”
She shook her head slowly. “Bewitching is the easy part.”
“Finding the lover is the difficult?”
“I found him.”
“But if old tales prove true, then he must submit to the witch’s will,” Sebastian said.
“Is that so difficult?”
“One would have to believe in witches, cauldrons, toads and such. And of course that witches need sexual recharges. That’s pushing the old tale a bit.”
“Witches have grown in knowledge and strength since the Dark Ages. I rarely use a cauldron these days, and I never did care for touching a toad or turning someone into one. Sexual recharges have always been a part of our nature. Nature itself must replenish to survive. Witches follow nature and must replenish as well. Sound and sensible practices I am sure you can relate to.”
“And you are asking a sound and sensible man to accept this explanation as to why you wish to make love with me?”
“A truthful explanation.”
He raised a brow. “I doubt that. Why not just tell me I excite you sexually and be done with it?”
She smiled and licked her lips appreciatively. “Oh, but you do excite me. Why else would I have chosen you? You have the strength and stamina that I require.”
“This is ridiculous,” he said and stood, brushing her foot off his knee. “I’m not on the auction block for you to choose at whim.”
“Hmmm... an interesting concept.”
The way her eyes blatantly roamed over him nearly brought him to his knees. She was simply outrageous in her pursuit of him. A seductress. A siren. A sorcerer!
“Are you going to admit the truth to me?” he demanded not at all happy with his thoughts or his body’s mutinous response every time he laid eyes on her.
She remained calm. “I already have.”
“You want me to believe that you’re a witch looking for a lover.”
“A special and consenting lover. He must consent.”
“You’re horny, but you want me to consent to have sex with you.”
She laughed and threw her arms wide. “Heavens no, not just sex, we shall make glorious, rapturous love. You will experience a passion unlike anything you ever imagined. You will become part of me and I part of you. We will unite in an age-old bond that defies time and meaning. We will love unconditionally for time and all eternity.”
While part of him ached to experience such unimaginable wonders with her, another part of him, the sensible part, warned of her sanity or lack of. She thought herself a witch whose powers required a boost. Was this rational thought?
“Why do humans fear witches?”
Her question startled him, but at least here was rational thought. “Witches don’t exist. Ignorance breeds fear and manufactured tales spread by gossip helped to breed that fear of witches.”
Alisande smiled. “I am pleased with your answer.”
“Good, then tell me what you want.”
She sighed. “You. Simply you.”
He walked over to her and leaned down, his face a mere breath from hers. “Then tell me the truth and dispense with the theatrics, and I might consider—might—making love to you.”
Her frown was genuine and it disturbed Sebastian as did his admission that he would consider making love to her. But then, hadn’t that thought haunted him since he met her. He wanted her and damned but if he didn’t have a hard time coming to terms with his overwhelming desire for this strange woman.
She hesitated for a moment. “I want you. That is the truth, but so are my reasons. I am a witch and I have chosen you. I must be truthful. You must consent knowing full well what I ask of you.”
He shook his head. “Crazy,” he murmured and leaned down to capture her lips, wondering whether it was him or her he berated.
Chapter Five
“Breathless. His kiss left me breathless,” Alisande said sinking back against the salmon-colored swooning lounge in her Aunt Sydney’s bedroom.
The older woman sat at her antique rosewood vanity table fussing with her long white hair that she had just secured in a perfectly executed French braid. “An excellent kisser. That is definitely a point in his favor.”
The Wedding Spell Page 3
