WB

by test

  She wasn't forgetful either. If she said she would be somewhere, she was and she was on time too.

  A light was on in the living room and I walked towards it and called out, “Celia, I'm here.

  Are you all right? The door was open.”

  Visions of her knocked out on the bathroom floor passed through my head and with a quicker step I walked into the living room with the intention of heading to her bathroom to check on her.

  “Hello Anna.”

  The man from my dreams slowly stood up from the chair in front of the fireplace. The chair rocked slowly as he walked towards me with his hand outstretched. He had the same deep set gray eyes and silvery blond hair as I remembered.

  He was wearing a black business suit and a long, black wool greatcoat covered his wide shoulders. His shoes were shiny and looked handmade with neat, practically invisible stitches.

  He was taller than most men I met. He topped me by about four inches, something that didn't happen often. I didn't like it.

  In person he was even more impressive. I felt my mouth go dry as I realized that my dreams had been of a real man and, scariest of all, he knew my name.

  “You look even better in person,” he said softly, watching me with a knowing expression.

  He smiled at me and I saw the same bewitching smile I had seen in my dreams for years.

  He had a smooth, deep voice with a faint accent, British I would guess. British and Australian accents sounded the same to me, so I couldn't be sure. I was feeling a little ill now and having a hard time understanding why and how he was here. I wildly looked around the room, searching, searching for what? Some sign that I was in the middle of another dream? Everything looked WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 15

  the way it always did. Barren, clean and unlived in.

  An empty mug was on the mantle. A lap rug was on the floor. I could hear the drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet in the kitchen. If this was a dream, it was a realistic one that's for sure.

  “Where's Celia?” I asked.

  I was embarrassed that my voice came out so shaky. I raised a hand to push my curly hair away from my face. His eyes tracked the movement and he took another step towards me and I backed slowly away, bumping into the wall and with a scared grimace I eased around it and towards the vestibule keeping my eyes on him the entire time.

  He stopped with a confused smile when he saw me backing away from him. My purse was clutched in my hands and held in front of me like a shield. Mentally I reviewed the contents hoping I had something I could use as a weapon. Eyelash curler, no. Hair brush? Too silly.

  Tampons, hand sanitizer and a half empty bottle of Vitamin C were the sum total of my weapons arsenal.

  Darnit, I couldn't hold him off with tampons and a hairbrush! The closest I had to a weapon was a tiny, never used sewing kit I had been carrying around forever in case of a wardrobe malfunction. If he got close enough I could try to jab him in the eye with a needle.

  At the same time, a feeling of unreality was rising. My head felt funny and the thought, dreams are not real, was screaming through me like a bolt of lightening. I had the strange thought that if I could walk outside, shut the door and then knock on it again, my Aunt Celia would answer. No more blond men of radiation level hotness. No creepy deja vu.

  His gray eyes locked with my green. His eyes moved up to the mole that was high on my left cheek and then swept down over my body with a hungry and possessive look that left me feeling vaguely hot and aroused.

  I saw him take in my least favorite suit, a dark gray one that Leah said looked like a cross between a nun's habit and a womans prison uniform. His eyes slid down to my sensible, black leather flats. Lillian had me running back and forth to the law library and the coffee shop on the corner for the better part of the day, I was wilted and dingy. Not the way I would like to look when meeting my dream man. What the hell was I thinking? I didn't want to meet him, not ever, no matter how I was dressed. This couldn't be happening, he wasn't real, this whole situation was ridiculous.

  “She's fine. Don't be frightened, we're not here to hurt you.”

  He held out his hand to me. His hands were long, with neatly trimmed fingernails; pianists hands. I heard a small sound from the doorway and turned quickly to see two men creeping up behind me. They both wore dark suits and mirrored sunglasses, their faces were resolute, cheerless. Their expertly cut suits couldn't disguise the mass of muscles underneath.

  They probably entered body building contests in their off time and cracked walnuts with their pecs for fun.

  My head swiveled back again to keep an eye on the blond man. I felt the most in danger from him. He'd moved closer to me while I was distracted by the muscle twins. He was too close, almost close enough to reach out and touch me.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw one of the dark suited muscle twins lunge at me. I screamed and heard something that sounded like, 'masdorme,' whispered behind me and then the world went black and I was falling, in slow motion, into a pair of strong, warm arms.

  WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 16

  Chapter Four

  Orange was not my favorite color.

  For a redhead like me, orange was a no no, it clashed horribly with my hair and cast a weird reflection on my pale, translucent skin. It didn't matter whether it was a soft peachy orange or a bold pumpkin, all shades of orange made me look like an extra from a zombie movie.

  But whoever had decorated this room sure had a love of the color because not only was the bedding orange, but most of the pictures on the walls had bits of the bright color in them.

  Even the walls were a cheery sherbet.

  I pushed up on my elbows carefully. I was stiff and groggy. The bed and pillows were so soft and fluffy I felt swallowed up in them. A billowing mass of down comforter, blanket, silky sheets and decorative pillows (orange and cinnamon striped, blech) were mounded around me making it harder to fight my way free of the bed.

  I was in a large bedroom. Tall windows to my right gave me no clue of my location, the sky outside was dark. I walked slowly away from the bed taking in the room around me. My bare feet sank into deep rust carpet. The air smelled musty, unused, with a hint of new paint and window cleaner.

  A pier glass stood next to a maple highboy on my right. Next to that was a comfortable looking, orange of course, club chair with a tufted fabric back and upholstered buttons. Several books were piled on top of the highboy. I picked them up, one after the other and they were all the newest books by my favorite authors, brand new, not a creased spine on any of them.

  I stopped in front of the mirror; my face had creases in it from the bedding. My hair was flat on one side and sticking up in a ratty bouffant in back. I looked terrible and had a monstrous case of dry mouth making my lips stick to the front of my teeth in a yucky way.

  A heavily carved door with a crystal doorknob led into a large, en suite bathroom. A round, pink marble bathtub took pride of place, in the center of the room. The plumbing fixtures were gold and shaped like dolphins. I turned the spigot and watched numbly as water gushed from the mouth of the fat, jolly looking dolphin and quickly filled the room with steam. I turned the water off and gazed, wide eyed at the opulent room.

  Pink bathroom, orange bedroom, it looked like I had been kidnapped by Barbie.

  I walked towards the counter to get a drink of water from the sink and saw, from the corner of my eye, my brand of lotion, shampoo, toothpaste and every little thing I would use in my own bathroom neatly lined up across the counter. All the bottles were full and unused. The toothbrush was the same brand I had at home and the same color too; white with a blue stripe down the handle.

  Looking at that straight little line of beauty products made a kernel of fear blossom in my belly. It looked like someone was planning an extended stay for me here. I held a hand to my mouth to try and stifle a moan of fear from escaping but I could feel a rising hysteria exploding from my mouth with a strangled yelp.

  I ran back in
to the bedroom and tried the door. It was locked, of course. I pounded on the wood until my hands hurt and screamed myself hoarse. A moment later I realized what a WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 17

  fool I was being and backed away from the door with a horrified expression.

  I was making such a racket, someone was bound to come and investigate and I really didn't want to be here when that happened. I should try to be quiet, maybe I could sneak out.

  Not content to wait and see who might be on their way to open the locked door, I ran to the window, pushed the drapes aside and fiddled with the lock, moaning when, in my agitation, I had trouble unlocking it. I forced myself to calm down and with as steady a hand as I could manage, I unlocked it and pushed up to open the window.

  I stuck my head out and saw that I was too high off the ground to try and make my escape that way. The house spread out into a wing on the left in a graceful L shape, I was on the third floor on the right side. I would guess that I was about thirty feet from the ground, too high to jump. Not to mention the ground below was covered in cobblestones, so it would be a hard landing. I groaned in disappointment.

  If I had a rope, I might be able to climb down. Who was I kidding? Climb down a rope?

  I wasn't the athletic type, in fact, I think I might be the only person in history to get injured playing croquet.

  I looked around the room wracking my brain for an escape route. What would

  McGuyver do? I thought hysterically about the dental floss and the loofah in the bathroom.

  Undoubtedly, he would rig up a pulley-hang glider contraption and slide out of here.

  Sadly, there was no convenient tree next to the house that would help me to escape, I wouldn't have been able to climb it anyway. I had a terrible fear of heights combined with vertigo made any escape out the window impossible. But I had to try something.

  I heard footsteps in the hall and felt at a loss. Should I hide? Try to jump out of the window and hope that I could make the fall without breaking a leg? Then what? I tried to picture myself limping away through the night to find a phone. I looked down at my bare feet and grimaced. I didn't even have shoes!

  The footsteps halted outside of the door and I heard a jangle of keys and then the scrape of a key being inserted in the lock. I backed away, my heart racing in terror. I frantically looked around the room for something I could use as a weapon. A large, crystal vase full of flowers was on the nightstand, but the bed was between me and my grabbing it and it was too late to get it now.

  The door opened and in walked my blond dream man. His eyes crinkled up with

  satisfaction when he spotted me.

  “Anna, it's good to see you're awake. I wasn't able to introduce myself yesterday, I'm Gage Hawthorne. Sorry about the locked door, it was for your protection, in case you were disoriented when you woke up.” He gave me an apologetic smile as he said this. He was all ease and bonhomie too, as if I was a cherished houseguest.

  Why would he tell me his name? Maybe it wasn't his real name. Gage sounded like a nickname to me. His real name was probably something boring like David or Robert.

  When I didn't respond he stuck his hand out, clearly expecting me to shake it. When I made no move towards him his hand dropped to his side and he gave me a gentle smile.

  “Where am I? Why am I here? What have you done with Celia?” My voice came out a bit rough edged from sleep but it was forceful and matter of fact.

  I could feel a trembling start in my hands and I clasped them tightly in front of me and on second thought crossed them over my chest when I saw him looking me over in a too familiar way.

  WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 18

  “So many questions, that's good. You're in my house and I haven't done anything to Celia, she was gone when I got to her place. As to why you are here, well, that will take a little longer to explain. Why don't you come downstairs with me? My cook has prepared a meal, we could talk about it over dinner. You must be hungry, yes?”

  I thought about it. Did I want to go anywhere with him? Is this the kind of choice Hades gave Persephone after he dragged her to the underworld? What would I gain by refusing to leave the bedroom? Yikes on second thought, I didn't want to stay in a room with a big soft bed with the man who kidnapped me!

  Gage held out his arm for me. I ignored his arm and walked through the doorway

  carefully avoiding touching him. I held my breath as I passed him, worried he would pounce as soon as I got close, but I made it to the door without interference.

  There was no sign of the two men who had been at Celia's place in Portland. Strangely, that made me more worried. I didn't want to be alone with what's-his-name Hawthorne. I didn't trust him.

  The hallway was wider than I would have expected from an obviously older home like this. The hardwood floors were covered with dark rugs and gilt edged frames with shadowed pictures lined the walls.

  The hallway branched out into a vee with a large, marble staircase in the middle. The staircase was wide enough that five people could have comfortably walked it abreast. We walked slowly downstairs, his shoes echoing on the hard floor and my bare feet stinging as they touched the smooth, cold steps. I looked off to the gloom of the second floor, more carpets, doors and shadowy pictures on the walls. The house was gigantic and I had time to wonder if I would see any more of it or if I was going to end up locked in the orange bedroom the rest of the time I was here. I pushed that pessimistic thought away and concentrated on looking for a way out of this mess.

  Gage walked next to me and with a subtle pressure on my arm that made me jump and pull away with fright, he steered me to the right once we reached the bottom of the stairs. He pretended not to notice the way I jumped away from him and I was glad.

  I was hoping for a chance to run, but he was standing so close and he was big and tough looking. I had the feeling that he was waiting for any excuse to tackle me to the ground.

  My heartbeat accelerated at his touch. He was close enough for me to smell his

  aftershave, a light scent of cloves and cedar that was nicer than any of the musky colognes that the men I worked with wore.

  I think, outside of this bizarre situation, I would have thought he was cute. Who was I kidding? Cute didn't cover it. Freakin' beautiful was more like it. But in the flesh he was more striking, more powerful, more everything, like the Norse god, Thor, come down to earth.

  Walking this close to him I could feel a sort of hum, a static electricity that jumped from his body to mine and set my already frazzled nerves on edge.

  He pushed open the heavy doors to a long room with a table set for two. Covered dishes, long ivory candles, platinum edged dinnerware and shiny silverware was set up on the gleaming ebony surface. He pulled a chair out for me and I sat down without saying anything. I wasn't going to thank him for the courtesy of pulling my chair out. The man kidnapped me for goodness sake!

  Gage sat down across from me and proceeded to remove the covers from a half dozen dishes. Poached salmon with beurre blanc sauce, hot enough that I could see steam rising in a WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 19

  wispy cloud above it. Roasted asparagus, a salad decorated with edible flowers of purple and white, potatoes lyonnaise dotted with tiny fresh chives, small chicken breasts stuffed with gooey cheese and a tureen of creamy watercress soup were revealed.

  My mouth watered at the melange of delicious smells and I wondered how long I had been unconscious when my tummy gave a rumble loud enough to cause Gage to glance around the room with a questioning look. I gave my belly a comforting pat and leaned forward in my seat.

  I surreptitiously hid a butter knife in the waistband of my skirt while he was unrolling a dinner napkin and gave him my best bland look when he turned to me. Next time he grabbed me I would be ready. I surreptitiously ran my thumb along the edge, it was dull but could be used for stabbing if I put enough force behind it.

  I glanced at Gage, watching the play of candlelight across his face. He l
ooked serious as he reached for my plate to serve me. Could I stab him? Kill him? I wasn't sure if I could, but, at the least, I could stab him in the arm or leg if he tried anything.

  My stomach grumbled again, I was ravenous. As a matter of fact I couldn't remember the last time I felt this hungry. I watched as he ladled and scooped food out from every dish and deposited it on my plate. I waited for him to get his own food before I unfolded the cream colored napkin next to my plate and set to with fervor.

  The salmon was so tender it seemed to almost melt in my mouth and I even ate the little flowers on top of the salad, not sure if they were meant to be eaten or set to the side. After eating about half of the food on my plate, I looked over at Gage, he had a strange expression on his face and his food was practically untouched.

  “Aren't you hungry?” I asked, licking my spoon to catch every drop of the delicious soup.

  “Yes, I am,” he said with a cryptic smile and scooped up a large bite of chicken. I went back to eating and occasionally darted looks at Gage.

  Maybe I shouldn't be eating, with a bitter pang I realized the food could be poisoned or drugged. In fact, my head did feel a little fuzzy. Then again, I just drank two glasses of wine, that was the most likely cause of my fuzziness. Besides, I might be naive, but this seemed a very convoluted way to kill someone, kidnapping them and serving them arsenic laced asparagus was a bit over the top.

  But everything about my situation was surreal. I pinched my arm and waited a moment for something to change, but nothing did, this was really happening.

  My eyes sought out Gage again. There was something compelling about the man. I liked to look at him and being this close to him made my heart flutter with excitement. This close up I could sense a leashed power in the man. He was quiet and methodically cut his food into equal sized bites before leisurely placing each bite in his mouth with obvious relish. Even the way the man ate was sensual.