Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance)

by Amber Carlton

  Trinity Magic

  Draped in a newly mortal form, Arleigh Donovan believes she possesses the ability to kill men with love--a throwback to roaming through centuries as a beautiful and powerful faery, the Leanan sidhe.

  When Ryder Kendall magically appears in a Caindale cottage on Trinity Island, the enticing but lunatic stranger is the last thing Arleigh needs.

  Ryder offers a temptation almost impossible to resist, but succumbing to her desires might kill him.

  When Ryder's pulled out of the modern world and dropped into 1639, he finds the woman of his dreams, but Arleigh might be a little crazy. Add into the mix an array of whimsical faeries, a charismatic and dangerous rival who happens to be immortal, kidnapped "nieces", and the everyday horrors of 1639, and Ryder's got more problems than he can handle.

  But his biggest problem is convincing the woman he loves she won't kill him with sex.

  Sensuality Rating: SCORCHING

  Genre: Paranormal/Time Travel

  Length: 135,232 words

  TRINITY MAGIC

  Amber Carlton

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK VERSION: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to one LEGAL copy for your own personal use. It is ILLEGAL to send your copy to someone who did not pay for it. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book.

  TRINITY MAGIC

  Copyright © 2008 by Amber Carlton

  E-book ISBN: 1-60601-254-1

  First E-book Publication: January 2009

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2008 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  DEDICATION

  To Donna and Laurie, the other parts of my personal Trinity

  To Kenny, who put up with the three of us

  TRINITY MAGIC

  AMBER CARLTON

  Copyright © 2008

  Prologue

  Caindale Castle, Ireland

  1235

  A deafening boom echoed in the stone chamber, ricocheting through the bower with the power of the most terrible thunderclap. Caitlyn’s head snapped up. Trembling, she closed the manuscript. The candles sputtered and the unmistakable odor of sulfur flooded her nostrils. Her stomach lurched.

  She glanced at her sisters. No reaction. Honora’s face pressed inches from the codex she devoured with her eyes, and Fallon appeared to be day-dreaming, her fingers caught in a strand of straight black hair. The clamorous echo faded, and only the sounds of the crackling fire and Fallon’s slipper tapping against the table leg drifted through the room.

  Caitlyn reached across the table, closing the book in front of her oldest sister. Fallon glanced up, the twirling motion of her finger still.

  “Cait?”

  “’Tis happened.”

  Fallon straightened, riveted. “What didst thou hear?”

  Caitlyn glanced toward the casement. What would create unnatural thunder? She knew little of earthly turmoil, but she knew one who did.

  She touched her sister’s shoulder. Honora jerked on the bench, tossed dark tendrils of hair away from her face and blinked, her finger poised on the line she’d been reading.

  Caitlyn drew in a deep breath, her gaze on the dark sky beyond the casement. “Be there any disturbances brewing? A thing to cause the air to shudder with an impossible sound?”

  Honora tilted her head. “Impossible?”

  “’Twas a tremor that echoed and burst through my body, and after the clap, a stench of sulfur, as though the bowels of the earth had opened and the chamber had been swallowed by hell itself. Didst thou hear anything? Smell anything?”

  “An impossible sound,” Honora murmured. “’Tis happening.”

  Her face drained of color, glistening with a pearly sheen, and she pressed a shaking hand against her lips. Fallon rushed around the table and pushed Honora’s head down, but her sister fought her, grabbing a piece of parchment and reaching for the goose feather across the table.

  “Off me, Fallon,” she breathed. “Impossible sounds. A new alchemy. ’Tis in my head. I must write it down. Saltpeter, sulfur, charcoal. What is the mix? What is the measure? What kind of potion?”

  “Stop thy nonsense,” Fallon ordered. “Put thy head down. Thou art going to swoon. Do not get sick. I cannot stand that.”

  “Nay, I am fine,” Honora said. “What must I write? I have forgotten.”

  “Nonsense,” Fallon said. “Mere words and naught important. We must prepare.”

  Honora’s muffled voice drifted from the cloth of her skirt. “How dost thou think to prepare? ’Tis not possible. I have explained. ’Tis time, space, and not within our power.”

  “I will hear none of that,” Fallon snapped. “We have discussed this. Hold to the strength of our bond. I cannot do this alone.”

  “So thou hast told us again and again, Fallon,” Caitlyn said, “but we cannot know for certain we can change anything.”

  “This family will endure,” Fallon said. “I will it so.”

  Honora glanced up, her sapphire eyes now flashing with determination. Caitlyn nibbled at her lip, glancing between her sisters. Honora demanded order and rationale for all things and a clear plan of action from which to launch their magics. An argument brewed, and Honora’s susceptible constitution offered no match for the strict censure of her mind. She would fight, pale and shaking or not. If Fallon pursued her irrational scheme, Honora’s mind would close, and even Fallon’s determination would not open it again.

  “Fallon,” Honora said, steady and firm. “Thy visions art messages of what might be, not the truth of the world. They certainly art not a blessing to fashion the world to thy liking. Thou wilt breed chaos, and I’ll have none of it. A natural order controls our world. All events follow a course, and time makes the decisions of our lives.”

  “Time be damned,” Fallon muttered.

  Honora dropped her head to the table and pounded her forehead against the wood, her muttered words lost in a cloud of dark hair. “Proud, vain, reckless, stubborn, pompous harpy.”

  Caitlyn ignored Honora’s grumblings and peered at Fallon through the fringes of hair shading her eyes. Her oldest sister looked unpredictable, a restless animal trapped in a cage. She stalked the stone floor, pursuing her own shadow cast by the flickering fire, and even the shadow ran from the fury in her eyes. Caitlyn gathered her courage and caught her sister by the arm. Fallon whirled around and tried to shake her off.

  “Do not think to dissuade me, Cait. I must have thy favor. She’s going to be difficult.” Fallon glared at Honora. “Cease, Honora! Thou wilt ruin that mind, and I need it.”

  “If it be mush,” Honora mumbled, “thy plans are miscarried before conceived.”

  Caitlyn tugged at Honora’s hair. “Enough. Stop thy struggle. She will win. She alw
ays does.” She shot Honora a stern glance then turned on Fallon. “If thy visions hath merit, the unraveling has begun. A roar hast heralded the end of the Trinity. ’Tis what thou foretold, Fallon. The Keeper is gone, the Leanan sidhe is alone, and the family will cease to be. It cannot be changed.”

  “It will be changed, Cait,” Fallon said. “I have seen it all.”

  “’Tis but illusion,” Caitlyn whispered. “Tricks. Magic.”

  “Oh, ’tis indeed magic, but hold no doubt in thy heart. ’Tis real. Our powers will make it so.”

  Honora rose unsteadily from the bench. A tired smile touched her lips.

  “Fallon, we doubt not our powers, but there art limits to what we can do. We have chosen to live in the natural world, within the flow of time, of space, of reality. Thou might will it, but even we cannot tamper with the forces of reality.”

  Honora glanced to Caitlyn for support, and Fallon smiled. “Thou speaks logic, but thy face betrays thee, Honora. Thou believes my mind is shaded in madness.”

  “Nay, Sister,” Honora said, “but…”

  “Do ye wish proof I speak truly?” Fallon asked. “Well, Sisters, look with thine own eyes.”

  She swept her arm, and a dusty blue haze shimmered in the disturbance. Her fingers dipped gently into the fog, and sparkling crystals formed in the air at each touch, spreading through the haze like fiery gemstones of sapphire, emerald, and ruby. The crystals caught the dancing light of the hearth fire, and perfect prisms shot dazzling ropes of colorful lightning through the air.

  The colorful arcs spread throughout the bower. Honora and Caitlyn laughed. The light skimmed their bodies and a warmth followed.

  “’Tis wondrous.” Caitlyn sighed. “Thou hast such talent, Fallon. I am so envious of thee. How dost thou create such things?”

  “Magic,” Fallon whispered. “Hush now. There be more.”

  Fallon breathed into the fog, and the crystals vanished, evaporating into the air like snowflakes touched by the sun. The mist responded to her breath, swirling, creating rosy eddies that twisted and spiraled until forming a circle that wavered tenuously like a cloud holding onto a stormy sky. A reddish smoke ring hovered in the air.

  Caitlyn edged closer to the mist and reached toward the circle, her fingertips grazing the rim of the aura. She snatched her hand back. “’Tis hot!”

  Fallon laughed. “Oh, aye, energy creates the heat. ’Tis necessary to stir reality.”

  Honora huffed. She flipped through the pages of her manuscript. “Stir reality? Thou hast surely gone daft, Fallon. Nothing lies in any of our volumes…”

  Caitlyn lost track of Honora’s mutterings and focused on the circle of haze that pulsed and shimmered, glowing now with a shade of the darkest rose. Tiny filaments of blood red fog curled along the edge of the circle, threading the indistinct ring to the invisibility of the air. The center darkened, transforming from dusty gray to slate to black.

  Caitlyn peered into a small tunnel, a black hole that gaped into a stream of violently swirling nothingness. She glanced back to her oldest sister.

  “What hast thou done, Fallon?”

  Fallon tilted her head, and an amused smile played on her lips. “’Tis the After. I have given us hope. And others.”

  Caitlyn studied her sister. Fallon’s visions were disturbing enough without the loss of her reason. She needed to find Remy and put an end to this nonsense. Only their brother could deal with Fallon. She gave Fallon a final glare and had turned to leave the room when Honora’s tortured voice broke her stride. Her sister backed against the table, her horrified gaze fixed on the threaded circle.

  “’Tis the mouth of hell itself,” Honora gasped. “Close it now. Hope dwelleth not in the devil’s lair.”

  “Oh, but, Sister, hope does indeed lie within,” Fallon said. “Move closer, but do not touch it.”

  Honora peeked into the black tunnel. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.

  “’Tis me! Years ago.”

  “Nay,” Fallon said. “’Tis Hope. She exists in the After, many, many years from now. I have seen her often. And her sisters.”

  “But ’tis me,” Honora insisted. “How can that be?”

  Fallon caught Caitlyn’s glance with a victorious wink. “We are eternal, Sisters. We will move through time, existing in different centuries. The visions have always been clear to me, but now ye can both see. ’Tis our future. We are forever.”

  Honora huffed again. “Nothing is forever, and thou art dealing with forces of unimaginable power. The passage of time cannot be stopped or changed.”

  “Perhaps not,” Fallon said, “but gentle persuasion may sway its course.”

  Caitlyn planted her fists on her hips. “Will a Trinity be needed for this persuasion?”

  “Well, of course,” Fallon said. “We are one.”

  “But the end has come,” Honora cried. “Thou hast said a roar will herald the end of the Trinity. Thou cannot change what has already happened.”

  “We must,” Fallon said. “The Leanan sidhe and the Keeper art linked through memories and lifetimes, through faery spells and reality. Without each other, their souls will wither, and their lives will hold no meaning. We will see the consequences in Remy. Our poor brother will lose the happiness in his heart, but the consequences are further reaching still. We will cease to be.”

  “’Tis called death,” Honora grunted, “and even thou can not cheat death, Fallon.”

  “I have found a way.”

  Caitlyn laughed. “Thou art stubborn and strong willed, but even thou hast limits. How dost thou think to change destiny?”

  “I do not seek to change destiny,” Fallon said. “I seek to create it.”

  Honora shuddered. “’Tis the devil’s work. What other powers art strong enough to create destiny?”

  Fallon gazed into the dark tunnel and smiled.

  “Faith, Hope, and Charity.”

  Caitlyn smiled. “Thou seeks to change destiny with myth?”

  “Not the Virtues,” Fallon said. “Real women, real sisters. A trinity of souls, entwined for all eternity. We art the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega. We art linked to each other, to the Keeper and to the spirit of the Leanan sidhe that wilt begin it all. I shall not allow fate to sever all I love from reality. The Keeper will be moved to serve his purpose, to find his heart and his destiny.”

  “’Tis madness thou speaks,” Honora whispered.

  “Madness? Nay, ’tis magic. Once thou hast seen the joy of pure magic, thou wilt not be looking at me with such eyes. ’Tis a promise.”

  Honora dropped onto the bench. “Thou cannot tamper with the forces of eternity and fate merely because of a wish to cling to the earth, Fallon.”

  Fallon laughed. “’Tis not my wish. ’Tis the will of many. We art merely the instruments of power, and all will be well, Honora, I promise thee. Benefits shall be gained by all, but ’tis really the message of love we preserve, the tale of the Leanan sidhe and the Keeper and the promise of their future and ours.” Fallon shot a glance to the casement and clapped her hands together. “Now prepare the chamber and gather what we need to perform a binding spell. And bring your amulets!”

  Caitlyn’s mind swirled. She would need thread, the black candle, the chalice, the obsidian Honora had found, her own sprig of lavender. Where was Fallon’s flint? A poppet! She turned to Fallon, poised to speak.

  “Hurry!” Fallon said. “We have much to do this night. There art elements to summon, offerings to be made, and rifts to open. Time is short, and the moonlight wanes. Meet me in the tower.”

  Caitlyn glanced at Honora from the corner of her eye. Honora looked nauseous again but moved in the direction of the open doorway. Once again, their oldest sister had drawn them into something beyond their ken. Fallon shooed her hand in Caitlyn’s direction.

  “Go! Gather! I will make the poppets.”

  Caitlyn snapped her mouth closed and ran off to do her sister’s bidding. Fallon never offered a
choice. It was so much easier just to do what she said.

  Chapter 1

  Stone Cottage

  Trinity Island, Virginia

  The Present

  Ryder Kendall, Keeper of the Caindale legacy and its trio of witches, tucked his hands into the pockets of his battered overcoat and stared into the muddy water of the James River. The Jack provided a pleasant buzz, but the last thing he wanted to do was go back into that house. Faith had the recipe book out, a sure sign dinner would be inedible. Hope had arranged the good china and fresh flowers, and Charity had last been seen digging through the music collection. A bottle of wine chilled in the crystal bucket. It could only mean his sisters were matchmaking again. They wanted him married, and they wanted a nephew, another Keeper to hold the legacy. He had no interest, but they continued to parade women through his life.

  His self-imposed celibacy played havoc with his mood, but it was hard to date while wallowing in guilt. Damn it, his dad had wanted him to fly to the Keys, and if he had been on that plane, he could have done something. Now his dad was gone, and he’d been forced to deal with the aftermath. The girls seemed okay most days, and it had started to get easier, but he couldn’t let it go yet.

  A car pulled into the driveway. If a woman existed on Trinity who could get him back into the game, it was Natalie Wolcott, and the girls knew it. Blond, blue-eyed Nat could model for Victoria’s Secret and in bed had the instincts of a wildcat. He wondered what Nat was doing on Trinity. This time of year she should be in New York, raiding and plundering corporations with her usual piratical legal skill. Nat was great—she had everything a man could want—but death had a way of rearranging priorities. He’d grown tired of sleeping with every woman he knew, simply because he could. He wanted to play for keeps, and Nat wasn’t what he wanted permanently.

  With hiding on his mind, he headed toward Stone Cottage, his refuge and sanctuary, the only building left on the property from the original Caindale plantation. Faith would attempt to drag him out by his hair, but he could try.

  He strode up the path and, as he opened the gate, a deafening boom burst through the quiet night, ricocheting through the garden with the power of thunder. Ryder tensed, preparing himself for another blast. The unmistakable odor of sulfur flooded his nostrils and clung to the muggy air.