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Lake,” he said with a nod. “Ye just did the same
thing with thot little speech ye gave, if ye only
but think on it. Ye tried to compel your
classmates to follow yer way of thinking. The
only difference is, my brand of compelling
worked a lot sooner.”
“I never thought about it quite like that,”
Felicity admitted. “I suppose the idea has some
merit. I’ll have to give it some thought.”
“Och, and I’m glad to hear it,” he said.
“Now, shall I take ye to see Lancelot Jones, so
the two of ye can hash out all the gory details?”
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“I don’t know, I’m not sure I’m ready,”
Felicity said with a teasing tone. “I may need to
stop off to get my sparring gloves first.”
“Ye’ll be good for him, I think,” Dervish
smirked. “Someone to keep him on his toes, as
it were.”
“Fine, then I suppose we’d best beard the
lion in his den,” Felicity conceded. “Just let me
say a few last good-byes, and we can be on our
way.”
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ELEVEN
Since the day that his wife had left him
ten years ago, Lancelot Jones had prided himself
on having iron control over himself where
women were concerned. Over the years, as the
witches had begun to take notice of his single
state, this control had become more of a second
nature than the carefully maintained aloofness it
had started out to be.
The whole first year since Meryl had run
off with some overly attentive elf, he had spent
every single day reminding himself just how
much she’d hurt him. The next few years, this
thought process had dwindled down to just once
a year, on the anniversary of the night she’d
gone.
Certainly Dervish, ever a kind and
faithful friend to him, had tried to draw him out
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of that mindset. He’d tried on many occasions to
point out that not every woman was unfaithful
just because one had been. He’d even managed
to drag him to some date-match club a few
months back, but there had been no woman there
who could tempt him.
However, quite recently he’d become
very aware that he’d forgotten all about the
anniversary marking the death of his marriage
for at least two years in a row. His firm resolve
had been on a downward spiral, and he hadn’t
even realized it.
Perhaps this lapse in his erstwhile firm
grasp on his sanity was why he knew that it had
been precisely three months, three weeks, and
four days since he had suddenly found himself
with Miss Felicity Lake pinned beneath him on
the marbled tiles of the Magical Museum’s hall,
that very same place that for the past hundred
years he had been sworn to protect.
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Since that night, Lance had been able to
think of little else but the scintillating thought of
tasting every part of Miss Felicity Lake’s
delectable anatomy. It had been very difficult for
him, facing off against her in the courtroom, and
with much thought on the matter since, he’d
figured out just exactly why it had stung quite so
much.
Firstly, there was the fact that her arrival
had been quite unexpected, so he had been
unable to prepare himself for it either mentally
or physically. For her beautiful doe eyes,
flashing angrily up at him from just a hair’s
breadth away. Or her trembling lips he’d felt an
overwhelming urge to kiss.
Secondly, she had been right underneath
of him, in a position he had not allowed himself
the luxury to indulge in for a very long time. He
could feel every single curve of her petite,
perfect body pressed against his. And he ought
to know how perfect, since he had replayed the
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scene often enough afterwards to have
memorized every curve thoroughly.
And thirdly, there could be no ignoring
everything he’d learned about the girl since then.
How she was at the top of her class, how she’d
felt obligated to take all the blame for a crime
she hadn’t even been the originator of, just
because she was that loyal to her friends. How
she was a kind and caring witch who had a
penchant for protecting the underdog.
Dervish had, of course, went out of his
way to inform him of her interests and dislikes,
which he’d found out from Madame Grelda
during the girl’s time there. The witch had given
him periodic updates in compliance with the
court order.
But most importantly, Dervish had told
him how Felicity had never once complained
about the chore she had been assigned. She had
actually gone out of her way to make certain it
was done to perfection.
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The man knew him too well, telling
Lance something like that. Knew that he valued
a good work ethic almost as much as he valued
such true loyalty. If the sky had suddenly opened
up and poured forth the woman of his dreams, it
may as well have been Felicity Lake who fell
down into his waiting arms.
She was feisty, and beautiful, and also
quite the innovative little spell-crafter. He had
been with Dervish when her confetti charm had
gone off, berating the man for his unfeeling
ways.
Rather than becoming annoyed, the old
Scott had gotten up and taken a better look at the
impressive handiwork as the particles circled
about the room, deeming her one of the most
ingenious young witches he’d ever come across.
High praise coming from a wizard who was well
over a thousand years old.
How could a mere slip of a girl, barely
seventeen years old, a girl who could not
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possibly have ever faced a council of three
hundred elders before that day, sit so calmly as
they judged her? How could she speak to them
so eloquently, and be so accepting of the
punishment they eventually meted out to her?
He didn’t know which affected him
more, the way he’d reacted to her mentally, or
the physical attraction he’d been dreaming of
ever since that day. The very fact that he was
thinking of her right now, rather than sitting
comfortably in his rocker at home, laid
testament to how much the young witch had
gotten to him.
Indeed, last night he should have been
sitting comfortably inside his large country
estate, sipping a brandy and resting his feet, as
per usual. He should have been lying i
n his bed
reading a good book. He should have been
anywhere but where he found himself instead.
“This place has been in need of a
thorough cleaning well before today,” he
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excused himself as he gave the Museum’s
archives a final once over, waving his wand
about as though he was running in a decathlon.
“I’m not doing this for her. Not doing it just
because I don’t want the lady to see what a slob
I’ve been.”
He flicked the wand again. A large
feather-duster made its way out of the broom
closet and set to the task of cleaning away all the
cobwebs.
“It’s only common courtesy to clean up
a bit when expecting the arrival of a new
employee, isn’t it? I’m sure it must be,” he
continued, and padded into the bathroom to look
for anything in there that he wouldn’t want
Felicity to see.
It was a good thing he did, too, for he’d
apparently left a pair of his boxers lying about
for however long it may have been. He knew the
last time he had taken a shower there rather than
returning home to do so was the night he and
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Felicity had met. That was quite a long time for
them to have been lying around.
Lancelot reflected on the fateful day that
Dervish McTavert had first mentioned his desire
to hire Miss Lake. How his heart had sped up
and his face had gone numb, and how his loins
had begun to throb at the very thought.
“By the gods, Dervish, why would you
want to do a thing like that?” he’d gasped.
“Thot’s a simple enough thing, laddie,”
he’d scoffed. “Ye’ve been in need of an assistant
around this place for an age now, and I believe
Miss Felicity Lake would be perfect for thot
position.”
“Position?”
Lance
had
repeated
distractedly, and noticed he was rolling one long
strand of his hair between his fingers. He’d
quickly let go, hoping the older wizard would
not notice, but that had not been the case.
“Jones, ye canna tell me the wee lass
hasna crossed yer mind since the two of ye met,”
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Dervish insisted. “It seems to me thot since then,
ye havna put a single thought together inside yer
befuddled brain. If ye are so besotted with the
girl, why not just tell her so?”
“Besotted?” he’d scoffed. “What makes
you think I’m besotted with Felicity Lake? You
know that I have sworn off all relationships,
McTavert. I’ll not let anyone hurt me like that
again.”
“See, thas exactly why a girl like Felicity
Lake would catch yer eye,” Dervish pointed out.
“Ye already ken just how much mettle she has,
dinna ye? She wouldna tell anyone who her
friends were. Thot’s a mark of true loyalty, right
there. Now, if ye could harness thot loyalty for
yerself, sure and ye would have the finest
woman on the planet.”
“Don’t be foolish, Dervish,” he’d said.
“What would a school girl want with a man like
me?”
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“She’s not a school girl anymore,” he
reminded him. “At least, she willna be one when
she starts working here.”
“And have you told the council about
your desires concerning the girl?” Lancelot
asked. “Have they agreed to it?”
“I wanted to know if ye agreed first,
laddie,” he said. “But, if ye agree to the job of
giving Felicity her six years of training, I will
tell them so first thing in the morning.”
“I see no reason why you’d need my
permission,” he answered slowly. “This is your
Museum, much as I like to claim it as well. It
should be up to you who works in it.”
“Still, yer agreement was wanted,”
Dervish persisted. “The main responsibility will
lie with ye, lad. Sure and I’m too old to concern
myself with the raising up of another acolyte.”
And Lancelot had agreed to the thing. He
tried to look as though it was nothing to him one
way or another. He even tried to convince
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himself that it wasn’t, as well. Yet here it was,
the day of her graduation, and it was all he could
do not to come along with Dervish just so he
could give Felicity the news himself.
Did she resent him for the trial, he
wondered? Had she ever resented him for having
her punished, or had she seen it simply as the
duty that it was? What would Felicity think if
she knew he’d slept every night since they’d met
with dreams of her dancing behind his eyes?
But what if Felicity was not equally as
afflicted with thoughts of him? Could he
possibly tell her everything that was in his heart,
and risk her stomping all over his newfound
emotions? He didn’t know if he could.
The only answer was to try to endure
being close to her, to see if time would draw
them together or pull them apart. To see if that
sweet, sweet light he’d seen shining in her eyes
would remain once she found out what an
irritable bastard he could sometimes be.
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With a heavy sigh, Lancelot went in
search of anything else that needed fixing.
Dervish and Felicity were sure to be along any
time now, and he wanted everything to be
perfect.
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TWELVE
Dervish and Felicity had decided to stop
off for a meal at Madame Grelda’s before they
went on to the Magical Museum, and the woman
had greeted the pair warmly.
“So, it’s to be the Museum for you, then,
my girl?” she said excitedly. “I might have
known.”
“I had no idea I’d end up there myself,”
Felicity admitted. “But it’s a good placement,
nevertheless.”
By the time the two of them arrived at
the Museum it was practically time for sunset.
Felicity regaled the old wizard with tales of her
exploits at the Academie Magica, and told him a
little about her adventures with her Aunt Beatrix
beyond the Veil. Dervish seemed to be
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genuinely interested in everything that she had
to say.
Felicity was starting to feel a bit better
about the whole situation, but she still felt a huge
knot in the pit of her stomach at the idea of once
again seeing Lancelot Jones. Would the
handsome wizard be just as alluring to her now
that a couple of months had passed, or would her
/>
girlhood crush come to naught? She was excited
and terrified to learn the answer.
“Here we are,” said Dervish as he
continued on past his office and headed for the
door to a broom closet.
“What, did you hire me to be the maid,
then?” Felicity asked with an uncertain frown.
“Of course not, lassie,” he chuckled.
“Give me yer wand for a moment, and all shall
be revealed.”
Felicity reluctantly handed Dervish her
wand, and watched as he traced a pattern in the
wall in the shape of a large rectangle. When he
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was finished, he put the wand back in her hand
and motioned for her to repeat the action.
“Look at it,” he said proudly as she went.
“A well-crafted spell is a beautiful thing. The
room seems ordinary enough to anyone who
doesna know its true purpose.”
When Felicity had completely traced the
rectangular shape, a loud cracking noise issued
from the edges, and the wall began to break free,
leaving a large opening in its place. Felicity was
momentarily blinded by a bright light that
emanated from somewhere inside before she
could look to see what the doorway concealed
beyond the wall.
At first it just looked like a few rows of
tall, neatly arranged bookshelves. She read a few
of the titles she saw there: ‘Magic in Real World
Application’, ‘Advanced Spell Design’, ‘The
Veil, an Ecological Issue’.
“Dinna bother with reading anything
right now, lassie,” Dervish admonished her.
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“I’m quite certain ye’ll get plenty of time for thot
later. Lancelot must be wondering where we are
by now.”
“Yes, beyond a doubt,” she agreed, and
felt an eagerness wash over her, both to see the
wizard in question, and to see—well, whatever
