The question baffled her. But not as much as when she tried to speak. The words came out slurred, as if she’d taken a sleeping potion or drunk too much alcohol. “What happened?”
“You must have tripped in shock when the wind blew the doors open and shattered the glass,” he told her. “Either that or you fainted.”
“I what?” Surprised, she stared at Aden as if he’d grown horns.
“It’s just as well I was able to break your fall,” he informed her, “or you’d be on your way to hospital right now.”
A hazy image of a ruby-eyed dragon glowering angrily flashed in Rosa’s mind, bringing with it a wave of nausea as she began to remember. Nothing, not even Aden’s breach of the spells surrounding the dragon, should have generated such violence.
“But you weren’t anywhere near me.” She lifted a heavy arm and waved as a magician would when conjuring something from nothing. “And then you were.”
Aden plucked a cloth from her forehead and dipped it into a small bowl Rosa immediately recognized as a local potter’s costly display piece. He had filled it with water and was using it. Just how long had she been unconscious? She was too shocked to hide her alarm.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he wrung the cloth out and placed it once again on her forehead. She wondered if he’d read her mind. “If I break it, I’ll pay for it.”
“Please, be careful,” Rosa urged. “It’s extremely fragile.”
Aden folded the cloth into a square and pressed it against one of her cheeks and then the other. “Not, it seems, as fragile as you.”
“I don’t understand,” she mulled aloud while keeping a million other questions closer to her chest. “How did you catch me?”
Aden paused, and his fingers grazed her cheek in an intimate caress. “I’m a fast mover.”
“There’s no way you could’ve moved fast enough to reach me in time.” Tentatively, she touched her scalp, searching for the bump she should have collected on the back of her head. Nothing.
“I wasn’t so far away.”
She would have laughed at the ludicrous statement if she weren’t so concerned. “I’ve walked that distance more times than you can count and even at a jog you wouldn’t have made it indoors in time.” Especially when dodging precious, fragile display items to get to the crates. From the moment she grew faint until Aden’s arms caught her had been mere seconds.
“Surely you should be more concerned about why you fainted and not with the speed at which I move.”
He watched her far too intently. Rosa’s instinct cautioned her response. Lying supine on the day-bed with Aden at her side, Rosa let him minister to her, giving herself time to work out the logistics of what had occurred. But patience deserted her within seconds. “I did not faint!”
The layers of spells around Gregori were specifically designed to protect it from the weather and from being stolen. Jade, was a precious commodity and the piece was extremely valuable. Aden had broken through the protection spells crafted by the sisters. But he had gone further, breaking the Maori blessing surrounding Gregori. How had he done so? And why was he still standing? Why was nothing else broken? There was no way he, too, would have missed the surge of power released by the spell. No one would have.
Her sisters would be here soon. They would have felt the breach, as would have Zelda. Where was Alanna? Rosa assumed she was upstairs crafting her recalcitrant piece of stone. Surely she would have come to investigate immediately?
She narrowed her eyes and studied Aden. Really studied him, looking deep into his aura, trying to discover a trace of magic, searching for any sign he lied.
She willed him to tell her the truth. “Do you know why I fainted?” she asked, even though she didn’t believe for a second she had.
“Do I look like a doctor to you?” He looked like he wanted to bolt, as if her question made him uncomfortable.
He plucked the washcloth from her forehead and stood, the tension visible in his neck and shoulders. Aden moved away from her and stood in the doorway, looking outward. “Beth should be here soon.”
Eyes wide with shock, she half pushed herself up and leaned on an elbow, but before she could wonder at the reasons why he was so difficult to read, he glanced back at her.
“Who are you?” Adrenaline sent her heart into overdrive. Despite this she attempted to stand and failed. Sitting proved a much easier option. Not wanting to miss a single intonation, expression, or giveaway sign in his aura, she repeated her question, her voice strong despite the trembling emotions thudding through her system, “Who are you?”
A deep frown marred his perfect brow. Disappointment flooded through her. She tried again. “Who are you, really?” There was no shift in his expression. Whoever or whatever he was, he was skilled at masking his emotions.
“Don’t you remember?”
“I’m not stupid! You know exactly what I’m speaking of.”
“I do?”
“You have magic. I know it. But I can’t see it. Not a trace.”
Aden’s dark eyes narrowed, darkening to unfathomable coals. His lips lifted in an attempt at a cynical smile, but Rosa knew the truth, even if he refused to admit it.
“Don’t you dare deny it!” Rosa’s skin prickled. “Whatever you do, don’t lie to me.” She knew enough to recognize he was evading her questions. She just didn’t know why. “I saw you in the courtyard. I felt the magic.”
Her gaze held his. She swallowed, recognizing the feeling of an enchantment beginning to surround her. Her mouth went dry. She was experiencing difficulty forming words. Her thoughts grew fuzzy. Scrunching her eyelids shut to clear the haze forming, she was absolutely determined he would not bespell her. She conjured up a counter spell but was too weak and it was too late. Tomorrow she would think the incident nothing more than being startled into falling because a gust of wind whirled through the gallery and shattered the glass door in its wake.
“Next you’re going to tell me you really are a witch after all,” Aden countered. “You aren’t well. You’ve dark smudges under your eyes. Sleep deprivation can cause hallucinations.”
“I’m not sleep deprived,” she insisted, her tongue thick, her voice slurred. OK, so maybe there was a smidgen of truth in his statement.
“You fainted.”
“And you moved far too fast.”
Before Aden could respond, the gallery door chimed. The relief emanating from him was palpable. “That’ll be Beth.”
“Beth? “What’s she doing here?”
“I phoned her. She’s going to watch the gallery, and I’m taking you home to rest.”
Chapter Eleven
Aden cursed his negligence and the resulting necessity to craft a beguiling spell to dull Rosa’s mind. Guilt at this action had him making reparation by looking after Rosa when Beth or Alanna could just as easily have done so.
He’d had to be swift in his actions to hide the damage to the spells surrounding Gregori. It was as well he’d studied them on arriving in Raven’s Creek three days ago. Without time to think anything through, he’d unleashed a safeguard spell to contain the disaster within the courtyard, but because Rosa was so closely connected to Gregori he had been unable to prevent the backlash hitting her. He was damned lucky Alanna hadn’t been home, or she too would have been knocked unconscious. No one outside the four walls of the gallery would know what had occurred, and he preferred that it stay that way.
Convincing Rosa she was hallucinating from tiredness was the first thing he’d come up with. He hadn’t wanted to resort to subterfuge. It created complications that could, if discovered, require explanations he couldn’t give. He was bound by an oath of silence to Marylebone. He would not break it.
• • •
There was something she should remember. It was right there on the tip of her tongue; God
dess knew what it was. Each time she thought she knew what it was, it escaped before she could form the words to speak.
“I’m not an invalid,” Rosa called out to Aden from her lounge. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own tea.”
“Drop the martyr act and accept help when it’s given,” he called back.
“Martyr act!” Was she so difficult? She’d let Aden tend her wounds yesterday, and now he was in her kitchen making tea. Having someone, anyone, administering to her needs, made her feel uncomfortable.
Aden entered the room and set a tray on the coffee table in front of her. He had taken time to rummage round to locate a vase for a single, old-fashioned English rose obviously handpicked from her garden. A thoughtful touch. The tea was one she’d mixed herself, consisting of dried rose petals, oat-straw, and English breakfast tea, and he had used her favorite pot to brew it in. Next to the pot was her favorite mug. How had he known that?
“I’m sure you’re capable of looking after yourself,” Aden acknowledged. “But everyone needs help now and then.”
Rosa remained silent. It was apparent he wasn’t going to admit anything, and, regardless of what he might think, she had a vague memory of him casting a spell. An invisible cloud of deception hung like gray smoke about his aura. She’d seen him try to shake it off, but it remained, like a stain, as if he’d done something he shouldn’t, and now it wouldn’t go away.
She trusted her instincts more than she trusted the words coming out of Aden’s mouth. Rosa made the decision not to question him further. For now.
There was one thing she wasn’t confused about. Aden had huge potential. There were no other men in the vicinity with his talent. No other with magic strong enough to hold her to this earth. Why was he hiding? Why would he hide when he was, very clearly in her mind, the one for her? But first she would need to dig deeper, find out more, build trust where it appeared there was none to be had.
Rosa inhaled the fragrant tea, and her spirit lightened a fraction. “I’m sorry. I’m not an easy patient.”
“Tell me about it.” Humor replaced his irritation.
“Won’t you join me?” Rosa leaned forward to swirl the pot and pour the hot liquid through the tea strainer into the only cup on the tray.
Aden smiled as if pleased with her offer and perched himself on the arm of the couch. “Not this time, but thanks. Alanna will be here shortly, and I promised Beth I’d go back and help store my items in the safe. They’re far too heavy for her to move herself. Plus I told her I’d help clean up the glass and board the broken windows until the insurance assessor arrives.”
Dismay flooded through Rosa. “Have you told the entire town about me fainting?”
Aden laughed. Sweet Goddess. His deep, modulated tone sounded wonderful. “No. But I can if you wish.”
“It isn’t funny!” she snapped, thinking she wanted to be the one at the gallery. She wanted to see Beth’s expression when she saw Aden’s work for the first time. Her hand came up, and she fingered the dolphin at her sternum. The touch of the warm silver in her hands was comforting.
“If you’ve any sense, you’ll rest until tomorrow.”
“I object to your ‘any sense’ inference. My sisters will be all over me like a rash. Do you really expect me to take it easy with both of them fussing about like I’m an invalid or something?”
“They’re family. That’s what families do — care for each other.”
It wasn’t his words but the inflection that had her sending him a sharp glance. “I know they love me, and would do anything to help, but you don’t know them like I do.”
At the less-than-impressed look Aden gave her, Rosa reluctantly amended her statement. “Oh, all right then. If anyone comes to the house, I’d prefer it to be Beth. She’ll give me space. Alanna, on the other hand, is a force to be reckoned with. Meddlesome is her middle name.”
A throaty sound erupted from Aden’s mouth and genuine laughter ensued. “I’ll remember that in future.”
The sound both surprised and warmed Rosa. And so did the word future. “It’s true. Just you wait and see if I’m right. You must know what it’s like.”
“What?”
“Having family meddle in your life. You said as much the other night.”
Aden’s smile evaporated. “I’ve not seen my family in years.” Regret revealed itself in his eyes. “Just believe me when I say you’re lucky to be so close to your sisters.”
“You’ve involved yourself in my life,” Rosa stated, “yet you’re reluctant to say anything personal about yours. Why is that?” It seemed she would need to be more forthright if she was to discover anything at all.
Aden left his perch and wandered over to the window to look out into the front yard. There he went again, Rosa noted. Turning his back on her when presented with a question he didn’t want to answer. Although she couldn’t see his face, she believed he battled some internal conflict.
“What are you afraid of,” she whispered softly to herself, but the words hung in the air, and he spun on his heels so suddenly she wondered if he’d heard.
“I’m interfering.” His tone was apologetic. He made no reference to her comment. “It’s not my intention.”
She tried another route. “Tell me who taught you.”
“Taught me?”
“Where did you apprentice as silversmith? With whom?”
Having studied under some of the greatest warlocks in Witchery, Rosa knew many of the Masters. They taught at all levels in the mortal world, but she had only met one of Aden’s equal in craftsmanship, and he was definitely a warlock.
“I’m self-taught.”
Rosa fixed her gaze on his. “I don’t believe you.”
• • •
Aden didn’t want to lie, but there was no way this side of the veil he would violate his promise not to reveal his identity or magical status.
This knowledge was something Rosa could only divine for herself. She was deeply suspicious of him and his motives. Few knew the hard road he had walked to attain atonement for his rebellious act centuries ago and earn the position of Dragon of Marylebone Coven.
So, when Rosa glared at him in disbelief, Aden knew he was treading dangerous ground. Her look said it all. He would have to give her something to satisfy her increasing suspicions. But what?
He returned to the couch and perched on the upholstered arm. “I’ve worked with silver as a medium since almost before I could walk,” the ring of genuine truth in his words. “My father is a jeweller. You could say I learned at his knee by osmosis.”
This much was true. Having been present in his father’s workrooms from the time he had taken his first steps, and possessed of a very strong magical potential inherited from both his parents, he had learned the basics of the craft long before he actually picked up a single tool.
His father crafted, and still did by all accounts, for men and women from all walks of life. He mixed easily with royalty, heads of state, and the well-heeled. He was equally at home with the common man and moved seamlessly between the mortal and magical realms, respected by all.
“My mother was a lace-maker but once she married, she never worked outside the home.”
“Lace?” Rosa’s eyes lit with interest. “How unusual. So few make it these days. Where did she learn?”
“Italy. Venice, actually.”
“Is that where you were born? Venice?”
Aden shook his head, happy to impart the truth without raising any suspicions. “My family is from everywhere.” At Rosa’s puzzled expression, he elaborated, knowing the nationalities of his family were not public knowledge.
“My father is Cypriot, my mother Italian. As for my brother and sister, we’re an international lot. I was born in Cyprus, my brother in Portugal and my sister in Spain. There’s a famil
y home in Cyprus, and that’s where everyone migrates every spring and autumn.”
“I can’t imagine what that must be like,” Rosa admitted. “I’ve lived in this same town my entire life. Everyone knows me, and I them.”
“We’re a nomadic family.” Now that he’d started talking, he found the words flowed more freely. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to embed oneself in one place for a lifetime. I don’t know if I could do it.”
“So they’re in Cyprus now?” Rosa queried. “It’s spring here, so it will be autumn there. I’m surprised you accepted the invitation to travel halfway round the world to Raven’s Creek.”
“They won’t be expecting me.” A vivid memory of raucous laughter and happier times echoed in the place where Aden’s heart used to be. In his mind’s eye, he saw his family sitting beneath the boughs of ripening lemons in the arbour outside their whitewashed home, as if he had been there only yesterday, when it had been, in fact, hundreds of years since he had returned to the family enclave.
He had not thought about his past in a long time. A conscious choice, an aid to keep the pain of his self-exile at bay. “Yes. The start of autumn. They’re there now,” he murmured, knowing the statement to be fact.
The luxury of allowing his mind to remember brought with it an intense longing to return to his roots. The scent of citrus, olives, thyme, and wine assaulted his memory, and for a split-second he forgot he sat in Rosa’s living room. Instead, he was swept through a rift in a Veil, courtesy of his familial link and visible only to him.
Light, happy laughter caught his attention and he swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to call out to alert them to his presence. Chewing the inside flesh of his bottom lip, he recognized his father, his mother Sophia, brother Santos, and sister Imelda. Their life partners were there too, along with a bunch of others Aden did not recognize. His absence had prevented him from getting to know his nephews and nieces.
He could almost smell the roast lamb smothered in rosemary-and-garlic-infused olive oil. Saliva pooled under his tongue, and he unconsciously moistened his lips, remembering. The meal would last long into the night, well past witching hour.
The Silver Rose Page 8
