Rowan's Responsibility

by Terri Reid

  “This is amazing,” he said. “I didn’t expect…”

  “Actually, it was designed by Hazel,” Rowan explained with a smile, equally impressed with what her sister had created. “She not only designed the space but was also the general contractor. It’s amazing how quickly she pulled it together.”

  Henry walked forward, noting the attention to detail in the design. “The loft seems like it’s floating over the rest of the apartment,” he said. “No supporting beams.”

  Rowan nodded. “You’re right, it is pretty amazing. I guess Hazel didn’t want beams blocking her view,” she said. “I’m guessing, she brought in steel support beams and encased them in wood—all the strength she needed without taking away from the ambiance. Cat is going to be thrilled.”

  “Excuse me?” Henry asked.

  Rowan smiled. “Cat does our books and pays special attention to Hazel’s projects. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to know that Hazel considered quality over expense.”

  He turned back to Rowan. “I don’t want to take Hazel’s space,” he said.

  She shook her head. “It’s funny. Once she designed it, she didn’t feel that she needed it anymore,” Rowan replied. “Besides, with what’s been going on lately, it’s better that we are all in the house together.”

  “What’s been going on?” he asked.

  “I’ll tell you about that later,” she said. “But for now, just be sure you use precautions and are protected.”

  “Rosemary. Salt. Iron. That kind of protection?” he asked.

  She smiled at him. “You’ve been doing your research, haven’t you professor?” she replied. “Yes, that kind of protection would be good. But I’m also thinking about more basic things like locking your doors and being aware of your surroundings.”

  “Should I be worried?” he asked.

  She met his eyes. This time there was no teasing glance or humor in them. “Yes, actually, you should,” she stated.

  “Why?” he questioned. “Is it the legend?”

  She shook her head. “Henry, I promise I’ll tell you more later,” she stated clearly as she walked to the back of the apartment. “Now, let’s see what’s behind this door.”

  Rowan pulled open the door to a small guest bathroom done in marble and stone and shook her head. “She’s amazing,” she said softly.

  “Wow, a guest bathroom,” he said.

  “Hazel must have hated the idea of having to climb the stairs to the loft every time she needed to use the bathroom,” she said.

  “Wow. She’s as good as a professional,” Henry remarked.

  Rowan met his eyes. “Hazel as a degree in Architectural Engineering with a Master’s in Design,” she said mildly. “She is a professional.”

  “Why is she mucking out stalls?” he asked.

  “Because she loves it,” she replied with a casual shrug. “Henry, one of the things you’re going to have to learn is that generally things are not what they seem to be.”

  He smiled at her. “You do realize that your statement is totally opposed to everything I was taught by my professors, don’t you?”

  She shrugged. “And I bet you those same scholars who taught you also told you there were no such things as witches and ghosts,” she replied. “And yet, you question that.”

  He stopped and thought about the truthfulness in her words. “Tell me about you,” he finally said. “Tell me what it is about you that is not what it seems to be.”

  She smiled. “Tell me what you see,” she challenged.

  He shook his head. “This is going to get me in trouble again,” he replied with a disconcerted look on his face. “Do I get absolution from my comments?”

  “Done,” she said with a nod of her head. “Nothing you say can or will be held against you.”

  “Okay,” Henry replied, leaning against the kitchen counter and studying her for a few long moments. “Well, let’s just state the obvious first. I see an astonishingly beautiful woman with eyes that mirror her emotions. I see a woman who is passionate and loyal, empathic and open-minded, driven by emotion, yet guided by justice.”

  Rowan’s heart leapt when he said that she was beautiful. Were those just words? Polite compliments to assuage her feelings?

  She took a deep breath, a little uncomfortable now with his appraisal. “Well, good job,” she said. “I guess you’ve proven me wrong.”

  He shook his head and walked closer to her. The attraction he was feeling for her was almost uncontrollable. Maybe if he just got it out of the way it would quench his passion. Maybe he just needed to get this first kiss out of the way and things would go back to normal.

  “Rowan,” he said, his voice low.

  She saw the look in his eyes and nervously motioned towards the door. “We really should be getting back to the house,” she replied, her voice a bit hoarse.

  He lifted his hand and cradled her cheek gently. “I see a woman who would protect her family without concern for her own safety,” he whispered.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Going out to the field to see who I was without anyone else,” he said before she could comment. “Especially now that you’ve told me that things are going on here.”

  She acknowledged the truth of his statement with a shrug.

  “I see a woman who is tired of people not seeing who she is—only what she is.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. How did he know?

  “I hurt you by concentrating on Rowan the witch earlier, not Rowan the woman,” he said, moving closer to her.

  “Henry,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Please…”

  He leaned forward, brushed his lips over hers and felt her tremble. He was wrong. Her taste only whetted his appetite. “I see a woman who is kind to strangers, and if I’m correct in my assessment, that kindness and the other gifts she offers often cause her pain.”

  She tried to step back, but his gentle touch held her in place. He kissed her again, and she sighed into his mouth. “You healed me,” he said softly as he finally made the connection between the woman in his dream and the woman in his arms. His lips trailed a tender path along her jawline. “That’s what happened to my scar and my other injuries. You took them upon yourself.”

  She nodded slowly, mesmerized by his touch. “I…I don’t want your gratitude,” she whispered.

  “But you have it,” he replied softly, his breath warm on her skin. “But this. What I’m feeling for you right now has nothing to do with gratitude.”

  He brushed his lips over hers again, and she moaned, feeling the molten desire within her grow.

  “We have to stop,” she breathed, sliding her arms up his chest but not having the will to push him away. “There’s too much…”

  He kissed her once more, purposely keeping it light, and leaned away, his hand still cradling her cheek. The desire was still there, the passion barely banked, but Henry would not take advantage of her, mixed signals or not. “You’re right,” he sighed. “I’m…”

  She lifted her hand and placed it over his lips to silence him. “Don’t apologize,” she said, her eyes still filled with desire. “It’s not the wrong feeling. It’s just the wrong time.”

  He nodded and kissed her hand. “So?” he murmured, a twinkle in his eyes. “Back to the tour. I’m guessing the upstairs houses the bedroom. After you?”

  She shook her head and smiled. “There’s more devil in you than I imagined,” she said, feeling the tension dissipate. She pulled her hand away, stepped back and pushed her glasses up her nose. “I think it’s best that you take a self-guided tour,” she replied. “I’ll wait down here for you.”

  He grinned. “I’ll be quick.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  A knock on the door brought Henry’s head up and straight into the bottom of the desk he was kneeling under to plug in the cables for his equipment. He leaned back down, rubbed the bump and called out, “Come in. It’s open.”

  A gorgeous brunette stuck her head in t
he door and smiled at Henry. “Am I interrupting?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, I’m just setting up my equipment,” he replied. “Are you one of the Willoughbys?”

  She walked in, carrying two large shopping bags, and then closed the door behind her. “I’m Hazel,” she said with an engaging smile. “The smartest one.”

  He chuckled and carefully dislodged himself from under the desk. “Then you must be a genius,” he replied, standing up and helping her with the bags.

  He carried them over to the kitchen counter, turned to her and offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Henry,” he said.

  She accepted his hand and then cocked her head to the side. “Not Lord Henry?” she asked.

  He blushed. “No, please, certainly not,” he said.

  “But Cambridge’s website said that you were Lord Henry McDermott,” she said pointedly.

  He studied her for a moment and then nodded. “Yes, it does,” he replied. “And it’s not a lie. I am Lord Henry. But here, in the States, I thought I could just be plain Henry McDermott.”

  “You don’t mind that I checked up on you?” she asked.

  “You’re the smart one,” he replied easily. “It would be foolish for you not to check up on me. As a matter of fact, I was going to supply you, all of you, with references, just so you could be sure I am who I say I am.”

  “Because we’re a bunch of defenseless women?” she asked.

  He grinned. “There’s no way I’m going to fall for that,” he said.

  She grinned. “Good answer,” she said.

  “Can I offer you some…” Henry paused and then looked embarrassed. “I apologize. I’m just settling in. I can’t even offer you bottled water.”

  “Sure, you can,” she said, walking over to the refrigerator, opening it and, to his surprise, pulling out two bottles. She handed one to him and then twisted off the cap of the other.

  He looked at the refrigerator and then back at her. “I could swear that a few minutes ago, when I looked in there, it was empty,” he said.

  She ignored his comment, took a swig of the water and then took her time studying him. “You’re taller than I thought the first time I saw you.”

  “I’m sorry. Have we met already?” he asked, opening the bottle and taking a gulp of the cold water.

  “No, it was when you were lying naked on the guest room bed,” she said casually. “You looked shorter then.”

  Water spurted from Henry’s mouth, and he turned to her. “I beg your pardon,” he said, aghast.

  She grinned. “Now there you sounded like a proper English Lord,” she teased. “And, you weren’t naked. Not even a little bit.”

  “Well, that’s a comfort,” he replied, taking another sip. “So, you designed this apartment.”

  She nodded. “I did,” she said. “What do you think?”

  “It’s perfect,” he replied. “It looks like something out of a magazine.”

  “Several to be precise,” she replied.

  “I’m sorry?” he asked.

  She smiled at him. “I took my ideas from several magazines,” she said, looking slowly around the room. “I really wanted to use some shiplap, but I couldn’t find any close by.”

  “I think you did a great job,” he said. “Really. And I’m grateful to be able to rent it from you, especially after the mess the other place was in.”

  “I know, right?” she replied with a smile. “Especially that family of raccoons. I mean, that was pretty much the topper on the cake.”

  “How did you know about the family of raccoons?” Henry asked.

  Hazel paused and shrugged innocently. “Rowan must have mentioned it to me,” she replied. “Because, really, how else would I have known?”

  Henry eyed her carefully. “Yes, how else?” he repeated.

  “So,” she said brightly, changing the subject. “I brought you some housewarming gifts.”

  She reached into the first bag and pulled out a diffuser. “This is for essential oils,” she said. “You add water, a few drops of the oils and voila, magic.”

  “Real magic?” he asked.

  She grinned. “Essential oil magic,” she replied. “And, if I were you, I would use the rosemary essential oil tonight.”

  “Rosemary is for protection,” he said.

  She smiled at him. “And so is salt,” she said, pulling out a small canister of salt and placing it on the countertop. “And so are these lovely, wrought iron horseshoes that we’re going to hang over your door.”

  “Why all the protection?” he asked.

  “Did I mention that you’re invited to dinner tonight?” she replied, ignoring his last question and walking towards the door.

  He followed her. “No, you didn’t,” he said.

  “Come to dinner,” she replied, opening the door. “And many of your questions will be answered.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said. “What time?”

  “Six,” she said. “We’ll see you then.”

  She pulled the door closed behind her, and to Henry’s astonishment, the horseshoe she’d pulled out of the bag was now hanging above the door.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll just be damned.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Hazel walked in through the back door, her face wreathed in a grin.

  “What did you do?” Rowan asked, immediately suspicious.

  “Nothing,” Hazel replied with a smile.

  Rowan stared at her sister, her hands on her hips. “I don’t believe you.”

  Hazel walked over to the kitchen cabinet, casually picked up a carrot from the pile being peeled and took a bite off the top. “Okay, I might have made some water appear in his fridge,” she said as she slipped onto a bar stool. “But I was thirsty, and he was too.”

  “Hazel,” Agnes scolded mildly. “We haven’t decided how much we’re going to share with Henry yet. You shouldn’t be…”

  “Showing off,” Rowan said, adding a few more herbs to the stuffing she was mixing.

  “He didn’t know it was me,” she said. “He just thought he overlooked it. Besides, I took his mind off it when I told him the last time I saw him he was naked.”

  “What?” Rowan exclaimed.

  Hazel eyed her sister with new interest. “Oh, so that’s the way it flies, is it?” she asked.

  “No,” Rowan quickly denied. “It’s not. But why in the world would you tell him you saw him naked?”

  “Who saw who naked?” Cat asked, entering from the back door and hanging her purse on a hook.

  “Hazel saw Henry naked,” Agnes replied, slicing the carrots into thin strips.

  Cat turned to Hazel. “Really?”

  Hazel shook her head and took another bite of her carrot. “No, I just told him we all saw him naked after we rescued him.”

  A knife and a mixing spoon clattered onto their prospective counter tops. “You told him what?” Rowan asked.

  Hazel bit back a laugh. “I told him that he looked taller than the last time I saw him, laying naked on the guest room bed.”

  Cat started to chuckle and backed away from Rowan’s glare. “Don’t encourage her,” Rowan growled. Then she turned back to Hazel. “And what did Henry say?”

  “I beg your pardon,” Hazel mimicked Henry’s shock and accent perfectly.

  “And then what happened?” Agnes asked, now trying to hide her own smile.

  “I started to laugh, told him he sounded really English just then and confessed that I hadn’t really seen him naked,” she said easily. “And then we just chit-chatted. Really, it was just an ice-breaker.”

  “Has he packed up his gear and headed out of town yet?” Cat asked.

  Hazel laughed. “No, old Henry’s got more spunk than that,” she said. “He’s actually accepted our invitation to dine and will be here at six.”

  “Perfect,” Agnes said. “Now what’s our plan?”

  “Well, we can start with sa
lad…” Rowan began.

  Agnes rolled her eyes. “No, how much are we willing to share with Henry?” she asked.

  “I don’t think we should share anything,” Cat said, picking up an apron from a hook on the pantry door and tying it around her waist. “We shouldn’t trust anyone.”

  Rowan pulled the roasting chicken over and started stuffing it. “I don’t think we should paint everyone with the same brush you use for Donovan,” she said. “I don’t think Henry would betray us. And, if Henry’s part of this whole thing, we need to tell him at least a little.”

  “Why don’t we ask him what he knows?” Hazel suggested. “He might already know about the spell.”

  “And what if he doesn’t?” Cat asked as she picked up the bowl of carrots and drizzled olive oil on them. “What if he doesn’t know anything about us except what he’s read online? What if it’s nothing but those old legends?”

  Agnes moved on to chopping up red potatoes into small squares. “Don’t forget the kosher salt and the coarse black pepper,” she said to Cat. “Now I understand your concern, Cat. But you were the one who walked through his mind. Do you really think we can’t trust him?”

  Cat liberally sprinkled salt and pepper on the carrots, then tossed them and laid them in a roasting pan. “I don’t know,” she sighed, pushing her hair back from her forehead with her wrist. “Rowan’s right. I shouldn’t paint everyone with Donovan’s brush. But this is so important. We really can’t risk making a mistake.”

  Hazel took another quick bite of the carrot. “Trusting Henry wouldn’t be a mistake,” she said. “He’s a good guy. I can feel it.”

  “Okay, let’s do this,” Agnes suggested. “We all have to feel comfortable about Henry knowing about us, so we will all sit down to dinner together and have general, polite conversation. If Catalpa feels good about sharing, she can bring it up in conversation. If not, we just answer Henry’s questions with non-specific information.”