Rocking his hips against her, he muttered, “God, lass, it’s been so long,” and was barely aware of his own words as he reached for the button of his jeans.
A motorized hum made him pause. He closed his eyes, sighed in agony as the sound grew louder. Another boat. Dammit, who the hell could be coming out here now?
He met her eyes as the sound grew louder and then died. Someone was here. No question. And his own little launch sat outside, so they’d know he must be home. Suddenly protective of her, he reached for a blanket, drew it to cover her as he got to his feet.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “God, you have no idea how sorry. But I’ll get rid of them. I’ll be back.”
* * * *
I knew it would be a mistake to let Duncan make love to me. But how could I resist him? How could I resist my own burning need to hold him inside me again, after all this time? I craved him just as I had before. No, even more so. I loved him. I loved him, and none of the things Arianna said made a difference in that.
He trotted down the stairs, pulling on his shirt. I heard his steps cross the floor, and the creak of those hinges as the door swung open. And then I heard him say, “What in the world are you doing out here?”
Curious, and suddenly sure he wouldn’t be returning as quickly as he’d promised, I pulled my dress on, and found my shoes, which I’d kicked off at some point. One lay in one direction, one in another. I slipped them on, then crept to the stairs. Then down them. I was quiet, not wanting to interrupt Duncan and his guest, just eager to glimpse the visitor.
At the bottom of the stairs I paused. I could see through the main room to the door at the far end from here, and so far, I remained unnoticed.
But as Duncan spoke, the other man’s head came up. He met my eyes, finding me there unerringly, as if he’d known exactly where I was. And my blood rushed to my feet. Dizziness swamped me, and I nearly lost my balance. Because the man I hated above all others, the man who had tried to kill me more times than I could count over the centuries, Nathanial Dearborne, was staring back at me, and the message in his eyes was clear. He meant to have my heart this time.
And just when I thought my shock and surprise had reached the precipice of a dozen lifetimes, I heard the words that chilled me to the bone.
Duncan said, “Come in, Father.”
Chapter 15
I stepped off the bottom step and darted to the side, out of their sight. Pushing open the first window I came to, I rapidly clambered outside. What was wrong with me? Was I a fool? I hadn’t even brought my dagger tonight! It was at home, tucked away in a drawer in my bedroom, and I was helpless. A sheep awaiting the slaughter. How many times had Arianna told me I must carry it with me always? Always!
I ran to my small boat, shoved it away, and then leaped inside. Taking the oars from the floor, I dipped them, and stroked with all my strength. The craft shot away.
And then I paused, looking back. What about Duncan? What if it were him Nathanial was after?
But no. Duncan had called the man Father.
Father.
I shuddered again, sick to my soul. But how, why? And was Duncan safe?
I closed my eyes, searched my mind, sought the wisdom of the ancient witches whose blood flowed in my veins. If Nathanial meant to have Duncan’s heart, he’d have had it by now. Duncan never would have lived to reach adulthood. It was obviously something else the bastard was after. Me. It was me. He must have known that if he remained close to Duncan, he would find me, eventually. And suddenly I knew with great clarity exactly what Dearborne intended. I knew it as surely as I’d known Duncan when I’d seen him again standing on the sidewalk in town. He would use Duncan to get to me. But once he took my heart, his need of his son would be as dead as my lifeless corpse would be. He might very well intend to kill Duncan, too. But only after he’d cut the living heart from my chest.
There was only one thing for me to do. Kill him. Kill him before he could hurt Duncan.
I would not again be the cause of my lover’s death. Not again.
* * * *
“It’s really not a good time, Father.”
“No? And why not?” His father stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind him and idly stroking the antique dagger he insisted on carrying. He’d had that thing belted to his hip for as long as Duncan could remember. But then, his father had always been fascinated with antiques. His collection of obscure books on the occult was probably the largest around. Nathanial loved things salvaged from the past. Duncan figured the dagger must be his favorite piece. That he likely treasured it the way Duncan treasured his own onyx raven.
Raven.
He glanced uneasily toward the stairs. But the sound of a motor drew his head back around. He ran to the window, to look out, only to see Raven’s small boat churning steadily away from the island, heading toward the rocky shore. “Damn.”
His father looked over his shoulder. “Who...?”
“A girl. A strange, beautiful girl. I can’t believe she left like that.”
“I should apologize. I didn’t know you had...company.”
Duncan eyed his father then, immediately doubting the man. Her boat had been right outside, after all. But, no. He would never build a relationship with his father if he kept doubting every word the man said.
“It’s all right. I’m sure I’ll see her again.” With a longing glance through the windows, he sighed and told himself to focus on the other stranger in his life. His father. “You want a beer?”
“Only if you have no wine.”
“I detest wine.” He headed into the kitchen, bit his lip, then turned to look back into the living room and forced a smile. “I’ll make a point to buy some, though.” It felt fake, this jovial attitude. This farce of friendship. And it hurt to realize just how strained things between him and the old man had become. God, could this ever work? Or was it too late?
Maybe, Duncan thought, it was too late a long time ago.
His throat tightened on that thought. He grated his teeth and resolved to give it a chance. Again. One last time.
When he joined his father with a beer—in a glass, in deference to Nathanial’s sensibilities—he found the old man holding one of the miniature ravens in his hands. The tip of his thumb kept running across the bird’s wooden breast. It gave Duncan a chill, though he couldn’t say why. He had to resist the urge to snatch his treasure away and replace it lovingly in its spot. But his hands itched to do just that.
Instead he held out the beer.
Clutching the bird too tightly in one hand, his father took the glass with the other. “So tell me about this mysterious beauty. Are you...involved with her?”
“I just met her.”
“Really? You’ll have to introduce me sometime.”
No way in hell.
And just where did that thought come from?
“Maybe. Sometime,” he said. “But right now, I’d rather talk about why you’re here.”
Nathanial shrugged. “Can’t a father visit his son without a reason?” He set the bird down carelessly, and it tipped onto its side with a clunk that set Duncan’s teeth on edge.
Instinctively he reached for it, set it upright in the spot where it belonged. As he did, he stroked its back, almost as if he were soothing it. As if it were real. Man, he was losing it.
“I’d like you to come to the courthouse—er, that is, the museum tomorrow.”
“Oh?”
Nathanial nodded, his pale blue eyes skimming the furniture, the floor, lighting everywhere but on Duncan. “I’ve already taken care of most of the paperwork involved. Acquired the proper permits, and so on. There’s still the advertising to be done, but that won’t be a problem. Still, Duncan, there are physical aspects to this project that a man of my age—”
“Oh.” Was this his father? The cold, brutally independent, utterly secretive man he knew, asking for his help? “Look, I’m not real comfortable with this Witch Museum idea,” Duncan began.
&nb
sp; “I know, you made that clear this morning. Still, there are all those crates to unpack, you know. The sign to hang. Shelves to be assembled and placed. All of that.”
And maybe that was why he’d asked Duncan to be his partner. He could handle the business end himself, and money was no problem. So all he wanted was a strong body for the grunt work.
Duncan frowned, looking away. He was jumping to conclusions, judging Nathanial according to the pattern he’d set in the past. If this “one more try” routine was going to have any chance of working, he’d have to try to curb that tendency. But hell, old habits died hard.
“Besides,” Nathanial went on, “if you do decide to be my partner, I’ll want your input on things.” He looked at Duncan’s face, very briefly. Not his eyes, just his face. “I do hope it doesn’t upset you that I’ve done so much of the early work already.”
“No, of course not.” So maybe it wasn’t just a set of strong arms the old man wanted. A spark of hope flared in Duncan’s chest. A tiny kernel of belief in the man he’d always wanted to believe in.
“We need a gimmick,” his rather said. “A hook to draw in the tourists for the grand opening.”
Duncan lowered his head. Part of him was ready to agree, while the other part grimaced in distaste. And still another part warned him not to hope for too much where his father was concerned.
Slowly he said, “I suppose if I were going to get involved in this—and I’m not saying I am—but if I were, I might suggest Halloween for the grand opening.”
Nathanial slapped his knee, sloshing beer from his glass onto the sofa cushion. “There, you see! That’s the kind of brilliant idea I’d hoped you’d generate. It’s perfect. The holiday most sacred to witches, as the grand opening of the Witch Museum.”
Duncan felt the blood leave his face. “I didn’t realize....”
“It’s perfect,” Nathanial said again.
“No, Dad, it’s not. Look, it was a bad idea. I spoke without thinking it through. Given the origins of the holiday...hell, it would be offensive.”
“Nonsense. It’s the perfect date, I tell you.”
“You don’t think it’s like opening a Nazi war crimes museum during Passover?”
“Not at all!” Nathanial rubbed his chin. “I hope we can be ready, though. It’s only a couple of weeks away.”
His father’s face seemed more animated to Duncan than it ever had as he talked about his plans–talked about their plans. It didn’t feel right, this idea of a museum devoted to relics of the witch trials. Not that he knew much about the subject. But it sent an odd feeling up his spine to think about it.
Yet, his father was speaking to him as if he gave a damn—for the first time in Duncan’s memory. Besides, he hadn’t even seen the items to be put on display yet. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.
He hoped not.
Who was he kidding? He’d seen enough. Those stocks.
“I can’t be your partner, Father. It doesn’t mean we can’t try to work on things, but–”
“Does it mean you can’t help an old man unpack a few crates?”
Sighing, Duncan shook his head. “No, it doesn’t mean that, either. I’ll help with the heavy work, all right?”
“Wonderful. Wonderful. As I said, there are the shelves and the sign, and....”
Duncan turned, barely hearing the animated buzz of his father’s voice now, as he gazed across the water to the mainland. It was too dark to see the cove far to the west of the cliffs, where Raven kept the small boat. There must be a path from there up to the house atop the cliffs. Perhaps he would walk it one day soon.
He had to see her again. He knew that much. Crazy or not, he couldn’t seem to shake the woman’s image from his mind. And even if it turned out she was a raving lunatic, he had a feeling it would always be this way.
* * * *
When I slammed the front door, Arianna leaped off the sofa, as startled as if a gunshot had gone off beside her ear. One hand pressed to her chest, she drew a deep breath and stared wide-eyed at me. “What in the name of the Gods are you trying to do, scare the heart out of me?”
I met her brown eyes, and she stared into mine. And then her face changed. She came forward, one hand going to my shoulder. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Lifting my chin, I swallowed hard. “Nathanial Dearborne,” I told her.
The roses drained from her cheeks. “You’ve seen him?”
I closed my eyes. “Oh, Arianna, what am I going to do? I didn’t expect this! Even he couldn’t be this clever, this low, as to set himself up as...as.... Sweet Goddess, I can’t even say it.”
Gripping my shoulders, she steered me backward to the velvet settee in the Edwardian parlor. I went easily, my bones like water.
“Go on,” she whispered. “Tell me what he’s done.”
I met her eyes, but they swam in my tear-hazy vision. “I don’t even know. I only know I was with Duncan, at the lighthouse, when Dearborne came to the door. And when he opened it....” I bit my lip, shook my head in reborn disbelief. “Duncan called him father, Arianna.”
“What?”
I nodded, reaffirming what I’d said. “I don’t know how, but that beast has managed to set himself up as Duncan’s father. And Arianna, I think he was planning all along to use Duncan to get to me.”
“That’s impossible. Raven, listen to what you’re saying. No witch, neither Light nor Dark, could manage a spell so powerful. To choose the soul who would incarnate as his own child? It can’t be done.”
I met her gaze, my own narrow. “So you believe it’s coincidence?”
Arianna lowered her head, shook it. “Of course not. It can’t be that, but there’s simply no way Nathanial could have....” And then her head came up again, slowly. “Unless....”
“Unless?”
“Do you suppose Duncan is Dearborne’s adopted son?”
I blinked. “That’s it. It has to be.”
“And if that’s true, then you’re right. It has all been a part of Dearborne’s plan to get to you. Otherwise he’d have killed Duncan by now. He has to know the man is immortal.”
“Oh, he knows.” I got to my feet, too upset to sit still when every nerve in my body seemed to be squirming. “He knew Duncan would find his way to me again, one day. Somehow, he knew.”
Pushing both hands through her hair, Arianna paced away from me. “This is not good.”
“And that's an understatement.”
“What are you going to do, Raven?”
I faced her. “What choice do I have, Arianna? I’m going to kill Nathanial Dearborne.”
She gripped my shoulders. “Oh, no. Not so fast, my friend. In the first place, if you murder the man Duncan thinks of as his father, he is going to hate you.”
“That’s just a chance I’ll have to take. Dearborne is out for my heart, Arianna, and you must realize that once he has it, Duncan’s will be next.”
“I know, I know, but—”
“What would you suggest I do? Wait for him to attack? Let him decide when and where and how it will be? No. My best advantage will be to surprise him. He won’t be expecting me to make the first move.”
That's because he thinks you have half a brain, Raven.” I scowled at her. “You can’t beat him.” She stated it flatly, dropped it as if it were a proven feet, with no room for doubt. “You know it, I certainly know it, having faced the man in battle myself, and Nathanial Dearborne knows it. You won’t stand a chance.”
“You told me I was as good as you now.”
“I lied.”
I blew a sigh and turned away.
“Let me do it, Raven,” she said.
I stiffened and stopped in my tracks. “You didn’t lie,” I said very slowly. “I am as good as you. You’re trying to protect me.”
“Duncan can’t blame you if I’m the one who does it.”
I went to her, took her hands in mine firmly, and made my gaze as penetrating as I could. “I won’t let y
ou fight him for me, Arianna. You beat him once, yes, but that was centuries ago. There’s no way to be certain you could do it again. He’s had time to improve.”
“So have I,” she said.
“And so have I. The difference is, this is my battle, not yours, Arianna.”
She averted her eyes, but they slid back to mine. She understood, I knew she did. Didn’t want to accept it, but she would. I knew her well enough to know that.
“If you insist on fighting him yourself, Raven, then please, please wait. Put it off, just for a little while.”
“Why?” My suspicion had to come through in my voice.
“Not to give me a chance to do it for you, love. But because there might still be a way out of it. If there is, you should take it, because if you fight him, you’ll die.”
“He’s going to force me to face him sooner or later, Arianna.”
“If you die Duncan will be next. You said it yourself.”
I couldn’t reply to that. She was right, and there was nothing else for me to say. “So I put it off, if I can. But what if there is no way out of this? How is delaying it going to help matters then?”
“The delay will give us time, Raven. Time to find out exactly what his plans are, maybe what his strengths and weaknesses are, as well. And knowledge is power.”
I nodded hesitantly, but even so I couldn’t deny the relief I felt in knowing I wouldn’t have to face Nathanial right away. Unless he attacked me.
“You’ll have to avoid him. And in the meantime, you can work on making Duncan see him for what he really is. So if you do manage to survive the battle, he won’t hold it against you.”
Eternal Love: The Immortal Witch Series Page 22
