Lydia took a deep breath, so numb she couldn’t move. Her heart beat so fast she was scared it would explode. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Oh, please let this dream end. I can’t do this. I can’t handle a man like Erik MacGregor.”
…
Erik!
Erik tensed, looking around the inside of his new mansion’s foyer. He’d been trying to reason what happened with Lydia when he heard the sound of her voice echoing in his mind. Scanning the darkened corners, he found their empty shadows staring back at him.
The soft cry washed over him again and he licked his lips, tasting the unmistakable flavor of a woman’s desire in his mouth. Even as it made his body jolt with perfect sexual awareness and torture, he couldn’t help the satisfied grin that crossed his features. Lydia was fantasizing about him.
“Soon, leannáin, very soon.”
…
Lydia stared at the mess of lotion that covered her kitchen. It glopped down the walls, over the floor, covering both her and Charlotte. The scent of lilies filled the air, heavy and unmistakable. For a long time, she didn’t move. After the last four days filled with clumsy accidents, she was hardly surprised the thing exploded.
“What just happened?” Charlotte asked, her eyes wide. “How does a vat of lotion just blow up like that?”
“I…” Lydia shivered. Her grandmother’s favorite scent was lilies.
“Gramma Annabelle?” Charlotte asked, as if reading her mind. She took a deep breath before covering her mouth and coughing.
“No, there has to be a reasonable explanation for this.” Lydia flung her hands, trying to shake off some of the mess. Splats of lotion rained onto the floor around her. “Something logical. Something that is not my dead grandmother sending messages from beyond the grave.”
“But she always said she’d come back if you needed her,” Charlotte insisted. Lydia knew Charlotte had always been a little more open to the possibilities Annabelle had talked about. “And, well, you’ve been moping about the house for days. Is something going on that you aren’t telling me about?”
“No, there’s nothing,” Lydia assured her. “I’m just overworked.”
“Feels like a warning from Gramma to me,” Charlotte said under her breath. “We didn’t put lily oil in the batch. It should smell like mint.”
“I was distracted. I could have grabbed the wrong scent.” Lydia doubted it, but the denial made her feel better.
“Uh-huh.” Charlotte picked up the mint oil and wiggled the nearly empty bottle, drawling sarcastically, “I’m sure that’s it.”
Just as Lydia was about to retort with another logical excuse, a knock sounded on the screen door. Both women jumped and yelped in surprise, turning to see who it was. Lydia’s heart flip-flopped in her chest. Erik eyed them, smiling, his brow quirked in amusement. He looked extraordinarily striking in his button down black shirt and faded blue jeans. The shirttails hung loose about his hips blowing in the wind, causing her gaze to drift downward.
“Afternoon, ladies. I’m not interrupting, am I?” His words caused her gaze to dart back to his face. Why was it she ogled him like some depraved addict whenever he was near? She purposefully looked away.
Lydia didn’t meet Charlotte’s eyes. She hadn’t told her friend what had happened that day in the mansion’s gardens. How could she? In fact, she’d not seen Erik since it happened either. Her face heated with embarrassment. Weakly, she waved him in. Erik acted like he was about to move and then paused, glancing around the door frame.
“Ya going to invite me in, love?” he asked.
Lydia frowned. Isn’t that what she just did with the universal hand gesture of “come on in”? Instead of repeating the offer, she said, “It’s a little messy in here right now—not really a good time.”
Charlotte made a weak noise, and Lydia could practically feel her friend’s determined look. Charlotte had spent every second since she’d met Erik telling Lydia how perfect it would be if they got together. The handsome Scotsman neighbor and the local business lady, sharing the same hill overlooking town, romancing it up in the very mansion that had captured Lydia’s girlhood fantasies.
If Charlotte only knew the half of it.
Oh, please, make him go away. This is too embarrassing.
“All right.” Erik lifted a bouquet of lavender. “I found a bunch of this on the property and thought ya may be able to use it.”
My lavender!
Lydia nodded weakly. He’d found her herb garden. She knew it might happen, but she’d hoped to be able to harvest and transplant the herbs to her own property before they saw it. It was just that the light and soil was so much better on his land than on hers. She’d already snuck onto his property the night before and had taken some of it back to her house. Since he’d bought the land, it was possible she’d have to buy her entire stock back from him now that he knew it was there. Or, maybe even have to pay to rent the small garden spot.
It was a sweet gesture, and Lydia could tell he was making an effort to be nice. She tried to smile, but it was hard with all the emotions rushing inside her. His expression seemed so open and kind, and also knee-weakeningly sexy. It was that last part that trapped her voice in her throat.
When she didn’t take the flowers, Erik hooked the bouquet into the handle of the screen door.
Charlotte made a louder noise and motioned at the door.
“Ah, thanks,” Lydia said. “That’s very kind of you.”
“There’s nothing kind about it,” he answered. “I’m lonely and it’s a bribe to get ya to go out with me tonight.”
Lydia’s face colored. So what? He doesn’t bother trying to talk to her for four days after what happened and now suddenly he wants a date? Sure, she knew what he wanted from her. He didn’t want a date. He wanted them to finish what they’d started.
Could she really blame him for thinking she was a slut?
Could he really blame her for how pissed his assumption was making her?
“What I mean is, I’m new in town,” he amended a little inelegantly.
Was he nervous? Maybe he wasn’t just looking for a good time, but an honest date. Still, how could a man that looked like he did be nervous asking a woman out—especially a woman doused in lotion and not looking her exact best?
“Say you’ll go out with me,” he insisted. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Please?”
“No, thank you, Mr. MacGregor. I don’t date.” Lydia felt like a fool. It was hard to look dignified when lotion stuck her shirt to her chest and plastered her hair to the side of her face. Thankfully, she wore a bra this time. That was something at least. Glancing down, she saw it didn’t matter. Her shirt and bra were thin and she swore she saw the darker outlines of her nipples through the lotion-soaked material. She made a move to pull some towels from a drawer, dismissing him.
“She’s free at eight,” Charlotte said loudly.
“Great, I’ll pick ya up at eight,” Erik announced. “And we’ll not call it a date.”
Lydia gasped, spinning on her heels to face him. He was gone.
“So, nothing happened the other day, eh?” Charlotte chuckled.
“There’s your warning from Gramma,” Lydia said. “She’s telling me to stay away.”
“Annabelle would never tell you to stay away from a sexy piece of manmeat. She probably wanted to give you that wet T-shirt look before he got here.” Charlotte laughed harder as Lydia pressed a towel to her chest. “So want to tell me the truth this time about what happened between you two on the garden walk? Or do I need to run after Mr. MacGregor and hear it from him?”
“No,” Lydia grumbled, throwing a towel at her friend’s head. She experienced a moment of satisfaction as it hit Charlotte’s face. “I’ll tell you, but I don’t want to. I only come out looking bad.”
…
“Mm, didn’t go so well, eh?”
Erik glared at Euann, but his brother merely smirked. Women seemed to think Euann looked like a thi
rty year old Latin movie star. Erik didn’t see it. For one thing, he was a Scotsman—though how Euann could call himself part of the MacGregor clan and hate golf was beyond all of them. For another, he was just Euann—the pesky second oldest son of Angus and Margareta MacGregor and a pain in his older brother’s ass.
“Ya do not have to look so smug,” Erik grumbled. “I’m picking her up at eight.”
Euann stretched on the dusty chair they’d uncovered in the downstairs library, his grin widening. Erik wondered why Euann hadn’t started cleaning yet. “Would that be at sword point, brother? She didn’t sound too willing to me.”
“Ya were listening?” Erik growled. Euann’s snicker of amusement was answer enough. “Where is it?”
Euann motioned to his neck. Erik frowned and searched under his collar, coming out with a small listening device no bigger than a ladybug. He flicked it at Euann, who jumped up, caught it and cradled it in his hand.
“Eh, now, that little thing cost me a pretty penny,” Euann protested.
“Keep it off me, or else it’ll be a squished penny, ya hear me?”
Euann grumbled, not looking at all sorry as he studied his little gadget. “Would ya mind giving me the one in your hair as well, then? I do not want anything to happen to it.”
Erik grimaced and ran his fingers through his hair, felt a tiny snag and yanked it out, taking a few strands with it. He flung it at Euann with a look of warning.
“Ah, I couldn’t help it. Ya have been languishing about this place ever since I got here. I wanted to know what she was like, that’s all.”
“I have not been languishing,” Erik denied. “My energies have been drained.”
“Masturbating too much will do that.” Euann nodded, trying to act serious but unable to hide his grin.
“I have not been masturbating,” Erik denied with a growl.
Euann’s grin widened, and he arched a disbelieving brow.
“Too much,” Erik corrected, making his statement believable. “Ah, shut your mouth, little brother. Ya want to know what has happened? Lydia’s my inthrall.”
“No,” Euann gasped, sitting forward. The smirk finally faded from his expression.
“Oh, aye.”
“No.”
“Aye, she is.”
“Ya do not say!”
“Euann!”
“Sorry.” Euann gave a sheepishly apologetic shrug. “Did she have to touch ya for a long time? Does she know? What’s it feel like? Being sucked of energy like that?”
Sucked?
Remembering her sweet lips, so close to wrapping around him, Erik wanted to groan.
“Ach.” Erik waved his hand in dismissal. Absently, he drew his finger over the air, swirling up dust from the fireplace mantle and tossing it aside. It happened to land on his brother’s shoes. Euann jerked, grumbling and cursing as he leaned over to dust them off. With his brother sufficiently distracted for the moment, Erik took a deep breath and shut his eyes. Every fiber of his being had been on edge for days, causing an ache to settle in his joints only to be outdone by the constant nagging of his lust.
As his inthrall, Lydia was susceptible to Erik’s powers to the point she would be able to absorb them freely if he wasn’t on his guard. Just one touch and she could leech his life force and leave him for dead. Usually it had to be just the right combination of warlock and human for the bond to work. Such a woman was rare, and she wouldn’t be susceptible to just any warlock, though she would normally be quite sensitive and perceptive to the other warlocks’ feelings.
“She have any of those dreams Uncle Raibeart goes on about?” Euann waggled his brows with meaning, finally giving up on dusting his shoes manually. He swiped his hand, whisking the dust aside with magick.
Erik’s expression must have answered for him because Euann laughed. Lydia had been fantasizing about him to the point she nearly drove him insane with it. It had taken four days for his energy to weaken inside her enough that he could go and visit her without fear she would throw him across the town in a gust of wind, and thus cause a scene. Although, getting run out of town after one day would be a new MacGregor record.
“I don’t know whether to feel pity or jealousy,” Euann admitted. “She’ll not use it against ya, will she?”
“My first instinct said no. But when I went to her house, it was protected by magick. I couldn’t go in without verbal invitation. She didn’t give me one.”
“She practices?” Euann questioned, surprised. Not many humans practiced the old craft anymore, at least not in any way that actually worked.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Erik responded. “If she’s an inthrall, it’s possible she cast a spell to become one. She’s not of natural magick like us, but some things can be learned. There could be a reason we’ve felt the pull to stay here.”
“Be careful around her until we discover what she is about,” Euann warned. “Ya want me to go check it out?”
“No.” Erik experienced an almost selfishly dark urge inside himself. Lydia was his, and he didn’t want his brother anywhere near her. What if it was a spell? What if she had the same effect on Euann? Erik didn’t want to fight his brother over a woman. Under most circumstances, he wouldn’t. But with Lydia, he felt an animalistic possessiveness. “I plan on doing another binding spell to keep my powers veiled.”
Euann nodded, giving him a strange look. “Fine. But I’ll leave myself open to ya tonight. If ya have need of me, I’ll feel it.”
“Aye, but no more of your gadgets,” he warned.
“Och, ya are no fun,” Euann pouted. Then, giving his brother a careless grin, he added, “I’ll just have to entertain myself tonight by listening to the tapes I made of your brilliant performance. Did ya know I can email the audio file to the rest of the family?” Thickening his burr, he poked fun of Erik’s earlier blunderings with Lydia, “It’s a bribe to get ya to go out with me tonight, lassie. No? Ya don’t want to? Then, I’ll have to make ya with my—”
Erik needed no more excuse. He lunged for his brother, fist pulled back to give him the fight he’d been searching for.
…
This is crazy.
Lydia studied her reflection in the mirror as Charlotte watched. How in the world did she let her friend talk her into going on this non-date date with Erik, let alone putting on a dress for it?
“You are not going to change,” Charlotte said from the bed, as if reading Lydia’s mind.
Lydia’s frowned deepened. The silk dress was simple, yet elegant. Small rhinestones accented the straps and a long sash tied around the waist, knotting in the front. The low bodice was tight with a looser skirt flowing out from the high V shaped waistline.
Lydia eyed the short black skirt before looking at her legs. They were bare. She didn’t have pantyhose to put on. The night was warm, so maybe it was better if she didn’t wear any. “I don’t think this is the impression I want to make. I should wear a giant muumuu and call it good.”
“Why?” Charlotte grimaced.
“Because, I thought we agreed that the idea was to show him I wasn’t a whore. Under the circumstances, I’d say this dress screams hooker.”
“Whatever.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “At the very most it says high-class call girl. Be sure you don’t undercharge and get the cash up front.”
“Ha, ha,” Lydia responded, her tone dry, “very funny.”
“So you almost gave the guy head,” Charlotte said, as if it were no big deal. “You’re an adult. He’s an adult—”
“You’re a—”
“Ah! No name-calling.” Charlotte laughed, hugging a lacy pillow to her stomach. “Don’t blame me because you can’t keep your tongue in your mouth.”
“I’m going to change,” Lydia announced, heading for the closet.
Charlotte sprang to her feet and blocked the door. Spreading her arms wide, she said, “No, you’re not.”
“Uh, yeah, I am.”
“No,” Charlotte orde
red, her voice stern. “You’re not. In fact, you’re going to put on Gramma Annabelle’s pearls for good luck, you’re going to let me curl your hair while you put on makeup, and you’re going to go out with an incredibly delicious Scotsman to have a wonderfully good time tonight.”
“Char,” Lydia whined.
“Lyd,” her friend mimicked her.
“Fine.” Lydia backed away from the closet door and walked to the bathroom to get her makeup bag. It wasn’t fair to get irritated with Charlotte, but the truth was she was nervous. Inside, she shook with a myriad of emotions—fear, desire, anticipation.
Did she mention the fear?
“Don’t be like that.” Charlotte followed right behind her. “Really, it’s no big deal. Sure, it was a little…”
“Whorish? Slutty? Embarrassing?” Lydia offered, her cheeks a bright red as she looked in the bathroom mirror. Her grandmother would’ve been horrified to see how skinny she was. She was just too busy with the business that she sometimes forgot to eat. And now that she really looked, her skin was pale, maybe too pale.
“I was going to say fast.” Charlotte sighed, coming to her side. “You said the first moment he touched you, you felt him all the way to your toes. Maybe it’s love at—” Lydia shot her friend a hard look in the mirror, and Charlotte amended, “Maybe it’s like at first sight.”
“Do you think?” Lydia couldn’t help the small hope Charlotte’s words gave her. Maybe her friend was right. Maybe Erik really did want to take her on a date and get to know her. Wasn’t sexual chemistry something people wanted in a relationship? Just because she’d never felt desire so strongly didn’t mean it wasn’t normal. Maybe tonight he didn’t expect her to have sex with him at all.
Lydia frowned. And maybe ghosts and leprechauns really did exist.
Chapter Four
Erik grinned, revving the engine of his 1968 Mustang, as he backed away from the mansion. Evening shaded the surrounding trees, casting shadows over his path. Eight o’clock hadn’t come fast enough. After renewing the protective veil over his powers, he’d re-bound the beast inside him to keep it at bay. Sure, in many ways the precautions were overkill, but he decided he couldn’t be too careful where Lydia was concerned. A very animalistic part of him determined that if she were to try and make love to him again, they would not be stopped by her use of his powers.
Love Potions Page 5
