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Love Potions

Page 16

by Michelle M. Pillow


  “Bumbling around after her for a year?” Erik supplied with an insolent snicker, cutting off his mother’s unsolicited dating advice.

  “I heard Euann’s recording. Ya actually told her ya weren’t going to call your first date a date? That is not stating your intentions. And ya bribed her?” His mother laughed harder. “And I thought ya were the charming one. Now Niall, I can see him clubbing a woman over the head. Euann would study her to death from afar. Iain, well, I’m not sure he’ll ever marry. But, ya? Erik, ya can do better.”

  “And Malina?”

  “Your sister is not ready for the serious commitment of marriage.” The words were final and very serious.

  Erik stood and swayed. Maybe he was drunker than he’d first thought.

  “Or, we can always chase her away from here for the good of the clan.” She moved to leave. “Ya know our laws. No outsiders can know our secrets. It risks too much and too many.”

  …

  “Warlocks, as I live and breathe.” Annabelle declared as Lydia looked out the window. “Well, warlocks anyway. I thought they died out centuries ago.”

  Lydia shivered at the ghost’s nearness, not used to the cold chill her grandmother radiated. Erik stayed true to his word, bringing all the MacGregor males down with him to clean up her yard. Iain pulled brand new chainsaws out of the back of a truck and laid them in a row on the ground as Euann carried a gas can to each and began filling them.

  “That’s not very magickal of them,” her gramma said in disappointment.

  “I think there have been enough supernatural things happening around here.” Lydia’s eyes strayed to Erik. His hair was wet and pushed back from his face. He smiled toward the house, finding her spying at them through the window. Her hand trembled, but there was no curtain to hide behind.

  “You should put this in the grimmie.”

  Lydia arched a brow? “The grimmie?”

  “My great-grandmothers grimoire.” Annabelle frowned. The sound of chainsaws started up outside, forcing her to raise her voice, “Oh, that’s right. I didn’t give it to you.”

  “We have a family grimoire?” Why wasn’t Lydia surprised?

  “Where do you think I found all the protection spells? You didn’t think I made them up, did you?” Annabelle laughed and her figure became more transparent before disappearing. Lydia slowly crept to look in the living room. It was empty. That was going to take some getting used to.

  Living with a ghost inside. Trapped by warlocks outside. Could life get any stranger? Though there was comfort in hearing her grandmother’s voice.

  Lydia crossed to the window and again looked for Erik. The men were busy slicing up a giant tree. Euann paused about half way through his cut, glanced around and then pointed his finger at the log, splitting it the rest of the way. Iain slugged him in the shoulder and then pointed for him to get back to work. There was a slight argument before Erik smacked them both on the backs of their heads.

  He turned instantly to look at her window as he withdrew his hands, as if to judge what she would think of such a thing. Then, slowly, he made his way toward the kitchen. Lydia hurried to the counter and began pulling out glasses and a plastic pitcher to look like she’d been busy doing anything other than staring at him. Her good pitcher had flown off the countertop during the storm and now resided in the trash. A knock sounded, and she nearly jumped out of her skin though she’d known it had been coming.

  Pasting a pleasant smile on her face she tried to force her heart to slow. It did little good. She took a deep breath, fussed with her hair, glanced at her reflection in the dented toaster and tapped at her under-eye makeup though it did little good in hiding her tired appearance.

  “I was just making you lemonade,” she said as she opened the door. Her smile fell and she gave a slight gasp. It wasn’t Erik.

  Brad grinned at her. “Well, don’t mind if I do.” He used the vague offer as an excuse to step inside her home. She glanced for Joe, but the man wasn’t with him.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m officially closed until further notice. A lot of my stock was damaged in the storm.” She tried to smile, reminding herself that though this man gave her the chills he was a customer and lived in the same town. When she glanced out the door she saw Erik frowning slightly in their direction. She let it hang open, hoping Brad would take the hint and leave.

  “Oh, pity, my wife liked that stuff you sent for her.” Brad smiled. “Not the vanilla, but the other stuff. The bottle of lotion that you wear.”

  For some awful un-nameable reason she received a flash of him screwing his wife while the woman wore the lotion. He grunted out Lydia’s name. Lydia gagged and tried to cover it with a cough.

  “Is something wrong?” Brad asked.

  Lydia cleared her throat and took a conscious step away from him. “No. It’s just been a very long couple of days.”

  “Ah, the storms,” he glanced outside. “I came to help you clean up but I see the cross dressers beat me to it.”

  It was obvious he meant the slight to be charming and funny, but it only caused Lydia to frown. Only Niall wore a kilt today. The rest were in jeans. “Thank you for checking on me. I’ll be sure to send your wife a flyer when I have my stock rebuilt.”

  Brad looked around. “I can help you in here.” He moved past her to go the living room and kicked at one of the stray lotion bottles she’d yet to pick up. It rolled under the couch. He glanced around at the rehung curtains before making a move to go to the stairs.

  “No, thank you,” Lydia said, raising her arm to herd him back toward the kitchen door.

  “Hey, Lyd, ya in there?”

  “One moment,” she called, giving Brad an expectant look. He again glanced around, as if considering his options before finally giving up and going back to the kitchen. She didn’t stop, forcing Brad to come outside with her. Unable to help it, she smiled at Erik. “Hi. I was just about to bring you guys some drinks.”

  Erik stood, arms crossed as he eyed the smaller man. He didn’t speak. For a moment, Brad stared back, as if he didn’t plan on leaving.

  Lydia turned to Brad, faked a pleasant look and said, “Thanks for checking in, Brad. I’ll be sure to mail that flyer.”

  “Hm.” Brad nodded. He reluctantly left.

  They didn’t speak as they watched him near the end of the drive. Lydia took a deep breath and sighed. “Thank you.”

  “What did he want?” Erik asked, still watching the man’s back.

  Was Erik jealous? A small thrill erupted inside her even as the very idea of anything happening with Brad was ridiculous. “General lechery and creepiness.”

  “Did he try to…?” Erik stiffened and began to turn as if he’d go after the man.

  “No, wait,” Lydia gave a small surprised laugh at the very alpha prince charming move. She reached to touch his arm, stopping him. “He’s just a creepy customer. Nothing happened.”

  “Oh.” Erik relaxed some. “I just wanted to tell ya we should have this done by the end of the day.” He looked down at her hand on him.

  A warm tingling erupted beneath her fingers, and she quickly pulled her hand away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take more power from you.” She shook her fingers, but the heat of his body still worked its way up her arm. Once it started, there was no stopping the sensations.

  “I thought about what ya said, and I have an answer.” Erik cleared his throat and glanced back at his family. Iain and Euann quickly turned and pretended they’d been working, not watching. With a heavy sigh, Erik began scratching through his hair and feeling around his T-shirt. With a tiny growl, he pinched a small black object out of his hair. Lydia thought it might have been a bug, but he turned, lifted his arm to his brothers and then squished whatever it was.

  “No, don’t!” Euann yelled, almost desperate. Rory grabbed his shirt and gestured that he should keep sawing.

  “As I was saying, love, I thought about what ya said and my answer is no.”

  “No?” Lydia r
epeated. She furrowed her brow. “No, what? I didn’t ask anything.”

  “Ya told me we could avoid each other and not be together. The answer is no. I’m going to woo ya, lass.”

  “Woo me?” Lydia started to chuckle, but the man looked so sincere she didn’t dare. Instead, she stared at his handsome face, a little shocked.

  “Aye. I’m making my intentions known.”

  “What about what I want?” she asked. “No offense, but I noticed things tend to get crazy with your family around.”

  “No offense taken. You’re right.” Erik’s smile stayed intact. “We’re a wild bunch.”

  “I like my life calm.” Lydia crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Give us a chance, love, the clan will grow on ya. Promise.”

  “Erik, I don’t…”

  “All I’m asking for is a chance. If ya tell me that ya honestly don’t feel there is anything worth exploring between us, I’ll respect your wishes and leave ya be. But if there is even a tiny part of ya that knows want I know, then…” His grin was incorrigible as he let his words taper off.

  She couldn’t keep a straight face. Giving a small laugh, she said. “Fine. Okay. You can woo me.”

  “We’re going to finish cleaning this up. Then I’ll be back tonight to woo ya.” He leaned forward, his tone dropping by small degrees to the liquid warm sound that melted her insides and made her heart flutter in her chest. “Then, if you’re lucky, I’ll let ya invite me inside to play out those little dreams ya have of me.”

  “If I’m lucky?” She pulled back and arched a brow.

  “Aye, love, I already know how good I am in bed. You’d be lucky indeed to get me between your sheets.” He winked at her to let her know he was teasing and then turned to join his family as they began hauling the tree limbs down the hill to the curb for city pickup.

  “I really hope that doesn’t mean you’re going to sing again,” Lydia said to herself with a small laugh. He turned, his grin still intact. She bit her lip, having not intended the comment to be heard. When he reached his brothers, Euann began gesturing frantically. Erik held up his hand to stop him.

  “Woo me,” Lydia whispered. A small chill worked over her, and she looked at her hand where she’d touched Erik. The breeze picked up ever so slightly, seeming to stir around her feet and caress her skin. She wasn’t sure if she was doing it, or if she was suddenly super sensitive to the movement. Licking her lips, she felt a flush rise over her cheeks. There was something alluring about the man that drew her from that first moment. How did she ever think she could push him away or resist him? Even now, with him working across the lawn, the nerves in her body tingled and pulled in his direction. As the feelings inside her grew stronger he looked at her as if he knew what she was thinking. “God help me for I doubt any woman could resist a MacGregor man bent on seduction.”

  …

  Go ahead and work. Clean up your mess.

  No amount of cleaning could undo what the warlocks had done. So careless they were with magick, so aimlessly destructive and to no grand purpose. They did not deserve their powers. Ah, but their carelessness would serve the shadows well. The protection around the old Victorian had been chipped just enough to slip through. The day kept them back within the trees, but soon, very soon night would come and it would be time to play. The barrier spell was fading, it now had faults, and the enchantment would soon be gone. The inthrall’s days were few.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Where’s Charlotte when I need her?” Lydia whispered, frowning at her reflection. She couldn’t decide if the long white-and-cream-colored dress she wore said casual fun or virginal sacrifice. She’d bought it at a renaissance festival she’d gone to with her grandmother, and then never had the occasion to wear it again. Maybe date night with the sexily confident Erik wasn’t the best time to resurrect what should probably be used only for a Halloween costume. She turned to the mound of dresses on the bed that came before the one she now wore.

  She’d tried calling Charlotte after the phone lines came back on but her friend wouldn’t pick up. It was possible Charlotte had her own storm damage to contend with, or downed phone lines, or simply had crawled into her own bed to sleep. Lydia would make a point of going over there in the morning to check on her. Since her memory of true events had been erased it was highly unlikely Charlotte was in a state of panic.

  A shiver worked over her and she shook off the first reaction of chills to look around the room. “Gramma?”

  There was no answer so she turned her attention back to the pile. Movement appeared out of the corner of her eye and she spun to the side. Nothing was there. Lydia gave a short laugh, trying to dismiss her apprehension as nerves about the upcoming date and her grandmother’s ghostly presence lingering around.

  She leaned over and flipped the pile of dresses to study the first two she’d tried on. To herself, she asked, “Sexy vixen,” she lifted a red and then a black, “or seductively understated?” Then, louder, she asked, “What do you think, Gramma? Should I just wear the Halloween princess gown?”

  She felt a light yank on her hair and dropped both garments. Spinning, she was caught between a startled scream and a scolding. Nothing was there. Her heart beat a little faster.

  “That’s not funny,” she whispered, taking deep breaths.

  The temperature of the room dropped dramatically, so that she could see the pants of air coming from her mouth. Her grandmother’s ghost never made the entire room this cold. Lydia shivered violently, feeling sick to her stomach. Another tug pulled her hair, harder this time. She spun around only to have her hair pulled again from behind. She turned again and again, seeing nothing. She swatted her arms, trying to push back whatever it was, yet her arms fell through air.

  “What do you want?” she yelled.

  A light humming answered, sounding very much like a child singing in play.

  Lydia cried out, “Stop!”

  Instantly, whatever it was obeyed. The temperature rose to normal yet she still shivered.

  Lydia weakly made her way to the stairs, needing to get away from the room. She stumbled down the hall in her haste. Her long skirt tangled around her legs and she pulled it up to take the steps two at a time. The sound of footsteps ran down the upstairs hall. She trembled in fear, turning to look up the stairs. A shadow came forward with no figure attached to it before disappearing back down the hall, taking its footsteps with it.

  Trying to watch where she was going, while keeping an eye on the stairs, she staggered toward the kitchen door. The footsteps came back and skidded to stop at the top of the stairs. A shadowy figure loomed above her. The same voice from before began to sing, louder and clearer, “You can’t hide. You can’t seek. You can’t find the will to speak.”

  A giggle sounded by the couch. Lydia screamed as another shadow appeared in the living room. Then, suddenly, the roots of her hair were pulled from behind. She reached to fight free from her attacker, but there was nothing there. Whatever held her hair was an intangible force she couldn’t escape. It flung her backwards and dragged her across the floor. Her feet kicked violently in an effort to stop the attacker’s progress. Her shoes flung from her feet.

  The force lifted her up, dangling her above the kitchen floor. Her scalp burned from where the full weight of her hanging body pulled at her hair. A loud whirl blew around her as she was rotated through the air. The living room laughter grew louder as new voices joined the first. More footsteps sounded upstairs, as if a child army ran through all the rooms.

  A loud shriek sounded, and she was whipped forward. The force let go and she flew face first into the wall by the outside door. Lydia smacked the side of her face. Dizzy she fell.

  “Run!” her grandmother’s voice ordered.

  Lydia tasted blood in her mouth as she scrambled to her feet. Her grandmother’s spirit hovered over the kitchen next to a dark shadow. Lydia hesitated, not wanting to leave Annabelle, ghost or not. She looked for something to throw at
the shadow, knowing even as she launched the toaster it wouldn’t do any good. Cold air blasted her. The toaster smacked into the far wall.

  “Run!” Gramma Annabelle screeched. A sudden bright light radiated from the spirit, throwing back the shadows. Lydia reached for the door knob. The light didn’t last long. Shadows converged on her grandmother’s ghost. Annabelle commanded hoarsely, “Lydia, run!”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she obeyed. Lydia’s first instinct was to find Erik. She stumbled backwards out of the door and then turned to run up the hill. The long skirt of the dress caught on something and she leaned to pull it free. Her eyes met with a foot standing on the material. Lydia opened her mouth to yell but a hood was thrust over her head. She threw an elbow back, hitting a stomach. A loud grunt sounded and she ran. Just as she managed to grab the bag on her head to pull it off someone tripped her. She fell onto the ground.

  Instantly hands were on her, pinning her legs and arms. Then ropes were wound around the length of her body. She heard tape rip seconds before someone pressed it around her neck to hold the sack in place. She writhed against her captors, trying desperately to be free. She screamed as loud as she could but the sack was dusty and caused her to inhale particles into her lungs. Lydia coughed, losing some of her fight as she struggled to breathe.

  Her captors spoke but the words were muffled as they lifted her off the ground. She tried squirming, but it only caused them to hold her tighter. A hand gripped into her breast, the gesture not feeling completely accidental. Another hand pressed the hood to her mouth, cutting off her air. She stopped fighting and they released the pressure, letting her have whatever dirty air she could find in the bag.

 

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