Love Potions

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “Ok,” she whispered. “I’ll marry you.”

  “Sorry, love, but I didn’t propose to ya.” Erik chuckled as she lightly smacked him on the chest. “But I will gladly help ya take a shower.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I can’t believe your fiancé’s brother evicted me,” Charlotte said, staring at the fresh paint on the door frame. Lydia had found the color in the basement and painted over the area where Brad’s blood had splattered. The cleanup crew did a good job, but it just made her feel better to erase him from her house completely.

  “He probably didn’t know you were the tenant.” Lydia hated the lie. She stood to wash out the paintbrush in the sink. “And I for one am very happy to have you here. I don’t want to be alone right now, so really you’re doing me a favor.”

  A car sounded outside, and she hurried to the window to look for Erik. She knew a proposal was coming, she just didn’t know when or how. At least, she hoped a proposal was coming. It was only a truck passing and she sighed, going back to the sink.

  “It’s the principle of the thing,” Charlotte said. She stuck a label on a bottle and moved it over to the side.

  With everything that had happened they were backlogged on orders. The smell of lavender came from the stove. They’d been making batches of lotion since they arrived back at the house early that morning. The place reeked like a perfumery.

  “Niall evicted me while I was sick in the hospital, poisoned by your stalker,” Charlotte continued. “What kind of asshat does that? And then he mutters a half-ass, drunken apology to me right after the stalker tried to kill you. I didn’t see Niall yesterday. I hope that means he’s gone for good.”

  “I’m glad to see some of your fighting spirit is coming back,” Lydia said, smiling. This sounded more like the old Charlotte. Margareta had been right. Time had done wonders. Ok, so it had only been a little over a day since Brad’s attack, but still, wonders.

  “Like a bad mushroom trip is going to slow me down for long,” she said. “It’s still messing with me. I thought I saw a ghost last night, but I was half-asleep so it was no big deal.”

  Lydia stopped washing and set the brush on an old towel she’d laid out on the counter. This might be the perfect time to ease Charlotte into some of the truth. “Well…”

  “Well?”

  “You remember the Gramma Annabelle thing, right? We didn’t really get a chance to talk about it.” Lydia glanced around the room. She saw the ghost appear in the living room out of Charlotte’s eye line. Annabelle nodded eagerly. “When you left my house, you were going to get a spirit board.”

  “No way! I thought I hallucinated that part. Have you seen her? Did she try to communicate?”

  Lydia nodded. “Yeah, she’s appeared a few times.”

  “Gramma Annabelle, if you’re here, make this bottle move,” Charlotte placed one of the labeled bottles away from the others and stared at it.

  Annabelle floated into the kitchen and placed her hand over the bottle, letting the solid object sink through her transparent fingers as she held her hand flat over the table. Charlotte gave a little scream and shot out of her chair.

  “Not as easy as it looks, dear,” Annabelle stated. She pushed her hand through the table and then stood. “It’s all I can do to not sink through the floorboards.”

  From her place against the wall, Charlotte stared at the ghost. “It’s talking. Please tell me you hear it talking, Lydia.”

  “You’re not crazy. Gramma is here.” Lydia frowned at her grandmother. “You could have been a little more subtle.”

  “It can hear you,” Annabelle said. “You want to touch me?”

  Charlotte nodded and stepped hesitantly closer to the ghost. She reached her hand out to poke Annabelle’s arm. “You’re freezing.”

  “You look like hell,” Annabelle answered.

  “I was dosed with magic mushrooms and the doctors think I may be crazy now.” Charlotte stepped a little closer to better swipe her fingers through the spirit. “It’s possible I’m hallucinating you.”

  Lydia watched Charlotte’s face only relaxing when her friend didn’t panic or pass out. A distant sound caught her attention and she tiled her head. “Shh, do you hear that?”

  The ghost turned to look at her.

  “Bagpipes?” Charlotte guessed, not taking her eyes off Annabelle. She poked her finger at her again.

  Lydia gave a little jump of excitement and smoothed down her hair. “How do I look?”

  “Good,” Charlotte and Annabelle said in unison.

  “What’s with her?” Annabelle asked.

  “Proposal time,” Charlotte answered.

  “Stop staring at me. It’s a little creepy.” Annabelle mimicked Charlotte and poked at the woman a few times.

  “I can’t,” Charlotte said, poking the ghost again.

  Lydia hurried to the kitchen door and out onto her lawn, unable to contain her excitement. She looked down the hill to where the sound came from. A group of men in kilts turned the corner followed soon after by a crowd of townsfolk. The musicians stepped in time to the music, as they played their bagpipes. Two horses flanked each side of them carrying flags with the MacGregor family crest on them. In the front was Erik, leading the way. With him were his brothers, father, and Rory. There were also a few men she didn’t know but who had the MacGregor look about them. Malina followed in her tartan gown pushing a wheelchair. The old lady in the chair looked like an older, withered version of Margareta. Wrinkled skin clung to her bony frame. An out of breath English bulldog dressed in tartan plaids followed Malina on a leash. Behind her a group of women in various forms of tartan gowns followed.

  Mrs. Callister scribbled notes furiously on her notepad as she half-ran, half-walked to stay in front of the others. Chef Alana walked with Jane Turner. She gave a small wave when she saw Lydia. Joe and Mr. Baker from the post office stood next to a group of men from the Eternal Order of the Elk men’s club. They were a harmless group that sat around smoking and playing cards all night away from their wives. Several people had their cell phones out recording the Scotsmen. Others flashed pictures.

  Lydia smiled at Erik as he stopped the procession in front of her. He dropped the blowpipe from his mouth and placed the instrument on the old lady’s lap. “Thanks, Ma.”

  “Margareta?” Lydia whispered when Erik neared her.

  “The spell took a lot out of her. She’ll be fine, and more importantly, you’ll be fine,” he whispered back. The bagpipe music stopped. Then louder, as he took her hands in his, he said, “Lydia Barratt, táim i ngrá leat.”

  He paused and a few of the MacGregor women vocalized, “Ahh.”

  Erik kneeled on one knee. He lifted two fingers in front of his heart where the crowd couldn’t see them. A thin smoke formed before materializing a diamond ring with a heart-shaped stone. “Say ya will marry me, lass.”

  Lydia was aware of the eyes on her, but she didn’t care. She only saw Erik. A tear slipped over her cheek, and she felt the nervous excitement welling inside her chest. She nodded. “Yes.”

  He surged to his feet and pulled her into his arms. Kissing her soundly, he turned her to the side so she lost balance and fell into his arms. Her foot kicked up to the side to help counterweight her upper body. The crowd cheered. Erik righted her.

  “Are ya feeling giddy now, love?” he asked, stroking his thumb along her temple and cheek.

  “A bouquet of flowers would have done nicely,” she said. “You didn’t have to pied piper the whole town.”

  “Och, no, lass, only a grand gesture will do for my heart.” He slid the ring onto her finger. “I want everyone to know you’re Erik MacGregor’s woman. Besides, it was only a little harmless spell to get them to follow. The other option was for me to sing.” He glanced behind him. “I still can if ya wish.” He opened his mouth wide.

  “No, don’t.” She laughed, grabbing his face and kissing him. “There’s no need for threats. I already said yes.”


  The light sound of music caught her attention, and she looked at Margareta in the wheelchair. Next to her a horse stood. Lydia leaned in to Erik. “Is that horse humming?”

  Erik looked at his mother and then the humming animal. “Ma.”

  Margareta shrugged and stroked the animal’s side with a shaking hand. It stopped.

  “Come on, lads, drinks on me!” Angus shouted. Cheers answered his cry. The Eternal Order of the Elk seemed particularly excited by this turn of events. Suddenly, the bagpipes started up again as Angus led the people back down the hill.

  “Come on then, Traitor!” A Scottish accent yelled from within the group of musicians. The bulldog pulled at his leash and hurried after his master. Malina handed her mother’s chair off to a tartan covered woman and jogged after the men.

  “You, Mr. MacGregor, are going to be handful,” Lydia said. Then, sighing as she watched the departing crowd, she added, “And so is your family.”

  “I think ya can handle us, lass.” He lifted her into his arms. “Now, how about ya finally invite me into our home? If I’m going to live here, ya might as well let me inside.”

  “I don’t know. You’re pretty entertaining when I don’t let you in.” Lydia laughed. Happiness bubbled over inside her.

  “Are they gone?” the woman holding the wheelchair asked.

  “Aye, Aunt Cait, it’s safe,” Erik said. “This house is protected. The townsfolk won’t see anything magickal.”

  Cait pulled a square mirror out of the back of the wheelchair and lifted it toward one of the other women to take. “Hold the end, lad. We need to get your ma home to rest.”

  Erik obeyed, pulling at the mirror. It stretched wider and taller. Then when it was full length, Cait pushed the wheelchair toward it.

  “Nice to meet ya, lass, welcome to the family,” Cait said before wheeling Margareta into the mirror. She disappeared into the waving reflective surface.

  Lydia gasped and looked around. Charlotte peeked out of the doorway. She pointed weakly behind her. “Um, Lyd, I’m going lay down. I think the mushrooms are acting up again.” She disappeared into the house.

  When the other women went through leaving Erik holding the mirror on her lawn, Lydia reached to touch the surface. Her fingers slipped into the mirror, and she jerked them back.

  “Peek inside,” Erik said. “No one is watching.”

  Lydia glanced to make sure Charlotte had left and then leaned her head toward the mirror and closed her eyes. She felt warmth as she passed through the glass and then opened her eyes to look. Her head was in Erik’s bedroom at the mansion. She saw Cait’s back as she pushed Margareta out of Erik’s room. Lydia pulled out of the mirror.

  “It’s a compromise,” Erik said. “Now we live in both places. If anything happens, we can be in the mansion in two steps.” He pushed the mirror so that it became smaller and easier to carry. “Is that all right, love? The portal will make my family happy, and this way we have their protection at all times. Don’t worry, we’ll leave our room locked on the other side. No one will be coming over uninvited.”

  “It’s actually kind of perfect,” Lydia said, chuckling. “With us, Charlotte and my grandmother’s ghost flitting around, the Victorian might feel a little crowded. This will give us some privacy. Though, maybe not so much magick around Charlotte right now. She’s been through enough and I just reintroduced her to my grandmother’s ghost.”

  “Aye, sorry about that,” he murmured. He held the mirror with one hand and pulled her close with the other. “She looks better though. Euann wants me to put in a good word for him with Charlotte.”

  “So naturally you’ll sabotage him?” Lydia wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close.

  “Oh, aye, definitely. I still owe him for a few things he did to me back in the seventeen-hundreds.” He took her offered lips and kissed her. “See, lass, ya understand us MacGregors perfectly.”

  “Seventeen-hundreds,” she whispered. No matter how she tried to ignore that little fact, it kept coming back to trouble her.

  “Aye, he got me drunk and I ended up conscripted into a navy,” Erik chuckled. Then, seeing her expression, he said, “Ah, love, don’t worry. It’s just pranks between brothers. I’m unharmed, and Euann didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  “Have you been married before?” Lydia pushed a strand of his hair out of his face to study his eyes.

  “No, lass, ya will be my first and only.” He returned the gesture, brushing the hair out of her face.

  “Only? But I’m not a warlock. I’m human. I’m not like you, Erik. I’ll grow old and die. I’m not magickal.” Inside she shook with emotions. Trying to lighten what she was saying with a joke, she said, “You know, unless I come back to haunt you. I’m sure Gramma Annabelle can tell me how it’s done.”

  “All I have is yours, Lydia.” Erik let the mirror drop on the ground and slipped his arm around her waist. A light breeze swept around them. She shivered, feeling him in the wind. “That includes my immortally and my magick. Aye, death can find us all, but ya will live as I live. My magick will infuse ya and, after time, ya will grow your own power and become immortal as well. Of course, until that time you’ll have to stay close to me.” A seductively playful smile curled his lips. “I’ll need to feed ya my power.” He wagged his brows and pulled her hips flush to his to feel his desire for her. “It’s a way to make sure we’re the real thing. If we part, the process will stop. This is how the non-magick become magick.”

  Lydia felt his magick slipping into her fingers, tingling down her arms. “Are you sure that last part isn’t a line? If we part, the process will stop?”

  “We best not risk it.” He rocked into her. “Though, might I suggest we take the rest of this conversation up to our room, and through the mirror? Ya can rearrange anything ya like, love, but maybe it’s best not to scare Charlotte.”

  “I suppose it’s time you came inside, Mr. MacGregor,” Lydia whispered, leaning her mouth close to his ear, “to give me my magickal feeding.”

  “Aye, fíorghrá, whatever ya wish.” He grabbed the mirror and whisked into the home.

  “I love you, too, Erik.” Lydia laughed when he didn’t bother to look around the house he’d been trying so hard to get into but instead hurried her upstairs toward her room. “You crazy warlock, I love you too.”

  Acknowledgments

  Mòran taing! To my wonderful editor, Candace Havens, who nabbed me at a conference and introduced me to the Covet imprint. You are my work doppelganger, no doubt about it. No, Peggy Sue, no!

  It has been a great pleasure working with everyone at Entangled Publishing on this project. Thank you!

  About the Author

  Ever since she can remember, Michelle has had a strange fascination with anything supernatural and sci-fi. After discovering historical romance novels, it was only natural that the supernatural and love/romance elements should someday meet in her wonderland of a brain. She’s glad they did, for their children have been pouring onto the computer screen ever since. She loves to hear from readers. They can contact her through her website, subscribe to her newsletter and follow her Twitter and Facebook!

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