Kord swiped at the sweat beading his forehead, and waited for his head to clear so he could think and plan his next move. Last time this happened, he’d left, stunned at the abrupt end to his future dreams.
At the market place, by that fountain, he’d told Ilisa, the Goddess of Love, that as a man, he should be the pursuer. Yet, with the last woman whom he claimed to love, at the first obstacle, he had walked away without a fight. No wonder the goddess had laughed at him.
Justin, who’d stayed with him, meowed and rubbed against his shin, resonating with a loud purr before he lay across Kord’s booted feet.
“Yes.” Kord nodded agreement with the cat’s suggestion. “This time, I’m staying.” No more walking away. “Let’s go break the bad news to your mistress.”
He strode into the other room to find Charmaine holding the front door open. “Please, Kord, give it some time and you’ll feel better. I promise.”
He stopped three feet from her. Any closer and he wouldn’t be able to speak rationally. He needed to convince this stubborn woman to relent and let him love her. “I feel fine now. Better than ever, actually.”
“You don’t! You said you hated being in love with that woman. With me. How could that have changed by us breaking that spell?”
“What if you’re right?”
“What do you mean?”
“If the spell is broken why do I still want to do this?” He kissed her again, slow, to show her what she was throwing away. He teased her lips until she invited him in with a gasp and then he dipped in long enough to tantalize before he pulled back. Slow and steady will win this race.
She leaned forward and groaned for more, her hand gripping his tunic.
He hid his triumph and trailed kisses along the underside of her cheeks. Enchanted by a whiff of lush spring garden with an enticing undertone of aroused woman, he chuckled. Love spells sorely underrated the need for this important sense in the war of entanglement. He nipped at her delicate earlobe and whispered, “If breaking this spell means I can love whomever I want, why can’t I love you?”
She suddenly pulled away. Her extended arms said, Stay back, but those sea green eyes definitely murmured, Don’t leave. Then her gaze turned steely.
He recognized that look. He’d worn it when he actively fought the love spell. He sensed what she would ask next and was damned if he would agree.
“Fine, Kord, love me if that’s what you want. But in a month, in a year. Not today. Not now.”
“I’ve already suffered for half a year, and you expect me to bear it even longer? Charmaine, I can see you’re trying to be fair and that’s honorable, but you care for me. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have risked your life to help me.”
“I did it for both of us. My charms haven’t been working these past six months. A result of the backlash from my grandmother’s spell.” There were tears in her eyes, but tears of determination.
He wanted to slam that bloody door shut, but a better idea occurred. “How long?”
“What?”
“If this spell is broken, how long before you will believe my feelings for you are real and not the lingering result of your grandmother’s love spell?”
“I don’t know.”
“One month?”
“More.”
“Two?”
She crossed her arms under her chest and murmured, “Three.”
He nodded and stepped outside.
She followed him, Justin at her heels. “Please understand, Kord, I do this for you. You will thank me one day.”
“I will thank you tonight.”
“What?”
“Well, where did you expect me to wait during those three months?”
“You can’t stay with me.”
“You and your grandmother owe me.”
“But…”
“If this spell does indeed fade, then in three months you can have your freedom. But if, in three months, I feel the same, you will admit you love me too and marry me, and there will be no more arguments.”
He stepped closer, unmindful of witnesses, and kissed her soundly as a precursor of what he planned for tonight.
Laughing, he released her and headed down the street. He had much to do in the next three months. A farm to buy. A house to build. A life to reclaim. A window latch to fix. For the first time in six months, he was happy, at peace, and free to love a woman of his choice.
He wanted to run to the market, jump onto that fountain ledge, and shout for all to hear, I love Charmaine, the charmist from Ponce.
****
Charmaine watched him saunter off in astounded silence.
“Charmaine!”
She turned and found Katie hurrying toward her with her baby. “I’ll start on that counterspell right now,” she told her friend.
“No need.” Katie gave her a fierce hug. “The stream’s back. And flowing like a river. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Laughing, Katie hugged her again before rushing off.
Charmaine watched them leave, a warm feeling sweeping over her. Katie had hugged her, as she used to when they were kids.
Her thoughtful gaze wandered over to the milliner’s. Old Widow Horner had stopped rocking and gaped at Charmaine through her upstairs window. The woman waved Charmaine over to her.
At the welcome gesture, one she’d unconsciously been waiting for, Charmaine hurried across the street.
Justin followed her and rubbed against her legs. She picked him up and squeezed. “We’re going to be okay, Justin.”
“Meow,” he said in protest, fighting to get free.
With a happy laugh, Charmaine released him and he raced toward the butcher’s open door. Tail held up, he politely waited without. Only once he gained a hearty, “Come in, Justin, don’t be a stranger,” did he walk inside.
Watching the cat step in with confidence, reminded Charmaine of Kord. He, too, was certain that when he came knocking at her door tonight, she would invite him in. Like the butcher, Charmaine suspected that she was as susceptible to her debonair caller.
Of course, she easily saw through Kord’s plan. He intended to seduce her every night for the next three months until she relented and fell in love with him. He was wrong there. She didn’t need three months to do that. She had fallen in love with him the moment he put that rolled up flatbread into her hands and insisted she eat.
The truth of that had sunk in when the spell on him broke and rebounded to strike her. Her last thought before she blacked out had been of the overwhelming generosity and kindness of Kord’s gesture and all her resistance against his charms had melted away under the fiery heat of that lighting strike.
She’d asked her grandmother once why, when lust spells were abundantly dispensed, witches rarely cast love spells.
True love must find a woman, her grandmother had said, she can’t go searching after it.
Being young and innocent, Charmaine had then asked, Could it ever find a witch?
Her grandmother had given her a curious look and hadn’t responded. Maybe she had decided at that moment that for witches, as with magic, love needed a nudge.
Before going up Widow Horner’s stairs, Charmaine glanced at the wide blue sky and said with heartfelt gratitude, “Grandmother, thank you for the nudge.”
A word about the author...
Introduced to fantasy books at a young age, Shereen's reality is merely a starting point to other realms. Her world is populated with little people with agendas, elements that talk and spells that rarely work the way they were designed.
Enter her world at your own risk at
www.shereenvedam.com
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The Misspelled Charm Page 5
