She closed her eyes and a scene played out in the darkness behind them.
A richly dressed man, raven haired and brown eyed–her husband Victor–kneeling beside an ornate bed, a woman, Eleanor–herself–lying inside it.
His words as she’d passed out–‘I won’t let you die too soon this time, my Eleanor.’–came back to her. Goosebumps formed on her arms, but she did not open her eyes. She had to know.
The woman’s face was pale and strained, the small hand lying in his trembled.
“Don’t leave me, my love,” he begged. “The mid-wife comes.”
The woman Eleanor gasped as another pain ripped through her.
Brianna saw something was wrong. So wrong.
A maid came hurrying into the room carrying another armful of clean cloths. The ancient woman moved the covering aside. “She still bleeds, my Lord. I can not stop it.”
“And the babe?”
“Your son is fine, my Lord.”
Eleanor’s body shuddered. “Victor,” she whispered. “Our son thrives.”
“As will his mother,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips.
She smiled. “I will always love you. Care for our son.”
“No, Eleanor. No…”
Brianna opened her eyes open, her cheeks were wet with tears. She looked toward the cottage door. “Victor,” she whispered, and knew it was the first life they’d shared together. She stood and walked to a well. Staring down into its black depths, she hugged her stomach. Scenes of their three other lives streaked through her mind. In each he had tried to protect her, and in each she had died–too soon.
A soft whine reached her ears. She held her breath and listened. It came from beneath a bush. Blowing air out softly she moved toward it.
Inside the thick brush’s prickly leaves she saw nothing but shadows. Had she’d imagined the sound? But the whine came again, full of fear. Brianna saw a flash of golden eyes. “Come here. I’m not going to hurt you.” She didn’t relish the thought of sticking her hand beneath the brush. She knew she’d at least get scratched for her efforts and possibly bitten by whatever it was hiding inside.
She sat back on her heels and looked around. “You’ve got to come out.” Her answer was a soft growl. Maybe there was something in the cottage to lure it from the brush?
In a cupboard, she found a wedge of soft white cheese. She broke off a chunk and hurried back to the bush. “Look what I’ve got,” she said, waving the cheese in front of a thorny branch.
She heard another soft whine. “Come on. It’s for you, but you’ve got to come out.”
“Brianna?”
The sharp word made her jump. “Quiet. You’ll scare it,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at Mason.
“Please stand back.”
His shadow fell across her and she looked up. He held an ax.
“Just what do you plan to do with that?”
Mason glared down at her and she heard the tenseness in his voice as he spoke. “Have you forgotten Mirabella’s words?”
“We’re still inside her magic protection.”
A frown creased his forehead. “Katarina has magic also.”
A whine came from beneath the bush. “Listen. It’s some kind of animal. It’s scared, maybe even hurt.”
“And possibly sent here by Katarina. Its claws could be poisoned…”
Brianna waved her hand at him. “Quiet. It’s coming out.”
Mason pushed her to the side and she sprawled full length upon the wet grass. “What the hell?” she sputtered, scrambling onto her knees.
He waved the ax at her in clear warning.
“Wait,” she urged. “If it’s harmless, it’ll cost you nothing but a few minutes. If not….”
A black-tipped snout emerged from the brush. It sniffed the air, and a small, shaggy, gray head appeared. Golden eyes looked from her to Mason, while white-edged ears flicked like twin radars.
“It’s a puppy,” Brianna said.
“A wolf,” Mason said, raising the ax.
She grabbed his arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The pup growled softly, baring its teeth.
“You’re scaring it,” she said.
Mason looked around. “Just where is its mother?”
“Perhaps it’s been killed–with an ax,” she said, her voice cutting with sarcasm. She tossed a piece of the cheese in front of the pup. It looked from her, then to Mason, and then lunged forward and grabbed the cheese.
“It doesn’t look dangerous,” Brianna said. “If you’re afraid something’s wrong, then check it out. You’re a witch too.”
His cheeks flushed. “I can’t.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, you can’t?
“My magic doesn’t work here,” he muttered. “I’m not of this time.”
She tossed the pup another piece of cheese. “I’m not going to stand here and watch you hack it to death.”
He glared at her. “Then go back inside the cottage.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Brianna.” His voice rose.
“What’s going on here?” The words came from behind them and they turned. Mirabella stood there.
Brianna crossed her arms over her breasts. “It’s a wolf pup.”
“It may have been sent by Katarina,” Mason said.
“But he doesn’t know,” Brianna said defensively. “Not for sure.”
Mirabella stretched her arms out toward the pup, palms up. “I don’t sense any taint of Katarina’s magic.”
Mason stared hard at the wolf. “I suppose I could take it deep into the forest…”
“But it’s too young. It will die all by itself,” Brianna said. “Can’t you tell if it has bad magic?”
Mirabella frowned. “I can, but…”
Brianna touched the woman’s arm. “Please.”
Mirabella sighed, then closed her eyes and began to chant. The words were low and melodious, their cadence a soft rising and falling of sound. Mirabella opened her eyes. “There is no magic in the wolf pup.”
Brianna smiled. “Then I can touch it?”
“If she will let you.” Mirabella inclined her head.
“She?”
“It’s a girl. I felt her story as I searched. Gnawer, she is–was–called by her mother. Her mother is dead, her neck snapped by a trap.” The pup stood and walked toward Brianna. “She has decided to claim you as her new pack.”
Brianna dropped to her knees beside the pup and scratched between its ears. “I’ll take care of you, little Gnawer.”
“Child?” Mirabella said. “What about when you return to your time? What of Gnawer then?”
“Can you send her with me?” The words were out before Brianna realized she’d said them.
“I can, but will she be accepted in your town?”
Brianna looked at the pup. Gnawer would pass for a German Shepard, but she wasn’t allowed a dog in her place.
“She could stay with me,” Mason said.
Brianna stared at him. “Thank you, but just until I find a new place to live.“ She pointed. “Gnaw, this is Mason. Mason, Gnaw.”
He held out his hand to the pup. She took two steps and stretched her neck forward to sniff his fingers. She whined and then rolled over and presented her stomach.
“You two are Gnaw’s new parents.” Mirabella motioned toward the cottage door. “Now, may I suggest we return inside?”
“Why are you back?” Mason asked as they walked toward the door.
“The Goddess requires something more from me.” She glanced from Mason to Brianna. “It seems returning was a good thing, bless the Goddess.”
Brianna reached to pet the wolf’s head. “It was for Gnaw.”
“To show caution was justified,” Mirabella said.
At the doorway, Mason stepped to the side and allowed the women to enter first.
Mirabella crossed the room, pried a stone free of the wall, and reached inside. When she pulled h
er hand back she held a small leather bag. She opened the bag, poured three colored stones into her palm, then replaced it and tapped the rock back into place. She turned, saw Brianna’s look, and held them out toward her. “Spell stones, a gift from the Goddess. I use them to focus my power.”
They looked like polished agates, clear with swirls of brown and gold.
Mirabella held up the smallest of the three. “This one I found inside a hen’s egg.” She smiled. “I see the doubt on your face and accept it. If there were more time…” Her words trailed off.
“What about the other two?”
Mirabella picked up the largest stone. “This one I’ve had since I first discovered my power. I was three years old. I woke to find it resting against my heart. As I touched it, the Goddess spoke her words to me. It was the first to go into my soul-essence bag.”
“That’s the bag….”
Mirabella nodded. “Inside it is all that makes me want I am.”
“And the third?”
Mirabella’s cheeks tinged with pink. “I birthed the stone following the first time Christian and I were together in this life.” She closed her hand over them and turned toward the door. “ I will not return until the time of the casting is upon us. All will be well?”
Brianna glanced at Mason. “Everything will be fine. I’ll just fix Gnaw a bed and find her something to eat.”
“Good. Then I will say farewell for now.” Mirabella walked out the cottage door and shut it behind her.
A stilted quiet reigned. Brianna dared a look at Mason and saw him comb his fingers through his hair. He moved toward the cottage door. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be within hearing range.”
Understanding dawned. There must be a privy out back.
“Don’t worry about us.” Brianna patted Gnaw’s head. “We’ll be fine.”
Mason replied by walking out the door.
“Let’s get you something to eat,” Brianna said.
A quick exploration of the cottage netted some dried meat and berries to go with the earlier discovered cheese. She mixed it all together in a bowl and added water to soften. “Here you go.”
Gnaw sniffed it, gave Brianna a doubtful look and then took a small bite. With a little warble of pleasure she lay before the bowl and with her paws cradling it, went to eating with gusto.
Brianna laughed. She filled another bowl with water and while the pup ate found an old blanket, folded it up and placed it in a corner out of the way.
She glanced toward the door. Mason had been gone awhile. How long could it take to pee? She tried to ignore the unease that twitched along the back of her neck.
Gnaw crossed to lick Brianna’s hand and then went to inspect her new bed. It must have met her standards, for she settled down and closed her eyes.
Brianna touched the bone disc around her neck. It protected her, but what about Mason? She walked to the door and looked out. “I’m sure he’s okay.” But it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick look. Her hand clutching the talisman, she walked toward the back.
A garden took up a large part of the area behind the cottage. She could see squash vines, ablaze with orange blossoms. More vines crawled up poles. Green beans dangled in clusters from them. Corn stalks, their heads tasseled with gold, stood in straight lines like soldiers in a dress parade. Red tomatoes peeked from still more mounds of green. A garish scarecrow flapped his arms in a sudden breeze, startling her for a moment, but then she smiled as she walked by it.
She and the scarecrow were the only ones in the garden. No sign of a privy. Maybe they used the great outdoors here. Brianna hoped not.
She’d turned back toward the cottage when she heard it, a tuneless humming. The sound came from behind a curtain of blooming star jasmine.
The humming changed to words. “Puff the magic dragon…” Mason screeched out.
The man could not sing. If she hadn’t known the words to the old song she would never have recognized it. Grinning and forming a ribbing comment, she walked to the vine curtain. Ready to fling her jest, she pushed a cluster of white flowers aside.
The teasing words stuck in her throat.
Sun filtered through trees and dappled the pond. Mason stood waist deep in the pool of clear water, his back toward her. Wet hair hugged his head and hung halfway down his well-muscled form. He took a step toward the far bank and the water receded, showing her a white tan line. He took another step.
He’s getting out. I shouldn’t be standing here. But Brianna couldn’t make her feet move.
Mason’s buttocks were white and taunt, the muscles tensing and releasing with each forward motion.
Brianna drew harsh gulps of air into her lungs.
On the bank, Mason bent to pick up his robe and she moaned.
He stiffened and whipped around.
Their gazes locked. Brianna felt heat suffuse her, and she unconsciously took a step forward. Mason made no attempt to cover his body. She broke eye contact and let her gaze roam across his chest and downward. Sleek and jutting, his arousal was clear. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
“I remembered,” she said, moving toward him.
He dropped his robe as she neared. She stopped in front of him and without words he reached to untie the drawstring of her peasant blouse. He pushed the blouse from her shoulders. The soft cotton slid down her skin and caught on the swell of her breasts. His fingertips grazed her back as he unclasped her strapless bra, and she moaned as it slid downward. The moan became a gasp as his warm lips touched her flesh and moved across her collarbone. She felt her nipples harden. Mason lifted his head, and she read the question within his gaze. She cradled his cheeks with her palms and drew his mouth toward hers.
His body was different this time, taller and thinner, but the emotions flaring as their lips touched rang true. She curled her fingers into his wet hair and let the feelings sweep over her.
Need surged, hot and welcome, it had been so damn long. Mason tore his mouth from hers. She heard his ragged breathing and thrilled at the sound. Holding her gaze with his, she ran her hands over his chest and watched his face flush as she gave a little sigh of approval. She explored lower and felt his stomach muscles quiver.
With a groan, Mason grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips. “I’ve known your body in many lives. In each I’ve ached to touch you, and it is always like the first time.” His fingers traced a ribbon of fire up her spine. “I’ve wondered what you were like beneath that skirt and blouse.”
She tried to speak, but it was if the air had evaporated. Instead, she tugged at the elastic waistband of her skirt.
“Let me,” he said, and she felt his fingers at her waist. Brianna gasped as he pushed the full skirt down the length of her legs. When it was bunched around her feet, he lifted her and she kicked it away. He set her down and stepped back. His gaze swept over her. She stood in nothing but satiny, white bikini panties.
“I’ve always loved undressing you—enjoying the sight as each article fell from your body. But I must say I do like those panties.”
She laughed softly. “Maybe I should just leave them on.”
His answer was to hook his fingers in the panties’ elastic band and skim them down her legs. “No, I like you best like this.”
A breeze stirred, dancing across her naked skin.
He held out his arms to her, and she stepped into him. His teeth raked across her shoulder, and she felt him bury his face in her hair. He ran his hands down her body, across her hips, and up her flat stomach to cup her breasts. She felt his greed, and her own rose to match it. She looped her hands around his neck and leaned back, offering. His hand slid down, pressed between her legs and she felt herself plunge toward the jagged edge of release. “My God.”
“It’s been so long. I want to be inside you,” he whispered into her neck. Her knees buckled, and he followed her down. Stretched out along the grass, he rose on his elbows and looked again into her eyes. “You are mine, my Eleanor, now an
d always.”
Her blood raged, and she reached for him. He was hot and hard in her grasp. “Now,” she said, as she urged him toward her. She wrapped her legs around him and he slid slowly in—slid deeper when she lifted her hips to meet him. Held there, with her breath trapped in her throat, she became lost in a haze of pleasure.
“Look at me. See what you do to me?” Mason demanded. She stared upward into a face, tight with restraint
Their gazes locked, and they began to move, at first almost lazily, and she wallowed in the spreading pleasure. Then it wasn’t enough, and the beat quickened, flesh gliding over flesh. She felt him tense, and he thrust into her with a hoarse cry. His shudders triggered hers and sent her flying into release.
Chapter Six
Katarina stood before the closed door. She inhaled deeply, smoothed her gown, frowning when she saw that her fingers trembled. He is but a man, she reminded herself in exasperation.
Behind her, Vulpine stirred. “Leave us,’ she said, without turning.
His quick intake of breath filled her ears, followed by the sharp slap of his heels on stone as he moved away.
Katarina pressed her fingers against her fluttering stomach and then lifted them to trace a pattern upon the face of the door. She pushed it inward.
He stood before the window, staring out. An untouched tray with the morning food to break his fast stood upon an ornate table of gold and polished metal.
She frowned. In the three days he had been here he had eaten nothing.
“Good eve, Christian,” she said. moving toward him.
He did not turn, and she pursed her lips.
“Perhaps you would like a stroll in the garden?”
“You wish to walk your pet? Why do you not just put a collar on me? Ah, but then you have, a collar of magic.” His voice was harsh with bitterness.
She knew he referred to the wards that surrounded the windows and doors. She’d warned him not to attempt escape. Of course he did not listen and had tried. It surprised her that she did not find joy pain as he had writhed upon the floor. “My only wish is to see my love happy.”
His body stiffened, and then he turned. His golden eyes flicked over her. She devoured him with her look, taking in his broad shoulders and narrow hips. His pale blonde hair had drifted forward to frame an eye and he pushed it back with an irritated murmur. By the dark god, he stole her breath. She wanted those hands upon her, those fingers inside her. She could taste his tongue, feel it upon her nipples. She groaned and pressed her legs together.
Magical Stew Page 4
