“I’ll take you up on that.” Alana studied the nearby rows of tomatoes. “How do you get them so big? Gene splicing?”
“Nothing that spectacular. I’ve just always had a knack for it,” Jane said.
“Honestly, I want your energy secret. How do you even have time for everything?” Alana smiled. “Between the nursery, landscaping jobs and the farmers market, you can’t be sleeping. Or eating. Or breathing. Let alone have any time for family.”
My mother abandoned me when I was a baby. My father is dead. My stepmother spent my inheritance. I’m all alone in the world. I’m broke because medical bills wiped out my savings. I don’t really have a choice, she thought before saying aloud, “I like to keep busy, and I don’t have any family to speak of.”
“Well, if you need another job, I’m looking for a new waitress. Mine keep leaving for college. Actually, that’s not true. The last one left me for Las Vegas.”
“What’s going on with this parade?” Jane changed the subject before she found herself agreeing to the extra work. She had made it her goal to pay off every single penny owed and found turning down jobs very hard to do. “I don’t remember seeing anything on the town schedule.”
“Callister probably knows.” Alana nodded at the older woman running along the crowd with her little notebook. The way she acted, one would guess she was a paid reporter. In truth, she was a rumor-hungry busybody who stuck her nose in everyone’s business.
“She’s probably writing down marching violations to turn over to the band police later,” Jane said. Neither of them were fans of the nuisance that was Mrs. Callister. “Someone told me she calls the police station almost daily to give her list of complaints.”
“Poor Sheriff Johnson.” Alana gave an unamused laugh. “I have health inspectors in my place every month thanks to that woman, and all because I wouldn’t give her a bigger senior citizen’s discount. I’m not convinced she’s even technically a senior. Yet I’m still supposed to give her and her entire family half off every meal.”
“She prints coupons she finds on the internet from big chain stores and tries to get me to honor them,” Jane said. “They’re not even from this state. Half the time they’re already expired when she brings them in.”
“That woman is something else, a true shakedown artist.” Alana motioned toward the crowd. “Come on, take a break from all your jobs. Let’s follow this trail and see where it leads.”
Jane glanced behind her to the quiet sanctuary of her plants but found her feet moving to make pace next to Alana. She liked the woman’s company, yet that wasn’t what caused her to follow. It was the music. The sound pulled her along with it.
The parade led them down a few blocks to Main Street and then turned toward the hill overlooking the town. The MacGregor mansion was on top of that hill, towering over Green Vallis like a medieval feudal lord over his villeins. She wondered what it would be like living in such a place surrounded by so many extended family members.
Most towns simply paved over their old red-brick roads, but Green Vallis had preserved theirs in the downtown area. It was one of the details that had first compelled Jane to stop her truck and walk around. The for-sale sign on the local nursery was why she’d stayed.
The bagpipers led the crowd up the hill, but instead of following the winding drive toward the mansion, they marched along the driveway of the old Victorian house owned by Lydia Barratt. The Victorian was the only other property on the hill, and Jane often envied the location of it—set up and away enough to be relatively private but close enough to the amenities of town life. Lydia had inherited the house from her grandmother and ran a small lotion business out of it called Love Potions. Lydia sold most of her wares online. Being as Jane owned a nursery, she had supplied Lydia with herbs on many occasions. Alana, Lydia and Jane all belonged to the same women’s small business group.
“Can you imagine having these guys as next-door neighbors?” Alana whispered.
Jane’s eyes strayed to the handsome bagpiper. She’d been consciously trying not to look at him. The musicians stopped in front of Lydia’s home. One MacGregor stepped away from the procession and handed his bagpipes to the elderly woman in the wheelchair.
“That’s Lydia’s man friend. His name is Erik MacGregor—well, obviously a MacGregor. He brought Lydia on a date to the restaurant and couldn’t stop staring at her. It was very sweet.” Alana directed her gaze toward Lydia’s boyfriend as he met Lydia coming out of the house.
“I saw him here when I delivered those new bushes. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but I think he was reciting Gaelic poetry to her from the lawn.” Jane felt a tiny chill and turned her attention to the house. She thought someone slipped past an upper story window. The movement was fleeting, and Jane forced herself to ignore it. Instead, she looked at Erik and Lydia, and then to Lydia’s best friend, Charlotte, standing in the doorway watching. There was a faint flicker behind Charlotte, but the woman didn’t appear to notice there was anything non-corporeal behind her. Jane changed her mind. She no longer wished to live in the old home, not if it came with ghosts.
“Lydia Barratt, táim i ngrá leat.” Erik took a knee. “Say ya will marry me, lassie.”
Jane moved her gaze from Charlotte to the MacGregors, one of them in particular. She stared at the man’s head, willing him not to look at her as the music completely faded away. There was something about him that captured her notice, causing a kind of twitch she felt in the pit of her stomach.
The sound of Gaelic words stirred in Jane’s mind. She couldn’t understand them, but she felt if she concentrated on the words hard enough, the meaning would come to her. The mystery man turned, hair blowing lightly to cover his eyes. She didn’t want to make eye contact and took an unconscious step back to try to hide from his view. It didn’t matter. The sexy Scotsman somehow found her in the crowd. The moment his gaze met hers, she pretended not to notice him.
“Aww,” Alana said softly seconds before the crowd started to cheer in excitement.
Erik kissed Lydia. The woman must have said yes to him. The couple was like a romance movie—sexy hero and strong heroine finding their happily ever after. A pang of longing filled Jane at the sight. She wanted so much to have that perfect moment, surrounded by love. But she would never have that kind of connection with anyone.
“Good for them,” she said to Alana. She started to touch the woman’s arm only to stop when she realized her hands were dirty from work despite the fact she’d had on gloves most of the morning. “I should get back. I’ve been having trouble with one of my greenhouse’s watering systems. I need to replace a pressure regulator.”
“Come on, lads, drinks on me!” one of the older Scotsmen shouted. Cheers answered his offer. The bagpipes started up again as the group turned back down the hill.
“Oh, okay then,” Alana said. “I think I’ll follow this crowd to watch the antics.”
Jane took a slightly different path down the hill from the others. When she glanced back, the marching lines were more chaotic, and the sound of bagpipes less in sync as the MacGregors began poking each other’s instruments in mischief. A few even tried to trip each other. She walked faster, lowering her head to watch her step.
“Hey, ya know you’re welcome to join us, lassie.”
Jane looked up from the ground in surprise, not having expected someone to follow her. At first, she didn’t answer because she wasn’t sure the offer was for her. Then she didn’t answer because she’d forgotten how to speak. Her mouth opened, at least she was pretty sure it did, but nothing came out. The sexy brown-eyed MacGregor smiled at her expectantly. Why was he there? She’d been very careful not to make eye contact with him.
“I know ya.” The man sounded both sure and unsure at the same time. His Scottish accent was thick as if he’d just arrived in the United States. “We’ve met, haven’t we?”
Jane tried to formulate an answer but merely ended up shaking her head in denial. She knew what he me
ant. He felt familiar, but she would have remembered meeting the Scottish poster boy for sex appeal.
“Oh, I must be mistaken then.” He didn’t sound very mistaken though. He held out his hand. “Iain MacGregor.”
Jane looked at his hand a few moments longer than was socially acceptable. Slowly, she reached forward. He took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he held her fingers in his. Tingling warmth moved up her arm. She gasped as the world literally blew away to leave her alone in a strange fog.
Jane’s feet became rooted to the ground. Her heart pounded as she fearfully glanced around looking for the man who’d just been there. He was gone. But even stranger was the fact she was no longer at the base of the hill heading home. She was on top of it in the MacGregor gardens. She stared at a window, feeling a pull toward it.
“Lassie?”
Jane gasped at the sound and blinked heavily. The fog was gone, and she was standing before Iain with her hand hanging between them. He’d let her go. Small evergreens dotted the area leading down the hill, just as they should be.
“Um,” she managed, confused by what had happened. “Jane. I’m Jane.”
“Jane. We’re all heading to the pub. Would ya like to—”
Jane didn’t stay to listen. Something inside her told her to run, so she did. She headed down the hill faster than before.
Chapter 3
“Would ya like to—” Iain paused, shocked as the pretty woman turned and hurried away from him. To himself, he finished, “Get a drink with me?”
This wasn’t the first time his charming self had knocked a girl speechless, but it was the first time the girl had stared at him like he was an idiot for even trying to talk to her. He had caressed her fingers, feeling that instant connection snap through his body. It was the same giddy feeling he’d had as a youth running around the Scottish countryside—the excitement beating in his heart, the nerves bunching with anticipation in his stomach, the security of home and family pumping in his veins and giving him confidence.
Only, she’d held frozen like he was trying to give her leprosy. He lifted his hand and slowly stroked the skin where they’d touched.
Did he just get rejected?
Iain wasn’t so vain as to believe every woman wanted him, but normally it took them longer than two seconds to decide. What a peculiar place the MacGregors had moved to. Iain was the third oldest child in a family of six siblings, with countless cousins, and yet in all their centuries of living, his brother Erik was the first from their generation to find true love. It had to mean something that Erik had found it here, in this town. Green Vallis called to their warlock natures. It was special.
A tiny vibration filled Iain. It came from below, like an invisible current working up from the ground through the bottom of his feet. When he closed his eyes, he heard its low hum as if the earth was trying to speak to him. This area had a wealth of natural power.
“Smooth, brother,” Euann teased from behind him. “How many times do I have to tell ya, Iain? Ya are not a pretty man. I think ya aimed too high with that one. Now stop scaring our new neighbors and come get a pint. We’ll find ya a nice drunk sea hag to talk to.”
Iain managed not to show he was startled by his brother’s approach. Turning to face Euann, he arched a brow. “Like you’re anything to gander at.”
Euann took the insult in stride, not losing his smile. He was the second oldest of the siblings. All the MacGregor men were able to attract women. Euann was no exception, even if he didn’t look like the rest of them. People always thought he was of Latin descent, until he spoke and the accent gave his Scots away. The siblings used to tease him that their ma had made a deal with a Sack Man, a kind of Spanish bogeyman, and he wasn’t really one of them. How else could they explain Euann’s hatred of golf? The sport was born in their homeland after all. “So, do ya think Ma will be happy now that Erik’s brought home a bride?”
Iain gave a small laugh. “If she’s not, I’m offering ya up as a sacrifice as the next to fall. You’re second born, so it’s only fair.”
“How do ya think Charlotte feels about a double wedding?” Euann looked toward the old Victorian. Iain doubted his brother was serious about Charlotte. She just happened to be pretty and best friends with Erik’s new fiancée. That made her convenient. “I mean, if one can overlook the fact that your magick left the poor lassie a bit touched in the head.”
“For Charlotte’s sake, I hope the madness does not last.” Iain hid his frown. He didn’t like being in too close of a proximity to Charlotte. It wasn’t her fault, but his family had just recently finished dealing with a couple of lidércs. The wraithlike creatures had used Lydia and Charlotte as vessels to try and steal Erik and Iain’s powers. Lydia had a rare genetic anomaly that synced her perfectly to one particular warlock. Being Erik’s inthrall had nothing to do with love, but it did give her a natural connection to him that allowed her to borrow his magick. The fact Lydia also loved his brother made their situation very rare indeed. Lydia was Erik’s fíorghrá, his one true love.
However, Charlotte was not Iain’s anything but a new friendly acquaintance, and the lidérc had given the woman a potion to make her a conduit that forced Iain’s powers out of him. It had hurt like hell, for his magick was his very essence, his soul. He imagined it had been the same for Charlotte, only his family had erased the woman’s mind, so she didn’t recall what had happened to her. It was the least they could do considering the circumstances. Erasing minds carried a lot of risks as well. Most mortals were not meant to handle the supernatural. Now she didn’t even remember that real magick existed.
Iain couldn’t remember how he’d survived the painful ordeal, only that he had. One moment he was on the ground, feeling Charlotte pull his life out of him. He’d been dead. Of that much he was certain. He’d felt the last moment, the last rip of his warlock soul. But then something unexpected had happened. He’d woken up, dazed and hot, staring at the open lid of an antique glass preservation coffin. Hazy memories of how that happened danced around his brain like ghosts, transparent images he couldn’t grasp. Now, because of the potion the lidérc gave Charlotte, whenever he stood too close to her, he felt a residual pull and had to consciously restrain his magick from going to her.
“Hey,” Euann said, drawing his attention back to the moment. “We won’t let Charlotte turn out like Helena.”
“Helena was lifetimes ago. We are better with erasing spells now.” Iain didn’t want to think about the past. He gave Euann a serious look. “Maybe ya should ask Charlotte to marry ya before her senses return. A woman would have to be touched in the head to take ya as a husband. Charlotte might be your only chance.”
“Oh, ya have jokes now, do ya? I have no intention of getting married.” Euann hooked his brother’s arm and forced him toward where the elders had led the throng of locals to drink. Trust Uncle Fergus to buy a few rounds for the townsfolk. He’d been doing that little goodwill trick since the dawn of time.
“Who’s joking?” Iain chuckled. “All I’m saying is, I don’t think Ma can summon the amount of magick needed to make ya suave with the ladies.”
“And yet I’ve never sent a woman running away screaming.” Euann nodded his head to where the mysterious woman had disappeared.
“She wasn’t screaming,” Iain grumbled. Actually, Jane hadn’t said much of anything. He let his eyes shift as he tried to see the beautiful woman within the tree line. The bark in the distance came into sharp focus, but he did not catch a glimpse of her.
Each warlock was born with both a gift and a curse. Iain’s burden gave him one very nice bonus of exceptional eyesight. It also gave him a restless wildness he fought very hard to control. It wasn’t easy knowing he had the ability to fly like the birds of prey he could transform into, yet was constantly forced to clip his magickal wings for fear he’d never find his way back to his human self.
Spells and potions could be learned, but some talents came more naturally than others. For Iain, his gift
was his ability to make things grow. Warlock magick didn’t just materialize from nothing. It needed fueled. They could take from nature, take the life from plants to energize their powers. Iain was able to replenish plant life, to give that energy back. It is why he was in charge of the family gardens. Life and magick were a delicate balance, and he understood it better than most. In Green Vallis, they were surrounded by nature. Here they could borrow just enough from the forest as a whole to maintain their magick without killing their surroundings.
“I don’t think Ma should be working any spells right now. I’m worried about her.” Euann’s expression fell as he turned serious. “I know she’s conjured future-telling magick before, but I’ve never seen it drain her this much. She looks like she just crawled out of the grave and can’t even walk. Malina has to push her in that damned chair. Half the time, she doesn’t remember what she was doing two seconds ago. My conversations with her loop.”
“What choice did she have? Ma needed to divine the future. We needed to know if the threat against our family was over and that the lidércs were gone for good. We needed to know if Green Vallis was a safe place for us to relocate the entire MacGregor clan to. We need this. We’ve been living away from nature for too long, and it shows in our magick.” Iain sighed. There were other, more practical concerns that had forced them to find a new home, like avoiding questions about their lack of aging. People started to notice when their neighbors never grew old. For the most part, the MacGregors tried to stay out of the limelight and never entered the social scene for too long.
Nature wasn’t their only option. Sexual energy worked as a fuel too. It gave a surge to their magick, fierce like an orgasm, but did not sustain like natural elements—unless of course it was sex with a fíorghrá. True love changed everything. It’s probably why finding a fíorghrá was so damned hard.
Iain had the strangest urge to change course and follow the mysterious Jane to see where she went. If his brother hadn’t interrupted him, he might have done just that. Would it have been a mistake? She didn’t seem very interested in talking to him.
Spellbound Page 2
