Spellbound

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “Not everyone is born pretty, so those who aren’t must work harder at being agreeable,” Dana had instructed her on one such outing. Jane had just gotten out of the hospital, was twenty pounds underweight and had spent the night vomiting.

  Oh, but who cared about all that sick stuff. Surely my unfortunate ugly ass could have been more agreeable for my neighborhood performance, Jane thought sarcastically.

  The memories rushed at her, and she tried to push them down. It was the past. She didn’t want to let it into her present.

  “She was certainly the only mother you had since your own mother ran off on you when you were born. Do you ever hear from her? Your mother?”

  He wanted to talk about her mother? Jane didn’t answer.

  “Any idea where to find her?”

  Jane slowly shook her head in denial. “No clue.”

  “So you never hear from her? Not even an address?”

  “No.”

  “No idea at all?”

  “Why are you asking me about this?” Jane prayed she was hallucinating again and that he would simply vanish and take his awkward conversation with him.

  “Making conversation,” Sean said. “You mother was a runner too. My mother never blamed you for inheriting that trait. You can’t help you come from a family of runners.”

  Jane closed her eyes and willed him to disappear. No such luck.

  “She didn’t blame you for never contacting us. After your father died, you were grieving.” Sean placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded in understanding. “Mother was thoughtful like that.”

  Jane knew there were polite things she should say, things she should probably ask, but the shock of seeing him after so long had caused social etiquette to leave her.

  “I’m sorry you lost her,” Jane managed, the condolence coming a little later than it should have.

  “We lost her.” Sean’s eyes narrowed and hardened. It was a subtle change most people wouldn’t notice, but she knew this man. “We are still family.”

  “Sean, I…” What could she say?

  “It’s okay, Janey. You must be in shock. But we have each other. It’s what she would have wanted,” he assured her. Turning around to look at the nursery, he nodded. “You live here alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s quaint.”

  “It suits me,” she said, not sure if he’d meant it as a compliment or not.

  “I’ll be in town for at least a couple of weeks.”

  Jane knew he wanted her to invite him to stay with her, but she couldn’t bring herself to extend the offer. The two-minute family reunion they’d just had would last her another five years, if not longer. She just wanted him gone. “Are you staying at the Dorchester House or one of the motels by the highway?”

  “Dorchester. It will be nice catching up with my little sister. We’ll have plenty of time to spend together.” Sean touched her cheek. “It will be just like old times.”

  Jane really hoped not. Before she could answer, she realized they were being watched. Iain MacGregor stood next to the building, still wearing the kilt from the earlier parade. He wasn’t exactly who she wanted to see at the moment, but considering it was either Iain or Sean, the choice was clear.

  “Sean, I have to help a customer. Maybe we can catch up later over dinner?”

  Sean glanced at Iain and frowned. “Sure, Janey. I’d like that very much.” He moved to leave but paused to give Iain a once over. The men’s eyes locked, and their expressions hardened as they stared at each other. It might have only been for a few seconds, but it was enough.

  * * *

  When Iain had finally stopped wandering, he stood before the small nursery they had marched past during their parade. He remembered being compelled to return. Apparently, his magick thought now was a good time.

  The front of the building resembled a two-story cottage. By the curtains on the second story, he imagined the owner lived upstairs. He’d watched the windows for movement but didn’t detect any. It was the sound of voices that urged him to go around back.

  Irritation burned inside of him as he watched the man touch his mystery woman’s cheek. The gesture was intimate, but Jane’s expression didn’t seem to encourage the attention.

  Ex-boyfriend? Unwanted admirer? Luckily, Sean excused himself before Iain had to summon a tree limb to reach out and drag the guy away. The little staring contest the man had tried to initiate had been laughable. With one flick of his hand, Iain could have directed enough energy at Sean to send him flying. His hand flexed now as he watched the man walk away. It was tempting. The sound of Jane’s voice stopped him.

  “Mr. MacGregor, how can I help you?”

  Iain smiled, instantly forgetting all about Sean. Traces of dirt marred her skin and strands of her curly hair framed her face. There was an earthy appeal to her jeans and work shirt. Jane looked nothing like the women he normally dated. Considering Iain quickly lost interest in the women he dated, he’d say that was one thing in Jane’s favor.

  He didn’t answer right away. She remained standing by her garden, eyeing him from the depths of her brown gaze with a kind of wariness that caused any attempts he would make at pleasantness to falter. Silence surrounded them. No wind, no birds, no cars on the street, nothing but the stillness punctuated by the sound of his own breath leaving his lungs.

  He couldn’t move. No part of him wanted the moment to end. After a couple of minutes, he realized they still hadn’t spoken. Iain ran his hands through his hair, dropped is head forward and grinned at the ground. He felt like a young lad talking to his first pretty noblewoman—the fluttering in his chest, the tightening in his stomach, the pure adrenaline that fueled his magick and made him want to shoot fireballs from his fingertips. “Sorry. I must have had too much to drink.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I suppose I should tell ya, lassie, that I’m here to buy something, but that would be a lie. I was drawn to see ya.” The bumbling honesty surprised him. Not only did he feel like some greenhorn, he was acting like one too. “That was my brother who proposed to the local girl. Is she a friend of yours? Perhaps, if ya like, we could arrange a double date.”

  Still nothing.

  Iain finally lifted his eyes to face her. She hadn’t moved. Not even to breathe.

  “Petrified?” Iain glanced around to see who might have cast a petrifying spell. It would be just like one of his brothers to tease him by messing with the poor woman. Leaves didn’t move, not even to quiver on the branch. Insects held frozen in the garden. It wasn’t just Jane that had become a statue, it was everything. Time had stopped.

  The earth beneath him hummed. Energy and magick flowed through his veins. He’d made time stop. As he’d gazed at her beautiful face, the fleeting thought that he’d like to look at her for hours had passed through his mind. Apparently, his magick had taken its cue and made it happen. But how? That kind of spell took a lot of fuel to make it work, much more than the rows of tomatoes he’d caused to droop.

  Iain took a deep breath and released his hold. Instantly, a breeze hit him, and Jane coughed lightly.

  “Not again,” she whispered. Jane blinked several times and looked around before sighing in relief. When she faced him, she stiffened as if just remembering he was standing there. “I apologize, Mr. MacGregor—”

  “Iain,” he corrected.

  “I haven’t been sleeping and I must have spaced out. My stepbrother just delivered some family news and…” She dusted her hands on her jeans. The gesture looked automatic. “Have you come about the landscaping services? I’ll admit I would love to get my hands on your box elders. They’ve been left unattended for so long they’re starting to take over the perimeter of the gardens. Tree roots can wreak havoc on old stones.”

  “Ah, aye, I need help. The family left me in charge of the grounds, and I don’t know the first thing about…” Iain stopped himself from outright lying. Just great. He’d intended to ask her out on a date, and instead he was tr
ying to hire her so he could play boss. No offense to non-magicks, but their way of caretaking tended to take a lot longer than a few spells and energy exchanges.

  Iain smiled as an idea struck him. Actually, the non-magick way would be perfect. She’d be at his house all the time. Maybe then he could charm a smile out of her with the thought of something other than box elder trees.

  “Do you have an idea of what you would like to have done?” Her face lit up, and she seemed to relax as she came closer to him. “I would recommend preservation over demolition. If we keep and tame down the plants that are already established, it will be much cheaper. Some can be moved and replanted. The cobblestone paths can be repaired. They obviously won’t look like new, but they are original to the design, and I think there is charm to the old—”

  “I was thinking a swimming pool and giant slab of concrete,” he teased, interrupting her rapidly processing ideas. “Just mow it all down.”

  Her mouth opened, and she looked horrified. “I, ah, I…”

  “I’m joking, lassie.”

  “Oh.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Of course.”

  She apparently didn’t think he was very funny.

  “Though we will be putting in a driving range, and there are a few other family requirements. I’m warning ya, we can be a demanding lot.”

  “It’s your home. You have every right to make it the way you want it.”

  “The key is to come to me if the others start making annoying demands. I’ll handle them for ya.” Iain gave her a charming smile and waited for a reaction.

  Blush? Smile? Anything?

  Jane merely nodded. “All right.”

  “When can ya start?” Iain found himself mesmerized by the gentle slope of her neck where it met her shoulder. Her shirt collar pulled just enough to the side to give him a peek. He’d bet the warmth of her skin would cause his lips to tingle if he kissed her there. The closer she came to stand by him, the more aware he was of his attraction to her. He felt her pulling him in like a magnet, drawing the magick from the tips of his nerve endings. Unlike Charlotte, who had painfully ripped his powers from him, Jane sweetly beckoned them.

  As the invisible threads forced him closer, he could barely breathe. Their bodies had not touched, but it didn’t matter. Magick revealed the press of her form to his, the stirring of her breath in an imagined kiss, the awkward hesitation of new lovers. His arousal thickened beneath his kilt. There was something familiar to his impressions of her, of her mouth, her eyes, as if they’d done this dance before, in another life, another time. After over hundreds of years, he was bound to forget many things, many people, but surely he would remember her, this?

  “Perhaps it would be easier if you give me an idea of where you’d like to begin.” Her breathing deepened. She had to feel the attraction sparking between them. How could she not? “That way I can draw up proposals and we can go from there.”

  “Ya smell like honey,” he said.

  “I’m allergic to bees,” she whispered.

  “I’ll do my best not to sting ya, love.” Iain leaned in for the kiss. Doing so felt natural and right. She didn’t pull away as he lifted his hand to touch her cheek. The tips of his fingers brushed her warm skin the same moment his lips met hers.

  Jane gasped loudly and tossed her head back. Confused, he jerked his mouth away in time to see her eyes rolling back in her head. On instinct, he caught her and lifted her into his arms. Her body jerked violently a couple of times before going limp.

  “Jane? Jane, wake up. Please, wake up.” Iain gave her a little shake. She didn’t rouse. “Ma ’se ur toil e, Jane.”

  Chapter 7

  Jane bit her lip and tried not to cry. Why was this happening to her? The delusions were becoming too real. First, she hallucinated the handsome Iain leaning to kiss her, and now she was on her back in a forest unable to sit up. A nearby stream trickled, punctuated by a rhythmic scrubbing on metal—wroosh, wroosh, wroosh—in a steady tempo.

  This delusion was new.

  Wroosh. Wroosh.

  Jane weakly turned her head to the side and found an old woman in a tattered dress by the stream. Thin arms worked feverishly, scrubbing clothes against an old washboard. Another ghost locked in a moment?

  “You can’t hide, you can’t seek, you can’t find the will to speak.” The children’s singsong voices chanted from behind the trees. Jane tried to sit up but couldn’t. Giggling sounded. The scrubbing became louder. The children’s song continued, “You don’t belong anymore. You should not be in that form.”

  If she just waited it out, the voices would stop. The delusions always stopped. The creepy giggling became louder, the sound carrying from several directions at once, echoing off the trees. Jane glanced at the washerwoman. The old lady continued to work as if her entire existence hinged on scrubbing that one cloth. Gray hair flew about her shoulders in the breeze, freed from the falling bun at the nape of her neck.

  “You are on borrowed time. Soon you will be sleeping fine.” The children sounded closer.

  Wroosh. Wroosh. Wroosh. The scrubbing quickened and became louder. Something kept drawing Jane’s eyes to the old woman by the stream.

  “We know your secret,” a young girl whispered in her ear. Jane couldn’t see the spirit, but she felt the cold chill of its breath on her cheek. It hit her like ice.

  Jane gasped, finally able to sit up. Breathing hard, she looked around a lush bedroom. Would the hallucinations never end? The white walls, woodwork, and bookshelves were pristine. High ceilings towered over her, an intricate arching of dark wood showcasing a large chandelier. Nothing made sense. The books on the shelf were well kept, and the antique leather bindings indicated they were expensive. Blue and silver accents appeared in the coverlet, the closed curtains, the wide reading chair, and ottoman.

  Tears filled her eyes. She had known this was a possibility. The doctors had said her mind might deteriorate. All they could do was manage the symptoms as they happened. But since they didn’t know what was wrong with her, there wasn’t anything else they could do but send her for more tests. The closest she’d come to an answer was that she had some kind of rare genetic disease that didn’t yet have a name. Rare disorders didn’t receive funding for research because not enough people had them.

  She’d known the end would come sooner rather than later. The fact she’d managed a reprieve from her illness for so long was a miracle. Paying off those medical bills had become her purpose in life, a goal before she died to leave the world unburdened by her passing. The nursery gave a means to accomplish that purpose, which made her feel better. It was probably a stupid goal, but what else could she live for? It wasn’t like Jane could have a husband and kids, knowing she would abandon them like her mother had abandoned her child and husband. Jane used to wonder if her mother left because she knew her daughter was sickly. Not that it mattered now.

  Jane had come to terms with her shortened years. She couldn’t risk someone like Dana swooping in to take care of those she left behind. Besides, if what she had was genetic, let that gene die with her.

  What Jane didn’t expect was to feel so lucid in her delusion. Her mind was clearly playing tricks on her—singing ghosts, a washerwoman, Iain MacGregor about to kiss her. Yeah, that kiss was clearly a hallucination, a nice one, but a hallucination nonetheless.

  An orange glow caught her attention. Where did the fireplace come from?

  “You’re awake.”

  Jane directed her attention to the doorway. Iain. And he still wore his parade attire.

  “I’ve had ladies fall into my arms before when I tried to kiss them, but none have fainted.” Iain gave a small laugh as he glanced to the floor.

  “I fainted?” She blinked slowly, confused. Was this real or a delusion? For lack of a better test, she pinched her forearm. She felt it. Iain smiled. She pinched herself a second time just to be sure. “What am I doing here?”

  “I carried ya. I couldn’t very well just leave ya on the ground
.” He stepped inside and swung the door closed behind him. His presence suddenly made the spacious room feel very small.

  “I live at the nursery.” She sat up straighter on the bed.

  “I didn’t have a key.” Did his voice dip? “And a fainting spell didn’t seem to warrant a trip to the hospital. Your vitals were good. I brought ya here so I could keep an eye on ya.”

  “My vitals? Are you in healthcare?” When she rubbed her hand nervously over her leg, she realized she still wore her dirty work clothes. “Oh, your bed, I’m sorry, I…” She scrambled off the side.

  “It’s only a little dirt. I’m the one who laid ya down on my bed.” Surely he didn’t mean that to sound as intimate as it did? “And, no, I’m not in healthcare though my family does own a medical supply business and my Aunt Cait has a gift for healing.”

  Jane’s heartbeat quickened. She was alone with Iain in his bedroom. The intimacy of that fact was not lost on her. It had been a very long time since she’d allowed herself to be alone with a man. It was a pity too since she’d enjoyed sex. When faced with mortality, it was only natural to appreciate anything that made her heart race and mind soar.

  “Why did you try to kiss me?” she asked. Her breathing deepened. Attraction wound through her, awakening her body. An invisible force pulled her toward him. She obeyed the silent command and walked to stand before him. His nearness felt familiar as if she’d stood like this before.

  “I don’t know. It felt like the thing to do.” He lifted his hand and hesitated. “Ya aren’t feeling lightheaded, are ya? Not going to faint?”

  Jane gave a small laugh. “I think I’m good.”

  Iain smiled as he leaned over to test his mouth against hers. The second their lips touched, she felt a breeze rushing against her. When he pulled back, it stopped. She shivered, entranced by his eyes. His hand still hovered near her face.