by Cindy Stark
SPELLBOUND SEVEN
Teas & Temptations Mysteries
Book Seven
By Cindy Stark
www.cindystark.com
Spellbound Seven © 2018 C. Nielsen
Cover Design by Kelli Ann Morgan
Inspire Creative Services
All rights reserved
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. The ebook contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or stored in or introduced into an information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Welcome to Stonebridge, Massachusetts
Welcome to Stonebridge, a small town in Massachusetts where the label “witch” is just as dangerous now as it was in 1692. From a distance, most would say the folks in Stonebridge are about the friendliest around. But a dark and disturbing history is the backbone that continues to haunt citizens of this quaint town where many have secrets they never intend to reveal.
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DISCLAIMER:
All spells in this book are purely fictional and for fun.
Prologue
Stonebridge, Massachusetts 1689
Clarabelle stood next to Cal Hooton in front of the gray rock fireplace in the hall of her family’s house. A low fire burned to chase away the November chill.
With their families’ blessings, she and Cal had entered into a contraction and posted their banns weeks before that day. Cal had obtained a small piece of land from his father to farm, and there was nothing now to keep them from being wed.
She barely noticed her family and friends who filled the small room as she and her betrothed faced the minister who would marry them. The minister was a tall, slender man with thinning gray hair. At first sight, she feared he would sense the bright red, witch blood coursing through her thumping heart, but he glanced between them and smiled, flooding her with relief.
An electric hush filled the air, and Clarabelle wondered if anyone else besides her mother and Eliza sensed it.
The minister cleared his throat. “Our good God has brought these two people together to wed on this most beautiful day.”
He turned his attention to Cal. “Doeth thou agree to marry this woman, Clarabelle Foster?”
Clarabelle glanced up at the tall, muscular man who’d caught her eye with his blond hair that curled at the ends and his engaging blue eyes.
Cal remained focused on the minister with a serious expression. “I do.”
The minister turned to her. A rush of energy coursed through her and heated her cheeks.
“Doeth thou agree to marry and obey this man, Cal Hooton?”
She swallowed and prayed that every soul in the room couldn’t hear her thundering heart. “I do.”
The minister nodded. “Then it is done.”
Cal turned to her with a smile and took her hand. His strong warm fingers encircled hers, and he leaned in to place a quick kiss on her cheek.
Her mother was the first to hug her, and then she hurried off to finish preparing the small wedding dinner while Clarabelle and Cal accepted well wishes from the others and then registered their marriage with the town clerk.
They celebrated by eating and singing a psalm. She was even allowed a cup of sack posset. She was a married woman, after all.
It wasn’t until bedtime before Clarabelle had a moment alone without her new husband. Eliza accompanied her to her bedchamber to prepare for the wedding night. Clarabelle had always assumed Eliza with her beautiful blond hair and pink cheeks would marry first, but she seemed especially happy for Clarabelle that day.
Clarabelle slipped off her dress, and Eliza lifted the special nightgown Clarabelle’s mother had made for the occasion. “This is very pretty. I am jealous of your new journey in life. Tomorrow, you will be a different woman.”
The white linen glided over her body, soft and flowing. “Not so different, I would think. We will still be friends.”
A shadow crossed Eliza’s features. “I wish Lily and Scarlet could have attended.”
Clarabelle gave her a sad smile. “It feels wrong without them here, but my mother would not allow it. Not with so many watching them. They must be more careful.”
Eliza nodded. “Let us not talk of them this night. You are now married to a most handsome man.”
Clarabelle grinned. “I feel very fortunate, indeed. He will provide well.”
Eliza bit her bottom lip. “What about other things? Do you intend to tell him?”
She shrugged. “Perhaps. At some point.”
“You do not worry what might happen? I think about this often for when I am married.”
Clarabelle didn’t want to admit her similar concerns. “My mother eventually shared with my father, and he continued to love her. Cal is a good man. I believe he is not capable of hatred in his heart. If the time is right and I feel certain, I would like to share with him.”
Eliza nodded thoughtfully.
Someone knocked on the door, startling them both.
“Almost ready?” Cal’s brother called.
“Nearly,” Eliza answered.
Excitement and anxiety collided in Clarabelle and made it hard to breathe. She placed a hand on her chest. “My heart flutters so.”
Eliza graced her with a calming look. “You will do fine. Do not worry. Cal will guide you.”
She gave several short nods, and then her gaze turned worried. “I have to confess.”
Eliza lifted her brows in concern. “It is too late for confessions.”
Clarabelle shook her head. “Not about Cal.”
She paused to inhale a deep breath. “This morning, outside my window…an owl appeared.”
Eliza’s hand flew to her mouth, and then she slowly lowered it. “This does not have to mean anything bad. An omen can be a prophecy, or…”
“I know,” she said quickly. “They are not always bad. But I confess, they do terrify me.”
Eliza waved her hand as though to toss aside her worry. “Do not trouble your heart. This day was wonderful. Perfect. If something bad was to happen, it would have already. You are fine. Sleep close to your new husband. He will protect you from all things.”
She nodded, though in her heart, she feared it might not be so.
Eliza gave her a fierce hug and then stepped back. “Ready?”
She swallowed. “Yes. I am ready.”
Eliza opened the door to the bedchamber, and Cal’s sister, brother, and two of his friends filed in. Celebratory energy filled the room, and Cal stepped in behind them.
His eyes were bright with love, and she felt his emotion deep in her heart. She was grateful that she had found a man she could trust.
The younger generation of wedding guests hugged them and wished them well before leaving the c
hamber and closing the door behind them. Sounds of bells and banging echoed from outside the room as their family and friends celebrated their union with a jubilant charivari.
Cal approached her, forcing her to look up to keep her gaze on his sparkling eyes. He took her hand, and she wondered if the same electric energy ran through him. “We are finally married.”
She smiled. “Yes.”
He placed his large hands on both sides of her cheeks and pressed his warm mouth to hers. Her body trembled with exciting sensations. He paused to gaze into her eyes. “Our union is blessed, and we will prosper.”
She nodded. “We will.”
He took her hand and led her toward the bed. As she looked forward to her new life, she prayed the Blessed Mother would watch over them and keep them safe from harm.
Clarabelle wanted a normal, happy life, and Cal was her best chance for that.
One
Current Day
Brisk chirps and soft warbles dragged Hazel Hardy from her sleep. The early morning sun barely lit her bedroom as she blinked herself awake. She’d slept with the windows open to enjoy the cool evening breeze, but with the birds making a ruckus, she wondered if that had been a mistake.
She slid her feet over the edge of the bed and stood. Mr. Kitty sat on her windowsill, also interested in the morning commotion. His chatter to the birds and thumping tail caused her to smile, and she walked up behind him to peer out the window, too. Whatever was out there, Mr. Kitty wanted to get his claws in it.
When she spotted an owl with the coloring of tree bark on a branch not far from her bedroom window, she sucked in a surprised breath. He noticed her at the same time, and she swore he widened his yellow eyes.
The vibrating sounds of his warbles grew louder, triggering alarms inside her. Owls were supposed to sleep during the day. Worse, her grandmother had warned visits from owls could be bad omens. Normally, Hazel paid no mind to such things, but this time the hairs on her arms stiffened.
Mr. Kitty stood and hissed.
The owl screeched, sounding like a woman’s terrified scream. Hazel released a startled cry, and the bird took flight. Her cat’s tail fluffed like a plume, and he howled back as though to say good riddance.
Mr. Kitty turned his gaze to her, and they stared at each other for a long moment.
“You’re afraid that owl means something bad is going to happen.”
The cat held her gaze, and she tried to brush off the fear forming inside her.
“That’s an old superstition. I’ve seen plenty of owls in my life, and nothing bad has happened before.”
Except her grandmother had been adamant about taking their warnings seriously. In fact, now that Hazel thought about it, her mother had said she’d seen one outside her window the day that Grams had died. Her mom thrived on drama, so Hazel hadn’t believed her.
But what if it was true?
Hazel forced a chuckle and tried to shake off the chill that enveloped her. This was silly.
Except the silly thought wouldn’t settle. “Okay, then. Let’s say the owl was a threat. What do I do about it?”
Mr. Kitty gave her a look that said she was doomed. Then he jumped from the sill and dashed out of the room as though her bad luck might spill on to him.
“Thanks a lot,” she called after him.
She closed the window with a bang and drew her blinds down over it. “Coward,” she muttered, knowing her cat wouldn’t likely hear her.
Hazel made herself a cup of lavender lemon tea and spread butter and orange marmalade over two pieces of wheat toast before she took a seat at the kitchen table. She considered texting her mother to see what she thought of her morning visitor, but the information she might gain would be tempered by an intrusion into her life, snarky comments, or worse.
Funny how, before she’d come to Stonebridge, she’d never worried much about omens and signs. Her life had been carefree. Well, except for her relationship with Victor. He’d been her first true experience with pain and unhappiness, and she couldn’t help but wish he’d never entered her life.
Still, even though she now lived in a town where she had to watch her step, she had the man of her dreams, a gorgeous old home, and a loyal, if sassy, cat.
She couldn’t forget to include the company of her ancient grandmother’s ghost.
If one could call an unpredictable ghost a perk.
Perhaps the ethereal woman could provide a clue how to protect against omens. She glanced toward the ceiling. “Clarabelle? Are you here?”
“Clarabelle?”
When nothing made a noise or stirred the air, Hazel blew out a frustrated breath and then sipped her tea. She’d ask Cora whether to worry or not about what the owl might represent when they met at Teas and Temptations later that morning.
****
Two hours later, Hazel carried two teacups full of Blackberry Sage tea out the front door of her shop and placed them on one of the turquoise bistro tables she’d purchased earlier that year. Golden sunshine rained down on Main Street in the quaint town, and a slight breeze cooled the early September air.
She glanced down the cobblestone sidewalk toward Cora’s Café and caught sight of her friend heading toward her wearing a light pink t-shirt, khaki capris, and her blond ponytail swinging as she walked. She could count on Cora like clockwork.
Today, instead of their normal morning walk, they’d decided to have tea instead. That was just fine with Hazel.
When Cora arrived, Hazel hugged her before claiming one of the turquoise metal chairs. Then, she eyed the bag Cora set on the bright table, hoping it held what she thought it did. “I see you’ve brought something with you. If those aren’t cherry macaroons, you’re not my best friend.”
Cora grinned and pushed the brown sack toward her. “Of course. I’m your bestie.”
Hazel opened the edges of the sack and smiled. She didn’t even have to look inside to see what she’d brought. She’d know that smell anywhere. “I think I love you.”
Cora chuckled and shook her head. “If only everyone was that easy to please.”
Hazel bit into the coconutty goodness and groaned with happiness.
“Fresh out of the oven.”
Hazel nodded in agreement. “They’ll go perfectly with this tea,” she said around a mouthful.
Cora pried up an edge of the plastic lid from her cup and sniffed. “Mmm… This is lovely. Something new for fall?”
She swallowed. “You guessed it. Even though it still feels like summer most days, I’m ready for warm tea and fall spices.”
Cora snorted. “Since when is cinnamon and nutmeg only allowed in the chilly months?”
Hazel looked at her as if she’d just solved all the world’s problems. “Right? Who started that nasty rumor in the first place?”
Cora snickered. “Probably a man.”
They both chuckled.
Her friend straightened and widened her eyes. “Oh, my gosh. Speaking of men, I have news. Peter’s and your engagement inspired me, and I’ve spent some time thinking about Lachlan. I decided he must like me.”
“Of course, he does. A guy doesn’t invest that much time in a woman if he’s not interested.”
“That’s what I figured. So, I took matters into my own hands and asked if he’s going to the upcoming Harvest Moon Festival.”
Hazel snorted. “I still can’t get over that name. You do know that it’s obviously reminiscent of a Lammas celebration.”
“Oh, yes. Most of us laugh at that fact. I’m not sure when the town first started the tradition, but it was a long time ago.”
“I’ll bet you anything some of the witches who lived in hiding here started it as a way to thumb their noses at the town. I wonder what the townsfolk would say if they realized they’re likely celebrating the first witch harvest festival of the year.”
Cora grinned. “They’d deny it.”
Hazel sat back with a smile. “Yeah. You’d think Timothy would have caught on after all his libr
ary studies on witches.”
“Honestly, Hazel. If the town stopped celebrating holidays that originated as Pagan celebrations, they’d have to give up most.”
She lifted her cup. “Very true.”
Then Cora waved away that line of conversation. “Anyway, apparently that was enough encouragement, and Lachlan took the lead and asked if I’d like to go with him.”
Hazel grinned. “Way to go, girl. That’s excellent news. Maybe we can have a double wedding.”
Cora snorted. “That might be moving things a little too fast. As it is, I don’t know how you and Peter expect to pull off an October wedding.”
She shrugged. “It will be a small event. Just close friends.”
Cora lifted her brows. “No family?”
“Peter’s not close with his, and I’m considering hiring the mafia to keep my mother away.”
Cora shook her head in mock disappointment, causing her ponytail to swing. “I hate it when family ties get so messy. Whatever happened to the perfect nuclear family?”
Hazel snuck a cherry macaroon from the bag. “I think it was all an illusion. People keeping secrets. No one wanted to say how unhappy their family is and look like the failure in the neighborhood. Nowadays, people are becoming more concerned with honoring what’s in their hearts than with what the neighbors will say, so it seems messier.”
“Maybe so.”
Movement down the quiet street caught Hazel’s attention, and she twisted to look in that direction. She narrowed her gaze as a woman on a bicycle rode toward them. She thought she recognized Liesl Goodman, but she’d never known the straight-laced woman to dye her hair an intense shade of red. “Is that…Liesl?”
Cora leaned out to look around Hazel. “What on earth?”
Hazel lifted a hand to wave, but Liesl made a swift turn down a side street, and Hazel wondered if she’d turned just to avoid Cora and her.
