T is for Temptation (33 page)

“Feel inclined to try?” Alex asked, mouth pursing into a rueful moue. “And by the way, a sword may be necessary.”

“Maybe you could persuade Tiny to give you a few lessons?”

They both stared at her and swaggered, shaking their heads, a-little-woman’s-gone-mad-sympathetic-pity expression crossing masculine features.

She snorted. “There is only so much macho stupidity a woman can take in one day. I suggest you hie off to places far away and practice swordplay. I’m conjuring a nice bath, and then I’m going to sleep.”

Jake and Alex decided to act on her suggestion.

As they headed down the hallway, he spied another room and dragged Alex into it and closed the door.

“What’s the odds of you getting out of these fights?”

“Same as me landing on Mars,” he said. “The you-know-what is going to hit the fan when Tee finds out about tomorrow’s scheduled events, particularly the consummation part.”

“We have a day to figure out how to avoid that.”

“Doesn’t seem long enough. What’s wrong? Why do you have that look on your face? Christ, Jake. What else has gone wrong?”

“Okay. There’s something you need to know. I think the trunk’s somewhere in this castle. We have to find it.”

“Why would you think that? And now, at this point in time?”

“Two reasons, remember Tee said the trunk made her fingers tingle?”

Alex nodded, curiosity sparking his blue eyes, the lawyer in him springing to the forepoint.

“It pulsed in my hands like a living thing, and every time I got near it, a roaring started in my head. It’s thundering now. I can almost smell the blasted thing.”

“Smell it?”

“Neither of you noticed the aroma nor was I about to point it out. The chest smelled of the forest we came through on the way to the castle. Clean and tangy.”

“I think the situation’s finally getting to you. We’re talking about a trunk’s smell? And about it pulsing? Uh-uh, it’s shrink time, my friend. I didn’t smell crap about that trunk.”

“I’m about to make your day, then. You know my knack for finding things, my hunches about stocks?”

“Why do I have that hair-on-the-back-of-the-neck suspicion I don’t want to hear any more?”

“I see things before they happen.”

“You see things before they happen?”

“Stop repeating everything. I think the PC term would be
visions
,” Jake said and winced when Alex flinched.

“And I get this terrific bit of news because?”

“I had one of Tee’s caretaker, and it isn’t good.”

“A caretaker?” One brown eyebrow lifted, and Alex rolled his eyes. “A vision of a caretaker? That’s it. Sanity just took a flying leap into yesterday, you know, where there’s civilization, electricity. I’m done with this. I’m waking up now.”

Fae Temptation

Restless and irritated, Tee paced the fairy room and longed for a ride, a fierce gallop to exorcise anxiety. She squeezed her eyes shut, felt the temperature warm her back, and warily lifted one eyelid to find herself in front of the fireplace at Nanna’s cottage. She blinked, uncertain if she had been dreaming. Something tugged her mind, and not even a second elapsed, and she stood in the fairy room in front of the bed.

What had happened?

Before her very eyes, the room changed, settling into a backdrop of a movie scene. The walls softened as if the texture of hard concrete could transform, and they became linen-like with the fine lines of that textile.

Nanna’s cottage’s bedroom furniture replaced the double bed she’d conjured, and a footed bathtub appeared, hot water sprouting, and the scent of roses and lavender perfumed the air as steam spiraled upwards.

Fear licked from her curling toes to her tingling hair roots. She hadn’t done this. A gurgling hysteria bubbled up her throat, and she cupped a hand over her mouth. The door opened behind her, and she whirled around to find Tiny studying her and the altered attic.

“The walls are blushing.”

They were, she realized, pulsing with rosy color like a shy adolescent.

“The Fae have accepted you.”

“They have?”

“Aye,” he said, apprehension marring the sparkle of his aqua eyes. “’Tis a fickle thing to draw the Fae’s interest. One minute the focus of lavish attention, the other, punishments and raving.”

She didn’t like the sound of that.

“What does that mean?”

“’Tis play the Fae like. Few of their number are wise, and most relish testing mortal folk. But, you’re not mortal, are you, lass? You’re touched by magic, but not of the Fae.”

“Are they playing with me?” She really, really needed a long gallop.

“They’re catering to your wishes. Luring you into their circle.”

“Why?” A growing pressure banded her chest. “I’m not a reliable witch. I don’t have anything they could possibly want.”

“You’re a beauty, lass, and the Fae are drawn to such.”

“Where are they? Are they invisible?”

“Och,” he said, his thumb fingering the cleft of his chin. “’Tis difficult to explain. If the Fae want you to see them, you do. ’Tis only mortals gifted by gods or other magic folk who see the Fae without being bidden.”

“I don’t see anyone, but I felt as if someone spoke in my mind. Does that make sense?” She twiddled her thumbs, but managed to look him in the eye.

“Aye, ‘tis means you let them in. Be wary, lass, until you know what they want.”

“They want something?”

“Always, lass, always. Take from the Fae, and they take from you.”

“That sounds ominous, Tiny.” She rubbed her arms. “You’re giving me goose bumps. Maybe I shouldn’t stay in this room.”

“Och, lass. ’Tis no your choice any longer. This is your room now.” He waved a hand at the walls. “Any room in this part of the castle will change to be this if you’re in it.”

“Tiny, you’re making me scared.”

“Nay, lass, have no fear. Brodick’s Fae protect. They do no harm. Though their mischief can feel like it.” Tiny tucked a stray curl behind her ears, and his fingers trailed down one cheek. “You are the laird’s, ’tis clear as Fae moonlight. You are one of many?”

“How do you know?” She thought of the other eight witches.

“I’ve a suspicion you and I are bound, not as mates, but in some other way. I’m touched by both the Fae and the gods. I know many things. Ach, lass. Don’t worry,” he said, his finger stroking the lines on her forehead. “Rest.”

He kissed the tip of her nose and, the touch soothed, like a hypnotic suggestion enacted.

A few minutes later, Tiny bid her adieu, and not once did she notice any flirtation on his part, not a touch, not a teasing word. It peeved.

Had she become fickle? Did she want him to flirt with her? Tee blew out a long sigh as she realized it didn’t matter anymore. Tiny had decided she was a friend, no less, no more.

After her long, soothing bath, she slipped under the covers, wondering how to help Alex the following day with his scheduled fights. A spark of agitation persisted, and she tossed and turned, dreaming of crystal hibiscus holders, of swimming with dolphins, of making love on the raft.

Birdsong and soft laughter teased her awake, and she stretched, a sudden burst of exhilaration energizing a tempestuous decision to ride Brandy. A dent and rumpled sheets proved Jake’d slept beside her, but she didn’t remember him coming to bed.

For brief moments, she wondered where the two men were, but electric energy sizzled in her veins, and she bounded out of bed and stuck her head out the window. Sunlight grazed the horizon, and the shadows of dawn misted away as the day came alive in a glorious burst of color and birdsong.

Perfect day, perfect setting for a splendid gallop. What harm could it do? The sudden temptation so alluring, she didn’t think further, but dressed in a hurry and headed out to find the stables.

Clean but basic, they comprised four structures, each with entrances in different directions for defensive purposes, she presumed. In one, she found Brandy in a stall next to a massive destrier, the warhorse of this time. The stallion proved sensitive, down to scent, and recoiled from hers, puffing and stamping his displeasure.

Despite the inherent danger, the temptation proved too great, and she bridled the destrier and led him to the tree line. A quick gallop, no one would see her. After all, what woman of her time could say she’d ridden one of these magnificent creatures?

It took all her considerable talents to control the animal. Reacting to her signals with unpredictable starts and stops, she soon grew frustrated with the stallion and surrendered to basic moves, nudging him into a canter and then a measured gallop. A most unsatisfying, disappointing ride, and worse, she’d risked exposure for it.

Brandy snickered his disapproval on her return, and she apologized and gave him a good brushing. Lost in thought, braiding his tail into an intricate spiral, Tee never heard the group of men approaching until they surrounded her back.

“’Tis the laird’s witch,” one said. “Dressed in breeches.”

She turned to face them and recognized not a single man. This lot had coarser features, missing and blackened teeth, and they smelled as if they’d never bathed in their lifetime. A quick getaway was required, and she cringed at the thought of Jake’s reaction.

Foolish woman, she chided herself, to give into the temptation to ride the warhorse.

“I’ve heard tell of her talents,” another muttered.

“If she can make cakes and flowers, why not gold?”

“Aye, gold and more.”

“Grab her.”

That did it. Her temper frayed, and she straightened, intending to march like a queen out of the building, but the back of her head seemed to explode, and she went down, crumbling like ashes in the wind. Her brain surrendered to darkness.

Tee’s head throbbed. Lifting her eyelids proved an almost insurmountable effort. Breathing hurt. Her lungs wheezed. She opened one eye.

Nothing.

Pitch-blackness met her vision. The air smelled musty and damp. Her cheek rested on a cold, slimy surface, and she shivered.

The hammer in her skull pounded, reverberating like an electric drill drumming into concrete. Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed and attempted to rise off the icy floor, but the ropes binding her hands and feet made the movement ineffectual, and she fell back onto dank, pitted stone.

Shocked and horrified to realize she couldn’t let out the scream boiling up her throat because of a gag, Tee concentrated on regaining some sanity. Using a scissor image, she snapped the ropes at her hands and feet and literally shredded the stinking, greasy cloth invading her mouth.

The painful tingling in her fingers and toes prevented speedy actions. She lay still until the stinging in her extremities dissipated, flexed her hands and feet, pushed off the floor, and sat up, leaning against the knotted, icy wall. The movement exhausted her energy.

Light, she needed light. An old-fashioned brass lantern appeared at her feet, and the glow of a lit candle in the glass cage illuminated the small chamber. A low fluttering drew her attention, and shivers combed her spine as she tilted her chin to the ceiling.

Bats.