For some odd reason my nerves were at an all-time high. Perhaps it was only Sam’s words that were still bothering me. Cullen had reminded me several times since Sam’s death that it was all over. That Leslie’s baby was long gone and that there was no Liam’s child, and yet I couldn’t shake the nauseated feeling that there was more to come.
“I propose a toast,” Leslie said, raising her glass. Her hair, which had been piled high on her head, had come loose from dancing and flowed around her shoulders, onto her low-cut silk gown. The marks on her wrists from her kidnapping had all but faded. “To Mr. and Mrs. O’Kelley. You have proven time and time again that nothing and no one in this life—or any other—will keep you apart. May that always be the case.”
“Hear! Hear!” they all said, and drank champagne.
Cullen, handsome as ever in his white tux, clinked his glass to mine. My glass was filled with sparkling water, since the champagne wasn’t sitting right.
I smiled at him and wandered out of the ballroom into the hall.
No one would understand Leslie’s comment the way we did, but it was true. Cullen and I were soulmates and we’d finally made it to the altar.
“How ye holdin’ up, Aeval?” Cullen asked, following me and placing his hands on the bare skin of my back.
“Surprisingly well,” I answered, considering the nausea I’d experienced earlier.
“Have I told ye lately how lovely ye look?”
“Not for at least three minutes,” I said, with a grin.
“Well, I’m sorry to gush, but I’ve not seen ye look so fancy before.”
I looked down at my vintage lace gown. The seamstress had done a great job taking it in; it was almost too snug at the waist now.
“I love this dress, too, but in all honesty, I’m looking forward to taking it off and of course I’m looking forward to being alone with you.”
Well semi-alone. Leslie was staying with us for the holidays. She’d tried to object, but after everything that had happened, we decided we preferred to be altogether for the holidays even if it was our honeymoon. After all we had the rest of our lives to be alone.
“Removing that dress can most definitely be arranged.” Cullen smiled a devilish grin and then pressed me against the wall, kissing my neck as he groped to slip his hand beneath the material of my gown.
“It won’t do to get caught making love in the hall outside the castle’s washroom, you know.”
“Aww, but heavy petting is allowed right?”
I grinned at the ludicrous idea of being caught right now.
“Do ye think ye can keep from being too loud? Can ye do that, Aeval?”
He pulled away from my neck, swallowing his own groan. My legs parted and he slipped his hand underneath my dress, biting on his lip to keep quiet as his hands roamed.
“Sophia.” He leaned in, his breathing shallow and shaky as he whispered in my ear. “I’m serious. I need to be close to ye. Come on, no one is watchin’.”
I said nothing, only pressing my own lips hard against his. I nodded in understanding, leaning back against the wall as he stroked me.
It didn’t take long for me to quiver beneath his hand. As I did so, I crossed my legs to push him away, leaning in to speak as I did so.
“I can’t take any more. Not unless you want me to cry out and draw a crowd.”
He moved me backward into a room across the hall. “The only thing I like more than ye in this dress is ye out of it. Ye know, I’ve never had ye on a desk.”
I laughed and moved to lock the door, kicking off my shoes in the process. Cullen spun me toward him, crushing my back into the doorknob the moment I latched it. I cried out in pain as I reached behind to touch my most-assuredly bruised ribs. He apologized half-heartedly before scooting me over so that my back pressed flat against the door.
“Hey, slow down, mister.”
“I can’t, don’t ye see what ye’ve done to me? I haven’a waited so long in all my life. Besides, yer my wife now and I mean to keep it that way. Make this thing legal before anyone else shows up to steal ye.”
I almost laughed at the desperation in his voice, but as I looked at his face, I sort of believed him. My gaze moved downward, and I gasped at the bulge in his pants.
I reached for him and undid his pants as quickly as I could. Every movement I made against him caused him to groan. When I finally managed to pull his pants downward, he gasped in relief and lifted me off the ground. My arms went around him, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me to the nearest resting place—a desk at the far end of the room. It sat empty, no more than a decorative piece in front of a window. He sat me down on it as he plunged deep inside me, groaning as he leaned forward so far that his forehead lay against the wall.
He moved roughly, each thrust making my heart beat faster. I clawed his back as I clenched around him, my body responding in ecstasy the same moment he found release. He kissed the sweat on my brow.
“Thank ye for obligin’ me, Aeval. I’m sorry this was to be our first time as man and wife.”
I laughed, my chest rising and falling in such quick succession I felt like I’d just run a great distance. “I’m not. That was exciting. We’re about to become an old married couple. That’s probably the most exciting thing we’ll do all year.”
He grinned in a way that just one corner of his mouth pulled up. He’d never looked more attractive to me.
“I sure hope so.”
“Can we go home now? I’m ready to curl up in your arms and sleep for days.”
“Ah, but we can’t go home yet,” he said smoothly. “There is still one more thing to see.”
I gave him a confused look. We’d already danced, drank, cut the cake and tossed the bouquet. What else could possibly be left?
“Not here,” he said, as if reading my mind. “We just have one last stop to make before we go home, okay?” He hesitated. “It’s a surprise so don’t be after the details.”
“A surprise?” I said. “I think the booze has gone to your head. You’ve already given me my wedding present.”
“Just one more,” he whispered. “We’ll call it a Christmas present, but we’ll need Leslie, too.”
“A fairytale ending, to be sure.”
SEVENTY-FIVE
T en minutes later I’d hugged several guest’s good-bye and been shuffled into the limo with Cullen, Leslie, and Da. It was almost one in the morning and despite the party happening inside, the castle grounds were silent. I was sure the rest of Ireland was curled up in bed after a long day of Christmas carols, presents and eggnog. Once again, I found myself blindfolded, being led out of the limo and into the cold.
“Really Cullen, couldn’t you have just placed the present under the tree like a normal person? The last time you did this it didn’t turn out so well,” I said it with a cheeky grin and felt his warm lips on mine. My heart pitter-pattered.
Of course, I didn’t mean it. I loved it when Cullen spoiled me. Really, who didn’t love being spoiled? Although, given my state of well-being, I would have preferred the surprise had waited ‘til morning.
“Keep them closed.” Cullen instructed as he guided me out of the limo. My heels echoed as I walked and I knew we were now on pavement.
“Can I take this blindfold off now?”
“Are ye losing yer sense of adventure, Sophia?” Cullen teased.
“Come to think of it—I might just be.”
“Well, ye’re going to hate boarding this plane then,”
“What?” I said, stopping at once and pulling my blindfold off in one fast swoop. No way was I going on another trip already.
We were at the corner of Wicklow and William Street South. The street was dark and quiet. “You brought us to Storybook Café, but they’re closed.”
“Hey! I said no peekin’,” Cullen chided gently.
“You haven’t rented a room in town, have you, because I really just want to wake up next to you in our very own bed.”
Cu
llen shook his head as he laughed. “Don’t ye recognize where you are, Aeval?” He took me squarely by the shoulders and turned me to the left.
I squealed. “Leslie! Look!”
“Surprise,” She squealed back at me.
The storefront looked homey and charming –almost as if it had been pulled from a painting of Victorian London. Perfect and picturesque with the glow of soft light spilling from the gas lamp out front. The door had been painted a lovely shade of red and above the brass knocker was an oversized white bow.
Cullen smiled. “This place has never looked better, don’t ye agree?” he asked as he unlocked the door.
“Is it ours, then?” I whispered.
Cullen laughed which I took to mean yes. Either that, or this was a really cruel joke.
Inside was just as lovely. Cullen had ordered the bookshelves that Leslie and I had talked about as well as the formal red velvet drapes I’d envisioned.
“Just look at this place,” I repeated, wandering the room. “How did you ever pull this off?”
“I had some help.” Cullen smiled at Leslie and Da.
“Good grief! Is that my Great-grandmother’s clock?” I asked.
“I knew ye missed it so I had it shipped over.”
“I can’t believe you did this,” I said, throwing my arms around his neck. He squeezed me back. “But how, Cullen? This place was sold—Leslie and I saw the sign in the window when you were missing.”
“Well, I hope ye’ll forgive me for being presumptuous but I bought it the day we saw it. I knew ye wanted it so I made the call while we were there. That’s who I was talking to at the Café.”
“You sneaky bugger. I thought you said it was a business call.”
“Well, it was…in a way. The landlord wouldn’t budge on the rent so I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
“You didn’t have him murdered, did you?”
Cullen gave a mock-scowl. “That’s between me and Jimmy Itchy-Finger.”
We all laughed.
“I meant to surprise ye earlier, but of course our world was turned upside down the followin’ day.”
“That’s why you and Leslie were together? You weren’t having an affair—you were surprising me with this store. Sam must have seen you or found the photo and sent it to me.” I turned to Leslie. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I tried,” she said.
“Yeah, you did but you could have just shouted it at me.”
“And ruin your surprise?”
I started to cry and we all grew silent for a moment, then Leslie twirled and laughed. “Well, I’m too happy to think about the past right now.”
“Me too,” I agreed, laughing and wiping away the tears.
“I can already picture the books filling the shelves, and a cappuccino machine would be so good here, don’t you think, Sophia?”
“Definitely,” I said, and smiled.
“What will you call it?” Da asked.
Leslie looked at me and pointed to the ink stain on the floor. “What if we name it, The Mysterious Ink Spot.”
“Good thinking, but since we’re specializing in mysteries and adventure, what about Mysterious Adventures in Ink?”
EPILOGUE
“ Thanks for meeting me again, Madam.”
“Of course. You said it was urgent. What was it you needed to see me about?”
“In the Cupcake Shoppe, you said my lifeline splits off once again. It troubled you. What were you going to tell me that day?”
Sandra tapped the cards three times and then held them out. “Shuffle.”
I did as she asked and handed them back.
She laid them before me.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s just as I suspected,” Sandra said gravely, making me nervous, though I wasn’t quite sure why I should be.
She tilted her ear again as if listening to something and then she took my palm and studied it in her own.
“What is it, Sandra? It’s not over, is it?” I said, taking a deep breath.
“It is. If you let it be,” Sandra said, sidestepping.
“What does that mean? Just tell me what you see.”
Sandra flipped the tarot cards back over and pointed to the card with the naked child seated upon a white horse.
“You’re pregnant.”
“Oh my God!” I jumped to my feet, squealing with delight. “This will be the start of a new beginning. Cullen’s going to be so happy. No wonder I’ve been feeling sick.” My face fell as I looked down at Sandra’s somber demeanor, “why are you so upset? This isn’t bad news.”
“You must abort.”
I stared hard. “Why?”
“Because you don’t want to go into the past again and if you have this baby then that is your destiny.”
My eyes fell upon the final card, the Devil.
“The girl you carry is destined to be very powerful—too powerful— and bad will come of it.” Sandra shrugged. “Your palm is not telling me more. However, my spirit guide has warned me: On her sixteenth birthday she will obtain your book, and catastrophic events will lead to the death of a loved one.”
“No way,” I said, looking straight into Sandra’s eyes.
“She will be able to control magic much like you but, my dear, she is not you.” She hesitated. “She is too much like him. In every life drawn together and ruled by darkness.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“My spirit guide says this. He says…she is just like her father.”
“I won’t let her do anything bad—we won’t let her. Cullen and I will raise her right. Wait a minute. What did you say?”
She didn’t move. Her eyes were downcast. “Give me the book, then, Sophia. I will protect it and keep it safe. It is the only other way. She must never have the book.”
The crystal ball had begun to glow, to fill with a mist.
Sandra stared at it, and I found myself unable to look away.
“Sandra, tell me. Why would being like Cullen make her do bad things?”
“Look into your heart, Sophia. Think about the past, can you say for sure that Cullen is her father?” Sandra pushed back from the table, rising to her feet. She wasn’t smiling. “Were you alone with Liam at any time?”
Startled, I looked at her and nodded. “But, but I was...unconscious.”
Book Four: Twisted like her Fate PROLOGUE
Poland, 1783
A draft whistled through the joists, carrying with it a chill. Alexandra Cuza pulled the shawl of her deceased friend tight around her own withering shoulders. The cottage had yet to warm despite the growing flames that licked at the hearth. If she remained much longer the village people would come for her as well.
Time to start over. She drew a deep, cleansing breath as she stripped and crushed herbs, measuring and counting out ingredients, and chanting as the brew began to boil. With her friend burned at the stake, she was on her own once again. You’d think after two hundred and eighty-nine years she would have grown used to loss but it still prickled just the same, feeding the bitterness that clawed at her heart.
Her familiar, a black raven, flew in the door; he carried with him the carcass of a small white dove. At least she still had him. She moved quickly, plucking the dove’s pure white feathers and then slicing, cracking and prying it apart. The entire cavity was brimming with blood. Its coppery stench hung heavy in the air. The dark magic felt natural to her. And she supposed it was no wonder.
Not anymore.
This was the second time she’d used this beauty spell and it wouldn’t be the last.
The rest of the ingredients waited on the table: talismans consecrated and charged with the New Moon; pentacles, powerful crystals and stones, and a few small totems. Various entrails and the final and most powerful element—the ashes of another witch—that was the only benefit to all of the burnings that used to take place, easy access to her most revered ingredient. She glanced at the other table a
gain, and her chest tightened. She was loathed to admit but she was tired of this. Damn the high priestess for meddling with the perfectly good spell she’d cast. What good was immortality if she was old and decrepit?
Now, upon including everything in the bubbling cauldron, memories washed over her, heightened by the steam of the brew, of the last time she’d been in a witch’s cottage like this one, the catalyst moment in Romania that had changed life as she knew it. She remembered pounding on the door until it finally opened, revealing her husband—Vilhem Ioan Cuza. The bastard had drew her inside and bade her take the seat by the hearth, as if she was a guest in the home of his whore. Anger twisted in the old woman’s belly just as it had that night. She hated that woman—the Reddish Wolf—with every fiber of her being, hated the woman’s daughter, and she especially hated her own husband. That bastard had broken her heart. But she had had the last laugh, hadn’t she? She’d cursed them all and now she waited for them to reincarnate. Plenty of time to travel the world sniffing and snuffing them out—Ireland sounded decent enough. She’d liked it there before and not many witches were being killed over there. She’d need to find a new identity, of course, and adjust once again to the accent but that was the easy part. Not long now—maybe another sixty years before they were born. She winked at her good friend, the Raven, and pounded the pestle into the mortar, grinding up the dove’s beak, feeling giddy with excitement. She’d have her revenge.
ONE
Dublin, Ireland
I t wasn’t quite nine in the morning but Dublin’s Creative Quarter was already buzzing. I waved to my neighbor who ran the café across the lane and stepped inside The Mysterious Ink Spot. The bell above the door jingled and my business partner and best friend, Leslie Lovari, shifted her position on the ladder in front of the book shelves.
“Happy Tuesday!” She sang out in her bubbly yet monotone voice.
“Maybe for you.” I grimaced. My head ached and my body was in a pre-caffeine fog, aggravated by the cat carrier I juggled along with two vanilla chai lattes and a container of cold eggs.
“Better put those down before you have an accident,” Leslie said.
Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four Page 69