Cienna's Amulet, A Christmas Romance (Raymara Barwil Romance)

by Barwil, Raymara

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cienna’s Amulet

  A Christmas Romance

  Novella

  by

  Raymara Barwil

  Copyright © 2013 Raymara Barwil. All rights reserved worldwide.

  No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without the prior written consent of the author/publisher.

  Raymara Barwil

  www.nicier.net

  Cienna’s heart has been broken by a father who abandoned her when her mother died, and she’s never been able to let herself get close to men, let alone fall in love.

  Then her strange neighbour, Miguel walks directly into her life…just after her dearly departed grandmother has left her an amulet as her Christmas present, telling Cienna that not only is the amulet special, but so is she…

  Is everything going to finally fit together in her life? Has she found the one man to open her heart to love and the life for which she was destined? What is the significance of the Christmas amulet gifted to her?

  A Christmas romance with a touch of the paranormal awaits you…

  CIENNA’S AMULET

  A Christmas Romance

  Chapter One

  “Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus...”

  Cienna groaned, grabbed her phone from under her pillow and pressed the button to dismiss the alarm. She remembered last year’s New Years’ Eve when she had excitedly set the alarm in advance for this Christmas Day. Damawyn had watched her, laughing at her granddaughter’s enthusiasm.

  “Cienna, you’re twenty-five and you still love Christmas like when you were a little girl,” she had said, before grabbing Cienna’s hand and giving it an impulsive kiss.

  “Damawyn, you gotta plan ahead,” Cienna had said, tossing back her black curls and laughing along with her Damawyn.

  As Cienna recalled those words, she saw how naive she had been. You could plan ahead but the universe had its own plans. In the springtime, her beloved Damawyn had suddenly passed away, a few weeks after suffering a heart attack during her daily walk in the park. It had been a shock to Cienna who had lived alone with her grandmother since she was a year old. Her mother had died soon after her birth and her father, Damawyn’s son, had been heartbroken and left Cienna with his mother before disappearing into the night, never to be seen again.

  Every year on Cienna’s birthday, they would receive a card with a Spanish postmark and the simple message, “My heart still burns for you, darling daughter.” Damawyn assumed that her son was somewhere in Spain, where the family had originated before moving to the United Kingdom in the early nineteenth century. They still had family there, although none of them had seen her son Joseph.

  As she got older, Cienna grew more and more angry at her father for abandoning her and she refused to open or allow Damawyn to open the envelopes. The anger was always bubbling away deep inside her and would sometimes spill to the surface when she would explode into wild anger at the slightest provocation. She was a fiery girl and her Damawyn had been the only one who knew how to calm or prevent her outbursts of temper.

  Cienna now lived all alone in her grandmother’s two bedroomed house, in a small town in Cornwall where her grandmother’s family had settled when they arrived in England. Damawyn’s cousins had moved to other areas in England and Europe until she was the only one left. She had been an only child. Cienna had become her only family; they were everything to each other. Now it was Christmas Day, Cienna felt lost.

  How do I do this without you, Damawyn?

  Tears welled in Cienna’s steel grey eyes, as she stared up at the ceiling. She then became angry at herself for being weak, wiped her eyes and jumped out of bed. She would get through the morning; there was no point wallowing in grief. Besides, the girls were coming later to take her to lunch. As she headed to the bathroom, she suddenly remembered the package that Damawyn had told her about, as she lay close to death in the hospital.

  “Cienna, darling, I already wrapped your Christmas present,” she had whispered, “If I’m...not around, please look in the top drawer of my dressing table. You’ll find it there.”

  Cienna had told her grandmother not to be silly, that she would be there to give it to her.

  I was wrong Damawyn; you must have known you were about to leave me.

  Cienna turned to the door across the hall. Damawyn’s room. She had avoided going in there after the funeral, although she knew she would have to deal with any paperwork at some point. It was just so painful.

  She gasped as she opened the door. The room still smelled of Damawyn’s favourite perfume. The curtains were closed; Cienna opened them quickly and waved away the dust that fell from them. She pulled out the old fashioned quilted stool, sat down and pulled open the draw with trembling hands. Amidst a few lipstick tubes and powder puffs was a small shiny gold package, decorated with a silver stick-on bow. Cienna carefully removed the paper. It was clearly a jewelry box, burgundy with gold leaf trimming. A folded piece of paper fell to the floor. Cienna grabbed it and unfolded it to reveal her grandmother’s neat, joined up handwriting.

  “My Cienna,

  Christmas is a special time for us. Please celebrate this season and know that you bring great joy to me. You have been a blessing to my life. You are beautiful, my granddaughter, and more special than you know.

  I am proud of everything you have achieved in life and I want you to be happy. You need love, everyone needs love. I know your heart is always hurting but you must learn to open it and know true love. You have so much to give, please try and see that not every man will break your heart like your father did. Your father still loves you, one day this will become clear to you.

  The ring inside the box is magical to me. It led me to meet your grandfather who was the greatest love of my life, my true soul mate. I want you to feel the kind of love we experienced. Keep the ring close to you. It is truly magical.

  You are magical, my love. Never forget that.

  Merry Christmas,

  Love always,

  Your Damawyn”

  Cienna let the tears flow freely as she opened the box and found, nestled in soft tissue paper, the most amazing ring she had ever seen. It had what looked like an opal stone, the size of a pinky fingernail set in the gold band and was unlike any ring she had ever seen; the design was exquisite.

  As she slipped the ring onto the ring finger of her right hand, she was almost overwhelmed by how much she missed the woman who had raised her, but she knew her grandma wouldn’t want her to spend her life mourning. She walked to the window, admiring the ring as it glistened in the morning light that shone through into Damawyn’s south-facing bedroom. She felt renewed and determined to face the day with strength.

  ###

  I do scrub up nicely, even if I do say so myself. Now all I have to do is try not to cry once today!

  Cienna stood looking at herself appraisingly in her full length wardrobe mirror. Her new red dress top accentuated her slim waist and leggings with black leather knee length flat boots finishing the look nicely. She was only five feet and four inches tall, but today she wanted to be comfortable, not tottering in heels.

  She had taken a long, hot shower, washed her hair with the designer products she kept for special occasions and taken her time to apply natural looking make up. She never usually wore any -- she had delicate, pretty features and too much make-up would overwhelm her face. She had olive skin, jet black hair that
fell to her waist in large defined curls and striking grey eyes which she had accentuated with eyeliner and mascara. She was a freelance hairstylist and make-up artist so she knew just how to pull out all the stops.

  Bethany and Alice were her best friends and they had offered to join her for an early Christmas meal when she had confided in them that she just couldn't face a turkey dinner. Both had invited her to join them and their families, but Cienna knew memories of her and Damawyn would ruin it for everyone.

  As she grabbed her jacket and took another look at her new ring, the doorbell rang startling her. The girls weren’t due to arrive for another thirty minutes and she had been about to put their gifts in bags.

  Opening the door she was shocked to see her neighbour, Miguel standing in the doorway with the strangest expression on his face. Cienna’s heart skipped a beat as she looked up into his dark, tan face. His face was so serious that her heart began to pound and her stomach was sinking. What is he doing here? What's happened?

  Miguel quickly smiled, as if he’d been snapped out a daydream, “Hi, I’m Miguel. Miguel Martinez.”

  “I-I remember… How can I help you? Is everything okay?”

  “Firstly, I just want to say I’m so sorry about your grandmother.”

  “My Damawyn? Thanks, but how do you know about my grandmother?” demanded Cienna, confusion turning to slight annoyance. Just who was this man and what did he want? Her heart pounded faster. His Spanish accent was rubbing her up the wrong way. Why was he looking her right in the eye like that?

  “Cienna... I’m here about your father. Please can I come in?”

  Cienna grabbed onto the doorframe and staggered backwards as the blood drained from her head. Miguel stepped forward and put his arm out to steady her. Cienna came to her senses and pulled away abruptly.

  “Get back! What the hell did you just say? What the bloody hell are you talking about? I don't have a father!” she hissed, her eyes darkening as she glared at the man on her doorstep. She had seen him fleetingly as she went about her daily business over the past few months, but besides a brief introduction when he first moved in, they had never spoken. He lived across the road and as far as she knew, he was a writer.

  “My dear, you do have a father. You know you do… I really need to speak…”

  “If you don’t get off my doorstep right now, I won’t be responsible for my actions! It’s Christmas Day and you come here talking nonsense… Go away, you madman!”

  She slammed the door as hard as she could and stood shaking in the hall. She looked at herself in the hall mirror -- her cheeks were flushed, lips trembling.

  The doorbell rang. She grabbed the door handle and pushed it open.

  “What the f- oh!”

  It was Alice and Bethany. “Merry Christmas, lady! Now, who was that hottie at your door? Curious minds want to know,” giggled Alice.

  “Yes, now I would love to unwrap him on Christmas morning,” chuckled Bethany.

  “Girls, you don’t even want to know. Let me grab my bag and car keys -- I’ll tell you about it on the way,” said Cienna gravely, looking across the road at Miguel’s front door.

  Chapter Two

  “Wait, so you mean to tell me that this neighbour of yours knows your father, Cienna?” Bethany raised an eyebrow and took another sip of red wine.

  Cienna guffawed and shook her head.

  Alice topped up their glasses. They had eaten their very untraditional meal of Spanish tapas and were now on their third bottle of wine. Cienna had planned to drive home, but they now decided they would take a taxi. As she told the girls about her morning with the ring, the letter and then Miguel they were intrigued and kept ordering more wine.

  “Don't you think it’s so spooky that the day you read this letter from your Damawyn, telling you to open your heart and mentioning your father, this man turns up at your door wanting to tell you about him? It sounds like it’s meant to be,” said Alice eagerly, “The universe must have called him to you…your Damawyn maybe…”

  “Universe, schmooniverse! I love you Alice, but I don’t believe in all that New Age, hippy stuff, like you,” scoffed Cienna, “If that man crosses my path again, he’ll wish he was on another planet! He’s probably mentally unhinged -- you never know these days. I hope he’s not a stalker.”

  “What a day you’ve had already, C” said Bethany, shaking her head. Her eyes were looking a little bloodshot and she hiccupped, and then rubbed her stomach. “Ah, girls, I hate to break up our party but I’ve got another Christmas dinner to try to eat! I promised Mum I’d be home by three and it’s... Oh my goodness, it’s three-thirty!”

  Alice quickly stood up. “Me too; Darren will be waiting for me now -- hope he’s not burnt the potatoes... C, are you sure you won’t join us and stay over?”

  Cienna gulped down the last of her wine and stood, then helped Bethany up.

  “No hun; thanks both of you for joining me here. It’s been lovely, but I want to be alone with my thoughts for the rest of the day. Besides there are some classic films on TV tonight and you know I don’t let anyone talk during a film!” said Cienna, smiling. She threw an arm across each of her friends and hugged them to her.

  “You know I love you both. Call me later if you’ve not passed out by this evening.”

  ###

  She’s beautiful...so, so beautiful... Why have I left this so long..? I hate that I upset her...I didn’t expect her to be so damned attractive... It’s taken me three months to work up the courage to do this...me! Every time I see the woman, I feel almost powerless...just talking to her took my breath away, but this time I’m going to take control... Joseph is waiting for me...

  Miguel Martinez was pacing the floor. He held a photo album in his hands and turned the pages as he walked back and forth across the living room, from the front wall to the back patio doors. The light was fading, night would soon be here. He had a job to do and time was now of the essence.

  Here was Cienna, as a girl smiling at the camera as she sat on a garden swing… Here was Cienna as a teen, her curly hair cut short, standing on a beach, holding hands with her grandmother who was holding an old-fashioned parasol. They both wore matching red sundresses and huge smiles… Here was Cienna in her early twenties, staring directly at the camera, a close-up face shot. Her grey eyes seemed to look right at him. He traced his finger over the delicate angles of her face; he lingered over her full red lips, with that perfect Cupid’s bow and fought the urge to kiss the picture.

  I must be losing my mind...maybe I’m homesick...

  Miguel replaced the album on the pine coffee table where he had found it and sat down on a wicker chair near the window. He closed his eyes and thought over what he was going to say.

  There was a noise in the hallway, a key in the front door. It was time. He sat up straight in his seat and looked towards the open door of the living room. He began chanting, imperceptibly, under his breath. “Be open, calm, be open, calm...enchanted woman, you will listen...you will be open and calm...”

  ###

  Cienna closed the door behind her, removed her leather jacket and hung it up with a sigh.

  It’s so warm in here…but I didn’t leave the heating on. Why is it so hot?

  She walked to the thermostat at the end of the hall. It was on zero, as she had left it. The open living room door to her left caught her eye. She always made a point of closing all doors before she went out. Taking a deep breath, she walked in -- and saw Miguel sitting in her reading chair near the window. He stayed in his chair and looked at her with that intense expression from this morning.

  Cienna held on to the door, her eyes widening with horror: “What the hell are you doing in my house? How did you get in?” she shouted. She felt strangely calm; she should have been scared but she was furious.

  Miguel continued to mutter under his breath and stared right into her eyes. He raised his hand and beckoned her to him.

  Cienna stepped forward on impulse, then froze as she rea
lised what she was doing. Her stubbornness kicked in and she clenched her fists, not knowing what to do next.

  Why did I almost go to this madman? I should scream for help, but I just don’t feel scared. Why is he just sitting there like that?

  “Bloody answer me you maniac! Did you break into my house? What do you want from me?” she shouted, louder than before, standing in place as if rooted to the spot.

  I’ll be damned if I go over to him.

  As she shouted, she felt her right hand heating up; her ring was emitting heat, not painful but enough to make her suddenly unclench her fist and look down at her hand. For a moment, she forgot about Miguel as she touched the stone on her ring; it seemed to be glowing from within like one of those glow in the dark toys she had loved as a child.

  Miguel stopped chanting and watched as confusion spread over Cienna’s face. He wanted to get out of the chair, but he couldn’t. He had tried everything to make her stop shouting and come to him, but it hadn’t worked. The more she had shouted, the more sexy she had appeared to him and he was astounded to feel his manhood harden. His magnetic mantra had failed him for the first time, he was able to draw anyone to him with those words, but somehow it seemed Cienna was resistant. Instead, it was him who had wanted to go to her and take her in his arms...