His Heart's Desire

by Kristi Ahlers

  “May I come in, please?”

  Cat didn’t want her in her house; she didn’t want to share the same air with the one woman who let the past dictate her future. And, in doing so, dictated Cat’s future. Still, she found herself opening the door so Morgana could come inside.

  Cat led the way to the parlor and sat in an armchair and waited.

  “I know you hate me, and you have every reason in the world to do so. You have to understand, I grew up listening to the tales of how my ancestress had been devastated by unrequited love.”

  Cat didn’t say anything, for a heartbeat. Then she let the pain and anger loose on the woman before her. “If you were so bent on being kind, why the hell did you even consider for a moment ruining my life? Your heart is black and I’d not be surprised at all to find out you had no concept of what being happy or in love is like. Who would even be stupid enough to put any effort into loving you?” Cat was tired and cranky. It wasn’t a good combination and yet she did not feel overwhelming remorse for her words.

  “When I saw Braden weeks ago, I knew instantly that my aunt’s spell was broken. You have to understand, it was our job to make sure he suffered for all eternity.”

  “Why? He could no more help who he loved as you can control who your heart yearns for? Your aunt was cruel and selfish. And so are you.” Cat stood. “I think you should leave.”

  Morgana kept her seat. “You’re making a mistake.”

  “Well, it’s my mistake to make.” Tears burned the back of Cat’s eyelids. What the hell did she care if she was making a mistake at that moment? Her heart was broken and she was grieving. And she was tired, dammit. “I’m going to ask you one more time to leave.”

  Morgana stood and stared at her. “Have a wonderful life.”

  “Yeah, you too.” Cat listened to her leave. The sound of the door closing behind her seemed to reverberate through the house.

  Alone. Again.

  * * *

  “This is ridiculous.” Cat tossed the throw pillow she’d been holding back on the couch. She was tired and hungry and not used to feeling sorry for herself. Then again, she’d never had the man she loved more than anything snatched from her before either. So maybe in this situation a little weeping and self-indulgence wasn’t out of line. Since she didn’t buy food for just such an event, the rumbling and cramping of her belly sent her to her room to change from her Pjs. Slipping into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt she inhaled the fading scent of Braden deep into her lungs, then ran downstairs, put on her tennis shoes and palmed her keys and wallet. She needed comfort food. The best comfort food in the world were beignets. She headed in the direction of the Café Du Monde and enjoyed the fresh air against her face. She was just reaching Jackson Square when the strange woman with the purple hair approached her.

  “Excuse me.” The woman stepped in front of her. “I really need to speak with you and offer an apology.”

  “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

  “No, you don’t know me, but you do know my sister, Morgana.”

  The strange woman’s words sliced through Cat. She tried to walk around the woman. “I don’t want to talk to you.” The woman moved out of her way but didn’t leave her alone. Instead, she followed beside Cat as she made her way toward the river.

  “I know that my sister is at fault for your heartache. Trust me, if there was anything I could do to change this, I would. You have to believe me.”

  “I don’t have to do anything. Your family has caused me enough trouble to last a lifetime. No, two lifetimes,” she said in a raised voice. “I appreciate that you want to make things right by me, but right now, I’m not inclined to listen to you apologize for your sister.”

  “Of course not, that’s not what I mean.”

  Cat stopped abruptly. “Your sister stole from me. She took my heart and my future with Braden. The only thing she didn’t manage to steal like a rotten thief is the memories I have of him. Do you know that even people who knew him don’t remember him? The portrait I treasured is . . . gone.” The last was said in a whisper.

  “I know.”

  “You know?”

  “Yes. The spell that Morgana used sent him back to the moment of the ambush.”

  “So you’re telling me she took him from me to possibly die at the hands of your twisted aunt or cousin, or whatever she was to you?” Cat shook her head. “Of course she wanted him dead. Right now he’s been dead for eight hundred years. I have news for you to take back to your sister. He didn’t die. He survived the ambush and lived.”

  “I didn’t know that. I’m glad he didn’t die as a result of trusting the wrong person. The point is, because of Morgana’s curse, he was never sent into the fade and therefore never haunted the dreams of women.”

  “Hence the reason for the missing portrait. It was never painted.” Cat nibbled on her lower lip. “Then why do I still have memories of him?” Her voice cracked as she worked hard to swallow the tears building in her throat. She would not cry in front of this woman.

  “Your heart could not be erased; he touched it personally.”

  “Well, that at least explains why no one in Scotland knew him in this time period and why Elspeth didn’t remember me.”

  “Exactly. History has been changed. Now, you never made that first journey because there was no painting; there was no man haunting your dreams.”

  Cat stared off into the distance. The riverboat getting ready to depart the dock sounded its whistle; the sounds of tourists talking and laughing cluttered her hearing. The idea that her world, as she had known it, was no longer real was too much for her to absorb. How could she pretend she didn’t remember Braden? She could still remember how it felt to be held by him, his touch still lingered in her mind. She looked at the woman beside her. “I’m sorry, what is your name?”

  “Constance. I’m Morgana’s sister.”

  “The good sister.”

  “I’m so sorry that my sister ruined your life.”

  “So am I, Constance. So am I.” She looked down at her feet.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. I just wish there was some way I could help you. Fix what is now very broken.”

  “Short of sending me back to Braden, there’s nothing anyone can do. I’m going to have to learn to live without him. I know I’m not the only one to have lost the love of my life, but right now, I feel like I’m the only one that has ever felt this bad.” She snorted. “I really do need to get off this pity train. It’s turning me into someone I can’t stand.”

  “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” Constance held out her card.

  Cat offered a small smile and took the proffered piece of paper. “Thanks.” Turning, she walked toward the river. Life presented all kinds of surprises.

  * * *

  The afternoon dragged by at a snail’s pace. Summer came and visited; she tried to get Cat to tell her what was wrong. Cat refused, because speaking the truth aloud would make it real. And by making it real she’d have to face life without Braden. Sometimes it was just easier in the short term to avoid, ignore and pretend. A part of her deep down inside hoped that if she kept her secret and ignored her reality, things would be different.

  Her crying jag throughout the night had left her feeling tired and hungover. She found it impossible to sleep since she no longer dreamed about Braden. At the same time her mind worked frantically trying to come up with a new solution. Her heart refused to believe this was the end. She returned to her room, pulled the curtains shut and crawled into bed. Once again she pulled his pillow close and closed her eyes. A headache pounded in her left eye and she wanted the escape of sleep. Void of dreams and memories. A place she could pretend everything was as it should be. If there was anything good, at least her eyes were no longer leaking like a sieve.

  Sleep refused to come and instead, Cat spent the rest of the evening watching shadows dance across her room until there was no light, just a depressing darkness that was oddly comforting. Alone
in the quiet, she allowed herself to wonder what Morgana had wanted to say to her.

  What could this woman who stole her dreams, her future, and her heart, possibly have to say that she’d want to hear? Morgana clearly didn’t believe in love or happy endings and now Cat had to question whether they existed as well. Lord above knew, she wasn’t going to have one. She’d vowed earlier, in a beignet-induced sugar rush, to live a life of celibacy and enjoy the gift of her existence until she was able to pass on to the next life. Just like Morgana said, something a little a la Titanic.

  Her mind started to conjure up a fantastic possibility. She’d watched as Morgana conjured a spell that sent both Braden, Alec and Meagan out of her life. Was it possible that she could send Cat to the same place she’d sent them?

  After all, up until a few months ago she’d had no idea one could be haunted by a painting, or that she could pull a person from the thirteenth century to the twenty-first. Or that said man and cousin could be taken away just as easily. And how did the whole Meagan being taken work? She hadn’t been a part of that all those years ago.

  Cat tried to remember where Meagan was when Morgana intoned her venom and that’s when she remembered. Alec had been holding her and kissing her goodbye. That had to be the key. They had been connected with their breaths mingling, that must have been how she was included in the spell. Cat had been at least an arm’s length away because Braden had been in the process of challenging Morgana.

  Cat sat up and put the pillow in her lap. Braden had been willing to stay in the twenty-first century with her. Was she willing to live in the twelfth century with him? Would she be willing to leave her family and friends, her career, and the technology behind, in order to spend the rest of her life with him? Would she be able to sit back and let the big bad warrior take care of her without voicing her opinions? She knew that wasn’t a popular thing back in that time.

  She liked to camp, so it would be an endless life of roughing it as far as amenities went. Plus, she would have some very valuable knowledge from the twenty-first century that could help make life bearable, such as better hygienic habits. And above all, she’d be with Braden. She wasn’t sure how something like that worked, was it like sticking a pin in a map and boom there you were? There was a great deal to consider but was she willing to take the chance if it meant being with Braden?

  She’d be willing to do whatever she needed in order to not feel this emptiness anymore. She didn’t want to experience the rest of her life without the man who’d meant the world to her. Cat didn’t want to get over him. She loved him and if there was any possible way to be with him, she’d do it without hesitation.

  With a plan in mind, she turned on the light and blinked at the brightness. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the sketches of Braden. Her trip this last time to Scotland had netted her a great deal, including the old drawing of her love. These were now her talismans and she looked in awe at the oldest one that came closest to matching the portrait she’d loved since a little girl. The same portrait she’d carried with her all those months ago when she’d gone to Scotland with the intention of exorcizing him from her life and heart so she could find love.

  She quickly dressed in a skirt and peasant blouse, then grabbed her Louis backpack and move to the wall where the sketches now hung. She took them down and once again rolled them carefully, before slipping them into her bag. She also grabbed the family book and tucked it in beside the drawings. Although it was the middle of the night, she called Summer and asked if she’d be willing to take care of Snaggle, then grabbed her keys and bag and headed into the night.

  Cat pulled Constance’s card from her pocket and noted the address. After she walked three blocks, she began to wonder if she’d find Morgana at home. Dodging a group of women who sounded like they were celebrating a birthday, she turned onto Bourbon Street and continued on her way, darting and weaving through massive crowds partying and having a good time. On every street corner she noticed a horse-mounted patrol person watching over the festivities with what looked like controlled boredom.

  When she came to the corner where The Cat’s Meow was located, she walked a half a block further until she came to Mystic Morgana. She smothered the laugh that wanted to erupt at the whimsical name for such a black-hearted person.

  That wasn’t fair and in normal circumstances, Cat acknowledged she would probably feel sorry for the woman. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and Cat had her own issues. And it was Morgana’s fault she was in this mess. Actually, she had more issues than Vogue and Vanity Fair magazines combined, but that was neither here nor there. She hoped to rectify that soon.

  Ringing the doorbell, she waited for a response. Cupping her hands next to her eyes, she peered into the dark store, noting the various crystals and candles and other items used for both voodoo and Wicca. Impatient, she sat on the ringer. Cat heard the bell and knew that if they were in there, they could hear her.

  Glancing at her watch she noted that it was almost midnight, the witching hour, and her excitement and anxiety warred within her making her stomach a little nauseous.

  She conceded that it was very possible they were out having a good time and she’d have to return the next day. But, darn it all, she was ready to go now. She had no idea if Morgana had to prepare for such a spell, or even if there was a spell that would do what she needed.

  In the process of turning and going home, a light clicked on in the back and Cat waited anxiously as she spied Morgana coming her way.

  “Well, this is a change. How much did you have to drink to work up the courage to come here?”

  “I’ll have you know that I’m sober and it may have taken awhile but I concede that I was behaving rashly when I sent you away the other day.”

  Morgana stood with her hands on her hips staring at her, as if she’d grown a second or maybe third head. “What can I do for you?”

  Cat wet her lower lip. “I need to talk to you.”

  Morgana studied her for a moment before she opened the door wide enough for Cat to pass. Now that she was face-to-face with her nemesis, it was proving a little more difficult to ask this than she thought it would.

  Morgana wended her way through the shelves and back to the beaded curtain. She held them back and indicated Cat should climb the rather steep stairs. With a mental shrug Cat did so and stepped into a very spacious room. Constance was sitting on a floral couch watching re-runs of the Golden Girls.

  “Cat. What are you doing here?” She stood and padded over to her.

  “I’m sorry to be calling so late but when this idea hit me, I didn’t bother to check the time.”

  “Sit. Sit. Can I get you anything to drink?” Constance asked.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Connie, she isn’t here for a social visit. I have a feeling this is strictly a professional one.”

  Cat bristled at Morgana’s unfriendly tone and decided to ignore her for the moment. Instead, she addressed Constance’s question. “No, thank you.”

  Constance offered a smile and indicated for her to take a seat. Constance followed suit by sitting in a bean bag chair.

  “So what brings you to our doorstep? Did hell freeze over and I didn’t get the weather bulletin?”

  “No. I was thinking tonight and I wanted to ask you how it was Meagan got swept back in time with Alec.”

  Morgana shrugged her shoulders. “She was locked in an embrace and, since these things are scientific, I assume she was bonded to the spell with her boyfriend.”

  “Hmm. And you said you sent them directly back to the moment of their ambush?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, how did you do that? Pinpoint the time and all that?”

  Morgana crossed her arms. “Are you asking me about my trade secrets? Because no self-respecting conjuror gives away their technique.”

  Cat prayed for patience. “I think you owe me this much. Answering my questions doesn’t cost you a thing.”

  “Tell her, Morgana, or I will.”


  Morgana huffed a sigh and sat down on a ladder-back chair. “Our ancestor, the original Morgana, kept a detailed journal of what happened. I used this when formulating my spell.”

  “Could you perform a spell that would send me back in time to the exact moment I would have died?”

  Constance gasped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be? You could be killed the instant you materialize.”

  “I know that, but it’s the only way I can think to spend my life with Braden. Since Cruella over there,” she nodded her head in Morgana’s direction, “saw fit to take him away from me, I’m willing to do what I can to be with him.”

  Constance clasped her hands to her heart. “That’s so romantic.”

  “It’s so stupid is what it is,” Morgana intoned with a bored voice.

  “Can you help me or not?” Cat asked.

  “You understand that I can’t guarantee total success. You could be dropped down after the ambush is over, you could die the moment you arrive but, most importantly, once you’re there, it’s for good. I can’t bring you back.”

  Cat listened to what she said. She’d already acknowledged these risks earlier but hearing them spoken caused her a moment of panic. She looked from one sister to the other and nodded. “I understand. Can you help me?”

  Morgana took her measure before she, too, nodded her head. “Yes, I can.”

  Constance clapped her hands together. “This is so romantic. And, Morgana, you’ll feel ever so much better once you set to rights what you broke. You watch, it’s a karma thing.”

  Morgana went downstairs and came back a few moments later and laid out various candles and lit some incense. She stood before Cat and warned. “This is your last chance to say no before I start. Once I start, I can’t stop the spell and if you so much as mutter, it could throw the whole thing off and you could end up in the Dark Ages.”