by Mina Carter
He rolled to a stop beside her. She stepped away. He smiled and asked on an amused note, “Granny managed to get you for tea, eh?”
“Yes, and your grandmother is a doll. I almost feel as though I have known her forever.”
He glanced at the clock on his dashboard. “Have you been there since three?”
She nodded and he laughed. “Ye poor thing. I shall have to make it up to ye.”
“Nonsense. I enjoyed myself immensely.” She eyed him quizzically. “And I kinda think you know it.”
“Aye, she is a lark, that one, but set in her ways—didn’t she lecture you on modern young people?”
“She did, but she made very good points.”
“Och then, yer finished…caught in her web.” He laughed and pushed the passenger door open with his long reach. “Come on, we’ll ride to the garage together and then take a stroll before we go in.”
She hesitated. The friendship he currently offered was at odds with the man who had seemed determined to rebuff her when they first met. Hot and cold. Who could she trust in Ireland? Not Jethro McBain. “I don’t know, I am enjoying the walk up the drive.”
“Come on, I promise to give ye an even better walk before it gets too dark.”
Resisting would appear rude. It wouldn’t do to insult her employer after he had gone out of his way to be more than pleasant. Yeah right—like that’s the real reason!
She rolled her eyes. “I see it is no use arguing with you, but I warn you, as I ate every pastry your grandmother shoved at me, I will expect you to walk me till I drop.”
“Ye could eat sweets from here to doomsday and still be perfect.”
Watching him, she had the odd feeling that the words had slipped out before he could stop them. When he spoke next she confirmed this feeling.
He gave her a slight smile and took the flirt out of the words. “Come on then, I will walk off all yer calories until ye holler uncle.”
Chaz smiled at him but couldn’t help but feel that she was diving headfirst into a dark, deep hole. She needed to keep her distance from this man, and it seemed like all she did was get closer.
It would not do to forget the inexplicably powerful dark aura surrounding this man. It ebbed and flowed within Jethro McBain like ocean waves. His mana was coiled and ready to strike. When she was near him, that savageness in him reached out for her wild inner being. Together, the feral thing she had always encased and controlled would collide with him, connect with him, and escape. She couldn’t have that. She needed to be together, collected, calm, and cool.
What that dark living thing inside of him was, she couldn’t fathom, but she vowed to find out one day soon.
****
Monday morning smelled of the soft, sweet-aroma of rain.
Chaz jumped out of bed. An early walk beckoned before she buried herself in the library all day. Jethro had told her during their walk yesterday (which, as he had promised, went on until she literally cried uncle), that the house would be bustling with servants. He had advised her to simply introduce herself to his housekeeper Beth, as he would be gone by the time she was up and about.
“Oh?” Chaz had asked in a small voice as they walked. Was that disappointment she felt?
Dusk was intruding and the darkness hid his expression. She eyed the footpath as they made their way through a denser part of the forest. In the distance she could see the manicured lawns of Brionn. A woodpecker caught her attention as it flew past and she turned her head and almost went into shock.
The very woods of the recurring nightmare she had been having before she arrived at the manor.
No, she told herself. Simple explanation. Woods look like woods. Jethro, his hand reached out and clasped hers. “What is it, Chazma? Ye seem disturbed.”
“Nothing…absolutely nothing.” She gently withdrew her hand and gave him a half smile. “You were saying you have to leave tomorrow?”
“Aye, a man has to work.” He laughed.
“Work? You?” Incredulous laughter tinged her words. “I thought you were a man of leisure”—she cocked a look at him—“because it would take a whole lot of work to keep up this place.” Her gesture encompassed Brionn.
He inclined his head. “Indeed, the trust fund takes care of Brionn. I studied to be a commercial architect, and I worked long and hard at it when I first graduated. I have my own firm now, and although I don’t go into Dublin every day since I can work from home, I like to keep hands-on at my office and in the field.”
“Yes, I understand that need. I want to start my own computer consulting firm and be able to work from home at some point—at least that is what I have in mind.” She hesitated and then said, “The antiques in your home are awesome. I suppose your family collected them over the centuries.”
“Indeed…although a friend of mine who dabbles in antiques has added a few choice pieces of furniture to replace some of the ones that couldn’t be saved.” He paused and eyed her a moment. “But tell me, just why do ye work as hard as ye do? As I mentioned, I read yer résumé myself and it is obvious ye didn’t take this job because ye need the money. Ye could have taken the summer off and spent it with friends.”
Chaz was quick to notice the inflection in his voice when he said the word friends. Was he asking if she had anyone special? Probably. Loaded with testosterone, he no doubt had that man-thing, constant sex on the brain, which might have made him mildly curious.
And there is the other night. That dark, erotic moment, which still made her wonder if he had felt the same. If he had, he sure didn’t show it. The same mystery slapped her in the face. Built on secrecy as he was, she wondered how she could trust him when she always felt he had a hidden agenda.
It wasn’t that she suspected him of any involvement in the ritual murders. Absurd. So what then? Something…something wasn’t right about him.
She quickly shrugged off her wayward thoughts and answered him with a reticent smile. “I like to keep busy.”
They parted company soon after and she had spent a cozy evening alone with a salad and soda bread in the entertainment center watching an old movie.
She had no idea where Jethro had gone off to, but she heard him leave the manor and that was the last she heard or saw of him that evening.
Bright-eyed and ready as she looked out the window on Monday morning, Chaz pulled a face at the rain before she jumped into the shower. She put a brush to her mass of hair, pulled on a soft blue tank top with a matching sweater, and comfortable jeans. After tying her hiking boots, she skipped down the wide staircase.
At the foot of the stairs, she found Beth, a hearty woman with rosy cheeks and a happy demeanor. “Ah, up early, aren’t ye?” She smiled brightly. “Come along then. I am Beth, Miss Donnelly, and there is hot coffee and scones waiting for ye in the kitchen, and by the looks of it”—she gave Chaz a once-over—“ye need that and the eggs I mean to put up for ye as well.”
“Oh, no, no. Please, don’t bother.” Chaz pulled on her rain slicker, thankful she had thought to bring one.
“‘Tis no bother. So be taking that slicker off, as I won’t be letting ye go out in the rain like that, the very wisp of a girl ye are. Its sustenance ye need and ’tis what I mean to give ye. She took Chaz’s hand and patted it. “Ye jest let ole Beth take care of ye.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Chaz answered dutifully as a warm, easy feeling took over.
An hour later she managed to slip into her rain slicker, take the umbrella Beth shoved into her hands, and steal out the kitchen door. She glanced at her wristwatch and saw that it was already eight o’clock. Heading for the trail Jethro had shown her the day before, she glanced up to see the sky looked like it might be clearing. She propped her umbrella against a tree, and hung her slicker over a branch, and entered the dark woods. She could retrieve them later.
Wisteria vines hung from the trees and their purple blooms brought the woods to life with lush color and intoxicating scent. Lovely. She filled her lungs with the blooms’ st
rong aroma.
The rain brought the scent of the forest to its peak and Chaz took another long whiff and reported her findings to the birds and squirrels bopping about. “Fantastic. You guys have it good!”
An hour later, on her way back to the manor, a sudden unease tickled her spine. She stopped and looked behind and then all around her. Nothing—there is nothing and no one about.
She walked on but she couldn’t shake the feeling someone watched her, so she halted again. This time, she studied her surroundings with more than her eyes. “Oh yeah. Something…” she murmured out loud.
Brionn Manor and its surrounding eight hundred acres was spelled, specifically warded with ancient protection wards. These wards had likely been reinforced by McBain descendents over the centuries. Such wards used black magic, but that magic hovered on the edge, acceptable for a white witch to utilize. They did exact a toll if one did not protect oneself with a shield. More often than not, that shield was a tattoo (like hers) of ancient runes and archaic Gaelic letters.
Chaz needed only minimal protections because of the strength of her Fae blood. However, humans in general, even powerful warlocks and white witches had to utilize the protection of ink if they used even the simplest of black magic.
The McBain wards would keep a sorcerer’s magic at bay. Even out here in the open, a powerful warlock would not be able to utilize most of his magic.
She thought of the dowager McBain. Could she be using some device to watch her meandering on McBain land? Why would she do that?
Chaz was jumpy. Somebody had her in sight. What is going on here that I am not seeing?
Wouldn’t the wards keep Dark X off Brionn land? Was he using a device that could watch but do nothing else? The wards would not affect such a device.
“Want to watch me? Then watch me do this!” Chaz said to the wind. Without warning she went into her mind and probed outward. Anyone looking at her, whether using an orb or a mirror would be subject now to her scrutiny.
An orb. Whoever was watching was using an ancient orb.
Well, well. Brows up, her nose kinked in unison with her lips. Her parents’ murderer played sport with her, almost within her grasp. Hatred zoomed through her system. Dark Chaz came out to play—and Chaz shoved her back with all her might. No! He mustn’t know. It wasn’t time.
An orb was being used to watch her, and she damn well meant to turn it on him. This bastard was going down. She was going to see his face—know his name.
She could see his hand next to the orb. There was an unusual ring on his finger. Made of silver, a unique etching snagged her attention briefly.
Looking up through the orb, up past the white silk shirt he wore, to his broad chest. He realized his mistake, and with a laugh he shut her down.
Chaz’s body began shaking. She hugged herself against the layer of ice that engulfed her body. The image of the beast’s ring loomed large before her eyes and zoomed out everything else. The initials JM had been encircled by a deep engraving only another warlock or witch would recognize. Only a person of magic would have known it as the witch’s symbol for all covens’ Ring of Fire. Fire! That was one of the elements he used in his spell. The most ferocious element of all. She would do well to remember that.
More to the point, his ring matched the image of the ring her mother had sent to her moments before her last breath. Her mother had tried to show her their murderer’s identity before he killed her.
JM…? It could stand for Jethro McBain. No. That simply could not be true. JM could stand for anyone. He couldn’t be a cold-hearted killer. He wouldn’t, couldn’t be killing ritually for blood. Darkness lurked in him. Could he disguise what he really was? Could he actually be connected to the killer?
Was she so attracted to Jethro McBain that she didn’t want to believe the truth? Did she want Jethro McBain—think about him in ways that blinded her to all reason? Could he be a monster?
Perhaps it ran in the family. Grams ran around Ireland with a Fae prince. Yes, but he wasn’t evil. Mom’s first love—her biological father—hadn’t been good enough to even be told she existed. What was up with that? Maybe she was as blind as her mother had been. Closing her eyes, she slipped into speculation and wondered how her life would have been if she had known who her real father was.
She shook this off, thankful John Donnelly had fallen in love with her mother. He had filled the father place that would have been empty otherwise, but a nagging hole remained. Small, but there all the same. The fact that she had a father out there somewhere that didn’t even know she was alive kept that tiny hole open.
However, their lives had been good. They had been a family, full of promise—full of future, and now…now that was all gone. There was only one thing Chaz wanted out of life: justice.
She retrieved her slicker and umbrella. She looked up at the dark gray sky. “Uh-oh.” With a drum-roll of thunder, the sky opened up and water gushed in a heavy downpour.
Chapter Eight
THREE DAYS PASSED and Jethro had not returned to Brionn. Chaz imagined he must have a condo in Dublin. She wondered if he had a woman, or two or three, in Dublin as well.
Irritated, she shoved the idea out of her brain. What did that matter? It didn’t. Why should she care? She didn’t.
She poured her concentration into her work, and became deeply engrossed with the design and creation of the database. Before long, she would need the C-Pen Text and Bar Code Reader.
She had not sensed him—Dark X—watching her after her first encounter with his orb three days ago. No doubt, he realized she had enough magic to turn the trick on him. His intrusion gave her an idea which worked itself into a plan, but it would be dangerous. Now that she knew his voice and had his scent, she could track him. She needed him to make some kind of appearance.
What he didn’t know was just how much Fae was in her DNA, and what she was capable of executing.
Her mind flicked back again to Jethro. She couldn’t seem to get her mind off his handsome face, his enigmatic smile, and his hard, sculptured body. Crazy girl. She worked hard to keep busy, even enjoying a light lunch with James Dunboyne in town. Their time together had been more than pleasant and she found James a good listener. However, the moment she had quit his company, Jethro popped into her mind, blotting out James and everything else. When she thought of him her body changed. She felt herself melting, succumbing, and anticipating.
She had talked herself out of thinking he could be connected somehow to Dark X.
Did Jethro have the power to hide his inner beast from her? No. She would know. When was he coming back?
What was wrong with her? Hormones, and lots of them.
At least at Brionn she wasn’t alone during the days. The lively Beth entertained her with endless conversation, gossip, and food. The nights dragged, utterly stark. A great big mansion made sounds. All kinds of sounds. In fact, the house positively groaned at times. The Fae in Chaz remained unconcerned. The savage girl inside of her was excited by it, but the everyday Chaz found it all very disconcerting.
An epicenter of power pulsated from the forbidden left wing. It wasn’t just the tenor of the noise, but the whispers that formed words—in ancient Gaelic. Frightening yet intriguing, her natural curiosity drew her in its direction.
She seemed unable to stop at the door to the left wing. Turning away became more difficult. It wasn’t time. And she was afraid that if she intruded there, he would know.
She always ended with a sigh as she turned away from the temptation—like looking at her favorite blackout chocolate cake and resolutely turning it down. Lately, when it came to food, cake, fries, anything, she did not turn it down. Her hunger seemed to follow her around.
The dowager had given her an open invitation to come to tea whenever she liked. Chaz found herself making her way there again just after three. However, on this occasion, she hurried back to the mansion to get some more work in before the end of the day, which suddenly started closing in.
&nbs
p; Seated at her desk, she tried to concentrate on her work when Beth appeared at the open door. “Aye then, love, I’ll be leaving in a moment, but I left ye a chicken potpie to warm up for yer dinner. There is a salad in the fridge and I baked a wondrous banana bread. It’s on the cooling rack.”
“Fantastic, Beth, thanks. You are a dream come true.” She offered an affectionate smile.
“Aye, I am, aren’t I?” she quipped back. “Oh, and if ye happen to see ’imself, there is one for ’im as well.”
The computer mouse under her fingers slipped and fell to the rug at her feet. She picked it up and curbed her voice as she attempted to sound unconcerned, “Oh, is his lordship back?”
“Aye. I jest saw him take the stairs two at a time.” She shook her head. “Too fast for me to flag ’im down.” She pulled a face but it was obvious to Chaz she held Jethro in great affection. “Always on the go, that one. But there ye are, a McBain much like his father before him, but no sense talking about that.” Beth waved her hand. “Well, I’m off.”
Chaz laughed at the way Beth summed things up and gave her a little wave. “Hmm, I know the feeling. This is turning out to be a sizeable job and I think will take more time than I originally anticipated.”
“Ye’ll do, m’girl. Ye ’ave the look of the steadfast about ye.”
“Oh yeah, right, steadfast, that’s me.” Chaz laughed and waved again. “See you in the morning, Beth.”
“Lord willing, love, Lord willing.”
Chaz smiled as she sat there, her mind blank for the briefest of moments. Suddenly that peace exploded as thoughts of Jethro intruded. He was back. Beth had said he was like his father. That was something to consider. His father hadn’t been evil, right? Of course not, except she really didn’t know anything about his parents—and she did know the villagers were wary of the McBain family.
At any rate, McBain had returned from Dublin and in spite of herself, a thrill skittered and tickled her in places she didn’t want to think about. She shook her head. This wasn’t like her. Never before had she allowed a good-looking hunk turn her into a blob of jitters.