by Mina Carter
“Hi, Beth. Got anything cooking?” Chaz laughed as she moved toward some muffins Beth had obviously just taken out of the oven. Snatching one, she bounced the hot treat from hand to hand as she reached for a napkin.
“Don’t be ruining yer lunch with that. The muffins are for you to take down to the dowager later for tea.” Beth smiled and shook her head. “Bless her lovely self, but Molly can’t bake to save her life—that she can’t.” Beth smiled broadly at the notion, and then watched as Chaz ignored her instructions and tore off a piece of the muffin and crammed it in her mouth. “Banana. So good.”
A plate of cold meats, cheese, relish, and a small loaf of bread landed in Chaz’s hand as the muffin was snatched away. “Go, sit, eat.”
“Not arguing—but I want my muffin back.”
Beth complied, and remarked, “I hear tell from Patrick that ye caught a basketful of trouble when ye strayed onto Mulrone land.” Beth evidently didn’t believe in tempering her words.
“When did you see Patrick?”
“He smelled the muffins and came in to steal one from the first batch.” She chuckled roundly, pleased in spite of her complaint.
When Chaz didn’t reply, Beth put her hands on her hips. “Well?”
“Yes, I did stray and yes, I caught, as you put it, a ‘basketful of trouble.’” Chaz giggled. It seemed everyone at Brionn was determined to treat her like a schoolgirl.
“Aye. Did ye learn yer lesson then?”
“What do you think?” Chaz attempted to put an end to this conversation without openly lying to Beth, whom she adored.
“I think ye will find yerself back there again until ye are satisfied.” Beth grumbled, “Ye be a curious lass, and not given to taking orders.”
“What is the big deal?” Chaz knew what it was because she had spent the night thinking it over. Mulrone was involved in all of this somehow. She had known it the moment he had tried to spell her to come onto his land. Was he Dark X? She couldn’t be sure. Mulrone could be one of Dark X’s…minions. They always had minions.
What she needed to do now was to find the right time and then find a way of getting onto Mulrone land. She needed to confront Dark X, and even if he was not one and the same as Mulrone, she was sure he nested like a serpent, coiled and ready, deep within the bowels of Mulrone Manor.
She needed to have all her assets in place.
She couldn’t wait too long because the longer she waited, the more he might learn about her trump card.
“The big deal, lass, is that yer employer desires ye stay off Mulrone land,” Beth said gravely. “Ye know, his lordship is the man who pays yer salary and owns Brionn—yer employer who is kind enough to let ye roam his land at will on a prime piece of horseflesh.”
“Yes, but I don’t think my employer should be allowed to tell me what to do with my free time.”
“Even if it would bring him an entanglement he wishes to avoid?”
There was that. “No, I wouldn’t like to do that,” Chazma conceded.
“Then be a good girl and stay away from that place and that awful man.”
“Okay, you win the point.” And then as though they had never discussed anything more serious than the weather. “Beth, this is excellent.” Chaz devoured the cold cuts that Beth had set for her. “Can I have some more?”
****
A few minutes after four, Chaz packed it up for the day. Eyes blurry, her mind and body restless, she rushed upstairs to wash her face and change her navy T-shirt into something more feminine. She donned a soft mint-green sleeveless sweater with a matching cardigan over a flared and matching multi-colored skirt. She pulled on a pair of light brown sandals and skipped downstairs to pick up the basket of muffins from Beth. Wrapping Beth in a hearty hug, Chaz wished her a good weekend.
A few moments later, Chaz walked down the drive that would take her to the dowager’s cottage. She was late for tea, but she didn’t think either Molly or the dowager would mind. Her cell phone vibrated and she stopped, dug it out of her bag, and flipped it open.
“Chazma.” James Dunboyne’s voice was rushed. “I have been wanting to call you all yesterday and then again today, but this is the first opportunity I have had.”
Brow arched, wariness kicked in. “Hi, James, what’s up?”
He laughed. “I love your Americanisms. I am sorry I wasn’t with you the other evening. You must think me the worst side of awful.”
“Not at all. You thought it would be easier for me to get back to Brionn from the inn. I understand.” Politeness infused her tone. She doubted that was his motive. She believed he had another engagement he needed to get to. The truth would have been nice.
“What a terrible ordeal it must have been for you. I…I had to put off all my morning appointments because the Dublin lab people have been with me since yesterday morning and have been keeping me so busy I haven’t had a moment to breathe,” he said irritably.
“Yes, well. A poor young woman—nineteen I was told, two years younger than myself—has been savagely killed. Anything we can do to help the garda catch this monster is what we must do,” Chaz said on a dry note.
“Yes, of course.” He brushed it off. “But Chaz, you must feel awful—I was told you actually went right up to the girl to see if you could help her and discovered her condition?”
“That’s right.” Icicles dripped from her tone.
“I can’t imagine what you must have gone through. Ugly business…and so lucky to have his lordship right on the spot to take you home.” A pause while he waited for her to answer his innuendo. “Well at least you can put the ugly scene out of your mind now. Has Murphy been to see you today?”
She held the phone away and looked at it, shook her head, and placed it back to ear. “Not today. I imagine he is busy. He took a statement from me the other night.” Chaz picked up her steps as she turned onto the cottage’s front walkway. “Sorry, James, I have to go. I’m just at the front door of Lady McBain’s cottage for tea.”
“Are you? That’s good. Some down time after your experience. Well, right then. I’ll call you tomorrow. I’d like to see you again soon, Chazma.”
“Sure.” She flipped the phone off, pulled a face, and knocked at the dowager’s door. Soon, as in never.
Molly met her at the quaint arched oak door, and ushered Chaz enthusiastically within. The dowager sat in her brocade rocker near the fire. An anguished look clouded her faded blue eyes as she smiled to greet her. She held out her aged hands to Chaz. “My dear, come sit close to me and then we can both be at ease.”
Where had she heard that phrase before? Be at ease?
Ah, yes, she had heard it from Jethro’s luscious lips, only when he had said it, it had carried a certain power she almost recognized—something her Fae grandfather had once taught her. At the time she had felt the magic emanating from the words and realized that she wasn’t mesmerized by them. The magic hadn’t affected her and that made her realize how much she liked magic—her magic, and the way it made her feel. When Jethro had said those words, the magic in them had been soothing, perhaps because they had been familiar.
If she had been a glan or a less powerful witch, she rather suspected it would have a trance-like calming effect. However, she wasn’t a glan, and she wasn’t a less powerful witch, and at the moment, she couldn’t quite be at ease. How was Jethro McBain able to draw on such magic, and now his grandmother?
The urge to come clean with the dowager was overwhelming. Chaz wanted to tell her she knew she was a practicing white witch. She wanted to tell Laura McBain just who and what she was, although she suspected that the dowager knew that all too well. At this point, she rather believed that the dowager and her own dear Grams were in constant communication.
Her grams had nearly given it away the other night when Chaz had called her. She had let it slip that it had been a mistake sending her off to Brionn. She had tried to calm her grams down and told her everything was fine, but her grandmother knew otherwise. How coul
d she know otherwise if she hadn’t been talking to someone at Brionn?
Oh, yeah. Grams and the dowager McBain had definitely spoken.
****
Dissatisfaction nudged Chazma with each stride she took away from the cottage.
She had tried to confess to the dowager but each time she had opened her mouth to make her confession, the dowager managed somehow to interrupt and start a long (although wonderful tale) of her youthful escapades. It was as though the dowager didn’t want her to confess what she was and why she was there. Odd, that.
While she had enjoyed the dowager’s stories, she sensed the older woman was governed by an underlining current of caution. She shrugged it off and picked up her pace.
Clouds darkened the sky and gathered in an ominous formation that promised rain. Headlights and the sound of a car engine at her back caught her attention. She stopped and moved to the side of the drive.
A tan convertible Jaguar with its top down slowed to a stop. Chaz recognized the pretty brunette she had seen talking to Jethro the other day just outside the village bank when she had lunched with Tom Murphy.
The woman was exceptionally attractive in a sophisticated kind of way. The red leather upholstery of her Jag made a nice backdrop for her. The woman adjusted her dark glasses and pursed her bright red lips in a bored fashion. A sharp twinge of jealousy wriggled through Chaz.
“Hello,” the woman said casually, almost too casually. “I’m going up to the house to see Jet. Would you like a ride?”
Chazma was no fool. The woman offered her a ride to see what kind of competition she might have.
Chaz smiled. “Thanks, but I am enjoying the walk. I don’t think…er…Jet…is back yet though.”
“Back? Oh, is he in Dublin then?”
“Yup.” It was all Chaz could do to keep herself from gritting her teeth.
“Give him a message for me, Miss…”
“Donnelly. Chazma Donnelly.”
“Chazma, how quaint.” She said, “Tell my sweet love I will be waiting for him at home tonight no matter what time he gets in.”
“I’ll be sure to do just that—but who shall I say the message is from?” She knew she was being bitchy but hadn’t been able to stop herself.
The woman bristled. “Cute. He’ll know, but, if you would like to know, I am Olivia Pratt.”
“Okay, Olivia, I will tell him his sweet love called…and is expecting him at any hour tonight. How is that?”
“You do that quite well—you almost managed it without growling. Almost,” Olivia answered on a smirk.
“Oh—did I not growl—I thought I did.” Chaz smiled innocently. Olivia eyed her speculatively and then turned her car around and sped off.
Ten minutes later, Chazma stood in the great hall still seething as she tried to collect herself. Why this encounter should have irritated her, she couldn’t say. It was none of her business who Jethro McBain’s “sweet love” was.
“Sweet love be damned,” she muttered and then a thought struck her and she cocked her head. All the day help had left.
She was alone in the house.
****
Jethro looked at his watch. It was nearly four and there was still so much he needed to oversee. He frowned as he saw one of the construction workers setting a steel girder in the wrong place. He called out to the man as he went toward him to show him the plans and ask him what the bloody hell he was doing.
Today he had really needed to be on-site, but his mind constantly flitted back to Chaz, as he wondered just what she was doing. He would have packed it in an hour ago, but for some reason one thing after another was going wrong. If he had not caught some of the mistakes, it would have been costly both in time and money.
The windows were all the wrong style and size and although the foreman had signed for them, they would have to go back. The stairs to the wrap-around courtyard balcony had, unbelievably, been installed on the wrong floor.
“Open yer eyes and look at the blueprints,” he growled.
Chaz’s face lit up his mind. That heart-shaped face of hers made him want to forget all the rules he had set in place. Her eyes, whose green depths demanded he dive in and lose his soul. Those green eyes had told him on their first encounter that she knew that he withheld the truth from her. He knew she held him at bay because of the lie that still stood between them. The urge to run and confess to her and be free to make her truly his own ate at him.
Bloody hell. Her brilliant smile dazzled him. That smile killed all other resolutions and transformed all logical thoughts in his brain into pudding. He had promised his grandmother not to mishandle her old friend’s granddaughter. That promise had been a locked gate between him and Chaz. Fear gripped him. He worried it would end with breaking her heart. He couldn’t have that and had never before settled on just one woman. When had things changed for him? From the moment ye saw her, ye bloody damn fool!
She was like forbidden fruit. Perhaps that explained it. Did he want her because she remained out of reach? Och no, McBain. Ye know better, don’t ye?
He felt an overwhelming urge to go home. An itch in his brain told him he should go home. By Danu, what was wrong with him?
He had never before allowed a woman’s beauty to alter his common sense. Control ruled him. Exceptional beauties littered his past. However, this one was different from any other woman he had ever known. Chazma called to something deep in his heart.
In her presence, his eyes constantly strayed to her breasts, which gave him an instant hard-on. If he allowed himself a quick glance in her direction, the trimness of her waist captured his imagination with similar results. A stolen view of her round little butt made him shift uncomfortably. Her musical voice enraptured him, and when she grew thoughtful, she’d lick her bottom lip, which made his hard-on harder. Someone should pay him as the poster boy for walking hard-ons.
What was she doing right now? Had she stopped working in the library? Was she visiting his grandmother? He slapped himself mentally. She likely planned something she had no business with.
Of course she was.
His remark about having her measure had been right on. He had known she would stray onto Mulrone land. Danger didn’t scare her, or if it did, she didn’t allow it to stop her.
In spite of the agreement he had bullied her into, he knew she would be planning something that would put her in harm’s way. It would put her in Mulrone’s way.
Certain that she had quite made up her mind to take on her parents’ killer, he was just as certain the murderous beast of a sorcerer flaying and destroying lives every week was Mulrone.
Was that why she had ventured onto his property—to see just how strong his power really was? Did Chaz actually believe she could take him on all by her wee self?
He grimaced over the answer he gave himself, but he couldn’t stop the flush of pride. A warrior’s heart beat inside the wee lass. He knew she was determined to face him alone—not, by damn, if he had his way!
Born and raised to be a high Druid priest, he possessed all the skills and innate magic that the office entailed. His family’s name was one that had governed and maintained the land for his people. They upheld the treaty between Fae and man and remained faithful in their duty to maintain the fabric of the wall that kept the two realms apart.
Mulrone’s family had other ambitions, but none as evil as the present family member. They were neighbors only because seven hundred years ago, a Mulrone sorcerer had used his magic to force a local man of power to sign over the land. The McBain could have gone to war to retrieve what was theirs, but it would have cost many innocent lives. The two hundred acres the Mulrones had stolen wasn’t worth the bloodshed. It was McBain land, bequeathed by the king and sanctioned by the Fae. It would always be their land. Mulrones had never even been able to ward a McBain off the land, and because the manor house was built on it, they could not be kept out of the manor either.
McBains believed peace would take them to a time when the Mu
lrone name would be gone from the earth and the land would revert to the Brionn estate.
Jethro’s many encounters with the older Mulrone had left him wondering early on if in fact this Mulrone was the ritual murderer. On the few occasions they had met in town, Mulrone’s aura repelled him. The black magic stench stained a sorcerer’s soul. By feeding upon itself it left decay behind, leaving Jethro to conclude that Mulrone might have evolved into part demon.
What was Mulrone trying to obtain? Power was seductive, but Jethro’s research into the old texts drew a blank. He could not find anything related to the type of weekly ritual murders that Mulrone was perpetrating in exchange for power.
A demon pact would explain his questions. The demon would take over his body to kill and take its fill of blood, and in exchange give Mulrone power. But what kind of power?
Chazma’s vendetta to destroy her parents’ killer would put her in harm’s way to reach her goal.
No, by Danu. He would not allow his wee beauty anywhere near the Mulrone. His? Again he thought of Chaz as his, and damn if he didn’t mean to make her so.
He wanted her with every fiber of his being. Her dates with Tom Murphy and James Dunboyne tortured him. Neither man suited her. Only one man was a match for her. He was that man.
He wasn’t about to allow any other to have her. The notion rushed through him and he longed for home. Her beautiful face beckoned, and he wished to make certain she had not harmed herself.
He wouldn’t be here if the building contractor had not had to rush off to the hospital to watch his firstborn come into the world. He smiled to himself. Babies.
He hadn’t been able to say no to the man yesterday when the man had explained he had to be with his wife because they had to induce labor. And now here he was marveling at what a difficult job keeping everything running smoothly actually was.
“Damnation, lads!” Jethro shouted as he watched three construction workers framing out a wall. “What are ye doing? That wall doesn’t belong there.”
****
Chazma grimaced to herself as she thought she might have missed her calling. She probably would have made an amazing thief with her particular skills. She decided to play it quick and safe by using magic on the locked door to the left wing, and made a mental note to undo the spell when she left.