“Again?”
She nodded. “Yes. But don’t worry about that now. Don’t worry about anything now. I’ll explain it all, Duncan, and this time I’ll tell you everything. I won’t keep anything from you this time, I swear it.”
Frowning, he studied her and wondered for the first time if this beautiful young woman was perhaps, slightly insane.
Good, Duncan. Better that than wondering what happened to your own sanity just now, isn’t it?
“This time?” he said, pretending not to hear his own mocking thoughts. God, how her black eyes gleamed. She reminded him of something...someone.
“All that matters now, Duncan, is that you’re here. You’re here.” Her beautiful lips curved into a smile so enticing he found he really didn’t care if she was sane or not. “You’re really here.”
He found himself smiling back at her, a reflex beyond control. “Yes, I certainly am.”
She shook her head from side to side. “You don’t sound the same.”
“The same as what?”
She shook her head again. “You’ve lost the lilt of the Highlands. But beyond that....” She stroked his hair once more, tugged a strand away from his head and ran it between her fingers. “Beyond that, you’re the same. Lord, but I’ve missed you so much. And to think I thought it was him. And I left poor Arianna home packing, convinced we had to go away and—”
“Go away?” She sounded crazier all the time, but for some reason the idea of her leaving here shook him. His hands were on her shoulders now, and he battled a rising tide of panic that usually only crept up on him this way when he tried swimming or looked down from some substantial height. “But you can’t. Not now, not when—”
“Oh, but we’re not going away. No, Duncan, not now, I promise you that. I’m not about to leave you when I’ve only just found you.”
He sighed his relief. “I’m glad.”
“Are you?”
He nodded. “We...we know each other, don’t we?” he said, a little uncertain.
A cloud covered the light in her eyes. “We did once. I’d hoped you might remember, but Arianna told me you wouldn’t. It’s all right, Duncan.”
He licked his lips, swallowed hard. “I can’t imagine meeting you and not remembering,” he said.
She shrugged, averting her eyes. “It was a long time ago.”
He tilted his head, studying her face. “You do seem familiar to me. Maybe that’s why I’ve been....” He let his words die. Maybe that was why he’d been so drawn to her, so compelled to watch her from the lighthouse. Maybe he had known her once.
“Well, if I’m a bit familiar to you, then that’s something, isn’t it?”
“I’m half afraid you’re mistaking me for someone else.”
“There could never be someone else, Duncan. Not ever.” Lowering her head slowly, she whispered, “There’s so much we need to talk about. So much I have to tell you.”
“Apparently so.”
She drew a breath. “This must seem so strange to you.”
“It’s...yeah. It’s strange.” She bit her lip, and he rushed on. “Strange in a very nice way,” he added, and he caught her chin, lifted it so he could look into those mesmerizing eyes of hers. “Tears,” he said. “have no business filling eyes like these.”
She sniffed, and the tears welled deeper and spilled out onto her cheeks. “Will you hold me, Duncan? I know it makes no sense to you now, but I need to feel your arms around me more than I need to draw another breath right now.”
She didn’t have to ask twice. He pulled her close, and she nestled in his arms. She fit herself against him as if she were custom-made for him to hold. Her arms around his waist, her cheek resting on his chest. Her hair just below his face so its scent wafted up to entice. Something stirred a memory when he smelled that scent. Lavender and honeysuckle. He’d smelled it before, he knew he had.
For a very long time he stood there and just held her. It felt potent. Emotions more powerful than any he’d ever known roiled around inside him, and he couldn’t even figure out why. But he didn’t want to let her go. Hell, he’d hold her like this forever if he had time.
Time.
Damn, the time.
He glanced at his watch, realized he was late now for his meeting with his father. Almost decided to let the old man sit alone all morning. But his conscience gave a twist. No, he’d wanted this chance with his father for too long to blow it when it finally came. He had to at least try.
“I’m sorry,” he told her as he stroked her hair and gently lifted her head from his chest. The regret in his voice was genuine. He didn’t want to leave her. It made his knees weak, made his head ache to realize he had to. Clenching his jaw, he forced the words to come. “I have to meet someone. I swear, if it wasn’t so important, I’d—”
“No, it’s all right. I...I should go, talk to Arianna before she has the entire house packed up.” She shook her head. “Besides, I need to put my head on straight. Seeing you–it made me forget everything I’d planned, everything I wanted to say.”
A lump came into his throat. “I...will I see you again?”
Her smile was soft, edged with sadness and joy all at once. “I’ll come to you, Duncan. Tonight, I’ll come to the lighthouse. We’ll talk then. I promise you, all of this will make sense then.”
He nodded slowly, doubting anything she had to say could make any of this make sense. But he didn’t care. All that mattered was that she would come to him. She’d be with him. Tonight, and that was only hours away, and if she hadn’t made that promise, he didn’t think he’d be able to walk away from her right now. “I’ll be waiting,” he told her.
Leaning forward and up, she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Then, stepping away, she turned to go.
“Wait,” he said, and she stopped, glanced back at him. “I don’t even know your name.”
She blinked, as if to cover something in her eyes. “No, you don’t, do you? It’s Raven. Raven St. James.” Then she turned again and hurried away.
Duncan stood staring after her until she was out of sight. Raven.
Raven?
My God, what the hell was going on here?
“Duncan?”
Blinking out of his stupor, he half turned toward the voice that called his name. His rather stood three feet away, on the sidewalk, hands thrust into the deep pockets of the long black coat that made him look like a mobster’s grandfather.
“Hello, Father.’’
His father frowned, and the additional lines lost themselves with all the others on his face. It was a stern face, narrow and pale. Steel-gray hair, too long for a man his age, surrounded it. He looked like winter, Duncan thought. He’d always looked that way. Never seemed to change.
“I waited a good fifteen minutes at the cafe," he said, his voice a monotone.
“I was on my way there.” He met the old man’s eyes, wondered if there would be a confrontation, accusations and defenses now. No, he wouldn’t defend himself to his father. He wouldn’t apologize. He was an adult.
His father’s gaze wavered first, and the man sighed. “No matter. I was just on my way back to the old courthouse building. Walk with me, Duncan?”
Duncan nodded, turning around and falling into step beside his father. Awkwardly trying to think of some light conversation, some casual words to break the ice. “So how have you been?”
“Same as always. And you?”
Duncan shrugged. His father spoke without making eye contact. It was a trait Duncan had never really become used to. “The business is going well,” he told the old man at length.
“Yes, well, it should. There will never be a shortage of old buildings in need of restoration.”
“I hope not.”
“You bought that lighthouse.” He made a clicking sound with his tongue, gave his head a shake, but other than that didn’t break his stride or raise his head. “I found that surprising.”
“So did I.”
The old man
did look up then. Sharply, quickly, scanning Duncan’s face in one sweep of his pale eyes and then facing the sidewalk again.
“I bought it on impulse,” Duncan explained. “I’m not sure why. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to stay there.”
“Mmm.” Their shoes tapped in sync over the sidewalk. Passing traffic. Dry leaves rustling against bare limbs in the breeze. Silence.
“You regret it yet?”
Duncan sent the man a sideways glance. “No. No, I don’t,”
“So you’ll be staying around here for a while.”
He thought of the woman. Raven. Tonight. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Then I have a proposition for you.” The old man paused and waved a hand. Duncan followed it to the square flat-topped building, made of deep gray stone blocks. Broad stone steps, with pillars top and bottom, led the way to the entry, which was by itself impressive with big, dark double doors that had brass bells up high. “This is it.”
It took Duncan a minute to process the announcement. “The old courthouse? The one you bought?”
Nodding, his father mounted the steps. “Come, I want you to see inside. My apartments are above, on the second floor, but it’s the ground story you’ll be interested in, Duncan. I’ve already acquired some of the most fascinating antiques.” He turned his key in the lock and swung the doors wide. “Here, see for yourself.”
Duncan stepped inside. His father reached for a light switch, and then stood back and waited while Duncan’s gaze skimmed the crates, the boxes, the odd items stacked hither and yon, the large wooden items standing in one corner of the room. Were those were those stocks?
Finally his gaze fell on a sign. The Gothic letters printed in red on a black background read: OLDE WORLD WITCH MUSEUM.
He blinked. “What is all this?”
“Just what it looks like,” his father said. “A tourist trap, but a money-maker, Duncan, I guarantee it.”
“A Witch Museum?”
Nodding, his father moved around, touching first one box and crate and then another. “Torture devices, antique stocks, handwritten confessions—”
“And you don’t think it’s slightly morbid?”
“Ah, Duncan, don’t be foolish. It’s all in fun.”
Gee, do you suppose it was fun to the women who saw this stuff firsthand?
“Besides,” his father went on, “what do people come to this part of the country for, if not this? Why is Salem doing such a booming business, eh? This will succeed, Duncan, I’m sure of it.” He slapped Duncan’s shoulder—the most physical contact he’d made with his son in a dozen years. And as always, a shock of something like static electricity sparked where they made contact. Duncan stiffened and pulled away instinctively. Oddly, it reminded him of the static he’d felt when the strange beauty touched him, and yet it had been different with her. Pleasant and exciting, rather than slightly repulsive the way it always was with the old man. Duncan had never understood it, and assumed he simply tended to conduct static more than most people.
His father’s lips thinned for a moment. Then he acted as if nothing had happened. And nothing had. Nothing new, anyway. “I hoped we could work on it together. Partners. You and I.”
Duncan lifted his head slowly to meet his father’s eyes. “You. . . you want me as your partner?”
His father nodded. “Yes, son, I do. It will give us a chance to . . . well, to make up for the past. Time to get to know each other, the way we should have done long ago.”
Duncan couldn’t believe it. A lump came into his throat, but he swallowed it down. “I. . . I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m an old man, Duncan. When a man gets to be my age, he starts to think, starts to wish he’d done certain things in his life a little differently, starts to understand what’s really important.”
Nodding, Duncan had to look away. “I’ve waited a long time for a chance like this.”
“Then take it, Duncan.’’ His father’s hand returned to his shoulder. Jolted him, then tightened there. “What do you say? Partners?”
Duncan faced his father and said nothing. How many times had his father made false starts like this? How many times had he seemed to want to get closer, only to pull away again, without explanation? And, God, even if he were sincere this time, something about the idea of putting these relics on display seemed crude. Repugnant, even. Oh, he knew it was the norm in Salem, but it would be the first of its kind here in Sanctuary, and it seemed...wrong.
“Duncan?”
“I...I don’t know.” Say no, some inner voice told him. And yet he wanted so much to be close to this cold man. Had wanted it for so long. “I. . . I’ll think about it.”
“That’s good enough.”
Good enough. When nothing Duncan had done had ever been good enough.
God Almighty, Duncan thought. Could this day get any stranger?
Chapter 14
“Raven.”
I turned around, holding my hair to the back of my head in a temporary bundle and craning my neck to glimpse the effect in the mirror behind me. Then I frowned. “Maybe I should just leave it down.”
“Raven–”
“What do you think, Arianna?” Letting my hair fall, finger combing it slightly, I arranged it over my shoulders. “Yes, I’ll leave it down.” With a firm nod I faced the four-poster bed and the clothing draped over every inch of the mattress and hanging from the foot. “I just wish I knew what to wear.”
“Raven, will you stop for one minute and listen to me?”
Smiling—I hadn’t been able to stop smiling since that morning—I faced Arianna. “This is all because of you, you know. If it hadn’t been for your spell....” I closed my eyes, tipped my head back, and mentally saw my beloved Duncan again. “He looks just the same. It’s like he never left me.”
“No, Raven. It is not like that at all.” Arianna stood close, gripped my shoulders, and the warm, familiar tingle passed from her body into mine as she stared hard into my eyes. “He did leave you. For you, everything seems the same, but it’s not, love. Not for him.”
I sighed softy. Poor Arianna, trying so hard to protect me from my own hopes and dreams. She just didn’t understand. “I know he may not remember me now, but he will. And he’ll love me again, and—”
“And how do you know it will happen that way?” she asked me.
I blinked. A finger of doubt crept into my brain, but I banished it. Ignored it. Pretended it didn’t exist just as I'd been pretending all day.
Just as I’d been pretending for three hundred years.
I'd spent all this time waiting for his return—none of it pondering how things might have changed between us.
“It has to happen that way,” I told her.
“Yes, that’s just the way I was thinking, Raven, when I set out to find my little sister more than three centuries ago. But your reaction was quite different. Do you remember?”
I did remember. And the doubt in my heart grew larger. “But—”
“You thought I’d come to kill you. You drew your blade, Raven. You’d have fought me—perhaps to the death. To you I was a stranger. Nothing more.”
My heart contracted at her words. Slowly I lowered my head. “You’re right.” Drawing a deep breath, I met her eyes. “But we’re sisters again now, Arianna. Closer, even, than that.”
“But our past together is just as gone. The life you led before is lost to you. You remember none of it. Not our father, a lowly saddle maker, nor our mother, nor our poor cottage in Stonehaven. Not the loch where we played.” She closed her eyes. “Our closeness now is based on this lifetime. We’ve built it together over centuries, Raven. It’s strong, and it’s real, but it’s not the same. It can never be the same.”
Turning slowly, eyes downcast, I felt tears well up and burn my eyes. “I...I hadn’t thought....”
“I know. That’s why I’m trying to make you think. Raven, Duncan may look the same, bear the same name, but he is not the same. To him, you’
re a beautiful stranger who kissed him on the street one day.”
My head came up sharply. “He kissed me, too!”
“Of course he did. But, Raven, you could fling yourself into the arms of any red-blooded, heterosexual male and he would do the same. You’re a beautiful woman. Duncan is a man.”
“No,” I said. Biting my lip, I paced to the bed, snatching up a dress, eyeing it through my tears. “There was something there, something between us, Arianna. I felt it.”
“Yes. You felt it. But did he?”
The fabric of the dress crumpled in my fists, I slowly lifted my head, faced her, bit back a sob. “He...he doesn’t love me?”
“He doesn’t know you.” Arianna came closer, took the dress gently from my hands, and laid it on the bed. Then she cupped my face and wiped my tears away with her thumbs. “I only want you to be aware, to be careful, darling. He’ll fall in love with you again, I don’t doubt it for a moment. But, Raven, he’s going to need time. And so are you. Time to get to know him again. He might be very different from the man you remember. You might decide you don’t even want—”
“I will never decide that,” I sniffed, brushing at my wet eyes. “I love him, Arianna. I will always love him.”
“I know,” she said softy. Turning, she fingered the clothes on the bed, pausing on a sheer, soft dress of ivory silk. “This one, I think.” She gathered the dress up, draped it gently over my arm. “It won’t be easy for him, you know. He’s going to have a lot to deal with, when you tell him. He’s immortal now, Raven. A High Witch like us, with maybe no clue that he has some fledgling powers coming to life inside him. You must remember what a shock learning of your own nature was to you, how difficult it was to accept, to understand.”
“I remember.” I let the robe I wore fall from my shoulders to the floor, then pulled the dress over my head. But the bubbling excitement I’d felt all day ebbed now. I was suddenly unsure, afraid. What if Duncan never loved me again?
Eternity: Immortal Witches Book 1 (The Immortal Witches) Page 20