Something Spooky

by Janet Woods

  Knowing the district had been suffering from drought Ellie had used the spell for making rain. She’d have looked pretty silly if Patrick had appeared whilst she was waving a forked stick in the air and chanting at the top of her voice. The giggle became a reality.

  He turned to glower at her.

  At least the love potion hadn’t worked, she mused. If Patrick had fallen instantly in love with her he had a funny way of showing it. He looked as if he wanted to kill her.

  The skin around his eye was a puffy purple patch, his dark hair curled at the edges like burned toast where it was drying. Mud streaked his tanned face. It lodged in the crevices, emphasizing them, making him appear older. His cold glittering eyes were contemptuous. They froze her embryonic laugh in her throat when she remembered she was here with him alone, except for one small boy who was oblivious to what was going on around him. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Not only was her imagination working overtime, she was also imagining the worst. Patrick Morgan was an ordinary man trying to run a small business. He’d just lost everything he owned and had the right to be upset about it.

  ‘I see nothing funny about the situation. I’ve just lost my truck and all my equipment.’

  ‘Wasn’t it insured?’

  ‘Of course it was insured.’

  ‘Then stop complaining, and I’d be grateful if you’d stop taking it out on me. It wasn’t my fault it rained.’

  Okay, so she’d waved a stick and chanted. A shiver came from nowhere and she wrapped her arms tightly around her body. ‘Be thankful you still have your life.’

  ‘There’s that I suppose.’ Staring through the thrashing blades of the wipers he asked, ‘What made you come to the creek?’

  ‘Aunt Vera phoned and said you were in trouble.’ She was shivering in earnest now. ‘Hadn’t we better get back; I’m worried about leaving Todd by himself. If he wakes he’ll be scared.’

  ‘He usually sleeps right through, but yes, you’re right. Did you say Vera rang from America?’ Patrick gave her an assessing glance before engaging the gear lever.

  ‘That’s what I said.’ Ellie didn’t care whether he believed her or not, didn’t know whether she believed it herself as they sped towards the welcoming lights of the house.

  ‘That figures,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I was thinking of Vera just before the branch brained me.’

  ‘What were you thinking?’

  ‘Nothing that would interest you.’ His voice was curt as they drew up in front of the house. Leaning over he thrust the door open. ‘Off you go, Eloise. Make yourself useful while I put the Rover away. Black coffee with two sugars, please.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d like me to run you a bath as well,’ she snarled, stung by what amounted to little more than an order.

  ‘Thanks.’ His eyes locked into hers when she clambered down from the Rover. ‘You look as though you need one yourself; would you care to join me?’

  ‘I’d rather bathe in acid.’ Slamming the door on his laugh she jumped backwards as the wheels spun in a patch of mud. Too late! Mud arced upwards and splattered her face and hair. Her metamorphosis from beauty to beast in the hands of this man had been expertly completed.

  ‘Mongrel!’ she yelled.

  Something suspiciously like a howl reached her ears as the car sped towards the garage. She swore quietly to herself as she stomped into the house.

  Much to Ellie’s relief Todd was still sound asleep. Tucking his arm under the blanket she leaned forward and kissed his tousled head.

  ‘Sleep well ... ’ she whispered, ‘... because you might find I’ve turned your father into a stone gargoyle when you wake up.’

  Chapter Two

  ‘What the devil was that in the bath?’

  The roar of Patrick’s voice brought Ellie spinning around. The cutlery she’d been about to set on the table slid from her suddenly nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor, while her mouth fell open in awe. What has she done to him?

  Matching the pink trackie pants, the shocking pink raised lumps emblazoned on his arms and chest accused her of her own stupidity.

  ‘Hives,’ she whispered. ‘You must have been allergic to it.’

  ‘Allergic to what?’ Two steps brought him across the kitchen. His eyes impaled her. ‘What did you put in my bath water?’

  ‘A herbal bubble bath,’ she said desperately. It wasn’t really a lie, the potion had been a mixture of herbs and washing up liquid. ‘I made it myself.’

  * * * *

  Twisting his arm up behind him Patrick tried to scratch a spot between his shoulder blades. ‘Out of what, exactly, nettles?’

  ‘Lavender, rosemary and fennel.’ Purity of heart, fidelity and valor, the book had said. Perhaps she should have omitted the fennel. She swallowed as her glance sized up his muscles. He didn’t look as if his strength needed boosting.

  Her eyes widened when another lump appeared on the muscle she’d been assessing. This wasn’t the effect she’d aimed for when she’d put the love potion in his bath. He must be in an agony of itching. Guiltily she avoided his eyes.

  ‘There’s some calamine lotion in the cupboard, and I’ve got some antihistamine tablets in my bag.’

  ‘Then get them.’ Patrick leaned against the cool surface of the fridge and sighed with frustration. ‘This has been a hell of a day. You must carry the same jinx as–’ His eyes delivered a volley of lethal shots at her hovering form. ‘What are you waiting for, Eloise. I’m going to catch fire if you don’t get your act together.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  So much for the love potion, Ellie mused as she fetched the medications. It seemed to have had the opposite effect on Patrick Morgan. He was obviously incapable of loving a woman. But no ... he must have managed it once. Todd was proof of that.

  He practically snatched the calamine and wad of cotton wool from her hands, dabbed at the lumps on his chest and arms then handed it back to her. ‘Put some on my back.’

  The hives seemed to have joined forces on his back. Gazing at the welts she indicated the table. ‘It will be easier if you lie down. I’ll use my hands.

  Patrick flinched as she poured a generous measure into the middle of his back, then sighed when her fingers smoothed it over his flesh. He had a nice body, Ellie reflected as she smoothed the lotion in long sweeping strokes over his firm skin. He tapered down from the shoulders in one lean wedge. His muscle tone rippled under her finger tips, and the cool lotion against the heat of his body raised goose-bumps wherever she touched.

  The aroma of the witches brew he’d bathed in still clung to his skin. It rose in waves with the heat from his body. Lavender, rosemary ... and something else, something so sensual that Ellie leaned closer and took a deep breath in order to isolate it. Musk. She closed her eyes and let her hands glide over his body. It was a primitive male scent that touched a chord in her and indicated ... arousal?

  Help! She willed her hands away from where they’d been journeying. The last thing she needed was for Patrick to think she was after him. Tearing her eyes away from his perfectly proportioned rear she muttered primly. ‘I think that will do, Mister Morgan.’

  ‘A pity,’ he murmured softly. ‘I was enjoying it.’

  There was nothing wrong with this man’s libido, Ellie noticed when he rose from the table. Averting her eyes she busied herself at the sink. ‘The tablets are on the dresser. They’ll probably make you sleepy so I’ll make up a bed on the couch after we’ve eaten.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Strolling to the stove he lifted the lid from a saucepan and inhaled a cloud of steam. ‘This is just about ready.’

  Ellie’s stomach gave an unladylike growl as she hurriedly threw the cloth back on the table and gathered together the spilled cutlery. ‘It smells delicious, Mister Morgan. I could eat a horse.’

  * * * *

  ‘So I hear.’ He flicked her a grin. ‘Cut out the Mister Morgan, my name’s Patrick.’

  The casual tone of his voice changed to disgust. ‘Why didn
’t you stir this hash? It’s all stuck to the bottom.’

  ‘I was drying my hair.’ Joining him at the stove she peered into the saucepan with dismay. ‘Is it ruined?’

  ‘It looks beautiful, lion lady.’ His growling voice sent shivers rioting down her spine. A compliment? Ellie waited for him to qualify it with an insult. He didn’t disappoint her. ‘It must cost a fortune to keep it looking that way.’

  ‘On the contrary.’ She moved out of the way when he bent to open the oven. ‘I just get it trimmed every few weeks.’ Her mouth watered as she spotted the crispy fried potatoes. ‘Those look great.’

  ‘I’m not just a pretty face.’ He wasn’t devoid of a sense of humor, however ironic. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth when she laughed. ‘Stop getting in my way, woman. Go and finish off the table.’

  This sort of bossy banter she could cope with. And when he set a loaded plate on the table in front of her she almost liked him. She’d never mastered cooking. This feast was a welcome change from the frozen dinners she usually bought for herself.

  Patrick gave her a swift glance as he took the seat opposite her and picked up his fork. ‘Tell me about yourself.’

  Ellie eyed her steaming plate. ‘Now? I haven’t had a meal like this for ages. All I want to do is eat.’

  ‘I just thought you might like some polite conversation with your meal.’

  ‘You can actually be polite?’ Why had she said that? He’d offered her an olive branch. Now his face had closed up like a clam with a belly ache.

  ‘Please yourself.’ He turned on the radio and studiously ignored her for the rest of the meal.

  There was no relief in his silence. The atmosphere was charged with tension. Ellie didn’t bother to try and relieve it as she tidied up the kitchen and hung his clothes on coat hangers to dry overnight. Why should she? He’d barged into the house like an avenging angel and treated her like dirt.

  Despite her quick temper, Ellie’s personality was sunny. People were usually attracted to her, which was why Patrick’s churlish attitude puzzled her.

  Had he been a child she’d have brought her charm to bear and won him round. But this was a man she was dealing with, an intelligent one. He presented a different kind of challenge, and she wasn’t about to give him an inch.

  She doubted he would give her an inch either. Relaxed in Aunt Vera’s chair, his long legs extended towards the fire, Patrick was comfortably unaware of the ridiculous figure he presented in the pink pants and matching calamine lotion.

  He looked incredibly fit. His skin resembled fine burnished leather stretched over supple muscle and sinew. Graceful was not an adjective usually applied to men, but Ellie couldn’t think of one that fitted his physical form better.

  Realizing her libido was showing signs of disturbance Ellie tore her eyes away from him. It was no good lusting after a man whose disposition was opposite to her own. She’d gone that route before. She wanted a man she could manage, like his brother. Andrew Morgan was sweet-tempered, kind, and he respected her.

  Ellie frowned slightly. Andrew just needed a little bit of encouragement, that was all. ‘Are those for my bed?’

  Without realizing it, Ellie had taken sheets from the airing cupboard, and was idly smoothing them with her hand while she thought.

  * * * *

  Patrick yawned. ‘Make it snappy. I’m tired.’

  He was tired! Did he think she wasn’t? She ached all over from dragging him to the Rover. Because of him her favorite dress was ruined, her nails ragged and chipped, her shoulders tight with tension. She hated the sight of his sprawling figure, his sardonic smile, his hives. Had she the strength, Ellie knew she would happily feed him through the meat mincer piece by piece.

  ‘I’m not your slave.’ The sheets flew from her hands and landed on his chest. She derived a certain amount of satisfaction from the astonishment on his face. ‘You’re big and ugly enough to fix your own bed.’

  ‘You’ve got a hell of a temper on you, Eloise.’ He rose to his feet in one fluid motion and loomed threateningly over her. ‘Someone needs to put you over their knee and paddle it out of you.’ He looked as though he’d elected himself for the job if the sense of purpose in his eyes was any indication.

  Ellie headed for her bedroom at a fast trot, then jammed a chair under the door handle as a precaution.

  ‘Just try and get in here and I’ll brain you,’ she muttered under her breath. She looked around for a weapon to do it with. Her glance fell on Todd. He was sat up in bed watching her through sleep-fuddled eyes.

  ‘Are you my mum, Ellie?’

  Todd went back to sleep as soon as Ellie tucked him back under the covers. Tears came to her eyes. ‘Don’t I wish, angel,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘It’s a pity you come as a package otherwise I’d certainly apply for the job.

  Ellie rose early; woken by Todd’s urgent need to visit the bathroom. Her own urge, which was to consume at least a gallon of hot tea, overrode the desire for an extra hour’s sleep.

  The kitchen was warm, the kettle left on the banked up stove steaming. Patrick’s clothes were gone so he’d been up before her.

  Ellie thrust the tousled hair from her eyes and made the tea. She gazed at Todd. Chin balanced on his elbows he gazed back at her.

  ‘May I have pancakes for breakfast, please?’

  ‘In a minute. If I don’t have two cups of tea to start the day I turn into a grouch.’ She smiled when Todd giggled. ‘Would you like a cup?’

  ‘I’m not allowed tea.’ His head cocked to one side. ‘Dad said milk makes you strong.’

  Ellie poured some milk into a glass and slid it across to him. ‘Are you strong?’

  Todd’s tongue came out and licked the residue from his lips. ‘One day I’m going to be just like Patch.’

  Ellie gazed thoughtfully at the boy whilst she finished her tea. She hoped not, one Patrick Morgan was bad enough. She poured herself another cup and started making a pancake batter.

  She was doing fine until Patrick walked into the kitchen. Having decided that one thick pancake would take less time than lots of thin ones, she’d tipped half the batter into the heated pan. She was now watching it, hoping the middle would cook before the edges burned.

  ‘Good morning, Eloise.’

  Patrick sounded almost human, and she whipped around in surprise. That was her undoing. The sleeve of the lose robe she wore caught around the handle of the pan and sent its contents crashing to the floor. Splattered with hot fat and warm batter she leaped backwards, tripped over the cat, who’d appeared from nowhere then fell into Patrick’s arms.

  * * * *

  Patrick grinned down at her, and Todd clapped his hands like she’d just performed some amazing circus act.

  ‘Could you do that again, Patrick said, his voice loaded with irony. ‘I nearly missed it.’

  ‘Very funny.’ If the amusement in his eyes wasn’t bad enough, the position of the hands that had caught her was worse. She’d fallen backwards, and each of his hands firmly cupped one of her breasts. Patrick was looking down at her, his face upside-down. ‘Let me go this minute,’ she hissed.

  ‘This minute?’ Awareness came into his eyes when he looked at his hands. Ellie could have sworn his thumbs gently caressed her nipples. ‘Are you sure?’ he mocked, as they swelled into a response.

  ‘Now!’

  Ellie expected him to haul her upright first. Instead, Patrick abruptly withdrew his arms. Her rear end hit the floor with a resounding thump. She would have screamed abuse at him if Todd hadn’t been there. Instead, she scrambled to her feet, gave him an indignant glare, and stepped forward, straight into the middle of the pancake. As the batter oozed up between her toes she whispered a succinct oath.

  Patrick’s laugh started off as a quiet chuckle, then became a torrent as Todd joined in. Ellie pulled her robe close around her and left them too it. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as she limped on one foot and heel towards the bathroom.

  Af
ter washing the batter from her foot she stared at herself in the mirror. On impulse, she threw back her head and screamed out her frustration in one long yell.

  Ellie felt better when she reached her bedroom. She shrugged into a pair of jeans and a fleecy white sweater, then pulled her hair into a lose knot on her crown before returning to the kitchen.

  Patrick had cleaned up the mess.

  ‘One thing you’ve guys have got to learn about me,’ she said, her eyes sweeping from one grinning face to the other. ‘I never admit to defeat.’

  Patrick’s grin became a smile. The ground seemed to lurch under Ellie’s feet. She’s never have thought his smile would be quite so delicious? It made her tingle from head to toe.

  Then she remembered his temper and mentally stamped censored across his smile. She gave him an accusing look, turned back towards the bench and began to prepare the pancake batter all over again.

  ‘I’m going into Benella to do some shopping, she told them. Ellie also intended to lunch at the restaurant Andrew frequented, but she wasn’t about to tell Patrick that.

  ‘I can drop you off at your home if you like.’

  ‘My home’s in the creek.’ The slim white sheath she’d changed into got a slow once-over. Although it covered her from neck to knee, Ellie suddenly felt naked. He smiled as she shrugged into a red leather jacket that matched her shoes, drawling, ‘Actually, Eloise, you’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘Try and stop me.’ The hostility in her voice didn’t escape his notice. He frowned when she picked up the keys to the Land Rover.

  ‘I won’t have to, the creek’s still up.’ He plucked the keys from her hand. ‘Besides ... I need the Rover. I might be able to get a line on the van when the water drops a bit. It’s wedged against a tree.’

  ‘In that case I’ll take the long way round.’ She took another set of keys from her bag and jiggled them triumphantly under his nose. ‘I have my own car in the garage.’

  ‘That English job.’ His lips cracked into a grin. ‘I bet that was expensive.’

  ‘What off it?’ Ellie’s father had bought her the car before he died. The gift had been unexpected because he usually respected her wish for independence. He’d excused his generosity by telling her the ancient mini she drove was unsafe and he worried about her. She’d accepted the car on that basis.