The Touchstone 0f Raven Hollow (Secrets 0f Roseville Book 3)

by Betty Bolte

  Whoa. Commiseration mixed with a dash of guilt filled her eyes with tears. She blinked twice to force away the tears and leaned forward to reach out a hand, offering to comfort him, waiting for him to accept or refuse. “Tell me.”

  She watched him reach a decision, the shift of his shoulders and the angle of his chin drawing him closer to her. He placed his hand in hers, squeezed lightly and then clasped her fingers as he studied her expression. When his gaze steadied on hers, she squeezed his hand, encouraging him silently to share the burden of the memory.

  “My friend, Jeremy, died while we were messing around where we shouldn’t have been. I was looking at the foundation of a dilapidated old house, seeing what kinds of rocks they’d used. He went off on his own. I guess he didn’t see the old well cover until he’d stepped on it. The sound of the wood giving way alerted me but too late.”

  “Did he fall?” If so, their situation and his reaction made perfect sense. “Like we did?”

  He nodded slowly. Tears glittered in his eyes when he paused to take a shaky breath. “He screamed all the way to the bottom, about fifteen feet into the darkness.”

  “I’m so sorry, Grant.” She wanted to touch him, hold him in a comforting embrace, but he’d put an emotional distance between them. As if holding back. She wouldn’t push him to be with her, just wait for his next move. Ready to console when needed. “What did you do?”

  “The only thing I could. I ran back to the trailhead to my bike, went to his parents’ house for help.” He rubbed his eyes, releasing a tear to slide unimpeded down his stubbly jaw, creating a path for several others to follow. “We were too late.”

  She stifled the gasp his confession prompted. Watching him cry in silent agony as he relived the tragedy from his youth. “Oh, Grant…”

  The death of a friend at such a young age must leave lingering questions and grief. Guilt, too. She’d never experienced such a loss. Other than her parents’ deaths, she had been fortunate in that regard. For a young boy to experience such a trying ordeal, striving to overcome the weight of the guilt he piled on himself for not being big enough, strong enough, fast enough to bring the necessary aid to his friend.

  “It’s okay. I’ve dealt with it.” He leaned forward again to take one of her hands, examining each finger. “It taught me to be prepared for anything as best I can. Which doesn’t mean I’m perfect, obviously, since I forgot spare batteries for the flashlight.” He lifted his gaze from her hand to meet hers, a wry twist to his mouth.

  “We’re fine. Tomorrow we’ll make our way out of here.” She smiled to reassure him as much as herself. Would the spell permit them to escape its power? She’d find a way to ensure they did. With good fortune, without disclosing her secret. “You’ll see.”

  He nodded and let his gaze drift around the room. “This place is like a fantasy, or a myth, or other fantastical story location. Sitting out here like some sorcerer’s lair.”

  “At least we’re warm and dry.” Tara pressed her palms onto the quilt on either side of her thighs. He had no idea. She suspected some form of test awaited to successfully sever the grip the incantation held over Raven Hollow and Lenore. Grant wouldn’t accept such a conclusion, not without evidence. Which she did not have. She rushed to change the subject. “Are you tired?”

  “A little.” A spark lit in Grant’s gorgeous eyes as he sat contemplating her. “Are you?”

  “A little.” She echoed his words back to him, a grin blooming on her lips. Glad the mood in the room had lightened with his changed expression. “What should I use to bundle you up for bed?”

  He looked at her askance with a matching smile. Several emotions flickered through his eyes as he winked. “Or should I bundle you instead?”

  She laughed at his comical expression. “I don’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself. So I’ll do the bundling, thank you very much.”

  Grant chuckled and rose to his feet to cross the short distance and sit down beside her on the bed. The dip of the bed with the sudden additional weight propelled her into him. She caught herself with a hand on his thigh, warm and strong, before she hastened to pull away.

  “See? You’re already touching me.” Grant wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting and embracing.

  “No, you’re touching me.” She wiggled as if to move away but he pulled her in tight against his side. Her outer thigh warmed to fever pitch by his body heat penetrating the denim. His hand slid under her sweater and landed on her bare back, claiming her. She inhaled sharply and detected his tangy aftershave and a hint of man. She let out her breath in a rush, striving for calm but failing. “You’re still touching me.”

  “Now you sound like my brother when we were children in the back seat of my parents’ car.” He used his free hand to smooth a stray hair away from her face, then traced the outline of her cheekbone with his forefinger.

  Each stroke of his finger sent a ripple of awareness to fuel the desire building in her core. She resisted at first, reminding herself of all the reasons why she couldn’t risk her heart. But the spark grew into a flame that engulfed her sensibilities and left them ashes. Turning her face to meet his hot gaze proved her undoing. His mouth only inches from hers. She moistened her lips, and his gaze landed on them for two heartbeats. Then he lowered his mouth to hers and ignited a passion neither could control. The anxieties of the day and the emotional sharing of his friend’s death fed the flames, seeking relief from the stress and strain in the arms of another.

  Tara devoured him like a chocolate éclair with extra dark chocolate. Kissing him everywhere she could reach while he held her wrapped in his arms as if he’d never let her go. Then he eased her down on the bed, lying with her in his embrace as they continued to explore each other. Learned the delights of playing, using the tips of their tongues like fencers sparring. They kissed for what seemed moments, but when Tara paused for air, gasping as if she’d run up a flight of stairs, she glanced at her watch. Wait. What? She peered at the hands and shook her head. Two hours had passed. She pushed on Grant’s chest, and he shifted his hold.

  “What’s wrong?” He frowned when she sat up and scooted a couple of inches to the side.

  “We’ve been at each other for hours.” She tapped her watch face. Was it broken? “Or at least that’s what my watch says.”

  “No way.” Grant sat up and peered at his watch. His brows shot up. “That’s not possible.”

  She stared at him while she sorted through the facts and reflected on her suspicions. Recalled Lenore’s comment about time in the hollow. “We need to be very careful while we’re in this house.”

  He slowly nodded, eyes serious and mouth compressed into a flat line. “And we need to stay together at all times.”

  “I don’t understand what is going on, Grant.” She shifted to sit cross-legged facing him and rested her hands on her knees. “But somehow we must find our way home tomorrow. My sisters will be very worried.”

  They would be more than worried if they knew where Tara and Grant had disappeared. She struggled to remain calm when she considered all the ways her sisters could harm themselves in her absence. Without her there to heal them from injury or illness. Much like she ended up concerned for how to break free from the enchantment, if it were even possible. Daylight would shine on the answers in the morning with any luck. The truth remained hidden in darkness until then.

  “Agreed.” He laid his hands on top of hers and squeezed. “For tonight, you need your sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

  “You need your sleep, too.” She attempted to stay focused, but the touch of his flesh to hers shot desire right to her nether regions. Breathe. Relax. She thought about their situation and settled on a plan. They couldn’t both sit up all night and expect to hike out at first light. “Wake me in a few hours, and I’ll play sentry while you get some z’s.”

  “Okay, but I have one stipulation.” He leaned closer until his nose touched hers.

  A smile bounded onto her lips as she searche
d his twinkling eyes. “What might that be?”

  He kissed her, once, twice, and then smiled. “I want to hold you while you fall asleep.”

  Would she fall asleep with him embracing her? Touching her? Igniting all her womanly fires? Probably not, but she’d happily give it a try. “Okay.”

  Without another word, they crawled to the head of the bed, moved the pillows so they could slip under the quilt, and spooned together. He kissed the back of her head and loosened his grip but held fast. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new adventures, and new risks. Of that she held no doubt. For the moment, though, Grant kept his promise to ensure her safety. Could she keep her vow to protect herself? When Grant left, would he take part of her heart with him? And if so, how large of a piece? She drew in a breath and let it out slowly, restoring calm. Riddles to be solved later. Closing her eyes, she cleared her mind like she’d learned to do when preparing to heal a particularly nasty wound. Tara’s last thought before sleep claimed her was of the perfect fit of Grant’s arm wrapped around her waist.

  Chapter 17

  The following morning, Tara awoke to the soft glow of sunlight on the wood floor. Snuggled against something warm, she had no inclination to roll out of bed. She yawned and pulled the quilt tighter. Then she remembered the day’s plan and pushed the blanket away. She moved to sit up but Grant’s arm held her firm. They’d both drifted off to sleep instead of one keeping watch. Damn. She pushed on his arm to jostle him awake. He stirred and yawned, pulling her to him.

  “Grant. We need to get going.” She wiggled to try to break free of his embrace, and he groaned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing that more time in bed with you wouldn’t relieve.” His voice sounded low and sexy and so very tempting. She longed to press against him, experience being with him the way he suggested. And yet.

  “We don’t have time. Let me go.” Tara pushed on his arm and slowly he lifted his hand to allow her to get out of bed. “Come on, lazy bones. Time’s a-wasting.”

  “Ugh.” He blinked at her twice with his sleepy eyes before heaving a sigh. “Fine.”

  She chuckled as she strode into the bathroom to freshen up for the day ahead. Ten minutes later, she and Grant were both ready to go into the main room. Opening the door, Grant waited for Tara to proceed him. She was surprised to find Lenore busily stirring something in the black kettle, her back to them while she bent over the pot.

  “You’re up early.” Tara eased across the room, reluctant to startle their hostess. She noted three place settings of silverware and napkins on the tablecloth. “Can I help with anything?”

  “I imagine you’re very good at helping.” Lenore glanced over her shoulder with a sad smile. “Do you ever grow tired of waiting on others?”

  Tara frowned even as the truth of the statement settled on her heart. Her job at the bookstore involved assisting customers to locate books and jewelry to their liking. Her healing powers required insight into the needs of others on a fundamental level, one deep enough to escape their awareness. To her mind, she provided a service unlike anyone else. Even if it meant having to hide behind a façade of acceptability. A mask which seemed to pinch more often than not. “Occasionally, but most of the time I like to extend a hand when someone is in need.”

  “Be sure you tend to your own needs and desires.” She tapped the ladle on the rim and aimed it at Tara, sharp, intent eyes pinned to her face. “When the time comes, you must choose wisely.” Lenore raised a brow for a moment, waiting until Tara dipped her head in a brief nod, and then pointed at Grant. “Do you like porridge?”

  Tara studied the bent old woman, pondering her caution but not understanding her meaning. Choose what? What time did she refer to? Could Lenore see into the future like Beth? Or was the advice prompted from her experience? Confusion weighed her brows down as she watched Grant and Lenore exchange smiles.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He moved closer to peer into the cauldron, sniffing. “With brown sugar and pecans?”

  “If you’d like.” Lenore turned to retrieve a stack of bowls and began dishing up the hot cereal. Handing a bowl to Grant, she pointed to the table. “You’ll find everything you enjoy waiting for you.”

  Jerking her head to one side, Tara gasped at the sight of a bowl of chopped pecans, a sugar bowl, a pitcher, and a plate of butter in the center of the table. Where had they come from? Magic shimmered in the air, answering her question. Lenore needed no help when the house provided for her. Grant didn’t seem to notice anything unusual. Just as well, given he’d probably try to find the reason for the magic and not merely accept the fact of its existence.

  He strode to the table, placing the steaming bowl down before dragging out a chair. He added toppings to his oatmeal and stirred them in with a spoon. Concentrated on the task before him, so he didn’t notice the exchange between Tara and the crone.

  “Anything wrong?” Lenore regarded her with humor in her old eyes.

  She knows that I know because I’m a witch. Tara accepted the offered porridge, hoping her expression didn’t reveal the unease swirling in her gut. “We’ll get out of your way as soon as we eat.”

  Lenore turned to the kettle with a shrug. “Don’t hurry away on my account. I’m enjoying your company. It’s rare that anyone ventures so far from the usual trails.”

  Tara frowned as she strode to take a place at the table. They hadn’t spent much time with her. Enjoyable or not. She added butter and brown sugar to her bowl and then combined everything with a thoughtful stir of a spoon. She watched Lenore limp over to sit with them, easing onto a chair with considerable effort.

  “Are you hurting?” Tara sensed something amiss in the crone but couldn’t pinpoint the cause.

  Lenore blinked before aiming her gaze at Tara. “Old age aches and pains are nothing new to me, my dear. I’ve endured them for quite a while.”

  “I may be able to ease the discomfort, if you’d allow me.” Tara held her breath, hoping Grant wouldn’t ask for an explanation of how she intended to assist their hostess. Seeing the older woman in distress tugged at Tara’s conscience, prompting the spontaneous offer despite the risk of exposure. If Lenore accepted, then Tara would find a way to soothe the aching without Grant seeing.

  “My pain comes from living a long life.” Lenore lifted her spoon, holding it aloft as she rested her gaze on Tara. “Keep your secret safe and I’ll manage.”

  Tara cast a quick glance at Grant. Puzzlement reflected in his eyes as he looked at her, head tilted to one side. She jerked her head once to tell him not to ask questions. Hoping all the while that he listened and kept his mouth shut. He quirked a brow at her and resumed eating, though his gaze flicked from Tara to Lenore and back again.

  “As you wish.” Tara spooned some oatmeal into her mouth and chewed.

  “My wishes are rarely granted, so thank you.” Lenore’s sad smile spoke volumes.

  Tara resumed eating, musing on Lenore’s strange lifestyle. With so few visitors, she must relish having guests to speak with, to share a meal. How lonely would it be to live so far from neighbors? To have so few people darken her doorstep? While Tara didn’t enjoy crowds, she wouldn’t want to be so very alone, either.

  Grant paused in shoveling his breakfast into his mouth to glance at the crone, then at Tara. “We really must go. Tara’s sisters will be worried, as will my brother.”

  Roxie and Beth had probably searched for Tara’s essence when she didn’t return as expected yesterday. Perhaps they chalked up her absence as her falling for Grant and staying overnight with him. Perhaps they panicked and called the police. Anything was possible.

  “I understand.” The woman’s voice cracked as she stared at her bowl, steam slowly rising to obscure her sad expression. “Before you go, will you help me bring in the bags of nuts I’ve gathered over the past weeks? The filled burlap sacks are heavy and my back aches today.”

  Grant bobbed his head twice and put his spoon into his empty bowl. “Of course. Tell me where they a
re and where you want them.”

  Tara spooned another bite into her mouth to quickly finish her breakfast. She didn’t care if it scalded the roof of her mouth, she wanted to finish and be on their way. She didn’t want to separate from Grant for a minute while they remained in the hollow. “I’ll give you a hand, Grant.”

  Lenore smiled at each of them, not bothering to eat. “You both are too kind. The bags are propped up at the edge of the clearing. That way I could fill them there and then drag them inside. Thank you.”

  Grant pushed away from the table and strode to the door. Tara hurried to catch up with him. Stopping at the top step, Grant cast an eye over the clearing until he spotted the group of sacks off to the left. “Over there.”

  Tara looked in the direction he pointed and then realized the hollow echoed with raucous croaking. “What’s wrong with the ravens?” The whole flock seemed to be calling to each other, flapping their wings while perched in trees at the right edge of the clearing. “They’re quite loud.”

  The thump of Lenore’s cane on the wood floor announced her arrival behind them. “Don’t mind them. They’re just calling the wolf pack.”

  Tara spun to blink at Lenore, not comprehending the woman’s meaning. “I’m sorry?”

  Lenore chuckled, a creaky laugh that scraped Tara’s nerves raw. “They’re getting the wolves to help them with their breakfast.” She lifted the gnarled cane to point to the ground beneath the birds. “There’s probably a dead animal, maybe a deer. Their beaks are useless to open a large carcass. So they call the wolves and let them tear open the animal and eat what they want before the ravens take the rest for themselves.”

  Grant bristled beside Tara. Waves of concern washed over her senses, alerting her to his agitated state. He tossed her a glance and then studied the woods. His expression revealed he didn’t much like the idea of wolves nearby.

  “I don’t see them.” He bit out the words in a rough voice.

  Lenore tapped her cane on the porch floor. “Give it a little while.”