by Ann Gimpel
Joshua breathed a huge sigh, but didn’t make a move to get up. “I didn’t think we were going to win that one.”
Luke extended a hand and dragged the other man to his feet. “It was close. When Chris started in with the Satanic language, I damn near just doused him in mage fire to get it over with.”
Sam trudged over from where he’d been standing next to Breana. “Bet he’ll be glad you didn’t.”
“I heard that,” Chris called from the creek. “Water’s great. I made it warm.”
Abigail leaned against Luke. She rolled her eyes and said, “Witches have good ears.” Everyone broke into laughter, but it held a hysterical edge and Luke understood why. They’d all had such a close call, anything to break the tension was welcome.
When he could talk again, Luke looked at the creek. He nudged Abigail. “I’ll be we could find a more private bath spot.”
“Let’s do it. I need to heal my burns and all of us stink.”
“We may stink,” Sam skewered her with his blue gaze, “but we’re still alive. It’s all that counts.”
“All but my baby—and my husband,” Breana said. Her face grew pinched. “No matter what they turned into at the end, there was a time when I loved them both.”
“I’m sorry about Carolyn,” Abigail met Breana’s gaze.
“I know.” Breana looked as if she wanted to say something.
Abigail shook her head. “Later is plenty of time for us to hear what happened.”
“Thanks. Maybe once we’ve all had a wash and a few hours’ rest, we can talk about that, and about what comes next.”
Joshua nudged Sam. “Long as we’ve got the fires going, let’s go upstairs and get Alistair and Don’s henchman.”
“I like it.” Sam’s dark blue eyes glittered dangerously. “Two for the price of one.”
“Actually, we got three—and the rest of the books. A good day’s work all in all.” Luke grinned. Recognizing a good exit point, he tucked Abigail’s burned hand carefully under his arm, sending soothing magic to cool it, and walked downstream from where Chris lounged.
Chapter Twelve
Abigail accepted Breana’s offer of clean clothes and took advantage of the downstairs bedroom to put on a long green skirt and soft, black woolen tunic. Even though the skirt’s hem ended several inches above her feet, it still felt good to have something against her skin that didn’t reek of evil. The day had mostly passed with her and Luke asleep, wrapped in one another’s arms. The hard press of his body against hers felt new and incredible, and the rightest thing in the world. They’d both wanted more of what they’d shared the previous night, but between her dozing off, and him getting up to help one of the enforcers with some of the cleanup work, all they’d managed were a few fervent kisses. Somewhere in between everything, she’d worked side-by-side with Breana to get dinner going.
She grinned to herself as she bent to smooth clean socks over her feet. Luke kissed like an angel—or maybe a devil, come to think of it. His lips were hard and demanding when he closed his mouth over hers, and she loved how he tangled his hands in her hair and held her head firmly while he sank his tongue into her mouth. Her whole body tingled with eagerness, impatient for the coming night when they’d have hours together.
A breathy sigh shook her because she regretted not telling Luke how much he meant to her. He’d said he was falling in love with her in the barn, but she hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t even thanked him properly for standing by her once he knew the Salem witch had shanghaied her body. When Alistair MacDuff and the other man burst into the upstairs bedroom, she’d been horribly sure she was about to die. Dead women couldn’t say much of anything.
Well, I’m still here and I can rectify my omission damned soon. Abigail tried out a few phrases, but none of them sounded quite right. Like didn’t quite capture the depth of her feelings, but love and adore seemed like too much. Feeling foolish, but determined, she told herself she’d figure it out when the time came and wriggled her feet into boots that were still damp from dipping them in the creek to clean them. The well-worn leather would dry from the heat of her feet. If it didn’t, she could always boost it with a shot of magic.
Abigail reached over her head and twisted her torso from side to side. She was stiff and sore, despite Luke healing the worst of her injuries from Alistair and his henchman, whose name they’d never discovered. But her discomfort was only on the surface. Inside she felt more vibrant and alive than ever before.
A tap on the door startled her. In a gesture as natural as breathing, she sent magic outward to see who was there. Luke! She clapped her hands to her chest in a girlish gesture that made her laugh.
“If there’s a joke, I’d like to be in on it.” His deep voice on the other side of the door set her heart on fire.
She raced to the door and pulled it open. “I’m just happy is all.” She waited, expecting him to pull her into his arms, but he just stared at her, slack jawed. “What?” She pirouetted in a circle.
“You’re gorgeous. Those clothes, they, er…” His tanned cheeks blazed with sudden color. “…fit you better than what I’m used to seeing you in.”
She quirked a brow, teasing him. “We can buy me a whole new wardrobe if you want. You can come to the modiste with me and pick the styles and fabrics.”
“Is that like a dressmaker?” She nodded; Luke sucked in a breath. “Guess I could brave one of those bastions of femininity, if it meant you’d look like this all the time.”
“Once I have patterns, I can make things myself, but I only have one dress pattern. It’s easy, but it turns out those shapeless shirtwaists.”
He ran his hands down her sides almost reverently and said, “This is better.”
She stepped forward. The few inches between them vanished, and he enclosed her in his arms. God but he smelled heavenly. She inhaled hungrily and threaded her fingers together behind his neck. An obvious erection pushed into her belly and she butted her hips against it.
His mouth hovered right above hers. He flicked his tongue over her lips and desire turned her nether regions to a molten pool. “Dinner,” he said, except it sounded halfway like a question.
“We could skip it.” Her mouth was dry because every drop of moisture in her body had congregated between her legs.
Desire flickered and caught in the depths of his eyes. “I’d love to, but we can’t. Skip dinner, that is. All of us need to talk.”
Her nipples ached; her clit throbbed. All she wanted was to strip Luke’s clothes off and bury him in every orifice of her body. Not in any particular order, but she had yet to taste him, or do a whole bunch of other things. He pushed her back inside the room, kicked the door shut, and fumbled with the laces of his breeches. “Pull those skirts out of the way.” His voice quivered with lust as he pulled his wonderful cock out of his pants.
Luke sat on the edge of the bed, cock jutting upward. With a moan, she straddled him, knees resting on the mattress, and sank over his marvelous erection, glorying in how he stretched her. Once he was seated inside her, he rasped, “Wrap your legs around me.”
The movement did wicked things to her pussy and she clamped down hard on him, so close to coming she was almost there. He reached his hands under her butt to support her and flowed to his feet. She gripped him more tightly with her legs and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He thrust into her, face buried in her neck. His hot breath and his fingers digging into her ass made her unbearably hot. The rocking motion where he moved in and out of her put his pubic bone in direct contact with her clit. Because she’d been partway there before he even came into the room, a climax roiled through her. She felt him release moments later, inside her this time, but it would have been almost impossible to withdraw in time.
They clung to one another, gasping and panting. “Think that’ll hold you through dinner?” he whispered in her ear.
She squirmed in his grasp and he lifted her off his still-hard cock and set her on the floor. “The quest
ion is,” she rubbed her hand over his engorged penis, “whether it will hold you.”
“Come on.” He swatted her behind and started putting himself back in order. “Everyone’s waiting for us.”
She pulled a hand towel off the stand that sported a pitcher and basin and dabbed at herself. Maybe no pantalets had been a good idea. At least there hadn’t been anything to slow them down. A thought struck her. “If everyone’s waiting for us, they’ll figure out what we were up to.”
“Probably. Especially when they catch a gander of you. Your cheeks are all rosy and you have that fallen woman look.”
She laughed and pulled her skirts and petticoat back down. “How come no one ever refers to fallen men?”
He shrugged. “Masculine privilege. Come on, woman. I’m hungry.”
“Thought I just fed you.”
“Aw, love.” He laid a hand tenderly on the side of her face. “We fed each other.”
She leaned into him and they walked toward the sound of voices and the rich smell of a dinner she and Breana had worked on in the early part of the afternoon. As soon as they rounded the corner and came into view, everyone burst into applause. Abigail’s face flamed, but she gathered dignity around her. “Just because witches have good ears doesn’t mean you have to listen.”
“Oh, but we like to live vicariously.” Sam grinned lasciviously.
“Yup. It’s not like we’ve got our own women hanging about.” Joshua set his mug on the table.
“Now if you’d put this place a wee bit closer in to town,” Chris shot Breana a meaningful look, “there’d at least be the possibility of a fancy woman or two.”
“If there’d been fancy men,” Breana mimicked his inflection, “I might have been tempted to do just that.” She crooked two fingers at Abigail and Luke. “Sit, both of you.”
“Do we have everything?” Abigail scanned the table. “As long as I’m up, I could bring whatever’s left in from the kitchen.”
“We’ve got plenty to get started. Besides, judging from what we weren’t supposed to overhear, you need to get some food into you. Night’s young.” Breana winked suggestively. “You’ll need fuel for later.”
“Why is everyone so interested in my, um, personal life?” Abigail scooted into the chair Luke held for her.
“Because we’re witches.” Chris leered. “Sex is where we live, when we’re not conjuring magic to fight for our lives.”
Platters made their way around the table. Abigail tasted the venison and roast chicken, pleased at how they’d come out. Fresh greens from the garden, fried with potatoes and lard, made a succulent side dish, and the hot biscuits she and Breana had rolled and baked were perfect: flaky and tender.
Abigail looked up from her plate, realizing she’d been so intent on eating, she hadn’t been following the conversation. “I’m sorry. If someone could sort of catch me up, I’d appreciate it.”
“Breana was telling us what happened this morning.” Sam’s tone was somber. “Thank you for hounding her, for calling her back.”
Abigail took a deep draught from her mug of home-brewed ale and met Sam’s gaze over its rim. “Didn’t have much choice. I wasn’t certain who was outside the door, but I knew it had to be one of the dark magicians, and I needed her help. Breana’s a hell of a strong witch.”
“So are you.” Breana raised her glass.
Abigail clinked it with hers, and said, “Here’s to witches.”
A chorus of, I’ll drink to that, ran around the table.
Abigail sucked in a breath. They needed to get this next part over with. She looked at Breana. “You have more to tell us than how I dragged you back from Don’s spell this morning. Thank the goddess he bound you with our magic. If he’d used black magick, I’d never have been able to reach you.”
The other woman nodded. “Yes, I have more to say. If someone wants to set a truth spell, I wouldn’t be offended.”
“Done.” Joshua steepled his fingers together and rested his chin on them.
“I’m not certain just when Don got sucked over to the other side,” Breana began. “It might have been two years ago when I caught him in the basement with those horrid books, or it might have been a long while before then. He never would tell me.”
She drew her brows together. “The day I found out about it, I felt something…wrong and tracked it to the basement. He was in the old wine cellar with Carolyn on his lap, reading to her out of one of those books.” Breana’s voice broke. “It was the worst moment of my life, to see my little girl with her eyes full of lust for dark knowledge. I confronted Don later when we were alone, but he told me I was overreacting, being foolish. He said he was ensuring Carolyn’s magical future. I almost turned him in to Coven authorities—several times, but he always figured out what I was up to and bound me with magic.
“Once I came very close to dying from dehydration. If one of the maids hadn’t stumbled into an unused part of our home, I would have. Other times he’d bind me with magic and do something that made it feel as if my skin was being flayed from my body. Between that and the guests from the other side he insisted on entertaining, it took most of my own magic to present a pleasant demeanor to the servants and on my rare trips to Coven headquarters. I guess because I’d stopped complaining, Don forced me into a sexual mess one night with dark spirits.” Breana’s lips trembled and she pressed them together. “I think I did die that night, at least I joined the world of the damned for a time. I came to in my upstairs bedroom covered in welts and blood. It took months before I stopped having nightmares and felt halfway whole again…”
Breana took a swallow from her glass, and then another. “I was more careful after that, around both my husband and child. It was hard keeping myself warded all the time. Drained me. Anything I said to Carolyn got right back to Don, and I became a prisoner in my own house. In the meantime, their practice of black magick accelerated. I tried to run away a few times, but Don always tracked me, hauled me back, and punished me.” Tears welled, but she blinked them away. “I can’t begin to describe how horrible some of what he did was.”
“Did you know about Goody?” Abigail asked.
Breana nodded. A tear slipped down one cheek. “That was when I knew my baby was lost. Don and Carolyn insisted Goody would be a great boon to my girl, would protect her on the journey, but I knew different. As devastated as I was when your stage pulled in and you told me she’d died, I was relieved too, especially once I found out she’d met her end in mage fire. At least the dark didn’t get her in the end.”
She tipped her glass, emptied it, and met each of their gazes in turn. “I accept whatever you decide to do with me. I know it was wrong not to turn Don—and my daughter—in to the enforcers. The God’s truth is I could have turned him in, but not her.” Breana folded her hands in her lap. “It feels good to finally tell someone. This has been like a poison. It’s been eating me from the inside out for far too long.”
Luke exchanged glances with Chris, Joshua, and Sam and then got to his feet. “You passed Joshua’s truth spell with flying colors. He told me telepathically, but that part’s not important. You’ve suffered enough, Breana. Try to make a life for yourself.”
“Really?” Her face crumpled in on itself; sobs wracked her and she croaked, “It’s more than I deserve.”
Abigail went to her and wrapped her arms around the other woman. “No, it’s not. You’ve lived through hell.” She kissed her forehead. “I hope you find peace.”
“Thank you.” Breana smiled sadly through her tears. “I wish the same for you. It can’t have been easy playing host to Goody. That woman was deceitful, self-absorbed, and steeped in wickedness. You go back and sit next to your fellow.”
“Thanks. I will.” Abigail patted her arm and found her way back to her seat.
“We were thinking we might stay a while.” Joshua crossed his arms over his leather-clad chest.
Maybe in reaction to Breana’s dismissive wave as she wiped her face with a li
nen napkin, Chris cut in, “Just till we’re certain the danger’s past.”
“Maybe two of you,” Breana conceded after a pause. “I could use help figuring out how to manage the farm on my own.” Her forehead furrowed. “I just thought of something. Gosh, but I hope enough folk at the station didn’t notice Sam and Luke to blow their undercover status. Actually,” she eyed the two men, “not that I have Don’s power to grant anything, but how about if both of you take a couple of months off? You could go to ground, lay low. Stop tempting trouble—if that’s even possible.”
Luke leaned into Abigail and draped an arm around her shoulder. “Did you hear that? She’s giving us a wedding present.”
“Wedding?” Breana’s mouth fell open. She jumped to her feet, scooted behind Luke and Abigail and hugged them both. “I’m deeply pleased.” She kissed Luke’s cheek, and then Abigail’s. “You’ll have to let me plan something special for the ceremony. It will be good for me to have something uplifting to occupy myself.”
Abigail tried for words, but they wouldn’t come. Luke and she had talked about getting married, but somehow she’d thought it would happen a long time from now, like maybe in a year or two, once he’d assured himself she was free from Goody’s evil.
Once I’d convinced myself of the same thing, a voice of reason intruded.
“Let me make this official.” Luke disentangled himself from Breana and pushed his chair out of the way. He knelt in front of Abigail and took one of her hands between both of his. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” His green eyes glowed with tenderness and unspoken promises he’d care for her always.
Tears threatened; she blinked most of them back, all but a couple of renegades, which dripped down her cheeks. “The honor would be all mine.” A shy smile mingled with her tears. Somehow he was on his feet and she was in his arms, and everyone was gathered close clapping them on the back and wishing them well.