Love in Flames: Spells, Secrets and Seductions, Book 3

by N. J. Walters

  Not that she was looking for a permanent relationship, but a night of hot sex wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Not that she’d really indulge in a one-night affair. It wasn’t in her nature to do so, and Burnt Cove wasn’t a large city where such things went unnoticed. Still, it was nice to dream about a night of sensual pleasures with no strings attached.

  Lured by the pull of the water, she wandered to the edge of the small patio deck and wrapped her fingers around the railing. The light wind whipped at the hem of her long cotton skirt, making the fabric dance. She felt…restless. There was no other word for it. Ever since her interlude or confrontation—she wasn’t quite sure what to call it—with Ryan yesterday, she felt out of sorts, as if she’d let something special pass her by.

  Which was ridiculous, of course.

  Ryan seemed like a really nice guy. They’d been at many social functions together and he was always polite and willing to lend a hand when needed. Both men and women gravitated toward him, but as far as she knew, he hadn’t dated anyone since arriving in Burnt Cove. The only woman he’d shown any interest in at all was her.

  There was no doubt the man was handsome and she was more than a little attracted to him. Okay, so she was drawn to him more than any other man she’d ever met, but that didn’t mean anything. She could put the attraction down to the fact she’d been without a man in her life for way too long.

  Shaking her head at her tangled thoughts, she turned away from the rail. A lantern sat on a metal patio table, matches beside it. On impulse, she opened the box, took out one and struck it. The head of the match flared before settling to a slow burn. She lit the candle inside the lantern and blew out the match, laying it carefully on the metal table. Picking up the lantern, she walked to the edge of the patio and ambled down the steps.

  The beach was a combination of rock and sand. It called to her and she came here whenever she had anything on her mind. The primal rhythm of the sea calmed and invigorated her at the same time. She needed that now as she tried to order her thoughts about Ryan.

  The biggest problem was that she liked Ryan. A lot.

  She dealt with him at work on a regular basis and heard others talking about him and there was no denying that he was a really great guy. He had a ready smile and a wicked sense of humor, but he worked hard and his fellow firefighters had taken to him immediately. Already, he was involved in some local charity projects. There was nothing not to like about the man.

  Why then did he make her so uneasy? She had no easy answers. Only the one she’d already concluded—Ryan could matter too much.

  Bending down, she picked up a piece of driftwood and dragged it behind her, marking the sand as she walked. Her thoughts drifted back to Esther and James and the village in the Scottish highlands where they’d lived seven hundred years ago. What must it have been like to dance around a Samhain fire, celebrating the rich harvest and the official end of the summer?

  She paused and glanced down at the large piece of driftwood in her hand. Nibbling on her lower lip, she stared at the empty beach. Could she? Should she? She was afraid that she had to.

  Much like her brothers, father and all her ancestors before her, Esther was drawn to fire even as she feared it. She had so many wonderful childhood memories of cookouts and campfires. She hadn’t sat on a beach and enjoyed the crackling of a fire since she was a teenager. Never had she lit one on her own and danced around it.

  The prospect was too alluring for her to walk away.

  Dropping the stick in the sand, she set her lantern down and scurried around, gathering pieces of wood that the sea had carelessly discarded on the shore.

  Propping some of the larger ones against a rock, she brought her foot down hard in their middle, cracking them in half. When she was satisfied she had enough fuel for her impromptu Samhain bonfire, she collected smooth rocks to make a circle of stones on the sand and piled some of her wood inside. She was careful to build her fire pit close to the water’s edge for safety’s sake. There were no trees or grass close by, so there was no danger of catching anything else on fire.

  She chewed on the inside of her mouth as she stared at the small pyre of sticks, debating if she should actually light them. It wouldn’t be a big fire, not a true Samhain bonfire, but it would give her a taste of what it would have been like. Her feet itched to move and she could already picture herself twirling around the flames, could hear the laughter and chatter of the others from the past as they danced with her.

  Grabbing a piece of discarded paper she’d found while gathering wood, she held it to the flame of the lantern. When it ignited, she held it high, an offering of sorts to the spirits of those who had come before her. Leaning down, she tucked the flaming paper beneath the tepee of sticks. It sputtered and the flames grew smaller and she feared the wood might be too damp.

  “Come on,” she whispered, coaxing her tiny blaze. As if it heard her plea, a flame shot high, catching some of her wood. She tended it carefully, adding larger chunks of wood, one piece at a time until a respectable fire filled the stone circle.

  Laughing, she stood back and admired her own Samhain bonfire. She was inordinately pleased with herself even as she glanced around to see if anyone else might be watching her. But this part of the beach was fairly secluded, so she thought she’d be safe from prying eyes.

  What the heck. She no longer cared what anyone else thought. The fire blazed, crackling out its own seductive song, and the waves brushed the shoreline, adding its swooshing sound to the music, while the wind lifted the ends of her hair. The night was alive and so was she. Kicking off her white canvas sneakers and pulling off her socks, she stepped closer to the fire and began to sway. She closed her eyes and felt the elemental power surround her, calling to her like a lost friend.

  She could see them in her mind’s eye—Esther and James—watch them share heated glances through the flames, both of them wanting nothing more than to spend their entire lives together. Sadness washed over her, followed by a huge wave of despair.

  That was what she truly wanted. Someone who loved her that deeply. Someone she could love in return. What she didn’t want was the pain that went along with loving someone that much.

  Sometimes you have to take a chance to get what you want. Sometimes what you want is right in front of you.

  The words were a ghostly whisper on the breeze, startling Esther. Her eyes snapped open. “Who’s there?” But there was no one. She was alone.

  There was a slight chill in the air now where moments before she had felt none. She closed the top two buttons of her sweater and turned to get her shoes. It was time to stop this foolishness and go inside for the night.

  No. She stopped and turned back toward the fire. A fierce longing shot through her. She wanted to dance, and dance she would.

  Raising her arms over her head, she began to twirl and skip around the blaze, gaining speed with each circle. The waves crashed against the shore as the wind picked up slightly. She felt wild and free and powerful. Her feet sank into the damp sand as she dipped and swayed to the music of the night. The pounding of the sea was like a drum, its rhythm matching the heavy thud of her heart as she swooped and dipped around the flames.

  Her entire being felt alive, filled with a primitive power. She tilted her head back, letting the star-studded sky fill her vision. The wind caressed her skin like a lover, its tantalizing light brush teasing her. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples taut.

  Heat filled her once again, the cold and her fears forgotten. She’d never done anything like this before, but it felt right somehow, as if she’d done it many times before but had just forgotten and was now remembering.

  “You got a permit for that fire?”

  The deep male voice startled her and she came to an abrupt halt, almost stumbling in her haste to stop her momentum. She blinked to clear her vision.

  Staring through the flames, she saw him. Tall and broad, like a god of old, he emerged from the darkness, stepping into the light. His brown
hair shimmered and his eyes appeared molten gold in the light.

  Ryan.

  He was standing quietly, watching her with his hands propped on his hips. She was used to seeing him in his uniform, but tonight he was wearing a pair of light faded jeans that molded to his strong thighs and a plain white shirt that made his shoulders appear a yard wide.

  And he was waiting for her to answer him. “What?” For the life of her, she couldn’t remember what he asked her.

  One side of his mouth kicked up in a grin as he motioned to the fire that was dancing wildly on the beach a few feet away. “Have you got a permit for that fire?”

  She could feel her cheeks heating. Did she need a permit? She didn’t think so. It wasn’t something she’d even thought about. How embarrassing for someone in her position to be caught breaking the law. “No. No, I don’t have one. I never really planned to light a fire, it just sort of happened.” She closed her mouth because she couldn’t stop babbling.

  He sauntered around to her side of her small bonfire, never taking his eyes from her. “You couldn’t resist, could you?” His voice was low, seductive, as if he knew a secret she didn’t.

  “No, I couldn’t.” For some unknown reason, she couldn’t lie to Ryan, didn’t want to.

  “You like playing with fire.” The way he approached her made her feel as if she were prey and he was the hunter. No, not a hunter. More like he was some great beast as he stalked slowly toward her.

  “No.” She denied his claim, even as she feared he was correct.

  The urge to run was great, but she dug in her heels, refusing to budge. This was her beach and she could darn well have a fire if she wanted to. She said as much to him. “If you don’t like it, write me up for a fine.” Propping her hands on her hips, she glared at him.

  “You were made for dancing around a fire.” The low tone of his voice was intimate and seductive. All of a sudden she became aware of just how isolated her home and this beach was. They were truly all alone here.

  She took a step away as his words fired her blood. Her core clenched and moisture seeped outward, dampening her panties. With every step he took toward her, sexual awareness flooded through her veins.

  “Do you have any idea how seductive you look dancing around a fire?”

  She shook her head.

  “No?” She could see the desire in his eyes as he took another step in her direction and then stopped. “The light of the flame makes your skin appear even paler and smoother. It highlights the different shades of brown in your hair and makes your eyes look even bluer.”

  She stopped her retreat, unable to take another step away from him. He was seducing her with words alone.

  “When you danced in front of the flames I could see through the material of your skirt.” Excitement made her face burn with embarrassment even as it aroused her. “You have gorgeous legs, so long and lean. They’d wrap perfectly around me as I thrust into you.”

  An involuntary sound of desire rose from her throat. Her sex contracted. Hard. She could almost feel him stretching her feminine muscles as he surged inside her.

  “You can imagine it, can’t you? Feel it as I can?”

  She shook her head. She was so confused. She didn’t want to feel this way, but there was no denying that she did. A part of her was urging her to take what he offered. They could have sex without having a relationship, a night of passion between two consenting adults. It didn’t have to be anything more than that.

  “I dream of you.” His words startled her and made her remember her own dreams.

  “Do you?” She licked her lips nervously. The fire crackled and popped behind her and the waves swooshed in the background.

  He was closer now.

  She held her ground and this time he didn’t stop, but kept coming until the tips of his boots touched her naked toes. She was staring straight at his chest and had to tilt back her head to see him.

  “I do.” He cradled her face in his hands, his eyes aglow with desire and with some deep emotion she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, try to name. “I’ve dreamed of you for years. I’ve searched the world for you, praying and hoping I’d find you.”

  Before she could speak, he continued. “I dream of a life long ago, in a small village in the Scottish Highlands. It’s a hard life, but a good one. We farm, raise sheep.”

  His thumbs stroked her cheeks. “We’re younger at first, just friends. But that changes as we get older.”

  “No.” This couldn’t be happening.

  “Yes.” His hands were gentle, but he would not allow her to turn from him. “I remember making love to you for the first time.” He laughed. “Neither one of us knew what we were about, but it was incredible. You were so afraid your father would catch us.”

  Esther was shocked and confused. This was insane. How could he know about her dreams? About Esther and James’s story?

  “I’m sorry about the fire. So damned sorry. It was never meant to be that way. We were supposed to have a long, happy life together.”

  His words shook the very foundation of her world. “That’s impossible,” she whispered shakily.

  “On tonight of all the nights, anything is possible, Esther. We were meant to be together and I told you once before, a long time ago, that neither time nor distance would keep me from you.”

  A lone tear slipped from the corner of her eye and down her cheek.

  He caught it with his thumb, rubbing it away. “My name was James and I was your husband. I told you I’d find you.”

  Anger surged up inside her, the wind suddenly cold against her flesh. “How did you get hold of the journal?” It was the only logical explanation. He had to have read her family’s journal.

  His expression lightened. “You kept one. You did as I, as James, asked you to do.”

  She could not believe this. Would not believe it. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I don’t like it.” Esther pulled away from him and turned to leave.

  He clamped his hand on her shoulder and whirled her back around. “Believe me, I’m not playing.”

  His features were stark, outlined by the fire that burned beside them. It was odd to be standing toe-to-toe with a large, angry man and not be afraid of him. She knew he would sooner chop off his right hand than physically harm her. And how she knew that, she had no idea. Obviously, she was losing her mind. “This is insane!”

  “No, this is reality.” He took a deep breath, his entire body shuddering as he gathered himself. “I know that you have a tiny heart-shaped red birthmark on the inner curve of your left breast. I know that a certain area of your neck is incredibly sensitive.” His fingers touched the base of her neck where it met her shoulder. “If I kissed you here—” he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her skin, “—or maybe just nipped.” His teeth gently bit down and she groaned as heat shot through her.

  “Stop.” Oh Lord, how did he know this?

  He pulled away and she had to curl her fingers into her palms to keep from dragging him back.

  “I know what pleases you, Esther.” His eyes were scorching her flesh they were so hot with lust. She’d never felt anything like it in her life. “You know what pleases me.”

  And she did. She couldn’t deny it. She knew that he loved to have her play with his hair, threading her fingers over and over through the thick strands. He loved it when she dug her nails into his shoulders when they made love, and he went wild when she stroked the sensitive skin between the base of his scrotum and his anus.

  The only way she could know all this was if they really had lived before, that they really had lived as lovers, as man and wife.

  She was hot one moment, cold the next. The world around her was unchanged—the night sky was still filled with stars, the fire crackled merrily beside them, scenting the air with wood smoke, and her feet were still planted on the soft, damp sand. Yet everything had changed.

  How could she believe such a thing? How could she not with him standing right
in front of her telling her things that he couldn’t possibly know? She’d felt the attraction from the beginning, the feeling that she somehow knew him.

  Esther tore herself from his embrace, turning her back on him. “I can’t do this again. I can’t!” She doubled over as remembered pain shot though her. “I can’t watch you die like that again.”

  His arms came around her from behind, pulling her back against his broad chest. “It doesn’t have to be that way again, Esther. We’ve been given another chance.” She could hear the pleading note in his voice and shook her head, not willing to hear what he had to say.

  “I can’t!” she cried. “You have no idea what it was like for me after you died.” Esther knew she was talking about herself as if she really had lived the ordeal hundreds of years ago, but she couldn’t stop. It was real. It had happened.

  “Tell me,” he ordered angrily.

  “I was alone. Our families helped, but it wasn’t the same. When the baby came, I was so afraid and you weren’t there with me. The baby was all that kept me going.” She blurted out her deepest, darkest secret. “I’m not sure what I would have done if I hadn’t had our son.” She looked up at him through the tears that filled her eyes.

  He looked stricken. “Esther.” He turned her in his embrace and held her against him.

  She shook her head, blinking back her tears. They’d changed nothing back then and would change nothing now. “But I got past that and I learned to live again.” Leaning away, she faced him proudly. “I got over it and I made a life for myself and our child. It wasn’t easy, but I found a measure of peace and contentment.”

  “You never remarried.” She could hear the wonder in his voice.

  “No, I didn’t. I never wanted to feel that way again. I didn’t want it then and I don’t want it now. I can’t. No, I won’t do that again, Ryan.” She’d barely kept herself from calling him James. He was James, yet he wasn’t. Just as she was her ancestor, but was herself as well. It was if they were both separate people, yet had their memories of the past as well as their own.