A Witch's Harem

by Savannah Skye

  Turning, I hopped down the steps and Seamus followed. At the gate, his hand stopped me and he turned me to face him. I glanced back to see Belinda gaping after us and I took her silence as a cue that she, like me, needed some time to wrap her head around all this.

  Salem spun away into green and gray countryside. The first thing I saw was a sloping lawn leading down to a misty shoreline, with a thick copse of woods on either side. Mist moved through the trunks and it was like we were hundreds of miles away from everything.

  “Where are we?” I asked, inhaling the strong scent of pine and sea.

  “Whistcroft Point,” Seamus answered and I turned to see a house rising up behind me. I stumbled back, staring up at the vine-covered eaves, the massive towers on each end, and hundreds of high, narrow windows. “This is Spelling Manor.” He let out a chuckle. “You can’t say the original Salem witches didn’t have a sense of humor.”

  “How old is this house?” I asked as we went inside. The foyer was gorgeous, lit with dancing firelight and all warm wood. It smelled heavenly, like cinnamon and cloves. “Wow.”

  “Something like three hundred and fifty years, I think,” Seamus said. “Want a tour?”

  “Um, yes,” I said excitedly, not wanting to leave Seamus’s side.

  First, he brought me to a drawing room, explaining the architecture and significance of the manor throughout the magical history of New England. He was charming in his own, quiet way. Then we passed through a dining room with a large circular table and a shield burned into its center, before entering a large kitchen where pots and pans banged around on their own. Something delectable was cooking and I wondered where the chef was.

  Past that, we took winding hallways, glancing in on rooms upon rooms. Everything was full of old-world charm, from the ornate rugs inlaid with gold thread to the tapestries on the walls of countrysides and mystical lands, to the woodwork itself. It was filled with symbols of protection and grace, spirals of woods inlaid into screens and curving up into archways.

  While the manor was impressive, reminding me of a fancy city library or a church, it was also cozy. It seemed to inveigle you to sit down and stay awhile.

  “The house likes you,” Seamus said, as we stood in a glassed-in solarium, filled with plants and an earthy smell. “Not surprising, of course.”

  I smiled at Seamus, biting my lip as my heart fluttered.

  Never mind Samwise being distracting, I thought, turning to watch the distant white-caps and torn clouds, what about Seamus and the rest of the O’Sullivans?

  Next, Seamus showed me the library and a secret passage beyond it to a training area. There were clumps of chalk on the floor and a scorch mark on the wall. Seamus shook his head.

  “Patrick must have been here. I see he didn’t clean up.”

  “Hey!” hollered a voice filled with laughter. “I oughta singe off your eyebrows for attacking my character, cousin.” Patrick appeared in front of us and I jumped back. “I’ll have you know, I’m not done yet.” Then he grinned at me. “Sadie.” With a flourish, he spun his hand and a huge bouquet of flowers appeared. “Welcome.”

  “Thank you,” I said, accepting them and inhaling the fresh scent. “They’re lovely.”

  “Of course,” he said. “So, Seamus boring you with all sorts of dreary facts about the manor?”

  “Not at all,” I said, shaking my head emphatically, and Patrick chuckled. “It’s fascinating.”

  “Ignore him,” Seamus said, steering me back to the door.

  “Where are you going?” Patrick demanded, striding after us.

  “Finishing the rest of my boring tour,” Seamus retorted. “Why don’t you clean up?”

  “Eh, I can do that later,” Patrick said, following us into the library.

  Michael and Mick were now in there, arguing about something in a book. They stopped when they saw us and both grinned widely.

  “Took you long enough,” Mick said and he winked at me. “Settling in alright?”

  "I'm glad to see you, Sadie," Michael said, smiling at me and I smiled back.

  Glancing around, I was once again struck by each of the O’Sullivan cousins. It was strange and definitely crazy, but each of them was attractive in a way that called to me equally. It was almost as though I were standing in the middle of a four-pointed star and they balanced the ends.

  Without one, something would be missing.

  Seamus’s quiet and deep nature, along with his tender thoughtfulness, Patrick’s energy and delicious wit, Mick’s careless brawn and protectiveness, Michael’s leadership and firm purpose.

  I rubbed my forehead and let out a soft sigh. I had to stop thinking things like that. Right now, I had to keep cool and focus on learning.

  “Why don’t we let you settle in?” Seamus asked solicitously. “The tour is finished for now. Pat, here, make yourself useful and show her to her room.”

  "Come on, lass," Patrick said, offering his arm. "We'll take a shortcut." With that, we were exiting behind yet another bookcase and I couldn't help but let out an exclamation. "Yeah, this place has a lot of secret passageways and rooms. When we first got here, I got myself lost for half a day."

  “You did?” I asked with a chuckle.

  “Nah, I’m teasing you,” Patrick replied. “Sorry, love.”

  I laughed. “Well, I’m worried I might get lost.”

  “If you do, just holler and I’ll be there in a moment, I promise,” Patrick said as the passage ended at a staircase. “Now this is the back staircase, perfect for making out. Lots of shadows.”

  “What, been kissing the suits of armor?” I asked, grinning.

  Patrick laughed and saluted the suit of armor as we passed it. “You’re funny, just like Mick said. And no, I’ll have you know I learned my lesson after getting my poor wee tongue stuck to a metal man for a whole day as a kid.”

  “What?” I asked with a gasping laugh.

  “Yeah, my mother left me there to teach me a lesson. It stuck as much as my tongue stuck to that cold steel.” He winked. “Don’t worry though, my tongue fully recovered.”

  “Did one of your cousins dare you?” I asked knowingly as we entered the second floor.

  “Maybe,” Patrick said mischievously. “But I wasn’t about to fink on Mick.”

  “I knew it,” I said, shaking my head.

  "Well, as Seamus put it to me, the wiseass, I didn't have to go along with it," Patrick said and he stretched as we walked down the hallway. A huge window with a window seat at the end of it let in light. "And I've never fallen for one of his dares since."

  “Now, why do I find that hard to believe?” I asked.

  “’Cause you’re as brilliant as you are beautiful,” Patrick said seriously and I flushed. “And yeah, if the man challenges my honor, I’ve got to do it. What choice do I have?”

  Patrick continued to charm and flirt with me until we got to my room. As it was last night, (which I couldn’t believe was only last night), he had me in stitches. Or blushing. While he was full of jokes, there was an earnestness there, too. And I sniffed my beautiful flowers again with delight.

  “Here we are,” Patrick said, flinging open the double doors.

  “What?” I asked, stepping in and glancing around. “No, this can’t be all mine.”

  “Well, I’m always up for sharing,” Patrick said, slinging an arm around my shoulders and winking down at me. “Here, let’s put these in a vase.” He plucked the flowers from me and spun his hands. The bouquet appeared next to the bed in an ornate vase.

  “Thank you,” I said, still gazing around in awe.

  “This is the East Tower room,” Patrick explained, urging me forward. “When we were trying to figure out where to put you, I said this one. Thought you might like to see the ocean.”

  It was a huge room, bigger than my apartment, with a circular curve to it. A sleigh bed swimming in pillows and gorgeous, fluffy blankets dominated one wall, while closets stood at either end and an open door showed a g
limpse of a master bathroom. But it was also the aesthetic.

  Decorated in purple, gold and blue, my favorite colors, with pretty tapestries and gypsy-like cloth hangings. Gorgeous figurines lined the shelves, from castles to unicorns to dragons. Mellow afternoon light streamed in through the windows, reflecting off the dozens of pieces of fairy glass hanging in front of the windows, wrought in the shapes of flowers, moons, and stars.

  I walked over and stared up at them, utterly enchanted. “Oh, I love these.”

  “Do you now?” Patrick asked, suddenly sounding shy. “I thought you might. I made ‘em for you.”

  Turning to Patrick, who now had a sheepish grin on his face, I looked between him and the glass. “Patrick!” I was so overcome I almost didn’t know what to say. “They’re stunning. Thank you.”

  “Ah, that smile is payment enough,” he said, back to his cheeky self. “Yeah, I’ve got a way with the Fae. My mother says it’s ‘cause I got a touch of the blood from my pap.”

  There was a glint of sprite-like magic to Patrick, I realized. I could see it in his dancing brown eyes and wondered how I didn’t notice it before.

  “Thank you, again,” I said, wishing I could give him something more than a smile.

  Preoccupied and overwhelmed, I decided I should probably unpack. In my haste to do so, I’d barely taken a step before my foot caught the edge of the rug and I flew forward.

  Patrick realized a second too late, his hands trying to catch me, but all he did was manage to slow my fall and go sprawling as well.

  “Oh,” I said, suddenly realizing I was pinned under Patrick. He was hovering over me, his legs straddling me and hands by my ears. “I’m sorry, I’m such a klutz, but thanks, I mean, sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?” he asked with a lazy, slow grin and I swallowed hard.

  The fairy glass on the ceiling caught a beam of sunlight breaking free of the clouds and the room was full of whirls of color. It haloed Patrick’s blond hair and my breath caught. He was so handsome, with his molten brown eyes and that faint dent on his soft lower lip. I bit my own.

  “I like you exactly the way you are,” Patrick continued, staring down at me.

  Suddenly, we were kissing, my hands in Patrick’s hair and his cupping my neck. Dragging him closer, I was lost in the taste and touch of him. He had an air of the wild about him, something tantalizing and otherworldly. It seemed to awaken something in me.

  His spicy cologne was filling my nose and I thought I could hear faint music. Our tongues crashed together as Patrick’s hands slipped around my back and my body arched up, eager to meet his. My heart was pounding and I thought I could feel his as well.

  I want him. I want all of him.

  Somehow, I'd gotten my hands under his shirt and they explored the warm skin of his lower back. Patrick responded by pulling me upright so that I was on his lap, legs wrapped around him, and the kiss deepened. I shivered as his hands gripped my waist.

  It was such a decadent, passionate kiss, with a hint of sweetness to it. Sweetness that reminded me of Seamus. I broke off with a gasp, horrified.

  “Sadie?” Patrick whispered. “Are you okay?”

  I shook my head, reeling in confusion. What was I doing? I was out of my mind, wanting Patrick as much as I wanted Seamus. My breath stuttered in my chest at the thought.

  I’d never thought I was that kind of woman. Like Delia.

  With that, I was on my feet and apologizing.

  “What’s wrong?” was all Patrick asked, raking back his disheveled blond hair.

  Flopping on the bed, I stared up at the ceiling and tried to keep from crying. “I can’t tell you.”

  Patrick flopped next to me and smiled at me, but his eyes were serious. “You can. Come on, fess up, or I’ll tickle it out of you. Were you not having a good time? Did I hurt ye?”

  “No, I was… I… That’s the problem.” I closed my eyes. “I don’t think I’m the girl for this job. I'm not as strong as you all seem to think I am." Blowing out a breath, I put my hands over my face and blurted out, "I mean, I can't even decide which hot warlock to have a crush on."

  Patrick chuckled and I opened my eyes, giving him a squinty look. “Sadie, lass,” he said, his face lighting up with that sexy, wild look of his and my heart pounded in anticipation of what he was about to say. Then he glanced away, as though thinking better of it and his face grew serious again.

  “Patrick?” I asked, a hitch in my voice.

  “Sadie,” Patrick said in a low voice, meeting my eyes again. “Listen to me. Maybe you’re so powerful… More powerful than even you know… Maybe you deserve more than one man.”

  I froze, dumbfounded to the point where I couldn’t even form a thought.

  Patrick leaned over, giving me a kiss on the forehead. As he sat up and got off the bed, I scrambled as well, still staring at him.

  “I’ll leave you to get acclimated and unpacked. Make sure to look around your quarters. Check out the jacks, I mean, the bathroom, it’s gorgeous.” Patrick hesitated, then strode for the door. There, he turned and bowed, announcing in a posh accent, “Dinner will be served at seven.”

  Then he vanished with a wink and I was left alone, trying to piece together my thoughts.

  More than one…

  Was he suggesting what I thought he was?

  Chapter 10

  The thing was unthinkable. I couldn’t do that.

  Was it? Could I?

  No, I wasn’t like that.

  Or was I?

  To distract myself, I grabbed my bag, unpacking feverishly and putting things away in a completely disordered fashion. Yet with each article of clothing shoved in some random spot, Patrick’s kiss invaded my thoughts. My eyes kept straying to that spot under the fairy glass, picturing us there together and shivering in pleasure. Then his strange pronouncement would hit me.

  More than one man? Like, four? Like, all of them? My brain kept screeching.

  Yes, I was attracted to all of them. I couldn’t deny or ignore that anymore.

  As I finished putting everything away, there were moments where seductive whispers danced at the edge of my mind. Ones that had me imagining the five of us in bed.

  Hurrying into the bathroom, I flicked on the light and saw that my face was bright red. I also noticed that my braid was coming undone and I took it out. Waves fell around my face and I thought I looked pretty nice, all things considered.

  Patrick had been right about one thing. The “jacks” was gorgeous. A huge shower with all kind of fancy buttons was in one corner, a window in the middle and a jacuzzi tub was in the other.

  Big enough for five my mind whispered.

  With a squeak, I darted back into my room and looked around. A small library was set up in the corner of the room by the door, complete with a squashy purple armchair and a lamp standing on four clawed feet. Walking over, I poked through the stuffed shelves and found books I’d never heard of. In fact, I noticed some were embossed with what looked like priceless gems. Hastily, I put back one that might have been made of diamonds and wandered over to the second closet, wondering why I needed two. A gasp escaped me upon opening it.

  It was a walk-in closet, with mirrors and soft lights. On one side were shelves filled with shoes, boxes of jewelry and hats. On the other, were hundreds of outfits, including every kind of dress imaginable. Some were designer, I recognized an iconic wrap dress by Diane Furstenberg and stepped forward. I’d always wanted one of those. Exploring deeper, I found creations that would suit a moon goddess, with filmy material and long, trailing sleeves and then some that would suit a warrior princess. It was the most incredible closet I’d ever seen, fulfilling my wildest dreams.

  I spent more time than I should have looking at those outfits, marveling at the material and even pulling a few out. But I wasn’t sure if plain old Sadie Matheson could pull any of them off.

  Suddenly, a bell echoed through the house. It must have been seven. Rushing out of the room, I flew down the s
tairs, hoping I knew where I was going. I managed to make my way to the dining room, only taking a few wrong turns. As I approached, slowing down, I watched the sliver of light falling into the hallway. Outside, I paused, listening to the rumble of brogues and clink of silverware. My ears buzzed and my hands twisted together.

  Finally, with a shaky breath, I managed to force myself to go in. Immediately, the conversation ceased and a hot flame of mortification scorched me.

  It was obvious they’d been talking about me.

  “About time,” Michael said coolly, but he stood and pulled out a chair. “We’ve been waiting.”

  “Eagerly,” Patrick said, twisting around with a suggestive grin. I ducked my head as I walked to my seat. “Hope you like roast, Michael decided to get fancy on us.”

  “Oh, anything is fine,” I said, awkwardly sitting down. Mick was on my left and Michael on my right, while Seamus and Patrick were on the other side.

  “Here,” Michael said, once he’d sat down again. He began to serve me as Patrick poured wine. I was so flustered all I could do was sit back and nod my thanks.

  “This is good,” I said to Michael after my first bite. “So, you, uh, cook?” I asked him lamely.

  “I cook,” Michael said with an enigmatic grin. “And thank you.”

  I thought back to the clanking pots and pans in the kitchen. Michael had been on the other side of the house and he was able to do all that? What kind of powers did he possess?

  With my arrival, the table was quiet and I kept my eyes on my plate. I didn’t know what to say, so I focused on eating. Patrick wasn’t even talking. It was uncanny and filled me with a sense of dread. Maybe he’d told his cousins what we’d done and they were disgusted with me.

  “We’re not at a funeral, you know,” Patrick burst out, making the rest of the boys laugh.

  “Well, I didn’t want to go blathering about,” Mick retorted. “That’s what we’ve got you for.”