She quietly placed the orange on a bale of hay. Abraxas snorted and stomped his feet, then reared a few inches off the ground. Issie turned, looking the massive black stallion in the eye, only to feel the whoosh of the horse's hooves before they made contact with the wall of his stall.
"Abraxas!” Reynold was looking to where Issie stood. “Nothing amiss m'friend—go back to thy hay."
I'll have your hide to warm me at night, you black devil! Issie stepped away from the stall and went out through the barn doors. Abraxas snorted at her as she left the barn.
* * * *
Reynold stood next to his stallion, rubbing his neck softly. “What dost thou see, m'friend?” He continued to calm the horse down, not knowing what could have spooked him.
Once Abraxas had settled and was no longer sweating, Reynold left his side.
Something's amiss.
He closed the stall door, than walked over to the opened barn door.
Reaching for the small opening in his shirt, Reynold caressed the amulet around his neck. He knew his horse well enough. Abraxas had sensed something that neither Thomas nor he could see. He called out.
"Thomas! Did thou notice anyone come near whilst we were talking?” He backed into the barn as he asked the question, not taking his gaze from the path leading to Courtney's dress shop.
"No one, why?” Thomas slurped his words, muffled and unclear.
Reynold turned to see Thomas take a large bite out of an orange. The juices ran out and down the sides of his mouth.
Swallowing, Thomas saluted Reynold with the citrus fruit. “Thanks for the orange; it's just want I needed.” Thomas took another bite, slurping juice as the fruit disappeared into his mouth. He looked like man who'd just sampled the pleasures of a woman for the first time. His eyes glassed over and a wave of darkness passed through for a mere second, just long enough for Reynold to notice.
Reynold slapped what was left of the fruit from Thomas’ hand before he could eat what was left. “Nay! I dost not bring thee that. Where did thou find it?” The remainder of the juicy fruit fell to the ground in Abraxas’ stall. The horse stomped repeatedly on the piece until there was nothing left of it.
"Christ, Reynold, get a hold of yourself!” Thomas swallowed the last of what was left in his mouth, wiping the juices away with the back of his hand.
Reynold grabbed Thomas by the shirt, ripping it open. “Where's thy amulet?"
"What the hell, Reynold!” Thomas punched him in the chest, his shirt slipping from Reynold's fingers. “Have you gone mad? I don't wear an amulet, never have. It's like I told you, I don't believe in that bullshit magic crap!"
Reynold backed away from his friend, knowing whatever spooked Abraxas brought a bit of black magic in with it. “I fear thou will ‘fore this day hast ended."
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Chapter 16
Thomas mounted his horse and rode off towards the gates to the kingdom. No matter how much Reynold tried to convince him of its value, he wasn't about to wear the amulet he'd spoken of. He'd told Reynold before he didn't believe in magic and he wasn't about to start now.
And no matter how much he'd read in the family journal about the evil Queen Isabel, he wasn't about to admit it was true. There wasn't enough physical evidence to convince him otherwise of the magic implied on those yellowed and brittle pages. They were stories told through the centuries by his eccentric ancestors, nothing more. Or are they? Hell, at this point I'm confused about the entire matter.
In his head, a voice. 'Thomas. Sir Thomas Astley.'
Thomas pulled his mount to a stop just inside the gates. Turning around, he looked everywhere to see who'd called out his name, but no one stood near enough to have been the caller. He sat still in the saddle a moment longer, waiting for the gates to open.
'Thomas, I need you. Come to me, Thomas.'
"Damn it!"
The whispering came again, a bit more sultry then before. Dismounting, Thomas tossed the reins across his horse's neck. He walked around the horse, looking at everyone around him. None of them paid him any attention. Even his horse seemed to ignore his circling. There wasn't a person within five feet of him that would have whispered his name.
'Now, Thomas, you must come now.'
"No!” he yelled, holding his hands over his ears. He leaned against the gray, his body quivering. “Stop, please stop."
"Sir Thomas, might thee be all right?"
Thomas turned to find one of the fairies at his side, her effervescent wings reflecting the sun into his eyes. “Aye, go back to the children."
She smiled, then danced off to a wailing child, sprinkling some of her fairy dust onto him.
'What keeps you Thomas? I wait with open arms. I am here for you to take as you please.'
"Issie?” Thomas whispered, not believing her voice was housed in his head.
'Yes, come to me, Thomas. All you desire is waiting between my legs. Hot and moist, waiting to take you into its warmth.'
Thomas mounted his horse and trotted down the hill towards Issie's potion shop. His head filled with her sensual words and his groin burning for Issie's flesh wrapped around his manhood, he rode off behind the buildings.
* * * *
Issie waited at her back door, and the sound of hooves clicking on the stones and the rustle of tree branches told her Thomas was arriving. Not wanting him to be seen coming into her shop, she'd instructed him to come up through the trees lining the outer edges of the faire.
She had less than fifteen minutes to get Thomas to do her bidding and for her to get the shop ready. It wouldn't go unnoticed if the shop wasn't opened in time for the faire. She didn't want any unwelcome visitors until she'd sent Thomas out on her errand.
Tap, tap, tap.
"Issie, please let me in. I beg of you.” Thomas’ voice filtered through the door, just enough for her to hear his pleas. Smiling, she pulled her bodice down, exposing two round, dark nipples.
Her power was her use of sex, once she'd learned how to use it and the magic together. Men could be so easily controlled when sex came into the picture—and with a little black magic to enhance it they were always hers to command and get what she wanted from them. She was a pleasure seeker and the more she could master a man the more she received pleasure.
Opening the door, she pulled Thomas into her arms. Straddling a leg, she pressed her pelvis against his thigh. “Thomas” she whispered, kissing his lips. She nibbled on his ear, licking and sucking until she felt him tremble with desire.
"Issie.” His panting of her name urged her on—he was in her grasp and she wasn't going to let go.
Taking a breast in his hand, he rubbed the nipple until it hardened with lust. Her neck pebbled with goose bumps as his trail of kisses ended at the tip of the other breast.
She gasped at the push of his rock-hardness against her leg, and a stream of fire burned its way into her soul. She wanted to feel him inside her, deep inside her, where she'd claim him for eternity.
His arms wrapped around her, his hands yanking her skirts up around her waist as he lifted her onto the counter. She abandoned to desire and wrapped her legs around him, urging him to take her. She'd never wanted a man as powerfully as she did Thomas at that moment.
Pulling on the buttons of his pants, she reached in to free the instrument she felt power over. It was hard and pulsing against her skin and her body begged for the release it would provide.
Her fingers grazed the teapot as Thomas entered her, and she grabbed onto the hot plate. She pushed him away from her, her body suddenly cold and stiff.
Her breath was ragged as she leaned up and whispered into his ear. “Thomas my love, I fear Courtney may be ill. She's in need of some hot tea, please take this to her.” The binding potion had been stronger than she'd realized, bouncing itself into her own sexual need, the longing for his member to pleasure her. It had been a while since she'd wanted that intensity of sexual power.
Kissing her neck, his breath h
ot against her skin, Thomas nodded. “Whatever you ask, I shall do.” Righting his clothes, he grabbed the teapot and walked rapidly off without another word. He left Issie in a sexual state she'd not experienced before. The storm of arousal had taken her by surprise at first; once she'd quickly harnessed it she was back to business as usual.
Watching him as he went between the buildings to Courtney's back door, she smiled, knowing her plan would come to fruition. She had Thomas where she wanted him and she'd soon have Ms. Courtney Parker out of her life and out of the way. All she needed now was for the joust to end as it should have centuries ago—with Reynold Roddington in her bed, servicing her for all time.
* * * *
As the gates to the faire opened for the day, Courtney placed the last gown out onto the hanging wires stretched across the stoop of the shop. The faire would come to an end for the season after this weekend; the story of Heartsease and its Black Knight laid to rest forever.
Courtney smiled and waved at some fairies as they pranced their way up toward the gates, fairy dust in hand to greet all the little boys and girls entering their kingdom. The sun was shining and the temperature hovered somewhere in the seventies; it was a perfect day. Yet, as she turned and walked back into her shop, her heart was heavy. Something didn't feel right today.
She'd given her assistant the day off to attend a family function. Courtney would be alone to man the store, which from the looks of the crowd starting to meander down the path, could be a busy one.
"Courtney, are you here?” Thomas’ voice came from the back room, prompting her to go inside.
She strolled into the shop, taking one last look at how the gowns were arranged. Satisfied, she pushed through the doorway just as Thomas set a teapot down. “What's this? Tea with no crumpets?"
Thomas looked like a zombie; tired and worn—no doubt from a lack of sleep the night before. “Thomas, are you okay? You look beat."
Thomas pulled out a cup from the dish drain. “You alone today?"
Courtney watched as he moved, rather like the red Machine Man toy she'd had as a child; her parents’ early attempt at getting her interested in science. “Yeah, Stacy had a family function to attend. She deserves to spend time with her family during the summer, even if the work here is only on the weekends."
Pouring some of the tea into the lone cup, Thomas pushed the brew over to her. “You look tired, Courtney. Some freshly brewed tea will help you out, especially since Stacy's gone today."
Courtney watched the tea leaves settling to the bottom of the cup. “You're right. A bit of tea may help these nerves of mine.” She took a sip, and saw Thomas relax a bit as she swallowed. “Where's Reynold?"
Confusion crossed his face in a flash, as if he hadn't understood the question. “Reynold? Oh, Sir Reynold. He's getting ready to be defeated today.” His stance reflected his belief in his words; Reynold will be defeated today.
After taking another sip of the sweet-tasting tea, Courtney put the cup down and moved into the shop. “Defeated?"
"Yes, defeated and sent back to where he came from."
"What?” Spinning around, she saw Thomas’ shadow skittering along the ground behind him as he ran around the back corner of her building towards Issie's shop. Something about the tone of the words gave her the heevie-jeevies.
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Chapter 17
Humming ‘Whistle While You Work', Courtney rang up the tenth dress sale of the day. She wasn't sure where the money was coming from, but with her register full of checks and credit card receipts she wasn't about to question it. Usually this late in the season, more often than not people were looking for a bargain rather than pay full price. Even though she hadn't discounted the majority of her merchandise, this had been the best sale day of the faire for her; nothing could dampen her spirits today. If the sky opened up and poured rain on her, she'd still feel satisfied.
Courtney glanced down at her watch. Three o'clock, is that all? I've got a little over two hours before Samuel sends someone over to man the store. Only two hours until the last joust of the day takes place. After looking around the now empty shop, she slipped into the back to grab a cup of the tea from the pot warming on her hot plate. Pouring some of the brew into the cup, she leaned against the counter, savoring the intoxicating aroma.
"Ahhhh.” She inhaled more of the bouquet, then took a long sip from the cup. The brew calmed her nerves and soothed her aching bones. She'd have to give Thomas a great big hug and kiss for bringing it over to her.
She remembered what he'd said to her—'defeated and sent back'. Courtney had been so busy, she'd totally forgotten Thomas and his words from earlier in the day. He had to be mistaken about Reynold being sent back to his own time, getting it confused with the last joust of the season tomorrow when Bristol closed for the winter. Since the arrival of Reynold and Thomas’ family chronicles, their lives had shifted a bit; it didn't surprise her if Thomas was confused. She certainly was.
She'd even accepted the fancy that maybe—just maybe—reincarnation was possible. That it may be likely for souls to find each other again through time. She'd seen people who looked familiar but she didn't know who they were. Were they people whose path she'd crossed before, in another lifetime?
Maybe, maybe not.
Finishing up her tea, she reached to place the cup on the counter. Her mind swirled and her eyelids were heavy with sleep. Her fingers tightened around the counter edge as a wave of dizziness flowed through her, the cup slipping from her hand, crashing onto the floor.
"Whoa. Slow down, Courtney,” she whispered, grabbing the edge of the counter with both hands for support. Her body felt like Stretch Armstrong, all mushy and rubbery. Her chest contracted suddenly, her lungs burned in a feeble attempt to get more oxygen into her system.
Oh god, what's happening? I can't breath. My chest, it hurts so much. Heart attack, I'm having a heart attack! Please help me, someone help me.
She needed to get help from someone, anyone would do. The first aid staff could be there in seconds if she could get outside and into the crowd.
Closing her eyes, she took a few deep painful breaths, her silent plea for help lost in her mind. Feeling a bit more steady on her feet, she released her white-knuckled grip from the counter.
"Must be the heat,” she whispered, gingerly walking back into the front of her shop. Courtney leaned against the door jamb, her stomach tightening with shooting pains.
Sweat beaded on her lips and chin, and her eyelids fluttered as she tried to focus in on the room and her surroundings. It felt like she was on a slow-moving carousel at Great America. Everything rotated in slow motion; the outside world reverberated through her head in a mish-mash of sound.
Her vision fuzzy, Courtney squinted to see across the dimly-lit room. “Funny, I don't remember closing the doors,” she whispered.
"You didn't, my dear—I did.” Issie's voice came from somewhere in the darkened room, but Courtney couldn't see through the shadows to find her. “I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of closing the doors since you're feeling ill."
Not Issie—anyone but Issie. She must know I need help. She can't be that cruel, can she?
Wiping the sweat from her upper lip, Courtney leaned deeper against the door jamb. “Why are you here, Issie? You have no right to close my establishment."
Without warning, Courtney slipped to the floor, her knees hitting the wooden planks hard. “Please Issie, help me. I don't know what's wrong.” As she slumped lower, Courtney felt a strong impulse to close her eyes and sleep—to surrender to whatever was taking her over.
"There's no one who can help you, Courtney.” Issie stood like a wraith amongst the ranks of shadows and dresses. “You see, it's too late. You've drunk enough of the tea to make you sleep for all eternity."
"Reynold!” Courtney cried his name weakly as she fought to keep from slipping further into the void threatening to take her.
The last thing Courtney heard as t
he darkness claimed her mind and body was Issie's wicked laughter.
* * * *
Issie spoke the words again, relishing them like fine sweetmeats, “No one can help you now, Courtney.” Then she added, “Least of all Sir Reynold Roddington.” She pulled Courtney's limp body further into the back room, leaving her lying on the floor between the counter and table. “I warned you before to stay out of my way—now you've paid the consequences of defying me.” She pushed the broken tea cup with the tip of her boot. She didn't dare to pick it up, fearful she'd get some remnants of the tea on her skin.
Stepping out the back door, Issie smiled at the dark clouds beginning to filter across the sky. I must prepare to claim Reynold. The time has come to take what should be mine.
She reached the back entrance to her own shop, mumbling to herself. “Now to take care of everyone else who stands in my way.” Stepping through the back door, she picked up on the conversation going on. Relief flooded her; customers looking for a poppy oil. Her assistant seemed to have things well in hand.
I'm free to arrange my magic.
Issie pulled out the bottles of spices and herbs she needed for the tea, throwing pinches and dashes into the mixture. With Courtney out of the way and Thomas doing what I want, all that's left is Queen Victoria. A little bit of this and a little bit of that in her tea and I'll be able to get into her thoughts and make suggestions.
With only a few hours left before the day's last joust, she worked quickly at brewing the intoxicating sweet tea mixture. With the closed signs on Courtney's shop door and the message she'd sent to the main office that Courtney had taken ill and was resting comfortably, no one would question why the dress shop was closed. No one would even think to go inside to see how she was doing; that's exactly what Issie wanted and knew would happen.
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