by LAURA HARNER
Gabhran looked at her hand, wondering at the gesture of trust after what he’d done to her a scant hour past. What would this woman think if he told her about being pulled through time, landing in different lives? Would he land in the room next to Alysone’s, unable to convince doctors of the truth of his claims? Undoubtedly. Maybe he should start with the story of Beltane and the dark that invaded him, that was certainly a believable tale. He was dangerous, and he needed to convince her to leave him alone. Shaking her hand off his arm, he poured another scotch, wondering why there was less than half a bottle left.
“Go away, before I finish what I started earlier.”
“Why did you stop? What made you finally pull back? You know here in New Orleans, we believe in things we can’t see. We know there is magick out there. Tell me about the darkness, I know it’s there, and I know you’re fighting it.”
“Och, lass, stop with your incessant questions. You think you believe in magick? Do you believe in Druids, lass. In spells and time travel? Would you believe me if I told you I was about to be pulled into a new life, that I willna remember you or this place, but will start over? Would you believe me if I told you someone cast a spell of darkness in me, and ‘tis that darkness that tried to take you without your permission?” He spun around, and put his feet on the ground, and again turned his back to her. “I would kill a man who treated a woman such. Go away, lass.”
Miranda moved onto the chaise next to him. “So what’s different right now? I know that darkness was there, I felt it, and it wasn’t you. So where is it right now? Does it leave you?”
Gabhran shook his head, trying to clear the fog that had settled in his brain, thinking he shouldna have had so much whisky, but who knew this woman would come to torture him with her questions, her sweetness, offering absolution and trust.
“I am wearing a gris-gris, lass, do you know what that is? ‘Twas made for me by Marie Gathier.”
“Then I know you are telling me the truth, Marie wouldn’t bother with someone from out of town unless she believed in you. But why didn’t it work earlier?”
“I forgot to put it on after my shower,” he whispered. “I am truly sorry. You didna deserve to be treated in such a fashion.” He emptied his glass and poured another, then turned his back on her, praying she would leave him in peace. The touch of her hand on his back nearly made him moan with frustration and he stiffened under her gentle touch. What the hell was she playing at?
“Miranda, doona do this. I am not a good man, I canna be with you.”
Again, he felt that wave of sadness pass through her. He wanted to know what it was, to know all there was to know about her, but he wouldna ask, he wasna good for her. He groaned, and braced his hands on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. His black as midnight hair swung forward to hide his face.
Miranda pulled on his shoulder. “Look at me, Gabhran, please, just look at me,” she said softly.
Mesmerized by her voice and her hand on his bare skin, he was helpless to resist her plea. He twisted to face her and she pushed him back against the chaise, while she remained perched on the edge of the seat. He slowly raised his eyes, his gaze lingering a moment when he noticed the front of her little robe had come loose, exposing her breasts. Resolutely, he turned his gaze to her face, wondering at the raw pain he saw there.
“Come here, lass, let me hold you for a minute, then we must go our separate ways.”
Miranda took the invitation a bit more literally than he intended, climbing fully onto his lap, and resting her cheek against his chest. Gabhran wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply of the scent of her. They sat that way for a long time.
Gabhran placed a hand beneath her chin, angled her face up, and covered her mouth with his, a gentle kiss, offering comfort. The kiss lingered, he cradled her face gently in his hands, and she wound her fingers into his hair. He deepened the kiss, desperate to feel her forgiveness, hungry to taste every part of her. She moved in his lap, pressing against his hard shaft and he moaned with desire.
He knew what he must do, and it would cost him, but perhaps he could give her pleasure before he left. He lifted her off his lap and set her onto the lounge, as he bent over her, continuing the kiss. He lowered the back of the chaise so she was nearly lying flat and pulled his head back to look at her.
“Beautiful Miranda, your kisses are so sweet. Lay back and let me kiss you.” He lowered his lips to hers once again. She met his passionate kisses with a fire of her own, and the flames of desire were stoked white-hot.
He moved his hand to the open front of her robe and hesitated, his fingers twisted in the silk. He whispered, “I want to kiss all of you, will you let me? Do you want my kisses?”
She gasped a strangled, “Yes,” and dropped her head back against the seat.
He untied her robe and opened the front completely to look at her, stunned by her beauty. He glanced at her face and was pleased to see her watching him, her eyes heavy with passion. He smiled and she smiled tremulously back. With their gazes locked, he slid his finger lightly between her legs, her eyes widened, she shivered and moaned.
Emboldened, he slipped his hand inside her panties, and found her hot and wet with desire. He spread the wetness between her folds. Pulling his hand out of her panties, he put his finger in his mouth, never releasing her gaze.
“Let me taste you, love.” Without waiting for an answer, he moved to between her legs, slid his hands inside her robe, and pulled off her panties. Miranda lifted her hips to help.
He slipped the robe from her shoulders, and she was naked before him. He covered her with his big body, and kissed her neck. Alternately biting, licking, and kissing, he worked his way to her breasts and back up again. As he slid back up her body, his erection pressed between her legs. Miranda groaned with desire. Gabhran pumped against her, the tip of his cock visible in the waistband of his shorts.
“Gabhran, is this really you right now?” she whispered.
“Aye, lass, look in my eyes, you’ll be knowing ‘tis me.”
He traced his way back down her body with his tongue. His fingers lightly brushed between her thighs. He took his time, tasting every part of her stomach and legs. When he switched from one leg to the other, he would very lightly run his tongue across the sensitive place where her hip joined her thigh, across her mons, and then on to the other thigh.
Miranda threaded her fingers in his hair and pulled his head, guiding it toward her center. Gabhran chuckled deeply in his throat.
Instead of yielding to her direction, he pulled her body down to the edge of the lounge, so that her feet rested on the ground and he knelt on the bricks between her knees. He leaned over her, and pulled a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, first on one breast, then the other. His hand cupped her mons, and began to slowly rub up and down. He ran his tongue down the very center of her stomach. Then he pulled her legs up over his shoulders, slid her hips to the edge of the chaise, and kissed the very core of her womanhood. She moaned with pleasure. His tongue explored every crevice, his fingers gently opening, probing. Miranda reached between her legs to hold his mouth firm against her, and began to rock her hips up and down.
He read her body, her face, her sighs, and moans, learning what gave her pleasure. He brought her to the edge, only to pull her back again, not yet willing to let her find her release. He knew what was coming next, and he sought to prolong the moment he would leave her. He began nipping and kissing her inner thighs.
He ran his tongue between the fleshy folds of her labia and up to flick at her clit, faster, until her breath escaped in harsh, panted sobs. It was time, he needed to bring her pleasure and go, before he lost himself in her completely.
Again, a wave of strong emotion passed over Miranda, and he sought to understand. He recognized her apprehension and immediately pulled back, afraid he had pushed too far after their earlier encounter.
“Don’t stop, please, just don’t stop.” Her voice br
oke a little on the request.
He looked at her a long moment as things slipped into place. Christ, why did I drink so much? It made me stupid. Her earlier sadness, this latest fear, it isna of me so much as the act. She is a virgin.
“Miranda, you have not been with a man before.” A statement, not a question. His gris-gris burned against his chest The dark pushed itself up from deep within him. He grabbed her bare shoulders with both hands painfully squeezing, digging his fingers into her.
“Please, I’m ready. I’m just a little nervous, that’s all. It was just for a minute, I’m ready now,” she whispered.
Shoving her hard against the back of the lounge, he lumbered unsteadily to his feet, his entire body shuddering with the force of the internal battle. He grabbed the bottle and stormed to the carriage gate.
Miranda ran after him. She grabbed the waistband of his shorts, trying to keep him from leaving. “Wait. Gav, I’m serious. You shouldn’t go anywhere. We can just talk—“
“Nay,” he roared, and his voice reverberated, sounding like the voice of thousands. He blindly swung his arm back, attempting to free himself from her grasp. His arm connected with something, and he was free of her grip. He ran into the night.
Chapter Nine
Marie thought about the day and night ahead. The St. John’s Day Feast honors the birth of St. John the Baptist, and the celebrations begin, much like that of Christmas, on the evening before. It is the holiest of holy days for practitioners of voodoo, a day for healing, physically and spiritually. At all of the lesser ceremonies, there would be large bon fires, symbols would be traced upon the ground in cornmeal, and the drums would pound. Everyone would be dressed in white and the leader would perform the necessary rituals to summon the spirits and bless the people.
All of the Voodoo Priests and Priestesses were clear on their roles, with ceremonies around Bayou St. John, her grandmother’s grave, and Congo Square planned for sundown or moonrise. Once the locals and tourists celebrated, the real ritual would begin, the one that would mean the most to the world. Marie had many things to accomplish this day, before she led the final ritual ceremony of St. John’s Eve, the ritual for the spiritual leaders of Voodoo.
Everything had gone according to plan last night. With only three phone calls, Marie had discovered the new Druid’s name and hotel, she knew what he ate and drank, and she knew he was following Gabhran. One more call and she’d had everything arranged.
She’d left the hospital and returned home to wait for the last phone call, and two hours later, it came. Yes, everything according to plan.
She packed a bag with all the supplies she would need. There were many more than usual, now that her plans had changed. She loaded her car, made some quick stops along the way, before she arrived at the little dock. She brought her supplies near the water, then dragged her pirogue to the water’s edge. Once everything was loaded, she climbed in and began to punt her way through the marsh. Pirogues were flat bottomed boats, light, easy to carry, and perfectly suited to skim over the swampy marshes of Cajun country. Hers was weighted down with all of the supplies, so she was careful not to shift her weight and upset the balance.
The bayou was beautiful, the cypress trees were draped with Spanish moss, snow-white egrets dotted the shallow waters, and Marie felt the spirits close beside her. When she reached her fishing shack a few minutes later, she tied off her boat then began throwing her supplies on the deck that surrounded the small building. When the first bag thumped on the deck, Marie was rewarded by a muffled cry from within. Yes, everything according to plan. She smiled in anticipation.
****
Gabhran reported to the clinic a little later than usual, with a pounding headache and bleary eyes. He knew he should have stayed away today, but he couldna sit in the house a minute longer. Christ, the things that had happened last night. His heart burned with shame at the thought of nearly raping Miranda, and then later discovering she was a virgin. He could not have lived with himself if he’d taken that from her.
He would leave for Scotland this weekend, once he had learned all that could be learned from here. He’d confirmed with his attorney that no one was looking for him, and he needed the healing that could only be offered by a highland night.
His only regret was leaving Alysone in this place. Well, it wasna his only regret, but ‘twas the only regret he would allow himself to dwell on. He needed to see if there was anything that he could do to get her released, if that was what she wanted. He needed to see her today, but the director was waiting for him in the foyer.
“Ah, Dr. MacLachlan, I’m glad to see you. Would you come with me please, I have some disturbing news.”
“What has happened?” he asked, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach not entirely due to last night’s liquor.
“One of our patients has gone missing, the police are interviewing the staff before they move on to the patients. They are using the parlor for their interview room. This is going to kill our funding, I just know it is. Any hint of a scandal, any trouble, and the legislature will shut us down.”
Through tightly clenched teeth, Gabhran ground out, “Who is it, who is missing?”
“Oh of course, I don’t mean to say I’m not worried about the dear, but really, she probably took off on her own. She’s not very stable, although you doctors feel she’s been making progress, and well, if a bad decision on her part ends up hurting everyone else…” She trailed off at the look of murderous rage on his face.
“Oh,” she said rather weakly, “I didn’t tell you who. It’s that sweet little Alysone, I’m sure she just wandered off. Bless her heart. Now you just sit right here, the police will be with you shortly.”
Gabhran sat numbly, wondering what had happened. It was far too soon for her to be pulled into a new life. Wasn’t it? He needed to get out of here, he would be viewed as a person of interest, or some such other label, and he needed to look for Alysone. He stood to go, perhaps he could catch a flight to Scotland today.
A sugary voice behind him said, “Leaving already? We haven’t had our chance to talk yet.”
Christ, could this day get any worse?
Time slowed to a crawl as he turned to face the one woman on this planet he never wanted to see again. Oh yes, this day could get much worse. He stood facing Detective Miranda Close, and she was sporting a black eye.
“Step in here, Doctor, I have a few questions for you,” and she stepped back to hold the door for him.
Gabhran walked into the parlor and assumed the seat near the French doors, where he customarily sat when he spoke with Alysone. He stared into the courtyard, his thoughts swirling.
Miranda closed the door then took the seat opposite, but she didn’t say a word.
Finally, Gabhran sighed and turned his gaze to Miranda. “There is nothing I can say to you that would come close to expressing my regret for the things I did last night. Please, lass, tell me I didna do that to your eye as well.”
“Where were you last night between the hours of midnight and four?”
“I think you know where I was, lass.”
“This is for the official statement, and I have no knowledge of your location beyond one, so where were you?”
He looked at her, not caring for the flat tone of her voice, nor for the dead look in her eyes. “I was at my house, in the courtyard until one, then I went for a walk.”
“Any witnesses once you left your house, Doctor?”
“Miranda, what is going on here? What happened to the woman, to Alysone?”
“I am asking the questions, Doctor. Were there any witness who can vouch for your whereabouts?”
“Nay.”
“What did you talk to Alysone about yesterday?”
“That is privileged information, Detective.” Gabhran found himself responding in the same clipped tones that Miranda was using on him.
“I can get a court order, why don’t you just tell me?”
“Perhaps if you were talking
with me instead of interrogating me, I could think of something helpful. As it is I doona even know what happened, so it is difficult to know how to help.”
Miranda gave nothing away. “Alysone Smith was last seen at bed check last night. She did not come to breakfast this morning. Her bed was not slept in, some clothes are missing, and there is nothing to indicate where she went. Now, what did you talk about yesterday?”
“Miranda, please, can we go somewhere to talk, there are things I will tell you, but not here, and by God, I need a cup of coffee.”
Miranda gave him a long look. “Meet me at Café du Monde in half an hour. That’s all for now. Don’t plan to leave town any time soon.”
****
Sweet blessed coffee, strong and black. He almost felt human by the time Miranda showed up. She ordered a café au lait and two orders of beignets. She looked tired and her eye was swollen. Neither of them spoke until she had her first sip of coffee, then Miranda started the questions again.
“Tell me all of it, and include the parts you think I won’t believe. I already heard from the other doctors that Alysone thought she was from somewhere else, and had no memories of her life. Then you show up on the scene and after one brief meeting, she suddenly remembers being abused.
“It also seems the staff considers you some kind of angel, in addition to being a miracle worker, since you treat thirty or more patients a week, despite the fact you’re not paid. I know you saw Alysone yesterday, and that you saw her most days. So start at the beginning, tell me all of it, and we’ll worry about what I can or cannot believe later.”
So he did. He told her all of it, starting with reading the article, and tracking down the patient, because her story was similar to his. He told her how it felt to wake in a new life, to never set down roots, or have lasting relationships. He told her Alysone’s story, and about her dreams. He told her everything he could think of that might relate to Alysone’s disappearance. When he was finished they both sat there and listened to the woman playing the clarinet just outside the restaurant’s patio.