She could have told them it was a waste of time. She wasn’t likely to forget Ryland anytime soon. That, however, didn’t mean she didn’t have a responsibility to herself and her magick. This was an important moment in her life, one that needed to be celebrated and nurtured.
Her family had been a great source of help, suggesting simple ways for her to begin to test her magick, to stretch it and become more accustomed to using it. It would take time and practice, but she was pleased with her progress so far.
Today’s lesson was about infusing certain qualities into the candles she used for meditation, healing and other spell work. She was proud of the batch of candles she’d made this afternoon. She’d been making candles since she was a child, but today was different. It was more than just melting the wax, adding color and measuring essential oils to the mixture. This time the magick had flowed into each different color as she made them. She’d worked hard, infusing every single one with the right kind of magick.
A lone red votive sat in the center of the table. Rhiannon refused to admit she hadn’t been able to toss away the candle that had been instrumental in bringing Ryland to her. “Stop it,” she admonished herself. “You can’t change how Ryland feels about the situation. You can only control how you feel.” That was the truth, but it wasn’t easy to accept.
She’d vacillated between tears and anger all day. She’d had to pause several times while making candles when her eyes began to water, making it impossible for her to see what she was doing. Her eyes stung again, but she ignored it, blinking the fresh tears away. Crying did no good. It only served to make her eyes swollen and itchy and her nose red.
Abigail meowed and trotted into the room, twining around Rhiannon’s feet. “Hey, girl. Did you have a busy day?” Abigail had watched her make candles for the first half hour or so and had then disappeared to spend the afternoon in another part of the house. The cat had probably found a sunbeam in the living room to lie in. The October sun had been bright today.
The cat meowed again, brushing against Rhiannon’s legs before trotting over to the counter. Abigail paused and peered over her shoulder.
“I’m coming.” She shook her head, but couldn’t contain her smile. Someone should tell Abigail that Rhiannon was the owner, not the other way around. Unfortunately, Rhiannon had never gotten the courage to tell the cat that. When she thought about it, she wasn’t sure it was really true anyway.
“I made real progress today, Abigail.” The cat purred her praise as Rhiannon opened a can of gourmet cat food and poured it onto a china plate. “But now I’m a mess.” She set the plate on the floor and Abigail began to nibble.
Come to think of it, she’d been too upset to eat and had skipped lunch. She was still upset about Ryland, but she knew she had to eat something. “Shower first.” She glanced around the kitchen, which was spotless once again. “Hold down the fort,” she told Abigail as she headed down the hallway to her bedroom.
She shucked her clothing, tossing everything into the laundry hamper. When she was naked, she padded into the bathroom and straight into the shower. Her eyes felt slightly swollen and gritty from fatigue and, although she didn’t want to admit it, from tears as well.
Turning on the water, she adjusted it and stepped beneath the spray. Groaning with pleasure, she tilted her head back and let the water cascade over her face and body, washing away the worries of the day.
She quickly shampooed her hair and washed from head to toe, ignoring the tenderness in her breasts and the slight ache between her thighs, reminders of last night with Ryland. Leaning with one hand against the wall, she let the soap rinse away. She watched as it swirled around the bottom of the tub before slipping down the drain. If only she could get rid of all her problems so easily.
Flicking off the taps, she took a moment and simply let the silence surround her. When the cooling air made her shiver, she grabbed a towel and stepped out of the shower, making quick work of drying herself off. She took a moment and slathered some moisturizer on her skin and dragged a brush through her damp hair.
As she headed back to her bedroom, she thought about getting dressed again, but decided against it. She wasn’t going anywhere tonight. Her only plans were to curl up at home and maybe find something in her kitchen to tempt her appetite. She’d barely eaten a thing all day.
Reaching behind her bedroom door, she pulled her nightgown off the hook and put it on. Long and silky, it hit her ankles, smoothing over her body like a second skin. The matching pale green dressing gown followed. Not bothering with slippers, she made her way to the kitchen.
She marched straight to the refrigerator and yanked open the door. The bottle of wine Ryland had brought last night stared out at her. She grabbed it, pulled the cork and poured herself a glass.
She swirled the ruby liquid in the crystal goblet before taking a sip. “Not bad,” she informed Abigail, who was sitting in her customary place on the window ledge watching. She had to give Ryland credit for having good taste, at least in wine. She’d had a few sips of it last night, but hadn’t really tasted it. She’d been too excited and wound up.
Placing the glass on the counter, she dug back into the refrigerator. When she was done, she had a platter filled with three kinds of cheese, two types of crackers, some green grapes and crispy slices of apple. Satisfied, she carried it into her living room and set it on the end table before curling up on the sofa. Abigail jumped up on the suede ottoman and began to wash her paws.
She thought about turning on the television or some music, but decided she liked the quiet better. Not that it was truly silent. The wind was up slightly and she could hear it blowing through the trees in the yard and brushing against the house. It was a comforting sound.
Deciding she had to eat something, Rhiannon picked up a slice of old cheddar and nibbled on it, enjoying the sharp taste. “Nothing like excellent cheese,” she informed her cat.
But Abigail wasn’t listening to her. She had her head cocked to one side, as though listening intently. The cat’s head suddenly swiveled toward the front door. Abigail stared hard, not blinking or moving a muscle.
Tension invaded Rhiannon as she waited expectantly. This was one time she wished her cat could talk, but in her gut, she already knew what was coming. Or rather who.
Laying her wineglass on the end table next to the platter, she stood just as the knock sounded on the front door. “Maybe it’s just Maggie or Esther.” The cat turned her head and glared at her owner. “Okay. So we both know its Ryland.” Abigail jumped from the ottoman and trotted out of the room. “Coward,” she muttered at the cat as she continued to the door.
Making sure the belt of her dressing gown was securely tied, she took a deep breath, released it slowly and reached for the handle. She turned it slowly and pulled the door open.
Ryland stood there with his hands in his jeans pockets, looking as handsome as sin and twice as tasty. It was unfair that he should look so damn good when she felt about as attractive as a wrung-out dishrag. Doing her best to keep her features serene, she arched an eyebrow at him.
The corner of his mouth kicked up slightly. Not quite a grin, but close. “Can we talk?”
“I wasn’t expecting company.” She could have kicked herself the moment the words were out of her mouth. His gaze wandered down her body, making her very aware of the thin silky layers of fabric covering her. She was decently covered, but she wasn’t wearing any underwear, which left her feeling vulnerable.
His gaze paused on her breasts. Her nipples puckered, pressing against the silk of her nightgown and robe. She fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as her lower body clenched.
Damn him for being so sexy and damn her for being so easily aroused by him.
“This won’t take long.” His voice was husky and deep. It sent ribbons of desire shooting through her body. Cream softened her sex as it heated.
“Fine.” Stepping back, she allowed him into he
r home. She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. What could he possibly have to say that hadn’t already been said?
She didn’t think for a moment he’d changed his stance on her being a witch. Not this quickly. Still, her heart skipped a beat before it resumed beating. It sped up when he took a step toward her. Hope welled up deep inside her and she fought it back down. Better to wait and see what he had to say than to allow false expectations to take root.
The space seemed to shrink with him in it. Ryland had such a presence he filled the room without trying. Needing some kind of defense against him, she hurried back to the sofa and sat back down. Picking up her wineglass, she took a fortifying sip. The polite thing to do would be to offer him some wine.
She stayed where she was.
Ryland was wearing jeans and a brown leather jacket that lay open. Beneath his coat, she could see a black T-shirt stretched across his wide, muscular chest.
She jerked her gaze away. Stop looking at his chest, she admonished herself. She needed to stay calm and in control.
“Rhiannon.” Her gaze flew back to him. Now that she was looking closer, she saw the shadows in his eyes and the dark circles beneath. He hadn’t slept any better than she had. For some reason, that made her feel slightly better. Not that she wanted him to suffer necessarily, but it wasn’t fair that she be the only one affected by what had happened between them.
She waited, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he wandered around her small living room, examining the chunks of quartz and amethyst scattered about. He checked out her bookshelf, which was stuffed with books about her craft, as well as some fantasy and romance novels. For someone who’d been in a hurry to talk, he suddenly seemed to have nothing to say.
Finally, she could stand it no longer. “Ryland?” He turned to face her, his expression grim. “Why are you here?”
He glanced down at the chunk of rose quartz he had cradled in his palm. She wondered if he had any idea that the rock he was holding was associated with love and emotions. She doubted it. His hand was broad and strong, yet gentle as he carefully laid the stone back on the shelf.
He walked toward her and sat on the ottoman directly across from her. “What does it mean to be a witch?”
His question surprised her. It was the last thing she’d expected him to ask. He was watching her intently, awaiting her answer. She detected no criticism or ridicule, just an honest desire to know.
When she realized her fingers were twisted in the belt of her robe, she released it and smoothed down the fabric around it. “I was born into a family of witches. This isn’t like Wicca, which is an earth-based religion that many people practice.”
When he nodded his understanding, she continued. “We all have powers and abilities. Call it sixth sense or call it intuition. It doesn’t matter. But some people have something more.” She paused, trying to think of how best to explain it. “Clairvoyance, precognition and ESP. These are all things that are now recognized by many scientists. But there is even more out there.”
When she hesitated, he leaned forward and captured her hand, wrapping his fingers around it. The heat from his hand permeated hers. The knot in her belly slowly began to dissolve.
“Please,” he said, urging her to continue.
“There are people in tune with nature. Some can whistle up the wind while others can control fire. Many feel the pull of the earth and can harness its power.”
She could see him thinking about what she’d said. “So you…they use this to do what exactly? Cast spells?”
She nodded. “That’s one use.”
“Like the spell you told me about.” His brows furrowed and she had the urge to rub her finger between them to smooth away his consternation.
“Yes, but there are rules as well.” She was slightly surprised he was still here, listening calmly to her. After his vehement denial of anything paranormal last night, it was quite a turnaround.
“Magick cannot be used to harm others or to manipulate them. Well, it can,” she corrected herself. “But if you do, it will backlash on the one who casts the spell, only worse. That’s not something any magick user wants to experience.”
“So it’s kind of a built-in safety valve.”
She laughed at his analogy, but nodded. “Something like that.” She desperately tried to ignore the way his fingers stroked against her palm. That one light touch made her nipples pucker tighter and her sex pulse with need.
“What about the spell you cast? Explain it to me again.”
“It was all in fun and you have to remember that my magick has never worked that well before.” When he nodded she continued. “The spell was to bring us each a lover, but it wasn’t for any one man in particular. Therefore, only a man who truly wanted us and was free to do so would be attracted.” She paused. “The problem was that I ended up asking for a love that was true instead of a lover.”
Neither one of them said anything for a long time. Then Ryland spoke. “So you can cast spells. Is there anything else?”
She frowned. “I can sometimes sense things before they happen. It’s hard to explain really. It’s just who I am. Like a person who can be an athlete and a good cook. It’s just who I am,” she reiterated, not quite knowing what else to say.
“Like lighting the candles?”
“No, that was new. My power had been blocked my entire life until you released it last night.” She’d tried it again this morning and several times again this afternoon. Each time the flame sprang to life, she was shocked and pleased that the power hadn’t dissipated. It was still there, available to her to use.
She wasn’t sure she liked the smug, masculine smile on Ryland’s face. “Not until last night, you say?” She ignored that and he continued. “Are there any special things you have to do on a daily basis?”
Rhiannon shrugged. “Some of it I do by rote and barely even think of it. I study, I practice, I learn. There are certain holidays I celebrate. Samhain is coming up in a few days.”
“That’s Halloween, right?”
She nodded. “Yes. It’s the time of the year when the veil is thinnest between the world of man and spirit. It’s a powerful time.” She pulled her hand away from Ryland. She couldn’t think straight with him touching her.
While she was pleased by his questions and his quiet attention to her answers, she had some of her own. “Why are you here?”
“Because there’s nowhere else I can be.” His honest answer shook her to the core. Her fingers trembled. She grabbed the ends of her belt and hung on to them as though they were lifelines to keep from grabbing Ryland.
“What do you mean?” Worry pounded through her. “I undid the spell last night. I also checked with my sister today, and she assured me she didn’t cast a spell either.” As she chewed on her bottom lip, her mind whirled with the possibilities.
“I’m not doing anything to keep you here. Honest.” That was against every principle of ethics Rhiannon had been taught. The thought that she might be manipulating Ryland against his will made her nauseous.
“You misunderstand.” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, soothing her poor abused mouth. “This has to do with magick of another kind.” He cupped her face in his hands and shifted closer.
“I don’t know what it is about you, Rhiannon, but I’ve felt a connection with you from the moment I first laid eyes on you.” His fingers grazed her cheeks as he leaned forward and placed his lips against hers. It was a soft touch, barely a kiss, but it rocked her to her toes. Her body was alive and humming with arousal.
“I’m a straightforward kind of guy. I believe in what I can see and what I can touch.”
She made a small sound of distress and he kissed her again, this time slightly harder. When he pulled away, she was panting for breath.
“Then I met you and nothing I believed before matters.” He peppered her face with kisses—her eyes, her forehead, her nose and her chin. “Something deep inside me knows you’re the real deal. You’re th
e woman I’ve been waiting for my entire life. I’m thirty-two years old and I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve always trusted my instincts and right now they’re telling me you’re much too important to let go of.”
“Ryland.” She said his name and nothing more, not quite sure what to say. She wanted to simply fling herself against him and hold on tight, but she couldn’t. Not yet. “I can’t change who I am. What I am. I won’t change,” she corrected.
He pulled back and stared at her, his pale blue eyes fierce. “I don’t want you to be anything other than what you are. You’re an amazingly special lady and I’m just glad you let me into your life.”
Unable to contain herself any longer, she threw herself into his arms. He caught her, just as she knew he would, and held her close. The leather of his jacket crinkled and she inhaled the unique smell of leather, soap and man—Ryland.
“Let me love you. Let me show you.” His hands roamed over her body, setting tiny fires wherever he touched.
“Yes,” she breathed as she reached up and wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him closer. “Yes.”
Chapter Thirteen
Relief flooded Ryland. He hadn’t expected Rhiannon to take him back quite so easily. Yes, he’d laid his heart on the table before her, but he wasn’t sure he would have been as generous if their roles were reversed. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath to try to calm the frantic pounding of his heart. She was in his arms now and that was all that mattered.
After he’d left Jed this afternoon, he’d hurried home, unpacked his groceries and gotten on the Internet to do some research. What he’d found had astounded him. Oh, he knew Rhiannon was special, but it was amazing just how many credible scientific websites he’d found that put forth theories on people with extra abilities. It wasn’t nearly as rare as he’d imagined. Then there were websites from various cultural beliefs that took it as given that these abilities existed.
A Touch of Magick: Spells, Seduction and Secrets, Book 1 Page 15