WILLEM (The Witches of Wimberley Book 1)

by Victoria Danann

  She set the Baileys caramel creamer on the bar in front of me and went about brewing the joe in a pod coffeemaker. I remembered that it was days ago when I’d been thinking I wanted to own one of those one day.

  She pushed my cup in front of me along with a silver sugar bowl and spoon.

  “Fancy.”

  “The sugar bowl? Is it?”

  “Yeah, Ravish. It is.”

  “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

  “No.” I laughed. “Hopefully it would take more than a bit of silver to make me uncomfortable.”

  She brought her coffee, sat beside me, poured creamer, and used my spoon to stir it.

  “This is good,” I said. “I don’t have a toothbrush with me.”

  She grinned. “Yes. You do. In fact all of your stuff is upstairs.”

  “All my stuff from the hotel?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You were serious about them moving me? You mean they just let anybody walk in and take a guest’s belongings?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “We’re not anybody.”

  “I’m starting to get that loud and clear.”

  “But it’s not just your stuff from the hotel. It’s your stuff from L.A., too.”

  “What? Hector let you guys in?”

  “Not exactly. He was asleep. Never knew we were there. But we left enough money to cover your part of the rent for a year.”

  She blew on the hot coffee before she took a sip and the sight of her lips puckering temporarily mesmerized me so that I was having a hard time focusing on the proper amount of outrage.

  I shook my head. “How could you have my stuff from L.A.? You couldn’t have known I was going to say yes.”

  She laughed that whore’s laugh that turned me inside out like a pretzel. “Well, you’re right, of course. But we’ve been doing these competitions for a very long time and no guy has ever said no.”

  I cleared my throat, tearing my eyes away from her mouth. “That’s quite a record.”

  “Yeah.” She watched me over the top of her cup as she drank.

  “What do I need to know about the ceremony tomorrow?”

  “Well, there are some old-fashioned things. You and I will wear hooded robes until we ring the bell and snuff out the candle.”

  “That’s probably not any more ridiculous than having fathers ‘give brides away’ like they were chattel in the twelfth century.”

  She laughed softly. “The only other thing I need to tell you before the contract is sealed is that witches only conceive daughters. So if you had your heart set on sons, it could be a problem.”

  There was no mistaking that she was practically holding her breath, waiting for my answer. I laughed out loud. “No, Ravish. I never pictured myself as a father to anybody, girl or boy. And I should probably tell you, I still don’t.”

  She sipped coffee while considering that. “That’s not a deal breaker for me, Willem.”

  “Why not?” My mouth seemed to have gone rogue and been disconnected from the part of me that knew you shouldn’t challenge the gift of a horse by closely examining its teeth. Or something like that. But I’d gone too far to pull back. “Why me?”

  She set her coffee cup down, slid off the stool, and walked in between where my legs were spread and resting on the rungs. I suddenly became preoccupied with wanting to find out if that kiss was a fluke or if it could be as good as I remembered. I put my hands on her waist and reveled in her body heat as I drew her in closer.

  “I wasn’t kidding when I said you were made for me, Willem. There are people here who know about such things. Right up to the perfect moment to approach you with an opportunity, the moment when you’d be most receptive to trying something new.”

  “Like you?”

  I slipped my hand under her hair and let it caress her neck. She closed her eyes like she enjoyed the sensation.

  “Yes. Like me. But no sex tonight,” she said, and pulled away abruptly.

  “What? Wait! I was looking forward to that.”

  She smirked and laughed deep in her throat. “Very gratifying. That means you’ll be really ready by tomorrow. Tonight you’re in one of the guest rooms. Tomorrow when we’re gone to the ceremony, the servants will move you in with me.”

  “Tomorrow’s too far away.” I pouted. “My dick needs attention tonight.”

  “Well, I’m sure you can find a way to take care of that. But it will be the last time you’ll have to take care of your, um, dick by yourself.”

  “I like the way you say ‘dick’.”

  “I liked the way you said you were looking forward to sex with me.”

  “Well, duh.”

  “Come on,” she said. “Tomorrow I want to hear everything about what you’d like to do with your time. Oh, and the winners are giving you some sort of guy thing tomorrow night at dinner, not a bachelor party, but something like that.”

  “I’d rather be with you.”

  “Willem, you are charming the socks off me.”

  “I have it on good authority that you’re not wearing socks, but I’d like to charm the rest of this off you.” I slid two fingers under the strap of her dress.

  “Stop. You’re making this hard.” She pulled away.

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Don’t make me put you in time out.”

  All humor was suddenly sucked out of the room. “Could you do that? No, wait. A better question is probably, would you do that?”

  She grew serious. “No, Willem. It was a joke. Something my sister says to her kids. I will never use magic to force, compel, or coerce you. It’s not only against the rules. It’s wrong.”

  I heard what she was saying, but the idea that she could do that, or thought she could do that, was a little bit concerning and a little bit disturbing.

  “So you’re saying you could force me to do things,” I said slowly, watching closely for her reaction, “but you wouldn’t because of an ethics code.”

  “Yes. That and because I will love you.”

  “You’ll love me,” I repeated drily. “How can you know that?”

  She blew out a breath like she was getting frustrated. “I keep telling you, Willem. We’re perfect for each other. I won’t be able to stop myself from being head over heels for you.”

  “And is that what you’re expecting from me? Love?”

  “Is that too much to hope for?”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “It may be a bridge too far. Love doesn’t seem likely. I don’t mean because of you,” I hastened to add. “I just don’t have any history to indicate that I’m a fall-in-love kind of guy.”

  She was silent for a few seconds. “I guess we’ll see then.”

  I smiled, grateful that she was going to let it go. “I guess we will.”

  “I’m going up to bed. If you want to come with me, I’ll show you where you’re staying tonight. Then if you want to wander around, or whatever, feel free. Mi casa es su casa. At least it will be tomorrow.”

  I followed her up the stairs enjoying the way her hips swayed when she climbed. “Oh, there’s an elevator, too, if you’re ever feeling lazy.”

  An elevator?

  The second floor hallway ended at double doors standing open. I supposed that was the master. I saw only windows with a console table and lamps.

  When we reached the last room on the left, she said, “This is you tonight. Do you want to see our suite?”

  “Our suite? Why, yes. I do want to see our suite,” I said playfully.

  When I reached the threshold, I could see that there was a large sitting area with pale gray carpet, plush white sofas, a fireplace, and a movie-screen size TV. To the left was another set of double doors that stood open to reveal the bedroom, as tastefully done as the rest of the house. I hadn’t had an impulse to run leaping and jump up and down on a bed for twenty years, but I had to restrain myself from doing exactly that.

  There were doorways with eight-foot doors on either side of the bed. />
  “That’s yours.” She pointed to the one on the left. “This one is mine.” She waved a hand at the other door. “Come on. I’ll show you yours.”

  We stepped into an enormous bathroom with black and white marble tiles, turned diagonally, a huge polished black Jacuzzi, a carwash shower with a dozen heads, long black marble sink counter and mahogany stained cabinets. Very masculine and very luxurious. I was pretty sure the oil-rich princes of Saudi Arabia would be jealous.

  When she opened tall mahogany doors, lights came on beyond. “This is your closet,” she said.

  My room in the L.A. apartment was not nearly as big. It had a big island cabinet with drawers on all sides and miles of rods for hung clothes hidden behind tall cupboard doors.

  “I take it we’re not sharing a bath?”

  She giggled. “My sisters tell me that nothing kills romance quicker than a shared bathroom.”

  I’d never shared a bathroom with a woman, but I could still grasp the point.

  “It’s marvelous, Ravish. I don’t have enough clothes to fill even one of these.” I opened one of the tall cupboard doors.

  “Well, that could change, Willem. If you decide you want more clothes, you’ll have a place to keep them.”

  “Every few minutes something else leaves me speechless.”

  She smiled. “Tomorrow, when you’re up, let’s have breakfast together on the terrace. I want to hear everything about your family, your acting, your life in L.A.”

  I cocked my head, pleased that she was interested. “Sure. And you’ll reciprocate.”

  She didn’t answer, just smiled, walked toward me and proceeded to kiss me stupid again. Then she patted me on the ass. I’m not joking. She actually patted me on the ass and guided me toward the door. I decided to take that as a promise of things to come. Tomorrow.

  “Night,” I said, as she closed the double doors.

  The crazy idea hit me that perhaps it was some sort of test. Was I supposed to plow through the doors and insist we not wait to consummate our year? I’d been told that some women have fantasies about having their choice taken away, but only by the man of their dreams. I was the man of Ravish’s dreams. She’d told me so several times.

  It could be a test of patience or a test of impatience and I was having a hard time deciding which. I finally decided I’d rather err on the side of no means no, than err on the side of being perceived as a brute.

  So I wandered back down the hall to the room she’d pointed out as my temporary castle. It wasn’t bad. Had I not just seen the rooms that would be mine, I would have thought it might be the most outrageously opulent room on Earth. It even had a fully stocked mini bar with snacks in the little refrigerator and a TV almost as big as the one in the master suite. A guy could get used to the lifestyle quick.

  The bathroom counter had my toiletries laid out neatly. The clothes that I’d brought to Wimberley were cleaned, pressed, and hung. Undies and socks in the top drawer. Wow. They had good elves in Wimberley.

  Popping the top on a long neck ginger ale, I shed everything but my boxers, climbed in bed and turned on the TV. I surfed until I was sure there was nothing worth watching and finally settled on The Wicker Man. I would have loved to turn the channel or, better yet, turn the TV off, but I couldn’t do it. Consequently, I had a restless night filled with dreams of human sacrifice and worries about what I was really getting myself into.

  When I saw light coming through the windows, I was relieved the night was over. I told myself that nothing so sinister was going on in Wimberley or there wouldn’t be so many happy winners. On the other hand…

  The shower felt good. I set the water on practically scalding and hoped it would wash both doubts and nightmares away. I pulled on a pair of old soft jeans and a grayish blue tee then headed out. When I opened the door, I could hear activity in the kitchen below. Not only that, but I could smell coffee and bacon.

  When I stepped into the kitchen, a large middle-aged woman turned to me with a bright smile and said, “Good morning, Mr. Draiocht. Would you like anything special for breakfast?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Angie, sir.”

  “Well, Angie. All thought of whatever else I might have wanted fled when I smelled that bacon.” She smiled as if she was pleased. “Did I also smell coffee?”

  “Oh, yes.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “The mistress likes percolated coffee in the morning. So we do it the old-fashioned way. It’s not easy to find these old vintage machines now, but they do make good coffee.”

  A man stepped into the room. “Good morning, Mr. Draiocht.”

  “Hello,” I said. “What’s your name?”

  “Ed, sir. I’ll let Ms. Wimberley know you’re up.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We’ve set up for breakfast out on the terrace if that’s alright with you,” said Angie. “I’ll bring your coffee out with some fruit to get you started.” She waved in the direction of the terrace behind me.

  “Sounds nice.”

  I smiled as I turned toward the terrace doors. I could see the table set with pink linens and covered carafes of ice water and orange juice. The morning was glorious, a perfect seventy degrees. The smell of cedar scented the air and I inhaled deeply.

  Angie followed close behind with the coffee pot. She turned the cup over and poured then carefully set the cream and sweeteners within my reach.

  “Lovely morning, isn’t it?” she said.

  “It is.”

  The door opened and Ravish emerged, wearing white capris and a tangerine-colored tank top. Her hair was in a ponytail. She looked different in casual clothes. No less beautiful. If anything, she seemed more approachable in everyday street wear. A guy could get used to fancy breakfast served on the terrace and a goddess looking at him like he’d discovered fire.

  “Willem,” she said.

  “Ravish,” I replied. “Let’s start this off right. Call me Will.”

  She smiled. “Sure.”

  “And Ravish has got to go, too.”

  “You don’t like my name?” She didn’t seem hurt, more interested in what I would say next.

  “I love it, but I have a strong preference for single syllables. I’m a simple kind of guy.”

  As she sat, she took on a challenging look with raised eyebrow. “A simple kind of guy, huh. I’m not getting that, Wille… Will. Perhaps you haven’t had the funds to express your appreciation of fine things, but I’m kind of questioning the simple guy thing.”

  I wondered if she was right. She might be.

  “So what name have you come up with for me?”

  I sat back with my coffee cup in hand. “Rave.”

  “Rave?!? It makes me sound like a soapbox lunatic.”

  “Ravish makes me sound like a pervert.”

  She threw her head back and laughed her sexy, throaty laugh. “If you want to call me Rave, it’s okay with me, Will. Outsiders will think it’s short for Raven, but that’s okay, too. I always liked that name.”

  “Rave it is then.”

  I felt strangely satisfied, as if I’d just branded my woman by renaming her. It was a rush.

  Angie stepped out carrying a tray with two plates of spinach Eggs Benedict, bacon, and gingerbread.

  “Good heavenly days,” I said. “How did you know I like spinach Eggs Benedict? And gingerbread? Christ. I don’t know where to start. It smells like heaven.”

  “I take that as high praise, Mr. Draiocht.”

  “You should. This looks incredible.”

  Angie went away beaming.

  “I hope you always enjoy things as much as you do today, Will.”

  “You mean you don’t want me to get bored and jaded? I’m not a teenager. I think I’ve lived long enough without all this to ever not appreciate it.”

  “Good,” she said. “It’s more fun that way. So start at the beginning and tell me everything about you.”

  After taking a large bite of gingerbread, I grinned. �
��Only if you trade me fact for fact. I tell one. You tell one.”

  “Deal. You go first.”

  “I was born in Alabama.”

  “I was born here.”

  “Two brothers and a sister.”

  “Two sisters.”

  “I’m the youngest.”

  “I’m number two.”

  “I had a nice middle class childhood. My parents weren’t the cool parents who let kids do anything, but they were solid, stable, loving.”

  “My parents are,” she grinned, “great. I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

  I thought about taking Ravish to meet my parents. “Will you want to meet mine?”

  She nodded. “After our year is up. When our arrangement becomes permanent, then yes. Absolutely.”

  “We could take a road trip. Go through New Orleans. Drive along the Gulf.”

  Her eyes sparkled when she smiled like she was picturing the sun on the water. “I’m in!”

  I couldn’t help but return her smile. I could picture driving along the coast with Rave in her Spyder, top down. Heaven.

  “Okay. So childhood. I played baseball and, don’t tell anybody, but I liked to read.”

  “I like to read, too, and I guess I was what some people call a tomboy. I always liked hiking, canoeing, catching June bugs.”

  “You have June bugs?”

  “Of course.”

  I laughed. “For about a week every summer our June bugs would look like one of the plagues from the Bible. There were that many.”

  “Yeah. We get a lot. I also liked playing in the mud.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Well I would never have admitted that to you, but definitely concur. Playing in the mud is the best!” I held my palm up for a high five. She slapped my hand and giggled.

  “Is that why you have that Jeep? You still like to play in the mud?”

  She looked up through her eyelashes. “Guilty.”

  “Well, Rave, I’m feeling pretty good about this. What are the chances I’d find a girl who likes to play in the mud?”

  “What subjects did you like in school?”

  “Social studies. English when it involved stories. You?”

  “Math and science.”

  I laughed. “Well, between the two of us, there shalt be balance. How old were you when you had your first kiss?”