Witch Angel

by Trana Mae Simmons

  * * * *

  Shain closed her mouth with a tender kiss. The ever-close-to-the-surface passion flared, and he groaned, dragging her body against his, hungrily sweeping her mouth with his tongue. Her eager reciprocation thrust any doubts from his mind as he sought to fill her thoughts with only himself and their love for each other. He lifted his head and gazed down into her blue eyes, which were dimly sparkling with moonlight and flares of feeling.

  “Are you sure there’s only one condition attached to your love for me?” he murmured.

  “Oh, Shain, it’s not a condition. My love for you is absolute, without any qualifications. I want it all, though—all our lives spent together. I want to stay here at Chenaie with you, but I want to be certain that’s possible and what my future’s supposed to be. I want our children to know their father—and their mother, for that matter. I don’t want to read about my family across a span of time and realize I can never touch you, or them, again.”

  Shain sighed and gazed over her head at the tombstones lining the graveyard. For years, he’d scathingly denied the possibility of anything supernatural at Chenaie—denounced any hint made by anyone brave enough to defy his ire and bring up the subject. Then a package of femininity perfectly suited to his arms and emotions dropped into his life on a dirt road one day, insisting she came from a time he himself had no hope of living into.

  Looking back on it, he realized he had casually accepted the circumstances of Alaynia’s arrival—too casually. Jake’s explanation had been an easy out, especially when he had all the other problems at Chenaie to worry about. He hadn’t bothered to rationalize any further than being all too grateful that the woman he hadn’t even realized was missing from his life had finally appeared—no matter the mode of her manifestation.

  “Shain?” Alaynia whispered.

  Gazing back down at her, he said, “If you left me, I’d search this earth for you. But crossing time wouldn’t be an option. That would be one barrier I could never span.”

  “Unless we knew how it was done—whether something actually played with my life and will now let me make my own decision as to whether I stay or not,” Alaynia replied. “Please, Shain. I have to know.”

  Though it went against everything he had ever believed in, Shain reluctantly nodded his head in agreement. “All right. I won’t interfere, unless I think you’re getting into something dangerous. You have to let me know what’s going on at all times, Alaynia. I don’t believe in this nonsense, but I’m willing to try to keep an open mind. Especially since I don’t want to ever lose you from my life, now that I’ve found you.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Alaynia promised solemnly.

  “You better be,” Shain said gruffly. “But I think you’re going to have a problem finding time to talk to ghosts.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re already spending all day working over at Jake’s. And I’ve got plans of my own for our nights—plans that no damned ghost is going to interfere with!”

  He swept her up into his arms and started out of the graveyard. She giggled and laid her head on his shoulder. When he nudged the gate open wider, it creaked with a rusty sound again, and Alaynia lifted her head to stare behind them. He paused a second and turned back to look himself. The tombstones stood in peaceful serenity, but then, what else could they do?

  With a grunt of perplexity, he swung around and headed for the manor house. “How soon can you get dressed?” he asked.

  “Dressed? You weren’t kidding then? You really want to get married tonight?”

  “Changed your mind?” Shain’s voice growled with a deceptive softness.

  “Nope,” Alaynia said impishly. “But what about a license? And blood tests?”

  “Blood tests?” Shain said in astonishment. “What the hell do you want my blood tested for?”

  “Whoops,” Alaynia said with a laugh. “I forgot that’s not necessary in this time.”

  Shaking his head, Shain carried her up the veranda steps. At the steep stairwell, Alaynia shifted in his arms, evidently thinking he would put her down. Instead, he tightened his grasp and effortlessly climbed the shadowed stair treads.

  “Shain, I can walk up here. Put me down.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of being carried over the threshold?”

  “That’s after we get married,” Alaynia protested, but he was already at the top of the stairs, his breathing only slightly strained.

  “Who’s getting married?”

  Shain allowed Alaynia to slide to the floor and peered toward Jeannie’s shape, where she stood at the intersecting hallway to his left. In the dim light, her long white gown stood out eerily, almost unnerving him.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” he asked sharply, in order to counteract his uneasiness and total derision at himself for his alarm. Damn this talk of spirits in the middle of the night.

  “Who can sleep with people carrying on at all hours—walking up and down the stairs and hallways?” Jeannie replied with a shrug. She moved a step closer to them. “Are you two in your night clothes? What’s going on?”

  A scuffling sounded in the hallway behind Jeannie, and she turned with a gasp. Crouching down, she grabbed something into her arms, then rose and started toward her room. “I’ll be back in a minute, and you then can answer my questions,” she flung over her shoulder.

  “Jeannie, get your butt back here right now!” Shain called. “What’s that you’re hiding from me?”

  Jeannie hesitated, took one more step, then turned with a sigh. Eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Shain could see the front of her night robe bulging and quivering. A snuffling noise reached his ears, then a faint oink.

  “Jeannie,” he said in shock. “Have you got a pig in this house?”

  With a resigned though steady gait, Jeannie came toward him, while beside him, Alaynia muffled a giggle when a piglet poked its nose from the front of Jeannie’s robe. His mouth gaped, and he groaned in disbelief. The piglet oinked louder, leaving no doubt as to its species.

  “I’m only keeping him in my room until he’s strong enough to fight the other piglets for his food, Shain,” Jeannie insisted. “Tiny’s not making any trouble.”

  “Tiny,” Shain said. “That animal isn’t just a pig, Jeannie, it’s a javelina. He’ll be growing tusks before you know it!”

  “Right now he’s just a piglet,” Jeannie fired back.

  “Pigs are messy ...” Shain began.

  “Not Tiny,” Jeannie denied. “He’s cleaner even than a cat. Why, he even knows how to use the bathroom in his box.”

  “Use the ... Jeannie, who’s been teaching you things like that?”

  Alaynia tried to surreptitiously slip away, but Shain barked her name and she halted. Retracing her steps, she passed him and slipped an arm around Jeannie’s shoulders. “Shain, Tiny’s been in the house since the day we found the piglets,” she said, “and he hasn’t caused any trouble yet—or any messes. When it’s time, I’m sure Jeannie will put him in the pen outside.”

  “You knew about this?” Shain asked.

  “Yes,” Alaynia admitted. “The night we saw the chapel burning, we were out by the barn, fixing up a litter box that Tiny could use to go to the bathroom in.”

  Shain stared from Alaynia’s face to his sister’s, mentally groaning as he felt his status of unquestioned master of Chenaie slipping further away. He would never be a match for the feminine wiles Jeannie was developing, wherein she seemed to feel that not asking for permission for what she wanted to do was the best avenue to gain her own way. And Alaynia didn’t bother to even ask. She just self-assuredly made her own plans, whether he was agreeable or not.

  Amazingly, he found he really didn’t give a damn. Whatever made the two most important women in his life happy—whether it be building a house or making a pet of a pig—gave him a contented feeling in return. Alaynia had, though, agreed to one of his own plans, and Jeannie’s quizzical face as she stared at Shain in his night ro
be brought that thought to the forefront of his mind.

  “Now that we’ve got that settled,” Jeannie broke into the stretching silence, “who’s getting married?” She prattled on before Shain could answer, “Since you and Alaynia are the only two here, I guess it’s you two. I suppose you were just going to slip off and tell me about it later. Well, I like that. I sure plan to ask you to my wedding, brother. And I darn well intend to come to yours!”

  Shaking his head in incredulity, Shain stared at the two women through the dimness. Jeannie was more a child-woman yet, but on the verge of blossoming into full womanhood not only physically, but mentally. He’d helped her grow into this independent, assured person, confident enough of his love for her to stand up to him and speak her own feelings openly.

  And Alaynia, his love and soul mate. He could never ask for a better woman than the woman he had fallen in love with to be an advisor for his sister, to help steer Jeannie through the years yet to come. If Jeannie matured into half the woman his Alaynia had become, the man his sister chose some day would be a truly lucky devil—as lucky as he was going to be to have Alaynia for his wife.

  But he had to get that ring on Alaynia’s finger first. Perhaps the holy vows they took would act to bind her to him forever—be a commitment even the spirits would shy away from tampering with. But he didn’t believe in spirits, he reminded himself.

  “Well, brother?” Jeannie demanded.

  Stepping forward, he brushed a golden curl from Jeannie’s face and gazed at her lovingly. “I wouldn’t think of getting married without you there, Jeannie. It wouldn’t be a proper ceremony without the two women I love the most there.”

  Jeannie threw one arm around Shain’s neck and hugged him delightedly. Pulling away, she said, “It won’t take me a minute to get dressed!” She hugged Alaynia for good measure and scampered down the hallway.

  “Uh ... Jeannie,” Shain said. When she paused, he asked, “Do you think you could leave the pig at home? Not that it would bother me that much, but the minister might think it strange.”

  Giggling impishly, Jeannie blew him a kiss. “Will do, brother, dear.”

  Alaynia slipped an arm around Shain’s waist as they watched Jeannie disappear. “You’ve done a wonderful job with her, Shain. You can be proud of her.”

  “Not half as proud as I am of myself,” Shain replied, nuzzling her hair.

  Alaynia glanced up at him. “Oh? And where did that ego trip come from?”

  “From winning you,” Shain said softly, cupping her cheek and gently tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. “From having a woman like you say she loves me—purr in my arms and then climb with me to an ecstasy I never thought was possible.”

  Alaynia’s eyes filled with tears, and he caught her to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he kissed her with all the tenderness and love he could dredge up from the very bottom of his soul.

  “But it’s not ego, darling—it’s humbleness,” he finally murmured. “I’m in awe of the fact that you’ve agreed to marry me—share your life with me. I love you, Alaynia.”

  “Oh, God, Shain. I love you, too. And it’s a forever love, my darling. I’ll love you forever, no matter what that turns out to be.”

  Chapter 21

  “I wish Frannie were here,” Sylvia grumbled. “I’ve got a feeling she’s not going to be real happy with this.”

  “About what? The wedding?” Basil settled on a tree limb as Shain’s buggy pulled up in front of the small, whitewashed house where the minister lived. A bare hint of rose tinted the eastern sky, and a light shone through a window. The noise of the buggy pulling to a stop brought a portly little man already dressed for the day to the front door.

  “Well?” Basil prodded when Sylvia didn’t answer. “What do you think Miss Francesca’s going to be upset about? After all, I heard her say that angels aren’t supposed to get involved in the emotional affairs of their assignments.”

  “If you think about it,” Sylvia said finally, “that’s just what you’ve done. If you hadn’t led Alaynia through time, this wedding wouldn’t be happening.”

  “That statement must be some female twist of logic,” Basil said. “Maybe I created the physical situation, but my grandson and Alaynia fell in love on their own. I had nothing to do with that. My powers aren’t used for things like that voodoo nonsense.”

  “Voodoo?” Sylvia gasped. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “Oh, you know. Some girl wants a man for her own. Let’s say this girl’s name is Peggy. And we’ll call the man she wants Joe. But Joe, he wants a different girl, who we’ll call Amy. Well, Peggy’s determined to make Joe fall in love with her instead of Amy, so Peggy visits one of those supposed voodoo priestesses—or maybe old Marie Laveau herself, if she lives in New Orleans. She gets one of those love potions and tries to win Joe for herself. I guess the law of averages says often enough that the Peggys will end up with the Joes they want, and those stories get around and give these priestesses their presumed powers. The Peggys the spells don’t work for are too ashamed to ever admit they tried something like that, and they keep their mouths shut.”

  “I wasn’t accusing you of voodoo!” Sylvia exclaimed. “Why, how could you think such a thing?”

  “Now, Miss Sylvia,” Basil soothed. “That’s not what I meant at all—that you were accusing me of tampering with their minds. I was just explaining that love between two people isn’t something anyone can make happen or not happen. It either develops on its own, or never comes at all.”

  “Oh,” Sylvia said in a mollified voice. “Well, that’s sort of what I’ve been trying to tell Frannie all along. But she keeps saying there’s a thin line between protecting someone and matchmaking. Sometimes, though, you can see that two people would be just perfect for one another—like that truck driver was for my first assignment. Jacki had been alone for so many years. She was pregnant with her daughter when her husband got killed in a car wreck, and she raised the kids on her own. Mac, the truck driver—he was so lonely, too, because he’d always done long hauls and never had time for a relationship.”

  “What made you think your Jacki would be able to build a life with a man gone all the time driving a truck?”

  “You see, that was just it,” Sylvia said eagerly. “Mac wasn’t doing long haul anymore. He was already negotiating for a business in the town where Jacki lived. He wanted to settle down.”

  “So you just accidentally arranged for them to meet?”

  “I had nothing to do with the tire on Jacki’s Jeep blowing out,” Sylvia said stoutly. “And Mac was gentleman enough to turn his truck around and help out a woman alone.”

  “How did he know she was alone?” Basil asked. “I’ve been to that time period—that’s how I found out what Alaynia was going to do with Chenaie. And I’d think it fairly impossible for a man barreling down the highway in one of those big trucks to pass a car going in the opposite direction and see there was a pretty woman in it, driving alone. Especially with those smoky windows on those cars, like the one Alaynia drove back here in.”

  Sylvia giggled. “Mac didn’t really see Jacki. Some truckers just have this ingrained sense of helpfulness when they notice another vehicle broken down on the side of the road.”

  “Not all of them. There must’ve been a little prod there—something that told this guy that he was needed.”

  “I’m sure that relationship is going to work out fine,” Sylvia said firmly. “Oh! Oh, look, we’re missing the wedding. Shain’s already getting a ring out of his pocket to put on Alaynia’s finger!”

  “Then come on over here and sit down so we can watch the rest of it,” Basil growled. “You can see through the wall of that house as well as I can, and we’ve got a perfect view from here.”

  Sylvia glided over and arranged her dashiki skirt beneath her. Folding her wings against her back, she leaned on the live oak trunk and sighed deeply. “Isn’t Alaynia stunning? And her face is so full of love for Shain.
”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you and Miss Francesca. If you’ll look at my grandson—who, by the way, is just as handsome as his bride is beautiful—you’ll see how much he loves her. Now, what could be wrong with them getting married?”

  “Nothing, I guess,” Sylvia murmured. “It’s just that ...”

  “If you’re worried about me letting Alaynia find that time warp and giving her an opportunity to go back to her own time, set your mind at ease. I’ve got no intention of allowing Alaynia to disappear from Shain’s life, now that he’s found a woman he can love as much as I did my Laureen.”

  Sylvia shifted uncomfortably on the tree limb, but kept her eyes on the wedding in the parlor of the minister’s house. The minister pronounced Shain and Alaynia man and wife, and Shain tilted Alaynia’s chin up with his finger. Shain’s tender kiss left Alaynia misty-eyed, and even Jeannie sniffed and pulled a handkerchief from her dress pocket. Love flowed between the bride and groom as they stood gazing at each other, wrapped in a world that contained only the two of them.

  Suddenly Shain grabbed Alaynia and stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and looking at Jeannie and the minister’s wife. “I want you both to meet Mrs. Alaynia St. Clair,” he said. “My wife and the woman I love.”

  Jeannie rushed forward and threw her arms around Alaynia’s neck, hugging her tightly and stretching on tiptoes to kiss her cheek. “Welcome to the family, Sister Alaynia,” she said, then tugged Shain’s head down and kissed his cheek. “Congratulations. I hope you’ll both be very happy.”

  “Thanks, Jeannie,” Shain replied. “I already am.”

  Sylvia caught Basil surreptitiously wiping beneath his eye when she turned to look at her companion.

  “There. See?” he blustered. “My grandson’s been lonely, just like your Jacki and Mac were. And Alaynia was, too, even though she buried herself in her work. What could be better than the two of them finding each other?”

  Sylvia chewed her bottom lip as she glanced overhead, desperately wishing Frannie would appear. Her superior angel had assured her before she left that she had complete confidence in Sylvia being able to handle things while she was gone, despite Sylvia’s shorter span of experience as a guardian angel. However, Sylvia felt completely out of her depth.