by C J Matthew
Lungs full to bursting, he blurted, “The Druidess knows her Willow trees. Believe her when she says they’re even more powerful here. You know, the words witchcraft and wiccan both originated from the word willow, also known as the tree of enchantment.”
What the hell was he talking about?
“Wait,” Heather said, “a hereditary witch? That means I inherited some hocus pocus from somebody in my family?”
“That’s right,” Andraste said. She leaned on her elbows, hands folded in front of her. She seemed happy to finally be answering questions, even if Heather was seriously in denial. Shit. Wait until his PR rep has to face the fact of shapeshifters.
“Wrong,” Heather insisted. “Nobody on either side of my family tree has ever been a witch. Or a warlock. No broom flying, no Hogwarts, no spells. We’re all clear.”
The Druidess’s happy face dissolved to a frown. “Heather, you can deny your heritage all you want. We aren’t trying to convert you, or teach you chants and spells. Remember I said you can take it or not. I’m simply suggesting you work on developing control. Right here, right now, whether you believe it or not, your power is increasing, but your magic is being controlled by your emotions.”
“That’s bullshit.” Heather shot to her feet. The dying embers under the cauldron burst into flames. Something glass in the sink exploded. The hand-dipped candles in the nearest candelabra melted, spreading liquid beeswax.
Her eyes wide, Heather backed away from the table. “Excuse me. I need some air.”
“I’ll go with you,” Liam announced. As he lengthened his stride down the hall, the Druidess called out to remind him, “Take her out of the sacred grove. Away from the Willows.”
At the open front door, he grabbed someone’s thick knitted shawl and a large jacket for himself. He caught up with Heather heading deeper into the grove.
“Detour,” he said. “There’s a terrific view this way.” He touched her elbow and steered her in the opposite direction.
They were out of the Willows and almost to the beach when she slowed. She had her arms pressed tight around her waist. He doubted she was cold, yet. He looked like that sometimes, hugging himself, when he lost his temper.
“When’s your birthday?” he asked.
“I don’t know, exactly. I was left on a church doorstep when I was only a few weeks old. The clinic pediatrician had to estimate my age. Then when I got adopted, my new parents shredded the agency paperwork and simply chose a date in October. I’m a Libra.”
Ah. He’d wait a while to point out that because she was adopted, Heather had no magical history on her biological parents. It didn’t really matter. The Druidess knew the truth and Heather could accept or reject it. Once she returned to her normal life, the magic shouldn’t interfere.
Like I don’t mess up your life, the sea dragon challenged.
Not the same thing. Besides I like you in my life.
We’d have more fun if we had a mate.
See, we agree again. Now, where do we find this bombshell?
Maybe at Bealtaine?
The only new women attending the festival will be mated already.
“Did you bring that shawl for me?” Heather stood directly in front of him, rubbing her arms. He settled the shawl on her shoulders and crisscrossed the ends in front and tied them behind her back.
“Where did you learn that trick?”
“I have a monthly subscription to Vogue.”
“Very funny,” she sniped but she also grinned. “When is your birthday?”
“May first. I was born into the House of Willow.”
“What makes you a guardian? The kids keep calling you ‘sir’ and ‘guardian,’ like it’s a big honor.”
“I don’t know how big it is, but I’m honored. Um, could we back up right about now? I’d like to explain things to you in some sort of order.”
“A Willow trait, I presume.”
“You catch on fast. Anyway, I’m the man you came after. Liam Rudraige. I wish I’d known. I could have signed the contracts for you before I left. This is a hell of a mess for you to crash into.”
“Crash, I get it. Humor. You know, I had an inkling you were Rudraige the first time you said your name was Liam.”
“I saw you react.”
“Then we’re equally perceptive. Maybe I’m really a willow.”
“You asked why I’m here. Obviously, I don’t live here year-round. Still, I have close ties to these folks, and I promised to help keep their island a secret and defend it against scum like the pirates who shot you and Drake down. There are small groups of defenders and we take turns based on our different Celtic zodiac birth months.”
“You come here every year on your birthday?”
“No, not necessarily. The house of Willow has more volunteers than that. I’m scheduled to come for a month every five years unless one of my cousins needs to switch.”
“I just remembered your gaggle of cousins in Muirdris. So, they’re in the rotation too?”
“Only the ones born during the months of Willow.”
“And what exactly does a guardian do? Defend the castle? Go out on patrol?”
Whoa, better tread lightly on this answer. He couldn’t speak for all Guardians. And he wasn’t ready to share his dual nature with Heather. Let alone ‘out’ any other shifter guardians. “No castle to speak of. Since I’m familiar with ships and have even driven off a pirate or two, my cousins and I patrol the shores.”
“Like in a Muirdris ship, armed to the teeth? Or on dune buggies with machine guns, or rocket launchers?”
Uh oh. A few too many action flicks? “The island’s lack of electricity combined with the native population’s desire to have their exact location remain a total secret, really limits the guardian’s weaponry. Mostly we work to maintain the secret while we contain and/or repulse any attacks.”
“When you think about it, modernization might attract more pirates or the curious.”
“That’s an important consideration,” he agreed.
In the thoughtful silence that followed, she watched the waves roll onto the shore, and he watched her. Even her profile was lovely. Her lips were just pouty enough to make them tempting. What would she taste like?
Too soon. Too many secrets between them. Could he negotiate for more time? If they were both in Dublin right now, he’d ask her out on a date for tomorrow. Maybe a picnic, if the dicey Irish weather cooperated. The picnic would be followed by another date. Dinner? A movie? Time to talk, time to see each other in different situations. To get to know the other person.
Standing side by side, overlooking the beach, his hand was less than an inch from hers. He extended his fingers and the tips brushed her palm.
Without a word, she linked her fingers with his and they were holding hands. A surge of warm companionship flooded him. He blinked. Where was the awareness he’d experienced before? The electric jolt of desire when they’d first touched?
He gave her hand a little squeeze. “Are you feeling better?”
“Much.”
“Up for ten minutes of walking on grass? There’s another view I want you to see.”
“Sure, even in borrowed shoes, I can handle grass. And since it’s all your fault I was wearing this suit and my favorite heels when we crashed, I’m feeling free to take full advantage of you, my very own Willow guardian tour guide.”
“Heather, you can take advantage of me anytime.”
“Guardian Liam, are you flirting with me?”
Chapter 8
Heather
Heather knew from the heat rising up her neck and across her cheeks she was glowing bright pink with the mother of all blushes. Thank goodness the moon had yet to make an appearance. She started to lower her chin, counting on her loose hair to hide at least the sides of her face. Liam stopped them in their tracks, turned to her and used one fingertip to ease her face back up.
“That’s better,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”
; Oh, right, beautiful? With no make-up, wild hair, wearing pieces of a suit that barely survived a plane crash, and someone else’s shoes? Oh sure. She was camera-ready. If he could fib that readily, was it any wonder the man was such a successful millionaire playboy? With the emphasis on play. Why settle for one super-model or movie star? With such slick, easy compliments, he could build himself a harem.
“I don’t mean to embarrass you by flirting,” Liam said in his low, sensuous voice. “I’m very attracted to you, Heather. But the fact we met here on Draíochtia is throwing me off. My guardian obligations to the people of this island are in effect until mid-May. You could be leaving at any time.”
“And how about the fact we just met today?”
“Would you consider staying on Draíochtia for a while longer? Give us a chance to get to know each other better?”
“If I do stay, I need an assurance from you. A promise we’ll be totally honest with each other.”
Liam’s eyes flickered. Ah ha, he’s already lying. What about? “Can you promise me?”
Instead of a confession, he said, “You know a lot about me already. Who I am, what I do for a living. Also, you’d need to understand, if I commit a lie of omission about the island’s defenses or my Guardian duties, it’s only because I’ve taken an oath of silence.”
Nodding slowly, she knew it wasn’t the island’s secrets she cared about nearly so much as open, truthful communication in their personal dealings.
He studied her with narrowed eyes. “Are you thinking I’d lie to you about your witch power?”
Would he? “Maybe.”
“I don’t know all that much about witches or warlocks. Like you, I’m depending on the Druidess to separate fact from fiction. I know I trust her healing powers, her intuition, and most of all, her excellent judgement. Oh, and most of the time, I trust her predictions.”
“Most?”
“Every once in a while, she goes into Oracle at Delphi mode. Spouts stuff that can be interpreted in several different ways, so it’s useless.” He waved his arms like a night club magician. “Whoooo. A tall dark stranger will enter your life.” Liam shook his head. A lock of red hair escaped the tie-back and swung across his cheek. “Shit like that could mean anything.”
“Thanks,” she said, “good to know.” Coming to a decision, she stiffened her spine. “Liam, I’m attracted to you, too.”
He leaned to kiss her. She pressed a hand over his mouth to stop him. “Hear me out?”
“Suorry,” he mumbled through her fingers.
“As you might imagine, I’m even more off kilter here, more out of my comfort zone, than you. It would help me, if we could share a ‘truth-only between us’ promise? And pinky swear?”
“A pinky swear is the most binding pledge, unbreakable?”
He gets it. She held back the urge to jump for joy. “You’ve heard of it?”
“No. I’m seeing how important the oath is from the expression on your face. I’d be willing to pinky swear, if we can carve out the secrets of Draíochtia and her defense.”
“Deal. I swear to always tell you the truth.” She held up one hand and crooked her little finger.
He looped his finger with hers. “I swear to always tell you the truth with the stated exceptions.” They shook fingers and their combined laughter went a long way toward easing her tension.
Liam wrapped an arm over her shoulders and started them forward. “The view I want you to see is right up ahead.”
He’d told the truth. The view from this cliff-top vantage point was breathtaking. The rising moon glowed in the sky, surrounded by too many twinkling stars to count. The ocean tossed waves at the sandy shore in a rhythmic progression.
As they stood and admired, Liam’s arm tugged her closer and she rested her head on his shoulder. Lord, the man smelled delicious. Like the ocean and something masculine and spicy.
The studio portrait in the Muirdris Annual report didn’t do him justice. Sure, he looked powerful and well built in his custom-tailored suit but somehow the expensive fabric managed to hide how muscular he really was. And how physically strong in a casual, unassuming way. He used his physical strength to defend this island and the people living here. Also, to lift and carry for others. To guide her across a landscape she could barely see, to share a favorite view.
She curled her arm around his waist. He brushed her hair back and dropped a light kiss on her temple.
“I hope you’ll decide to remain on the island for several more days,” he murmured into her hair. “Maybe you could stay for Bealtaine, for the Festival?”
Her heart stopped. Shit. A thought she’d crammed to the back of her mind came roaring forward. With all the secrecy surrounding this place, could she leave? Would she be permitted to leave? Draíochtia seemed to have more than its fair share of rules and regulations. With lots of traditions, quaint customs, and beliefs thrown in for good measure.
If a non-guardian, non-Druid, non-native managed to reach the shores of Draíochtia, what were the protocols? She swallowed. First thing tomorrow morning, she’d have a long talk with Andraste and at some point, flat out ask her. Then, after she asked the Druidess, if she felt inclined to question the answer, she’d ask Liam.
“Is something wrong?” Liam wove his other arm around her waist, easing her closer and suddenly they were face to face.
“I was wondering,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “how you go about getting off and on the island. Like when it’s time for you to return to Dublin? How do you accomplish that?” There, a carefully truthful question.
“No problem. I can get you wherever you want to go, and the hunters will never spot us.”
“Great.” Bonus. He assumed she was worried about hunters. Rising to her toes, she kissed him. Liam’s lips were warm and firm. For a moment, the joining of their mouths remained tentative, gentle.
Then, in a flash, the Liam pressed his mouth hard to hers. She parted her lips, inviting him in. Sliding his tongue inside, he swept it across her teeth and began to tease. When the kiss deepened again, became a wet, sexy duel, their hands became frantic, almost aggressive. Another moment and they were all over each other.
She scraped her fingernails up his back, across his shoulders. And still couldn’t get enough of him. He must be feeling the same. Liam tugged at her blouse, pulling it free from the skirt’s waistband, giving him access to her torso.
Good plan. The two of them naked under all those stars. Her breasts ached. Her panties were moist.
Exploring her back, he rubbed and stroked every inch skin. And unfastened her lacy bra. As soon as her breasts were freed, both of his hands traveled right past her waist and around to her chest. He massaged and cupped the underside of her breasts. Startled, she gasped, and her nipples hardened in anticipation.
He broke the kiss. Liam’s hands stilled, his body froze in place. Staring at her, he whispered, “Do you want me to stop?”
”Don’t you dare.”
“Heather, if you’re having second thoughts?”
“Liam, I’m having third and fourth thoughts. At the same time, I’m certain I want you. Positive. I’m tired of imagining how amazing it’ll be to have you deep inside me. Show me.”
“Oh my god.”
“Exactly.”
Pressing the ridge of his swollen cock, still trapped in his pants, against her abdomen, Liam devoured her mouth and slid his clever hands up to knead her breasts and play with her sensitive nipples.
From somewhere behind them, a familiar young voice called out, “Willow Guardian?” Hank waited a split second for an answer, then tried again. “Sir, where are you? Guardian Liam?”
Shock and terror filled her. What was wrong? They’d been caught, half-naked, by a young boy. Was the Island under attack?
Liam called out over her shoulder, “Stay right where you are, Hank. I’ll come to you.”
He refastened her bra and then stepped between her and the unseen Hank.
“That
’ll only last for a minute. But he can’t see you behind me. You have time to fix your clothes. Then we’ll find out what’s going on.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, as she straightened and smoothed her clothing.
In front of her, Liam tucked his shirt into his pants, adjusted himself.
Grateful she didn’t have a fully erect cock to hide, she began to see humor in the situation. “Want to borrow my shawl?” she teased.
“No,” he grumbled, clearly not amused. “I’ll be okay.”
She could hear distant shuffling.
“Here, Hank,” Liam shouted. “We’re over by Lookout Point.”
Heather poked a finger into Liam’s back. “You brought me to a notorious make-out spot?”
He craned his neck and captured her mouth in a deep kiss which left them both breathless. “Guilty,” he whispered against her lips, “I cannot tell a lie.”
The shuffling turned to running. When Hank appeared, Liam was facing forward, and she stood by the Guardian’s side.
Hank skidded to a stop to greet them, “Wicca, Guardian.” The boy threw in a polite head-nod and delivered the message, “The Lady Druidess told me to bring you.”
“Has there been trouble from the sea?”
“I’m supposed to bring both of you. It’s the man who drives the airplane. Druidess says to come right now. Be quick.”
Chapter 9
Liam
At the door to the Willow Grove house, Liam stepped aside so Heather could go in ahead of him. The entire time they’d rushed back here, he worried Drake had taken a turn for the worse. When he and Heather reached the clearing, he could hear Drake’s angry voice from inside the house. Instead of knocking on death’s door, the man was hopping mad.
“You can’t keep me here,” the wounded pilot shouted. “I’m not a prisoner. Give me my clothes. Now.”