Magical Memories
Page 22
Sleep eluded them after he had woken her early this morning. She had responded most willingly to his urgent demands, though for the first time he had felt a small part of her had maintained control and refused to surrender completely. He had never noticed the small bit of reluctance before, and he wondered if his dream had made him more aware, more sensitive to her emotions. That she held even a tiny part of herself in reserve annoyed and disturbed him.
If she loved him; why the reluctance?
He shook his head, not understanding but intending to find out. He returned his full attention to the symbols on the wall. He had realized that a protective symbol was placed before the spell, as if holding it firmly in place. And he couldn’t help but shake the idea that he knew these symbols—somehow, somewhere he had seen them before and understood their meaning.
And lately he couldn’t understand why he grew so annoyed every time he walked in this room and looked over the symbols.
It was as if a quiet rage took hold of him until he finally had to leave the room. Today, however, he was determined at least to decipher a few more symbols.
He poured through the books in front of him, writing down different symbols and their meanings and attempting to make sense of them. Bear seemed to have different ideas, walking back and forth on top of the books and demanding more attention than usual. If Michael didn’t know any better he would swear the cat was intentionally interfering with his work.
He picked him up for the fourth time and moved him off the books, telling him firmly to stay put on the rug beside him, when in the distance he heard the phone ring. After three rings he realized Tempest must have fallen into a deep sleep and with Bear on his heels he went downstairs to answer the phone.
“Michael,” Sarina said, surprised when he picked up. “How is your ankle?”
“Completely mended thanks to your sister’s wonderful care and generosity.”
“She has a good and caring heart.”
“Yes, she does,” Michael agreed and felt that her remark was meant to remind.
“I’m actually glad you answered,” Sarina said. “I’ve been trying to get Tempest to come visit with me and Dagon, and now our friends from the States have come for a visit and they would like to see Tempest again. Do you think you can convince her to visit? And, of course, we would love for you to join us.”
“Thank you for the invitation. I’ll speak with Tempest about it.”
“Is she there?” Sarina asked.
Michael sensed the caution in her question and wondered over it. “She’s napping, but I can wake her if you’d like.”
“No, no that won’t be necessary,” she said anxiously. “She is feeling well, though, isn’t she?” She gave Michael no time to respond. “A silly question. I’ve never known Tempest to be ill.”
“Never?” Michael asked curiously.
“She takes excellent care of herself,” Sarina said as if that explained all, “though she does tire herself out at times.”
Since he was the one who had recently exhausted Tempest he wanted Sarina to clarify her remark. “And how does she do that?”
“She’s overly generous to those who seek her help.”
“Is that my sister?” Tempest asked, entering the kitchen and rubbing the last remnant of sleep from her eyes.
Michael nodded. “Hold on, Sarina, your sister woke and wants to speak with you. It was nice talking with you.”
“And you, Michael, and please come visit.”
“We’ll see,” Michael said and handed the phone to Tempest.
She looked half asleep to him, and after she took the phone from him he stepped behind her, slipped his arm around her waist and drew her back to rest against him. She didn’t protest, but relaxed in his arms while she spoke to her sister.
“Really, Sebastian and Ali are visiting, and Sydney, how wonderful. Yes, I would love to see them again.”
“Sebastian says to tell you that he’s practicing and getting better every day.”
Tempest laughed, recalling how the mortal recently turned witch had delighted her with tales of his travesties and triumphs while learning his newly acquired craft. “I would love to talk with him again; he was so delightful.”
Michael gave her waist a gentle squeeze and her neck a soft kiss and she smiled at the twinge of jealousy she felt in him.
“Then you must come visit,” Sarina insisted. “I’ve invited Michael, as well.”
“You say Sydney is also visiting?”
“Yes, and she wishes to talk with you. You must come visit, Tempest, you must.”
Tempest heard the alarm in her sister’s voice and didn’t want her to upset herself. “Yes, I think a visit is a good idea.”
“Then you’ll visit soon?” Sarina asked anxiously.
“Within the week,” Tempest promised.
“Wonderful,” Sarina said. “I can’t wait to tell everyone.”
“I’ll call you before we come,” Tempest said.
“Good, I can’t wait,” Sarina said with excitement. “Hold on a minute. Dagon wants to speak with you. I’m going to tell everyone right now that you’ll be visiting soon. Take care, Tempest.”
Tempest smiled; pleased her sister was feeling so good.
“Tempest, thank you,” Dagon said. “She’s been quite concerned about you and worrying herself senseless.”
“I know,” Tempest said, having felt her sister’s distress. And confided in her brother-in-law what she suspected. “It’s time, Dagon.”
His voice filled with a protective strength. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Being who you are will be enough.”
“We will all be here to offer our strength to you.” He paused briefly. “And to Michael.”
“Thank you from my heart,” she said, grateful that he understood her feelings and offered his support.
“See you soon, Tempest.”
She hung up the phone and Michael turned her around in his arms. “Is everything all right?”
She smiled and nodded. “My sister, her pregnancy and needless worry.”
“What does she worry over?”
“Me.”
“Why?” he asked.
She stepped out of his arms and went over to the counter to take two wineglasses from the cabinet. “She wants me to find love.”
He walked over to meet her at the table, picking up the bottle of merlot to pour in each glass. “Then she will be happy and relieved to know that you have found love.”
She raised her glass in a toast. “She will be thrilled.”
He clinked his glass with hers. “I’m glad. I like Sarina.”
“How about Dagon?”
“I suppose he’ll grow on me.”
She laughed. “Wait until you meet Sebastian and Ali Wainwright. And then, of course, there’s Sydney Wyrrd.”
She spoke the name with such fondness that Michael grew curious. “Who is Sydney Wyrrd?”
Tempest went to the refrigerator. “A very dear and old friend of mine, and a very wise woman.”
While she arranged cheese and grapes on a plate Michael saw to getting the crackers. “I just might want to talk with her.”
“I’m sure Sydney will find time to talk with you. Many seek her counsel. She is generous with her wisdom, as it should be.”
He looked at her oddly as he followed her, platter in hand, she carrying the wine bottle and glasses. They sat on the couch in the sitting room and continued their conversation. “Your sister commented on you being generous with those who seek your help. What help do they seek from you?”
“Friendship,” she said without hesitation.
He shook his head. “I don’t understand. The help they require is friendship?”
Tempest reached for a slice of cheddar cheese. “Think of what true friendship requires. It is being there when someone needs to talk, to laugh, to cry. It’s not being judgmental, but equally accepting your friend’s faults and qualities. Friendship expects
nothing, yet gives everything, and in so doing, a bond is forged that can never be broken.”
“That’s not true friendship; that’s a rare friendship.”
“And one worth having, though many people find it difficult not only to give but to find.”
He shook his head as if understanding but realizing his discovery difficult to comprehend. “And you give it freely.”
“Of course.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have a hoard of people at your door.” He took a sip of his wine.
“Those in true need of friendship find their way here.”
“Like me?” he said and raised his glass in a mock salute.
She leaned over and kissed his lips. “You not only found friendship; you found love.”
“You do know you’re not like other people, Tempest.”
“I’ve been told that many times over the years.”
He suddenly grew curious. “How old are you? I’m thirty-six,” he said, realizing the question was on the tip of her tongue.
She couldn’t lie and she couldn’t tell him the truth. She chose diversion. “More wine?”
He smiled and held out his glass. “You’re older than I am and you don’t want to tell me.”
She could answer that honestly. “That’s right.”
“But I want to know,” he persisted.
“Does age really matter?”
“Evidently it does, since you don’t want to tell me,” he said with a laugh. “It doesn’t matter if you’re older than me.”
She wanted to laugh but restrained herself. “Good, then we haven’t got a problem.”
“No, we don’t,” he agreed. “So how old are you?”
“Could we save this discussion for another day?” she asked much too sweetly.
He grinned. “Are you that much older than me that you’re afraid to tell me?”
“You might say my age would surprise you.”
He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. “You look great, whatever your age.”
“Wise words,” she said with a smile.
His hand went around the back of her neck, and his lips came down on her for a more thorough kiss. When he finished stirring both their passions, he placed his forehead to hers and whispered, “I don’t care how old you are, Tempest, I love you.”
“And I don’t care how young you are, I love you,” she teased and tempted his lips with her own eager ones.
The topic was soon forgotten when their kisses turned lustful.
Clothes were discarded, food and drink forgotten and magic was made.
Much later, wrapped in a blanket on the couch and finishing their wine and cheese, they discussed a visit to Sarina and Dagon’s.
“I’m driving,” Michael insisted.
She much preferred to transport them there, given that the trip was at least five hours, but how to do it without him realizing it was the problem. “It would be good practice for me to drive.”
“You can practice right around here, where there are almost no cars. On the roadways I’ll drive. And since you want to leave by the end of the week, that doesn’t give you much practice time. So I drive.”
She scrunched her face at him.
He laughed. “I’m not taking any chances with your safety or mine. I drive.”
“That’s not fair,” she protested.
“I don’t care,” he said, laughter still evident in his voice. “I drive.”
She was losing her temper, especially every time he said “I drive.”
“You’re getting angry,” he said, amazed that he could sense her emotions so easily and amused by the fact that she felt he was dictating to her.
Laughter still edged his voice and irritated her all the more. “I’ll drive if I wish.”
He laughed again. “Oh, no you won’t.”
She sat up and away from him, attempting to cover herself with part of the blanket. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Oh, yes I can.” His eyes twinkled with merriment.
She poked at his hard chest with her finger and pronounced each word firmly. “No, you cannot.”
He grabbed her finger. “Spells won’t work, witch. I’ll have my way in this.”
She looked at him with surprise, a spell resting on the tip of her tongue, ready to cast. He had stepped into her mind and read her intentions. And while he couldn’t interpret them correctly, he soon would.
Time was drawing near.
She gave him this small victory, knowing a more important battle was yet to be fought. “All right. You can drive.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling you, I drive. When do we leave, and Bear does come with us, doesn’t he?”
She looked toward the sleeping cat cuddled in a nearby chair and knew instinctively that the temperamental feline would climb in the car without a problem if Michael was driving.
“Yes, he’ll come with us.”
“Afraid to drive with you, is he?”
She yanked her finger out of his grasp. “Watch it, buster, or I’ll zap you back to the States.”
He rocked with laughter, and Tempest had to keep a firm lid on her temper.
His laughter subsided and he said, “You’ve read too many books on witches.”
“You forget, I’m a descendent of a witch,” she said with pride.
“Then show me your magic,” he challenged.
She grinned, threw the blanket off her, pushed the rest of it off him and slowly moved over him to taste.
Chapter Twenty-two
Michael lay wrapped around Tempest in bed. Sleep had already claimed her and was about to sneak up on him, but his jumbled thoughts fought surrender. His mind seemed consumed by the future and possibilities they hadn’t discussed.
He wanted a long-term commitment with marriage and children. What did she want? And why hadn’t he asked her? Did he fear the answer?
Sleep weighted his eyes, and fight as he might he couldn’t keep them open. As soon as they closed he slipped into a deep slumber to dream once again.
The man paced in front of the riverbank, casting an angry glare at the woman who stood under the large tree a few feet away.
“Tell me why after these many months my seed has not taken root,” he asked with an accusing tone.
“My children will be born of love.”
He stopped pacing and all but flew at her, his face twisted in rage. “You take precautions to prevent conception?”
She showed no fear of him and spoke calmly. “My answer remains the same. My children will be born of love.”
He grabbed her roughly by the arms. “Why do you join with me?”
She spoke the only way she could, truthfully. “I foolishly love you.”
His touch softened. “Then our children would be born of your love and my strength.”
She shook her head. “I know there is love in your heart; I have touched it. Why do you deny it?”
“You answer that question yourself when you say you foolishly love me. Love is a foolish emotion and I am no fool.”
She stepped away from him, his hands letting her go. “I prefer you to be foolish—perhaps then you would understand the true power of life.”
“Surrender to me and give me a child and you will learn what true power is,” he argued.
She looked at him through misty eyes. “I cannot give you what you want.”
His dark eyes glared with anger. “You refuse me?”
“I foolishly thought I could reach that small shred of light and teach you to love.”
He floated toward her. “In time perhaps you can. For now our power will sustain us.”
She raised her hand and along with it a protective shield preventing him from getting closer. “I cannot give you what you want.”
He couldn’t penetrate the energy shield she had easily erected, and the strength of her power infuriated him. “Cannot or will not?”
“Cannot, will not, does it matter? It will never be.”
“No,” she said her voice soft and filled with sorrow. “It will never be.”
“Do not force my hand,” he warned. “You will be sorry.”
“Do not test my power,” she cautioned with tears in her eyes. “You will regret it.”
“Surrender!” he ordered, attempting to step closer to her and being forced to keep his distance by her protective barrier.
The tears came then and her strong voice belied the ache in her heart. “I cannot. I cannot. I cannot. “
Michael woke slowly, the words ringing repeatedly in his head. He turned toward Tempest who was sleeping soundly on her side beside him and he snuggled against her, resting his hand on her stomach.
His dream had caused him to consider the fact that he had not taken precautions to prevent a pregnancy and he wondered if she had. He had always been vigilant about protection and yet with Tempest the thought had not crossed his mind. Not that he would mind her becoming pregnant, though he would much prefer they marry first.
Actually, marriage hadn’t been discussed at all, so he was getting far ahead of himself. But then again if precautions weren’t taken it was a strong possibility that she could already be pregnant. They had made love often since that first time, but then it took only once.
These were matters that needed discussing and the sooner the better, especially with them going to visit her sister. He wanted their relationship known, and he wanted to know her intention regarding their relationship because he certainly knew his intention.
They had a long drive ahead of them when they went to visit her sister, a perfect time and place to discuss such matters. No interferences, captive attentions and no place to run if the topic annoyed or the answers disappointed.
He drifted off to sleep, pleased by his decision.
o0o
“You’ve taken precautions against pregnancy?” Michael sounded disappointed to his own ears.
They had left her cottage only about an hour ago, rising at dawn to get an early start. With their bags in the trunk and Bear sleeping comfortably in the backseat on a pillow surrounded by his favorite toys, and fresh coffee in a thermos and blueberry muffins to fuel them they had set off in pleasant moods.