Magical Memories
Page 24
“Since the first night I arrived at your cottage I’ve been haunted by strange dreams. Now they’re beginning to make sense. It’s Marcus’s life I’ve been dreaming about.” He thought a moment and reluctantly added, “His life with you.”
“Learn from those dreams, Michael,” she urged. “They can teach you much.”
His arms tightened around her and he sounded concerned. “I couldn’t have been that much of a fool, though the strength of power, a witch’s power, can corrupt. It makes me feel invincible and I must admit that at times I like the feeling.”
“Power can corrupt if it is used for anything but good,” she said as if reminding a pupil. “And power used for good is the mightiest of powers.”
“So you really think that I’m this Marcus guy who used his power unwisely and has returned to mend his evil ways?”
“Yes, I do and I think that soon his power will surface full force and you will recall everything.”
“Then what?”
“The choice will be yours.”
His frustration showed in his weary expression. “Any sane person would hightail it out of here and never look back. And yet I find myself believing everything you’ve told me.” He shook his head. “I must be crazy. No, I know I’m crazy. And on top of that, I’m in love with a crazy witch.”
Tempest giggled.
“Find it funny, do you?” he asked, though he smiled himself.
She kissed him, happy his frustration had faded so easily.
A sudden thought dawned on him. “They’re all witches. This castle is full of them.”
She nodded. “Yes, they are all witches, though Sebastian is a novice. He recently acquired his skills when he joined with Ali.”
“Is that common?”
“No, when a mortal marries a witch he doesn’t automatically become one. Sebastian offered a special cast to the heavens along with Ali and in doing so earned his own power. Unfortunately he doesn’t quite have it under control yet.”
“The reason why he and Sarina were caught in that nasty whirlwind.”
They walked holding hands to the settee and sat down. “Sarina understands Sebastian’s need to practice the Craft. She herself had a problem with her own skills recently.”
“I assume then that they are all aware of this situation, which would explain why Dagon and Sebastian came to your defense.” He raised their joined hands and kissed hers. “I can’t blame them, though at the time I felt like snapping—”
She quickly clamped her hand over his fingers that were in motion to snap. “Don’t! A simple snap can cause problems.”
“You mean if I had snapped my fingers at them that I would have moved the two out of the way?”
“You would have sent them on their way, far away,” she warned, gently pushing his hand down to rest on his lap. “I suggest you don’t try anything until we’ve had more time to talk about this and more time for you to understand the consequences better.”
He removed his hand from beneath hers and stared at it, turning it back and forth as if expecting it to look different somehow. She didn’t care for the awe she heard in his remark.
“What power.”
“Keep it in perspective,” she warned firmly.
He looked at her strangely and for a moment she could have sworn she had seen that look of arrogance that was so familiar to Marcus.
“You’ve used your powers several times on me, haven’t you?”
He sounded more intrigued than angry, which made his question easier to answer. “Only when actually necessary.”
“When was necessary?” He laughed and answered his own question. “Getting me to your cottage and into bed?”
She nodded. “Yes, I definitely needed my skills for that task.”
“If you had used your skills to drive we would have never met,” he said teasingly. “Why ever did you attempt to drive in a snowstorm?”
She shrugged. “I felt a need to experience a mortal challenge.”
He reached out to run a finger down along her cheek. “It was destiny. We have much to settle, you and I.”
She felt a chill descend around her and Michael stood abruptly, dragging her up along with him. “Let’s return to the cottage right now and discuss this.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?” he asked, annoyed by her refusal.
“It would be good for you to talk with others with like skills besides me. And I really do wish to visit with my sister. I think a few days here would do us both good.”
Michael reluctantly agreed.
She all but fell against him dramatically. “I don’t know about you but I’m starving and Margaret is the world’s best cook.”
He kissed her pouty lips once, then twice, realizing how much he ached to taste of her. “Is that because she’s a witch?”
“No, though she is a witch, as is the entire staff here at Rasmus Castle. Margaret uses no magic to prepare her meals though you would swear she did, her meals are so delicious. You’re in for a treat.”
A sound knock at the closed door drew their attention.
“Tempest,” Dagon called. “Afternoon tea is being served and your sister felt you wouldn’t want to miss Margaret’s blueberry crumb cake.”
Tempest sighed. “We’ll be right there.”
“That good, is it?” Michael asked, her sigh reminding him of the sounds she made when she climaxed and making him look forward to their next time alone.
“Heavenly,” she said and began to tug him eagerly toward the door.
He in turn yanked her back toward him and she collided with his chest. He grabbed her face with a gentle hand, but kissed her none too gently. His kiss spoke of promises and passion simmering just beneath the surface and she felt a sudden chill again.
“Later.”
Did he warn or did he promise? Tempest wasn’t certain, but she looked forward to discovering the answer.
They joined the others in the sitting room where tea was being served. Michael was relieved to see Bear sharing a large pillow near the fireplace with a white cat that looked to be as temperamental as him, since she occupied most of the pillow.
Tension was thick and nerves were on edge when Michael took a seat next to Tempest on the couch. Their hands remained clasped, their bodies close and their intentions clear.
They stood together.
Sydney took matters in hand and broke the silence. “I think, my dear Michael, that you could use a spot of brandy with your tea.”
She was not only a gracious woman, but a beautiful one, and dressed elegantly in a white knit dress that spoke of one much too shapely for six hundred years. And her dark hair held not a hint of gray and was worn twisted and pinned to the back of her head with a gold clip.
Michael relaxed instantly in her peaceful presence. “Yes, ma’am, I certainly could.”
“Call me Sydney, my dear boy. Ma’am sounds too old and though I am six hundred years old I don’t feel a day over two hundred.”
Her comment brought a round of laughter from all and the easing of tension, though it didn’t totally dissolve it. It did, however, open communication.
Sarina started with, “Thank you for saving Sebastian and me.”
Michael was honest in his response. “I’m not sure how I did it, but I was glad I could help.”
His unpretentious response won over Dagon and Sebastian.
“I’m grateful,” Dagon said and sent a nod toward Sebastian.”This one just can’t seem to get the hang of magic.”
Sebastian immediately defended himself with a smile. “One minute there, I’m doing the best I can for a mortal recently turned witch. It isn’t easy learning all the spells, commands and chants, and of course there is the simple point of a finger that can get you into trouble.”
“Not to mention a snap,” Michael said, agreeing with the man’s frustration.
“It’s all in the practice, darling,” Ali said, patting her husband’s shoulder as she stepped arou
nd his chair to help herself to a piece of blueberry crumb cake.
Michael realized then that both Sarina and Ali were pregnant and both looked radiant and nearly the same size, leaving him to surmise that they were due around the same time.
Ali was a gorgeous woman, though at the moment she looked like a little girl who had just received a favorite treat. Her long, blond braid that ran down her back added to her childish delight.
“Sarina, I think we should try baking a cherry pie for tomorrow’s dessert,” Ali said with fork in hand, ready to devour.
“No!” Both men nearly shouted.
Michael laughed as he accepted the teacup and saucer Tempest handed him. She had poured a liberal amount of brandy into it.
“Your kitchen skills haven’t improved?” Tempest asked, eagerly reaching for a piece of the cake to share with Michael.
“No,” Sebastian answered for her. “Our kitchen resembles a battlefield when she finishes.”
“Do you cook, Sebastian?” Michael asked.
“I’m an excellent cook.”
“Are you an excellent witch, Ali?” Michael asked, turning his attention to her.
“Positively wonderful.”
“That’s debatable,” Dagon teased.
“It seems to me your solution is obvious,” Michael said and all eyes turned on him as if he was about to deliver a prophetic statement. “You each possess a developed skill the other wishes to improve on. Why not take the time to teach each other?”
Tempest beamed with pride over his accurate advice. She saw admiration in Sydney’s eyes and a pleased look on Sarina’s face, and even Dagon appeared impressed. Sebastian and
Ali looked stunned.
“That’s too simple,” Ali said, as if it seemed impossible.
“The simplest solution is usually the best, though sometimes the hardest to achieve,” Michael informed her.
Sebastian leaned forward on the ottoman where he sat with Ali, plopping down in the chair behind him. “You know I think you’ve got something there. It makes perfect sense.”
“My husband is sensible,” Ali said with pride before taking a bite of the cake.
“Someone in your family has to be,” Dagon remarked, snatching a fat crumb from his wife’s piece of cake from where he sat on the arm of the chair beside her.
Ali stuck her tongue out at him. “I’ll have everyone know that I won the forest fairies mud pie contest.”
“You cheated,” Dagon said with a laugh. “You stole my mud pie and I got stuck with your mess.”
Michael leaned over and whispered to Tempest, “Fairies?”
“Later,” she whispered back.
He shook his head, turned it to a nod, and looking confused, held his head still while he picked at her cake.
Sydney seeing his reaction smiled. “We take some getting used to. Just think of us as eccentric.”
Sebastian laughed. “That was my mistake, thinking them eccentric.”
Michael liked Sebastian, perhaps because he had been a mortal and could relate to him. “Did you have trouble accepting the fact that witches actually existed?”
Ali giggled. “I think he still has trouble believing.”
Sarina, who had remained quiet, spoke up. “He believes, and you should believe in him.”
Tempest noticed for the first time how tired her sister looked. Ali must have noticed, too, for her concern showed.
Tempest voiced her worry. “You look tired, Sarina.”
Dagon moved off the arm of the chair to squat down in front of his wife. He didn’t like what he saw. “You should have told me you were tired. That little mishap took more out of you than you’ve admitted.”
“I am tired but I wanted to visit with my sister,” Sarina said.
“Then we’ll go to your room where you can stretch out on your bed while we talk,” Tempest suggested and stood as if her word was a command.
“Excellent idea,” Dagon said and took his wife’s hand to help her up.
“Your bags have been sent to your rooms,” Sarina said, leaning against her husband after she stood.
“Rooms?” Michael asked.
“I placed you in a suite with two bedrooms, thinking you both may want time alone,” Sarina explained.
Michael was about to protest the intended separation but a firm hand from Tempest to his arm warned him to keep silent.
He ignored it. “We appreciate the thought, but we will be sleeping together.”
Tempest realized he was staking his territory and waiting for someone to object.
Sarina spoke. “I’ll have you both moved to a single bedroom.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Sarina,” Michael said, suddenly feeling her weariness. “We’ll just make use of one bed.”
“Man after my own heart,” Sebastian said, causing everyone to laugh and his wife to jab him in the ribs. Sebastian stood rubbing his side. “Come on, Michael,” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know where Dagon keeps his private stock of the good stuff, and have I got stories of witches to tell you.”
Dagon scooped his wife up into his arms. “I’ll join you after I make certain Sarina is settled.”
“That’s not necessary, Tempest, can—”
“Follow us,” Dagon said in a tone that warned he’d have his way.
Sarina rested her head on her husband’s shoulder, too tired to protest.
“Take your time, Dagon,” Sebastian said. “I’ll begin with stories about you.”
“All lies,” Dagon said with a laugh as he left the room.
“Not likely,” Ali said, helping herself to another piece of cake.
“You two will forever bicker,” Sydney said, pouring herself and Ali another cup of tea and moving to the couch beside Ali.
Tempest gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and whispered, “See you later.”
Michael followed Sebastian, overwhelmed by the amount of love and caring that swarmed in the room. It seeped into his heart and tore at his gut and reminded him just how great it was to have a family who loves.
Chapter Twenty-four
Supper proved a festive affair, with much talk and laughter. Sarina was feeling refreshed after a much-needed nap. And the food proved the best Michael had ever tasted. Tempest had been right about Margaret. She was the world’s best cook.
One thing Michael did notice that hadn’t caught his attention before was the way all of them treated Tempest. It was almost with a reverence and deep sense of respect. When they had entered the dining room for supper he had watched as each of them went to take their seats. It was obvious that Tempest was being given the place of honor at the head of the table until she whispered something in Sydney’s ear and the woman took the seat as if it was intended for her.
He realized that she was asked many questions during the meal on a variety of topics, when her advice was sought she answered with an aged wisdom that startled him. There was more to her than just being a witch. She possessed a degree of knowledge that far surpassed the others, and he wondered at its origin.
Michael began to grow restless by the end of the meal, wanting, perhaps needing time alone with Tempest, and she seemed to understand or feel the same way. Immediately following dessert she made apologies for wishing to retire early, blaming her weariness on the long, tiring day.
No one objected and everyone offered their good nights to them both.
Michael slipped beneath the covers of the double bed, eager to talk with Tempest and make love. He didn’t count on the day finally catching up with them both and within minutes of them resting in each other’s arms they fell into a heavy slumber.
“Join with me,” Marcus said, his arms reaching out to Tempest.
There was a full moon shining down on the flowing stream, the rushing waters creating a soothing melody in the late summer night air.
“A perfect setting,” Tempest said, glancing up at the star-filled sky and down around at the meadow and woods that surrounded them.
“You tempt me much too much, Marcus.”
He removed his tunic to expose a lean, hard chest. “You knew this time would come. It was inevitable. It is our destiny.”
Tempest stood in her pale-yellow tunic that covered a white linen shift, her fiery hair flowing in hundreds of waves down her back to her slim waist. She appeared an ethereal beauty in the moonlight, and Marcus walked up to her, his intentions obvious, his patience gone.
She held up her hand and he stopped. “What of love, Marcus?”
He contained his annoyance. “I know not of love, Tempest. What I do know is that when we are apart, I miss you. When we are together my heart beats faster, my blood heats and I grow heavy with the want of you. I would protect you with all my powers and never let harm touch you. This I can offer you.”
“It is a start,” she said with a smile, and lowered her hand.
Marcus approached her slowly, his hand going to gently stroke her face. “You will not be sorry. I will give you more than you ever thought possible.”
“I simply want you.”
“Then you shall have me.”
He disrobed her with a slowness that titillated, and his hands explored her naked flesh with a magical touch that had her body quaking.
She had expected a demanding joining from him, not deliberate tenderness. His surprising derision succeeded in melting her doubts and causing her to respond completely to his touch.
“I knew you would be responsive to the magic of my touch. It is an ache inside you that must be satisfied.”
He lowered her to his cloak, his naked body moving over hers, his mouth seeking her breasts, his hands seeking her moist heat. He took her hard nipple in his mouth the same moment his finger entered her and she cried out, her hands stretching out to the sides, grasping the blades of grass in a frantic attempt to anchor herself in reality.
“Let go,” she heard him say. “Let go.”
The words echoed in her head and as he continued his sensuous assault on her body and mind she began to obey his every word. And when he entered her much later she heard his command that penetrated the sensual fog.