Magical Memories

by Donna Fletcher

  “Pudding,” Ali said with the delight of a mischievous child. “Let’s make chocolate pudding.”

  Sarina reacted just as eagerly. “I want vanilla.”

  Tempest raised her hand and waved like a pupil eager to be heard. “I want butterscotch.”

  Sydney got caught up in the moment herself. “Strawberry.”

  “Let’s prepare it ourselves like mortals do,” Ali said, rushing out of her seat and heading for the electric mixer.

  “Don’t touch that,” Sebastian warned, rushing around Michael who had been forced to enter the kitchen in front of the two men. “It’s a lethal weapon in your hands.” He slipped a firm arm around her waist and guided her the opposite way.

  Sarina came to her defense. “Ali has learned how to deal with the electric mixer so that no mishaps occur.”

  Dagon came up behind his wife, slipping his hands around her waist to rest over her rounded stomach. “That means she’s learned not to touch it.”

  Tempest voiced her disappointment. “But I was looking forward to butterscotch pudding.”

  Michael went to her side and with a firm hand drew her up against him. “I’ll make you butterscotch pudding.” He kissed her then and it was no light peck.

  “Oh, how sweet,” Ali said. “He’ll cook for her.”

  Dagon and Sebastian sent Michael a look that accused and Michael laughed. “I’m certain Dagon and Sebastian were just about to volunteer their help.”

  Sarina looked up at her husband and Ali turned a questioning glance on hers.

  “You want chocolate?” Sebastian asked and kissed the tip of Ali’s nose.

  “Vanilla?” Dagon asked of Sarina and nibbled at her ear.

  “What kind would you like, Sydney?” Michael asked.

  “My favorite, strawberry,” she answered with a smile that told him she appreciated his thoughtfulness. She then announced, “Ladies to the sitting room, the men now have the kitchen.”

  The three women gave their husbands pecks on their cheeks and followed Sydney out of the kitchen.

  Michael pushed the sleeves of his gray sweater up. “Let’s get started.”

  “You’re going to pay for this, pal,” Sebastian said with a laugh as he pushed the sleeves of his white sweatshirt up.

  Dagon reached for an apron on the wall hook by the door and slipped it over his head to protect his black cashmere sweater. “He most definitely is.”

  o0o

  Tempest and Sarina left Sydney and Ali in the sitting room with Sydney attempting to teach Ali how to knit. The lesson was not going particularly well, but then Sydney had patience.

  The sisters strolled the castle halls arm in arm, talking.

  “Michael seems so nice,” Sarina said.

  “He has a good, caring soul,” Tempest assured her.

  “And Marcus?”

  Tempest expected the question, though the answer troubled her. “He’s there waiting, and I think impatiently.”

  Sarina squeezed her sister’s hand. “He was so powerful and so reckless with his power. Do you suspect he has changed?”

  “I suspect Michael will have a struggle on his hands, but as I said before, I believe in him, and I feel he will make a wise choice when the time comes.”

  “You have no doubts?”

  “Doubts will not help him,” Tempest said. “I must keep my belief and faith in him strong if he is to succeed.”

  Sarina stopped and looked into her sister’s eyes. “You love him more now than you did those many years ago.”

  Tears glistened in Tempest’s eyes. “I would have never thought that possible, but Marcus has matured into Michael. And I find Michael’s qualities hard to resist.”

  “How do you think Michael will react when he recalls the spell? Do you think he will blame you for his difficult life?”

  “If he has learned his lessons, then he will know that his path was his to choose, his life and his choice.”

  Sarina held tight to her sister’s hand. “I worry about you.”

  “I am the stronger,” Tempest said with confidence.

  “But love can weaken the strongest soul.”

  “No, love strengthens the weakest soul.”

  Sarina smiled. “You’ve strengthened Michael’s soul. He will have no choice but to succeed.”

  “Time will tell,” Tempest said, “but enough of my problem. I want to hear about you.”

  They began walking again as they talked about the impending birth, her wonderful husband and how happy she truly was.

  By the time supper was over Michael was feeling caged and uncomfortable. He couldn’t explain it to himself so he didn’t attempt to explain it to anyone else. But as the evening wore on, the odd sensation grew more disturbing and he felt an overwhelming need to return to the cottage.

  They were all gathered in the large living room, though Michael had wandered off by himself to stand in front of a row of windows that looked out across the castle grounds. He couldn’t make sense of his strange emotions and yet oddly enough, he welcomed them.

  The chatter in the background began to disturb him more and more and his need to isolate himself with Tempest grew into an uncontrollable urge.

  He turned fast on his heels and came up behind Tempest where she stood next to her sister’s chair. “I want to return to the cottage now,” he whispered in her ear.

  Tempest felt his power rush over her like a tumultuous wave crashing hard on shore. It was going to be difficult to deny his request and yet she felt now was not the time to be alone with him. “In a day or two,” she murmured.

  “Now!” he persisted.

  His agitation was sensed by all and the room grew quiet.

  Tempest spoke calmly. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”

  “We’ll leave now,” he corrected her firmly, his arm tightening around her waist, and with a raise of his hand and whispered words in an ancient language that had long died away, he wrapped them in a spell. A white mist rose up around their feet to spiral up, completely encasing their bodies.

  Dagon and Sebastian hurried forward but there was nothing they could do. Tempest herself realized that when she felt the powerful force of the spell he worked around them.

  This was Marcus’s doing. He was making his presence known. He was recalling memories, increasing in strength.

  The mist grew thick and Tempest could barely make out her sister’s worried face. She could break the spell if she chose to but she felt it was better not to. Time was fast approaching when they would face the consequences of her spell and it was better that they did it alone.

  So she watched as they all faded from view and in a sudden gust of wind she and Michael were off and deposited safely in the living room of the cottage.

  The rush of power had sent his passion soaring and when the mist evaporated around them he scooped her up in his arms and headed for the bedroom.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  With impatient hands Michael undressed her and with hasty hands he shed his clothes. He scooped her up once again and tumbled down on the bed with her, his hands reaching out to touch intimately.

  “I want you to feel my love,” Michael said, his hands exploring her body with an eager tenderness. “All of it and all that I’ve ever possessed.”

  His touch was magical and as he explored her with loving hands she drifted into a haze of sexual pleasure that was beyond anything she had ever experienced. His mouth trailed his hands and his lips fired her skin, leaving a tingling wake in their path.

  His tongue entered her with a defined precision that made her cry out and arch her body and when she felt completely mindless he entered her with a sharp quickness and set a rhythm that in seconds had her ready to tumble over the edge.

  “Let go,” he urged. “Trust me.”

  The pleasurable pain was so exquisite, she groaned and teetered on the edge, ready and willing but holding on to that last shred of sanity.

  “Let go,” he urged again. “Trust me. Me, Michael.”


  Hearing his name, knowing it was Michael, the soul who truly loved her, forced her surrender, and she took that step off the edge. She spiraled down and down and down into the darkness and yet she refused to lose her faith in Michael. And at that moment she felt him wrap around her and soar up and up and up like a majestic bird until they burst into the light together and exploded in a sparkle of brilliant showers.

  With labored breathing he whispered, “I love you, Tempest—now, then and forever.”

  She held him tightly to her, silent tears slipping down her cheeks and with hope that she had surrendered wisely clinging desperately in her heart.

  Michael woke early, surprised no dream had haunted his sleep. It was just past dawn and Tempest lay contentedly beside him in a deep slumber. Their joining last night had been a powerful one. She had finally surrendered her last ounce of will to him and her energy had raged through him with such force that he had experienced a climax he had not thought possible. It felt as if he had been reborn. And even now he could feel the residue of that energy.

  He was much too wide awake and energized to return to sleep, and he didn’t wish to disturb Tempest so he quietly slipped out of bed and went off to get dressed.

  He took a quick shower and shaved and hurried into jeans, a red sweatshirt and work-boots, then headed to the kitchen for a much needed cup of coffee. He thought about working in the greenhouse or doing a bit of reading when he was struck with the sudden urge to take a walk.

  He slipped on his bomber-style jacket, and headed out the door into the brisk early-morning spring air. He didn’t know where he was going, didn’t even realize he was familiar with the well-worn path. He only knew he had a destination, wherever that may be.

  He wasn’t surprised to see that he stopped in the same spot where the fairy incident had occurred, though he was startled when Sydney stepped from behind the large tree, a tiny, plump fairy sitting on her shoulder.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” he said with a smile.

  Sydney stepped forward, dressed in a pale-blue knit ankle-length dress, not attire you would find appropriate for the woods, yet somehow Sydney seemed to blend perfectly with her surroundings.

  “How gracious of you to respond to my request on such short notice.”

  “At least that explains my sudden need to take a walk.”

  “A silent, but powerful invitation,” Sydney explained. “I wished to talk with you.”

  “You could have called.”

  “No, I wished to speak with you in person, and to introduce you to a friend.” She held her hand up to her shoulder and the tiny fairy stepped onto her finger and into her palm. Sydney then extended her hand out to Michael. “Michael, may I present Beatrice, a dear, dear friend.”

  Michael found the little creature enchanting. “My pleasure,” he said with a nod of his head. “And my apologizes for having knocked you out. I was not aware of the fairy population in the woods.”

  Beatrice pushed at her tilted head wreath. “A misunderstanding I have taken no offense to.”

  “What can I do for you ladies?”

  “Listen,” Sydney said.

  “What am I suppose to hear?” he asked.

  “The truth,” Beatrice said.

  Michael nodded and took the arm Sydney held out to him.

  He escorted her to a nearby felled tree and with a snap of her fingers she covered it with a soft cushion before sitting down.

  Michael joined her and waited impatiently for her to speak.

  “Patience is a true virtue, Michael,” Sydney informed him gently, and lifted Beatrice to return to her shoulder.

  He smiled. “I’m still working on that one.”

  “Work harder; it will serve you well.”

  Beatrice paced impatiently along Sydney’s shoulder. “Let’s get to the matter at hand.”

  “Patience,” he said with a pointed finger at Beatrice.

  “Pish posh,” Beatrice said, stopping on the edge of Sydney’s shoulder and pointing her own finger at Michael. “You need a talking to.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. She was a gusty little bundle and he liked her. “I’m all ears.”

  “About time,” Beatrice said. “Sydney, talk to him.”

  “I have no business interfering, Michael.”

  “Oh, yes, we do,” Beatrice said.

  Sydney ignored her. “The past has dictated the future and choices made then come to fruition now. How much has been learned is the key to wise or foolish choices.”

  Michael shook his head. “I’m no good with riddles.”

  Sydney laid a comforting hand on his arm. “Many years ago I met a man full of arrogance and pride, a Scottish laird. He knew me to be a witch and warned me about casting any spells over him. The past had taught me to follow my beliefs and trust in myself, but I allowed my love for this man to foolishly cloud my judgment. It cost me the love of that man. To this day I regret my decision. I regret having not followed my beliefs, for in their strengths lay my strengths. I have had many years to ponder my actions and I often wish I had another chance. Second chances are marvelous gifts that should never be denied. And a second chance allows us to choose wisely.”

  “Got that?” Beatrice asked him, shaking her tiny finger at him.

  What he got was the sorrow and heartache Sydney felt, and it troubled him. She had truly loved this man, and to lose a cherished love is devastating. He could never bear the thought of losing Tempest. He simply could not live without her.

  “I’m attempting to comprehend,” he said, and placed a comforting hand over Sydney’s.

  She smiled her gratitude.

  “My turn,” Beatrice said.

  “Another story?” Michael asked with excitement and winked at the tiny winged creature. “Is your wing crooked?” He looked closer at her, and sure enough, her wing was bent. He extended his finger to repair it and was stunned when the tiny fairy dropped flat to Sydney’s shoulder, her hands covering her head.

  His voice was gentle. “I mean you no harm.”

  Her head came up slowly and she looked with wide eyes at him. “What did you say?”

  He glanced from Beatrice to Sydney and back again at their expressions of surprise, which were curious to him. “I mean you no harm,” he repeated.

  Beatrice stood, pushing her crooked head wreath away from her eye. “Remember those words; they will serve you well. Remember Sydney’s words, for love sometimes forces difficult choices. And remember in the end, love is always the victor.”

  Michael understood that there were many messages in their words and yet he still felt there was a missing piece and that was the piece he needed to find.

  With hugs, kisses and encouraging words to Michael, Sydney and Beatrice took off in a whirlwind of light and Michael took his time returning to the cottage. He had to clear his head and attempt to make some sense of all that had been happening to him of late.

  He walked in the woods, their natural melody soothing to his ears and the fresh scent of earth and pine invigorating to the senses. He felt a rush of wonder run through him. This was magic at its finest.

  He took a deep breath and without warning a sudden rush of power raced through him, filling him with such force and presence that he felt the urge to scream out to the heavens. He remained silent, attempting to harness the force, draw it in and contain it. He instinctively knew that he must contain it. He did so with little difficulty and that surprised him. Two solid steps took him to a large rock where he sat and he shook his head, not really understanding a lick of what was happening to him. How did he make sense of witches, warlocks and fairies? And yet how didn’t he, when the proof was there before his own eyes? Since there was solid truth in it all, how and where did he even begin to understand who he actually was?

  If the man in his dreams was part of him then it would be best to understand that man and understand what had happened to him.

  He returned to the cottage with much on his mind.

 
They sat snuggled on the couch. A night shower drenched the land and a low fire burned in the fireplace.

  “I apologize for being rude and pulling you away so abruptly from your family,” Michael said. “But I felt an overwhelming urge to be alone with you. And I need to know more.”

  Tempest expected this, and offered her help. “What do you need to know, Michael?”

  “Tell me about Marcus.”

  He knew much himself already and she wanted him to realize that. “Recall your dreams and you will know Marcus.”

  He shook his head. “I want you to tell me about him.”

  She ran a tender touch over his arm, which held her. “There was a good in Marcus, though he favored the darker side. Power was everything to him and he sought it without thought or consequence. And as his power escalated, so did his thirst for more power. It was unquenchable.”

  He heard the sorrow in her soft voice and kissed her temple to show that he, Michael, was there for her now.

  She continued. “Love was nothing but foolish nonsense to him. It was a senseless and useless emotion that served no purpose. Power was the ultimate union to him and the power generated from two highly skillful witches would create an indestructible force.”

  “Did you feel he ever loved you?”

  Her soft laughter was filled with sadness. “There was a moment, a brief fleeting moment, when I looked deep into his soul and thought I saw a shred of light, small but significant. I hoped that given time he might discover it himself, but time ran out.”

  Marcus had kept the love he felt for Tempest locked tightly away, out of fear or stupidity he wasn’t certain. He only knew that love had existed and it was a deep binding love that could never, ever be broken.

  “What happened between you and Marcus to finally end it?”

  Tempest turned her head to look into his dark eyes that no longer seemed mysterious to her. “That is a memory for you to recall.”

  “And what do you expect to happen when I do?”

  “Only you will be able to answer that.”

  “I feel his power stirring impatiently inside me,” he whispered in her ear. “And I can almost feel the ache for it to rush forward and consume me.”