by Sarah Hegger
Bronwyn jumped and looked around for cover.
“Bloody woman.” A vendor with huge baskets of lavender blossoms rolled her eyes at Bronwyn.
A volley of bangs sounded and a dark green Land Rover careened around the corner. People scurried to get out of the way as it clattered past her on a series of farts and explosions before being aimed at a parking space and stopping with a squeal of brakes and another ear splitting bang.
The stench of rotten eggs and raw sewage hit her and made her eyes water.
Retching, a man with a crate of big red cheese wheels hurried away.
A woman leaped out the Land Rover surrounded by a pack of dogs of various sizes. They all squirmed and mobbed around her as she looked about her and beamed. “Morning.”
A couple of people gave her a grudging nod.
Medium height, and curved like a 40s pinup, the woman wore low-rise jeans and a tight-fitting Supernatural T-shirt which read “I’m a Dean girl, but I’m Sam curious.” Riotously curly auburn hair fought the scarf attempting to hold it back. Her eyes tilted up like a smug cat’s, and her mouth was almost too full for her face.
She wasn’t conventionally beautiful, barely even pretty, but Bronwyn had never seen a sexier woman. She oozed sultry earthiness.
“Oy, Niamh!” A rotund man with a fringe of hair clinging to the edges of his pate clomped across the rutted parking area toward the Land Rover. “What have I told you about these bloody dogs?”
“Morning, Denis.” Niamh’s wide red mouth split in a grin. “Is that a new shirt?”
Denis stopped, blushed and rubbed a hand over the placket of his beige short-sleeve button-down. “Er…no.”
“Are you sure?” Slightly raspy, deep and rich, even her voice was steeped in sex. “I’m sure I would have noticed you looking like a sexpot before.”
Niamh’s dogs boiled around Denis. A medium size, stringy brindle mongrel stuck his nose in Denis’s crotch.
Denis went puce and nudged the dog away. “Now, see here, Niamh, we’ve spoken about this before. You can’t have all these dogs here without them being on a lead.” He fended off more advances from the pack, dancing out of the way of curious noses.
“I know.” Niamh sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and chewed on it. “Only, you see, Denis, if I put leads on all of them, how would I hold the leads?”
“Well…you could…I…” Denis’s gaze stuck on her mouth and didn’t move. “You could bring less dogs.”
Niamh’s eyes widened, kittenish and adorable. “I could do that.” Then she looked crestfallen. “But they do so love to come with me.”
“That’s all very well and good.” Taking a deep breath, Denis tried to get a good bluster going. “But this is not the place for out-of-control dogs.”
“Hmm.” Niamh stepped into Denis’s space and laid a hand on his chest. “I’ll think of something, Denis.” She gazed into his eyes. “I promise.”
Denis gaped, snapped his mouth shut, and melted. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Niamh held the eye contact and Bronwyn could feel the sizzle from twenty yards away. Bronwyn would put good money they could feel it all the way on the other side of the fairground.
Denis made a strangled noise of assent. “Also, we’ve had some complaints about the Landy.”
“The Landy or the fuel?” Another woman stepped up beside Niamh.
Transfixed by Niamh, Bronwyn hadn’t noticed her climbing out of the Land Rover. The new one was also a redhead, but more copper than auburn. She stood half a foot taller than Niamh, all of it legs.
This woman was a classic beauty, her features almost cold in their fine perfection.
“It’s the fuel, Alannah.” Denis looked starstruck now. “It has a very unpleasant odor.”
“It’s the fuel of the future.” Alannah gave him a sympathetic grimace. “I imagine people were not too keen on the whiff of petrol when they first smelled it either.”
“I know.” Niamh giggled and peered up at Denis. “It stinks to high heaven. My dogs are always complaining.”
Alannah’s shoulders firmed, and she stuck her chin out. “Fuel of the future.”
“Is it too much to ask that they miss one Saturday?” The lavender vendor was thumping baskets around her stall. She looked at Bronwyn as if they were allies. “Nothing but chaos wherever they go.”
“They’re beautiful.” Bronwyn couldn’t stop staring.
“That they are.” The lavender woman rolled her eyes. “My nana says those Cray women were always touched by the fairies.” Sniffing, she straightened and jammed her hands on her hips. “Suppose that makes sense with them being witches and all.”
“Witches?” Cray women must be from the castle. Bronwyn took a step forward. Were they connected to her?
Prickles skittered up and down her spine, and the hair all over her body stood on end.
“Niamh!” A third woman stormed around the Land Rover, and for a second Bronwyn thought she was seeing double. The third one was an exact replica of Alannah, only instead of yoga pants and a T-shirt, this one had on cargo pants and a black T-shirt with Arcane Activist scrawled across her full breasts in bright red writing. “Niamh!” she bellowed. “Get your fucking dogs out of the Harry Potter wands.”
“Bronwyn!” Wearing a yellow, green and purple tie-dyed caftan, Mags had joined the third woman and she was staring right at Bronwyn. She raised her voice across the distance. “I told Sinead you would be here, but she never believes me.”
The third woman, Sinead, locked eyes on Bronwyn. “Who’s she?”
“One of us.” Mags beamed at Bronwyn and took a step toward her. “The one we’ve been waiting for.”
The lavender seller threw her a dark look.
Sinead frowned at Bronwyn. “We’ve been waiting for someone?”
Grinning, Mags nodded.
Alannah and Niamh were also looking at her.
Alannah waved and Niamh gave her a smile that made her want to gawp.
Little Witch.
Her muscles melted. Heat washed over her skin. Alexander was there, and her heart rate triple timed it.
“There you are.” Alexander stood close enough behind her for his body heat to envelop her. His breath caressed her neck and shoulder where her T-shirt left it bare. “I thought I might have to chase you all the way back to America.”
Steeling herself against the impact of him, she turned. “Hi.”
“Hi.” A slow, sweet smile spread over his beautiful face.
The farmer’s market, Mags and the other Crays, the busy vendors, all of it faded away and it was only her and him locked in a secret moment out of time and place. His eyes darkened, and his gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth. They were standing so close her breasts almost brushed his chest.
“Oy, Alexander.” Niamh gave a shrill whistle. “Stop hogging her, and let us say hello.”
“Too late.” Alexander’s hand rested on the small of her back. “The Cray ladies have spotted you.”
“Do you know them?” Bronwyn didn’t know how it was possible, but he looked even better than he had last night. He smelled delicious, like soap and freshly showered man and she wanted to roll around in his scent the way one of Niamh’s dog was writhing on the grass.
“Yes.” Alexander threaded his fingers through hers and tugged. “Come and meet some of my favorite girls. I suspect you’ll discover you have a lot in common.”
The weight of her hand in his felt perfect, the curl of their fingers as if they’d been created to do that.
Oh, Dee, I’m in so much trouble here.
Bronwyn couldn’t be sure, but the breeze seemed to carry Deidre’s full-bodied chuckle.
Alexander led her toward the group.
All four Cray women stood and watched as she and Alexander approached.
Panic surged through Bronwyn, and she nearly tugged her hand free and ran for it. The air about them crackled with portent, like this was so much more than five women meeting for the first time
. If she didn’t know better, Bronwyn would swear she was walking face first into her fate.
Niamh frowned and looked at the others.
“Yes.” Mags nodded.
Alexander squeezed her hand, and Bronwyn’s world righted itself again.
Trust. Deidre sounded as if she was standing right beside her. Trust your instinct.
Niamh grinned at Alexander. “Hey, handsome. Look at you all fresh from the shower and smelling pretty.”
“Dear God, Niamh.” Alexander bent and kissed her creamy cheek. “You should come with a health warning for straight men everywhere.”
Niamh’s husky chuckle stroked like velvet down Bronwyn’s spine. “Now where would the fun be in that?”
“At least we’d stand a chance.” Alexander straightened and tugged Bronwyn forward. “I have someone here I want you to meet.”
“Hi.” Niamh hugged her. “I feel like I know you already. Mags has not shut up about you.”
Not sure how to react and sure she was developing a girl crush, Bronwyn managed a strangled, “Hi.”
Alexander indicated Mags. “Of course you’ve already met the lovely Mags.”
“I’m sorry about yesterday.” Mags wrinkled her nose. “I tend to come on a bit strong. But I’m harmless.” She leaned closer. “Also, that Hermione scares the shit out of me.”
Alexander chuckled and bent closer to Bronwyn’s ear. His warm, minty breath washed over her cheek. “Don’t believe it. That sweet face hides the heart of a lioness.”
“I’m Alannah.” Up close she was even lovelier, with eyes an impossible shade of indigo. “And this is my sister, Sinead.”
“We’re twins,” Sinead said, as if the double sight whammy wasn’t immediately obvious.
“Sinead is an arcane activist,” Alexander glanced down at her and then smiled at Sinead.
Sinead straightened her shoulders. “We have dedicated ourselves to ending discrimination against the supernaturally endowed, the dilution of magical lore through juvenile literature, the commercialization of pagan sacred sites, and fracking.”
“Never mind that.” Mags elbowed Sinead out the way. She lowered her voice and did a quick left-right check of the fairgrounds. “We need to talk.” She peered behind her. “But not here.”
“Invite her to Baile,” Alexander said. “I’m sure Bronwyn would love to see more of the castle. Did you know she’s here to trace her roots?”
“Why?” Sinead wrinkled her nose. “A bunch of dead ancestors aren’t going to tell you anything.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Alexander jumped in before Bronwyn could argue with Sinead. “Our past can define our present.”
Bronwyn liked Mags, thought Niamh was gorgeous and Alannah seemed nice, but she wasn’t so sure of Sinead.
“Yes, do come.” Alannah’s smile made her feel special. “We don’t have many visitors.”
Sinead snorted. “We don’t have many visitors because we like it that way.”
“Ignore the grumpy cow.” Niamh rolled her eyes. “And do come and have tea. Or lunch. Lunch is better.”
“Well, I—”
“Tomorrow?” Mags pressed, eager like a child with a new toy. “Come for lunch tomorrow and we can chat.” She lowered her voice. “You really should come. I’ve seen it.”
“What you got there?” Sinead cocked her head to the side and pointed at Bronwyn’s book in her left hand.
Embarrassed at being caught with a book on Baile in front of the Crays, she shrugged. “I was curious about—”
“Well, I wouldn’t read that.” Sinead whipped it out of her hand and tossed it into a nearby garbage can. “They make all that crap up, you know.” She turned and said over her shoulder, “Come to lunch and find out for yourself.”
Bronwyn wasn’t sure what Mags meant by having seen it, but she would like to go to lunch, despite Sinead. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” Alexander raised her hand and kissed it, leaving the hot tingling imprint of his lips behind. “But for the rest of today, she’s all mine.”
Chapter Seven
Alexander led the way to his car. He had the top down to take advantage of the beautiful day. “Where to? I’m at your disposal.”
“Water.” Bronwyn didn’t have to think about. “Get me close to water.”
He smiled and that smile gained potency every time she saw it. “You got it.”
Alexander whipped through Greater Littleton and onto a narrow road following the coastline. Wind scrambled her hair into a frenzy, and salt laden air felt heavy with possibility.
He pulled over at a small yellow wooden shack. “Fish and chips,” he said. “No visit to England is complete without it.”
A cheerful woman with wind chapped cheeks grinned as they approached. “Who you got there with you, Alexander?”
“Bronwyn.” Alexander motioned the shack’s proprietor. “Meet Beatrice, Bea to her friends. Beatrice meet Bronwyn.”
“Hi.” Bronwyn felt suddenly shy.
“Aren’t you a pretty thing?” Beatrice looked thrilled before glancing at Alexander. “For two?”
“If you would.”
Beatrice handed them their fish and chips in boxes almost too hot to hold.
“I thought you served fish and chips in newspaper.” Bronwyn shifted the box from one hand to the other.
Alexander grimaced. “We did, and then health and safety got their knickers in a twist about it.”
“What’s this?” She peered inside her box at the creamy sauce in a small plastic tub.
“Tartar sauce. You dip your fish in it.” Alexander took her hand and led her behind the shack to a narrow, grass choked path. “And now to the water.”
The path wound around a rocky dune and opened on to a pebbled beach. Alexander led her to a large boulder and helped her clamber to the top. The sea had worn a flat space perfect for sitting on the top, and the sun was warm on their heads.
The crash of the tide made conversation difficult, so Bronwyn ate her fish and chips and let the peace that always came with being close to water wash over her.
Alexander was watching her with his dark eyes. Eyes that dark could hide a wealth of secrets, and she got the sense there was so much more to him than appeared on the surface. She wanted to unwrap the layers of him and find out more. “What?”
He shook his head. “You look peaceful.”
“I am.” She popped another chip in her mouth. “I love water.”
“I bet you do.” He broke off a piece of fish and ate it. “You draw strength from it.”
She didn’t know how he could have guessed that. Gesturing the sea, she said, “It’s so powerful. It makes me feel like anything is possible.”
He nodded. “There’s a theory that we’re all drawn more strongly to one of the four elements.”
“Deidre used to say something similar.” Deidre would have loved to sit right here and eat delicious fish and chips. Bronwyn hoped that some part of Deidre was here with her.
“You look sad.” Alexander cocked his head.
“It’s nothing.” She tried for a smile, but it wobbled off her lips. “Sometimes I miss my grandmother.” She gestured their surroundings. “She would have loved this.”
“Little witch.” His face softened, and he slid his palm around her nape. “I am so sorry for all your losses.”
His hand heated her nape. His thumb stroked her neck and electrified her skin.
“Why do you call me that?” Her limbs had a will of their own and leaned toward him like a sunflower tracking the sun.
Sultry heat lit his eyes as he studied her mouth. “Perhaps because you’ve cast a spell on me.”
Sexual awareness aside, she had to laugh. “That’s really lame.”
“I know.” He chuckled and brought his mouth closer. “This is for me.”
If last night’s kiss had been an exploration, this one was an invasion. His mouth claimed hers, owned it. His tongue stroked into her mouth. His hand cradled her head and
tilted her like he wanted her.
Bronwyn surrendered to the raw masculinity of his kiss. Fisting her hands in his shirt, she hung on to him as the rest of her world went up like a bonfire. His mouth, his flavor, his skin, his scent, it consumed her and she, in turn, needed to devour.
Alexander’s phone rang.
With a groan, he deepened the kiss.
She didn’t care that they were sitting on a rock for anyone to see. He could do anything with her as long as he kept kissing her.
His phone stopped and started up again.
Bronwyn tore her mouth away from his. “Shouldn’t you get that?”
“No.” He bent his head and moved in for more kissing.
His phone started ringing a third time.
“Fuck.” He snatched it up and read the caller display. Alexander went still. Expression blank, he stared at his phone. His face remained inscrutable, but a whole lot more seethed beneath his unnatural silence. He looked up. “I have to go.”
“Is everything all right?” Bronwyn swallowed her disappointment and stood. She brushed sand and grease from her meal on her pants leg.
“Yes.” Alexander studied her face as if he wanted to map it in his mind. “Bronwyn?”
All trace of desire was gone from his face, and a chill crept over her skin. “Yes?”
“Never mind.” He shook his head and his tone lightened. “Unfortunately, I have to cut this short.”
Neither of them spoke as he drove back to Greater Littleton. He stopped outside the pub and stretched his arm over the back of her seat. “I’ll see you soon.” Leaning in, he brushed her mouth with his. “Count on it.”
The day dimmed, and the wind carried a new sharpness to it. Bronwyn shivered and hurried into the warmth of the pub.
Alexander stood beside Rhiannon’s altar, facing the gathered faithful, and steeled himself to witness the pointless waste of life. Rhiannon has summoned him away from his time with Bronwyn and demanded he help the twisted two, Edana and Fiona, set this crap up.