Sarina woke from her nap still wrapped in the blue terrycloth robe Margaret had tucked her in. After having stuffed her with hot tea, scones, and homemade leek soup, which was so delicious Sarina devoured two bowls, Margaret had ordered her to take a nap, insisting that a short slumber would make her feel better.
Unfortunately, the short nap replenished her body but did little to ease her concerns. Sarina was worried and rightly so. She had been given a chance to prove her worth and had failed miserably. She had always been praised for her intellect, and yet she could not perform the simplest of laundry tasks.
What would happen to her now? And why did she forever seek Dagon’s help? She could not understand this uncontrollable desire to reach out to him. Why did she feel so safe and protected in his arms? Why did she feel the need to have him hold her? Why did she ache to be close to him?
A soft knock interrupted her troubled thoughts.
“Sarina, it’s Janey. I need to speak with you.”
Sarina sat up in her single bed, ran her fingers through her tousled hair, and went to open the door.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” the young woman said, slipping past the partially open door to enter the room.
Solitude was something Sarina cherished. Her moments spent alone were important to her. They allowed her time to sort through her problems and search for solutions. But of late she found her time was not her own and that was something she missed, but there was no point in complaining.
Action was necessary.
Sarina shut the door and turned to Janey, who stood in the middle of the room wringing her hands. She was tall, slim, and quite pretty and only one hundred years old. Much too young to have worries.
“Please, I’ve heard you have excellent sight and I need to know something,” Janey said anxiously.
“My sight is no less or more than another,” Sarina said, not wishing anyone to know the extent of her extraordinary skill. It would lead one to answer questions and possibly search for explanations. Explanations she was not yet ready or willing to give.
Janey smiled. “The castle staff knows full well your exceptional ability, and we also know that you wish none to know of it. We all respect your privacy and will say nothing. Our only request is that we are able to seek your skill on occasion.”
Sarina nodded her agreement, knowing once a witch gave her word it was to be trusted. She feared no gossip related to her talent, though her ineptitude was a different matter. “What is it you wish to know?”
Janey sighed. “I’ve met a man.”
“A mortal.”
Janey nodded. “Yes, and he is wonderful.”
Sarina smiled. “Lucky for you that is the truth.” She went on to detail the mortal male’s attributes and his weaknesses and then predicted their future together. By the time she finished, Janey was thrilled and relieved.
“I knew he was the one,” the young woman said with a happy grin.
“Only if you proceed with caution,” Sarina warned. “He isn’t yet ready to rush into a relationship.”
“I’m not in a hurry,” Janey insisted. “I enjoy the times we spend together. The walks we take, the talks we share, and the time we take to come to know each other. I don’t want to rush. It’s too much fun getting to know him.”
“You are wise for your young years, this is good.”
Janey gave Sarina a hug. “Thank you. You are wonderful.”
Sarina opened the door.
Janey seemed hesitant but spoke anyway. “If you need help with anything, please feel free to ask me.”
Sarina couldn’t help but laugh. “I need help with everything!”
“Whatever I can do,” Janey offered and hurried out the door.
Sarina dressed quickly slipping into her usual attire of black skirt and white blouse. She tied her soft brown hair back with a white ribbon and hurried to the kitchen to see if Margaret needed assistance.
Margaret was glad for her help and the company.
Sarina worked well with the older woman, and any mistakes she made didn’t seem to bother Margaret. Sarina simply cleaned up her messes as a mortal would. And she was becoming quite proficient with a peeler. Carrots and potatoes no longer had large chunks missing, but suffered a mere nick or two.
Dagon was served his supper in the dining room, and Sarina commented on how lonely it must be for him in that large room all alone.
“Old habits die hard,” Margaret said. “And don’t you worry about him. He is rarely lonely.”
Sarina ate the evening meal with the staff, but she and Margaret enjoyed dessert alone, a bread pudding with rum raisin sauce that had Sarina licking her lips in appreciation.
“I could never cook such delicious dishes,” Sarina said.
“Of course you could,” Margaret insisted.
Sarina shook her head. “My power is limited.”
“Do you see me use my power to prepare meals?”
Sarina looked startled. “You cook as a mortal.”
“Most don’t realize that fact unless I point it out. At one time it drove Bernard crazy, but he’s come to understand that I enjoy the task of preparing and creating appetizing dishes. It takes skill and creativity to be a good cook and I enjoy the challenge.”
“Did it take you much time to learn the fundamentals of cooking?”
Margaret laughed and poured them both another cup of Earl Grey tea. “Time was neither a question nor a problem. I made the acquaintances of many a noted chef and many who never achieved notoriety but possessed exceptional talent in preparing food. I have learned much from them.”
“I wish I could say the same.”
“Nonsense,” Margaret scolded gently. “You are young and therefore inexperienced in many areas. In time you will learn all you need to know. We all have a time in our lives when we find our heritage difficult to handle. It is how we face that difficulty that counts.”
“Did Dagon?” Sarina asked.
“Dagon has always been determined, and he allowed nothing to stop him from acquiring the knowledge he felt essential. I often think of him as an exception to the rule. I have known so many witches who at one time or another found themselves faced with a difficult problem they thought impossible to handle.”
“Perhaps Dagon has yet to face a true challenge,” Sarina suggested.
“I can’t imagine a problem Dagon could not handle and successfully.”
“But don’t we all think that until proven wrong?”
Margaret grinned. “Now you speak more like a seasoned witch. Are you older than I think?”
Sarina provided Margaret with a response though not an answer. “I have much to learn.”
“As long as you are willing to do what must be done.”
“Willing, yes,” she said and laughed. “Able is another matter.”
Margaret patted her hand. “You’ll do fine. Now take yourself off and enjoy the rest of the evening. Tomorrow and your laborious chores will come soon enough.”
Sarina did as she directed, Margaret refusing to let her help clean up the dessert dishes. She hurried to her room and slipped on a large white cotton cardigan, then returned downstairs and made her way outside to wander the gardens. She took the pebble path to the rose garden, where a few stubborn blooms retained their petals regardless of the chill. And though the night’s air was crisp, the tenacious petals looked as though they intended to hold on until winter’s first frost.
She favored being outdoors and would love to help tend the beautiful gardens that surrounded most of Rasmus Castle. But in her present condition she feared she would do more damage than good.
The cool crisp air stung her flushed cheeks and made her feel more alive than she had in the last few months. Her dilemma had proved more difficult than she had thought and was proving even more difficult to solve. Her attempts had taken her far and wide and only managed to return her to her starting point without an ounce of success. She was beginning to think she would never find the answer to her problem and what then?
“Your thoughts trouble you?”
Sarina jumped and released a startled cry as Dagon emerged from the shadows. He appeared a shadow himself dressed all in black from his wool trousers to his knit sweater that just barely hugged his neck. He wore his long dark hair loose, the silky strands falling over his shoulders to rest on his chest. And his handsome face was a portrait of perfection.
For a brief moment Sarina grew alarmed, for he reminded her of a mighty warlock.
He stepped toward her. “Something troubles you?”
“Why do you ask?” she asked, annoyed that her quivering voice betrayed her nervousness.
“You frown.”
She forced a smile. “Wandering thoughts that hold no credence.”
“All thoughts hold some credence.” He extended his hand toward the bench, offering her a seat.
She accepted, though a small voice warned her to run.
He sat beside her, much too close beside her. She thought he would pursue his line of questioning and was therefore surprised when he asked, “What brought you to Rasmus Castle?”
Her response was quick. “I heard a position was available.”
“Who informed you of this?”
She shrugged. “I don’t recall.”
He pursued his inquiry. “Did Mrs. MacDougal mention the possibility?”
Sarina had spent enough time on the staff to learn that the employer was the last to learn of an employee’s intended departure. “No, I think it was one of the staff who informed me.”
“So you appeared on my doorstep.”
“In hopes of acquiring the position,” she reaffirmed and thought of that fateful day when she knocked on the door, hoping she wouldn’t be turned away and hoping her stay at Rasmus Castle would give her the time and energy required to tend to her awkward situation.
Dagon leaned back and stretched his arm along the back of the bench directly behind her. “Tell me about yourself, Sarina.”
Her response surprised him. “Why?”
He laughed. “Why not? Do you have something to hide?”
“No, nothing, but what do you wish to know? I have already interviewed for the position.”
“I’m not conducting an interview, I’m simply curious about you.”
She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or alarmed. Why was he curious? And why did he sit so close to her? She could sense the steady rhythm of his heart and almost feel the rush of his warm blood racing through his veins. He was alive and vibrant with the heat of passion, or was part of what she felt her own racing blood and desire?
“There isn’t much to tell,” she said, attempting to evade his question.
He thought otherwise. “Where did you grow up?”
“Not far from here.”
“Do you have a large family?”
“No.”
“Friends?”
“A few.”
Her brief answers did not seem to disturb him, though his next question stunned her. “A lover?”
She did not trust her answer to her quivering voice, so she shook her head.
He leaned closer and brushed his thumb over her lips. “It’s as though you dropped out of nowhere into my arms.”
She shivered, his touch much too sensuous, or was it her own sensuality that startled her? She had to be careful, so very careful. She could not make a mistake. So much depended on her making a prudent decision, and yet she found herself attracted to Dagon Rasmus.
Still, caution was called for. “I dropped off a chandelier into your arms.”
His hand fell away from her lips and he laughed. “That you did, Sarina, though you did make my return home a memorable one.”
She took advantage of the moment. “Were you away visiting family?”
“A friend who is like a sister to me and her aunt, whom I admire, respect, and love.”
“And your own family?”
He didn’t seem to mind her probing questions. “My mother and father travel extensively, though they keep a permanent home here in the far north of Scotland. They are presently enjoying an extended visit with friends in Greece.”
“Friends?” she asked, mimicking his questions though curious just the same.
“Many, though of late I find myself seeking solitude and contemplation.”
“Problems?”
He laughed softly. “A mystery.”
She didn’t care for the direction the conversation was taking and hastily asked a question she would never have thought of asking if she had given herself time to think of the consequences. “A lover?”
His smiling laugh turned serious. “Are you interested in the position?”
Her answer surprised him. “I don’t think you could give me what I need.”
“I’m quite skilled.” He grew irritated with his answer. He sounded as if he was interviewing for the position of her lover.
“I have no doubt you are,” she assured him, her hand offering a comforting touch to his arm. “But I require more than I think you wish to give.”
Her rejection annoyed him. Why, he didn’t know. He had no intentions of taking a lover. He was looking for a lifemate. And she certainly didn’t possess the skills or qualities he was searching for in a mate. She was actually the opposite of what he desired.
His irritation had him saying, “Perhaps you expect too much from a lover.”
“No more than I would give myself,” she answered softly and slowly moved her hand off his arm.
He felt her heart race along with his and sensed the tingle of desire ignite low in her stomach. His own lust grew and would be apparent if not for the dark night and the pale light of the half-moon. He felt a strange connection with her. Her breath was his, his heartbeat was hers, and one could not survive without the other.
An insane thought.
He had connected on an emotionally intimate level with all his lovers, and that was what made him so skillful a lover. He could sense their desires and satisfy their every need. And while he sensed Sarina’s desire, he also sensed a deeper emotional tug that connected him so strongly to her that he found it difficult to comprehend.
Disappointment filled her soft voice. “I am not whom you seek, Dagon, and you are not whom I need.”
“You sound certain of that.” He was irritated that she should dismiss him so easily. Did she not feel what he felt? The idea that he alone felt this intimate tug between them irritated him all the more.
“Lately, I am not certain of anything.”
His tone took on that of lord of the castle. “If it is your position you fear losing, then I will calm your fears. I do not intend to dismiss you because of your inadequacies.”
Her own tone was that of a penitent servant. “Thank you, I will attempt to do better.”
He stood. “Your attempts only manage to get you into further trouble. I would suggest practice for one so young and inexperienced. And I suggest you return to your room and get a good night’s sleep. You will need your energy for the new chores that will be assigned to you.”
She had done nothing to warrant his testy attitude and thought to tell him so, but she remembered a wise witch’s words. In silence there is knowledge. She chose knowledge and remained silent.
He seemed disappointed by the lack of her response and turned to walk away.
Surprisingly, she shared his disappointment, and suddenly she didn’t want him to leave. His name anxiously escaped her lips. “Dagon.”
He turned his bold blue eyes on her and waited silently.
She had called out to him to keep him near, but how was she to do that?
He took several steps toward her, and she watched his long legs move with grace and his body with pride. There was arrogance in his stride, but there was also an integrity that could not be denied. And as he drew close she found herself speechless.
“What is it you want, Sarina?”
What did she want from him? The question troubled her for she could find no answer, though of late answers seemed to elude her.
He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair away from her eye. “Be truthful with yourself and the answer will come.”
Truth is what got her into her present situation, but still she could speak nothing less. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”
He made a point of keeping his arms firmly to his sides, so great was the urge to reach out and wrap them around her. And he chose to offer encouragement when his thoughts wondered who would ever save her from her inept skills if she were allowed to go off on her own. “I expect you will do better.”
Sarina nodded, unable to take her eyes off his brilliant blue ones. The intense color captivated, cautioned, and caressed. And at that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her.
Her desire was palpable and his passion was raging. He warned himself to walk away, to turn and not look back, and he did. With a brief departing nod he turned and took several slow steps as if his legs refused to obey him or cautioned he was making a mistake.
He heard her sigh of regret. It sounded like a steeple bell clanging in his ears, though it was but a whisper on the night wind. And again he warned himself to walk away, to run if necessary, but his ego would not allow him a coward’s retreat.
He turned back around and walked straight toward her.
Sarina’s eyes widened, her heart beat rapidly, and her stomach fluttered in sensual chaos.
His arms wrapped around her, and his lips came down on hers in one sweeping move. Her response equaled his. Her arms locked around his neck, and her lips settled on his with the same lusty urgency. And they were both lost.
Their kiss was a mutual sharing of emotions, a bounding of kind that demanded acknowledgment. And they acknowledged it in a primal, natural way. They tasted, they sampled, and they savored.
He didn’t disappoint, he was as skillful as he claimed, perhaps more so, and she lost herself in the magic of the moment. She could go on tasting him all night, feeling the heat of him, aching with the need of him. Her arms tightened around his neck and his arms locked more securely around her waist, drawing her more firmly up against him. There was no denying his potent desire, and her tenacious clinging proved she was where she wanted to be.
Her sensuous sigh tickled his mouth, and his hungry groan sent goose bumps rushing over her, and it was at that moment they both realized that they desired more than an erotic kiss.
They broke apart and stepped away from each other.
Sarina’s fingers instantly flew up to touch her lips as though attempting to capture the memory of his kiss.
His tongue traced his own lips, savoring her taste and committing their heated exchange to his memory.
He then, without saying a word, turned and disappeared into the shadows of the night.