Dagon and Sebastian intended to roam the castle grounds. They were prepared for the brisk November weather dressed adequately and casually in heavy wool sweaters, turtlenecks, jeans, and boots. They both had decided early that morning, after very little sleep, that exercise would do their bodies and minds good, and besides Sebastian made it known that he would love to explore the castle grounds. The extensive gardens were too magnificent to ignore, and the surrounding woods held a hint of mystery and myth.
“We’ll be back for lunch,” Sebastian informed his wife, who stood at the front door hugging her arms against the chill that crept through her tan knit sweater and ankle length skirt. He reached out and hugged her to him, running his hands up and down her back to chase away the chills.
She sighed with disappointment. “You could have slept a little longer.”
Sebastian kissed her pouting lips. “We weren’t sleeping.”
“We would have”—she paused and returned his kiss with a little more fervor before adding—”eventually.”
Dagon grinned. “Leave him be, Ali, the man needs his rest.”
“Then he should be in bed,” she insisted.
“He’ll get no rest there.” Dagon laughed and yanked Sebastian away from her. “Besides I have decided that your visit calls for a small dinner party. Be a dear and take care of the arrangements for me.”
“A dinner party, how delightful,” Ali said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
The two men were almost out the door when they both turned around and in unison said, “Stay out of the kitchen.”
Ali did not take orders well; she went directly to the kitchen. She was surprised to find Sydney there sitting at the table with Margaret, having tea.
“Good morning, dear,” Sydney greeted her. “Do join us.”
Ali sat and Margaret filled another cup with Earl Grey tea for her. Banana bread and apple spice loaf tempted Ali and she decided on trying a small slice of each.
“Margaret is going to the market, and I have decided to join her. There are a few items I cannot get in the States, and besides it has been too many years since I’ve enjoyed the chaos of market shopping.”
“Sounds delightful,” Ali said. “Dagon just informed me that he intends to have a small dinner party while we are here, and he asked me to see to the arrangements.”
“Oh, do invite the MacTavishes and the McEwans,” Sydney said. “It has been too long since I’ve seen them, and Teresa McEwan and I share much history together.”
“Bridie and William Douglas as well,” Ali said, making mental notes of the names. “She and I tormented Dagon mercilessly when we were very young, not that we succeeded, though we had fun trying.”
“Shall I see to the menu?” Margaret asked.
“Of course,” Ali said. “Sebastian and Dagon have already warned me to stay out of the kitchen.”
Sydney agreed. “Good advice.”
“You can’t be that bad,” Margaret argued.
Sydney shook her head. “Even with her magical skills she cannot produce a decent meal.”
“All right, so I am inept in the kitchen,” Ali said and smiled. “I make up for it in other ways.”
Both women laughed.
“Well, I think anyone can learn to cook,” Margaret said. “And I have a favor to ask of you, Ali.”
Ali beamed with pleasure. “Does it entail cooking?”
“A step toward learning to cook,” Margaret corrected and stood. She retrieved a large ceramic bowl from the counter nearest the wall oven and returned to the table with it. “This is bread dough and in an hour’s time it will need to be punched, reshaped, and set to rise again. Do you think you can do that for me?”
Ali peered at the lump of dough. “It doesn’t sound like a difficult task. I just punch it once, shape it nicely into a ball, cover it and that’s it?”
“That’s it, really quite a simple procedure,” Margaret assured her.
Ali looked to Sydney. “I can do that.”
“Are you sure? The preparation of food has never been your forte.”
“If you have any problems, you can ask Sarina for help,” Margaret said. “She has been helping me with the kitchen duties and has been doing quite well.”
“A helping hand,” Ali said with a smile. “How can I go wrong?”
Sydney grinned. “I don’t know, dear, but somehow you’ll manage to.”
o0o
The castle was quiet, the servants off busy with their chores, and Ali busy making her list for the dinner party when she recalled her task in the kitchen. With a squeal of delight she hurried into the kitchen and yanked the towel off the bowl filled with the ball of dough. She pushed up her long sleeves and with a gleeful smile sent a stunning punch into the soft dough.
o0o
Sarina finished dusting. She had changed the sheets, made the bed, seen to the bathroom, and decided to dust, though the chore wasn’t necessary. She actually looked for things to do in Dagon’s quarters that would extend her daily chores. The man simply did not make a mess; he was neat and clean and there was hardly a thing for her to do. And try as she might to be assigned other duties, Bernard absolutely refused her repeated requests.
She was accustomed to keeping herself busy whether it was seeing to her own place, tending her expensive garden, having friends visit or visiting with friends, or simply enjoying the silence. She had always kept herself comfortably occupied. Activity always helped her with her thoughts. While her hands were busy, her mind was focused, and she could reach many understandings in the process. Like now with her thoughts settled on what she had learned from Sydney the previous evening.
The brief conversation had helped her to realize that she could not control the situation. She had to allow the situation to proceed without interference. She had to trust herself and her beliefs even if some appeared foreign to her sensibilities.
The spell was quite specific, and if she had focused more on the casting of the spell, she would have been more prepared to deal with the consequences, but it was never too late. She would look with much wiser eyes now and see with much wider eyes, and she would allow the universe to work its magic.
“All finished, Lily,” Sarina said to the kitten that, as usual, was in the middle of the bed sleeping. She turned around to gather her cleaning bucket before reaching for Lily and stopped abruptly, her eyes stunned by the sight in the doorway.
“I have a problem I thought you could help me with,” Ali said calmly. Gobs of dough were stuck to her face, hair, neck, and shoulders.
Sarina smiled, feeling she had finally met a kindred spirit. “Whatever happened to you?”
Ali held up a fist. “A small punch.”
Sarina understood. “A delicate punch.”
“Margaret never mentioned delicate, and I’m afraid I have simply ruined her bread dough, and try as I might my powers refuse to re-create the ball of dough.”
Sarina completely understood. Margaret had requested her help this morning with baking the bread. It was her dough that Ali worked with, therefore rendering her powers useless. “Let’s see what I can do to help.”
“Oh, thank you,” Ali said relieved. “I was so worried Margaret would return to a disaster, or heaven forbid, my husband and Dagon would return and see the mess I made. And after they ordered me to stay out of the kitchen.” She shook her head.
“We’ll have another batch of dough made in no time,” Sarina reassured her and left a slumbering Lady Lily on the bed while she and Ali took off for the kitchen.
o0o
Dagon and Sebastian sat on a felled tree enjoying a swig of whiskey from two flasks each had brought along with them.
“This is beautiful country,” Sebastian said, relishing the breath-catching view of the mist-capped hills rising up behind Rasmus Castle. They had explored a good portion of the castle grounds when Dagon invited him to view his home in all its splendor. He had then brought him to a small rise that wound its way through the woods to a clearing. It was here the castle could be viewed in its entirety, and it was a magical sight to behold.
“It has been in your family for many years?” Sebastian asked.
“My family laid the first stone and a Rasmus has seen to its care ever since, but it has been no burden, rather a pleasure.”
“You have modernized it over the years.”
“A necessity, I assure you,” Dagon said with a laugh.
“Modem amenities do come in handy, and I imagine a full staff is one of them,” Sebastian said and took another swig.
“The castle’s upkeep requires full attention.”
“You only employ those of your kind?”
“A safety measure,” Dagon confirmed, “and of course it serves well for those young witches who require extra training and or life experience.”
“How did Sarina happen your way?”
Dagon admired, respected, and trusted Sebastian and felt comfortable discussing Sarina with him. “It’s the damnedest thing. Bernard said she appeared at the door looking for a position and one had just become available. Her references were excellent, her skills adequate, so he hired her.”
“I take it her skills are less than adequate?”
Dagon rubbed at the back of his neck. “The incident last night made that obvious.”
“You didn’t even attempt to use your powers to save that teacup; you reacted as a mortal would.”
Dagon cringed. “Please don’t remind me.”
“I thought your actions rather telling.”
“How so?”
“You obviously understand Sarina well and reacted accordingly. You appear remarkably attuned to her.”
Dagon glared at him as if he had just sprouted two heads. “Attuned?”
His obvious surprise brought a grin to Sebastian’s face. “You react to each other as if you are intimate mates. She thinks nothing of resting her feet against you. You think nothing of rubbing her feet. She drops her cup, you retrieve it without thought. And most of all,” he said with a gleeful rub of his hands, “you’re jealous.”
Dagon took exception to that remark. “I most certainly am not.”
“You most certainly are. You looked about to kill me when I hugged her shivering body to me,” Sebastian said with a nod. “Damn but it feels good to nod. It’s your turn to shake your head, and might I add you are doing a good job at it.”
“You’re crazy,” Dagon declared.
“I thought I was, though Ali does continue to drive me insane at times. But you’ll see for yourself that it’s a wonderful kind of insanity.”
“Are you suggesting that I love Sarina?” Dagon asked incredulously.
“I am suggesting you open your eyes and discover for yourself whether you do or not.”
“She possesses none of the qualities I would look for in a mate,” Dagon argued.
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have chosen a witch for a wife, but when love finds you, it contains no rhyme or reason. It arrives without fanfare or notice, creates chaos in your life, and then delivers a punch that knocks you senseless and from which you never recover.”
“I have received no such punch,” Dagon insisted and downed a hardy gulp.
Sebastian leaned over to him. “Then a word of warning, pal, be prepared, it’s on its way.”
Dagon grew indignant. “I’m always prepared.”
“Not for love,” Sebastian warned.
“I handled you and Ali quite nicely,” Dagon reminded.
“Of which I am forever grateful to you, but we’re talking about you and love.”
Dagon stood. “Of which I am entirely prepared. I am making plans to meet with a woman called the Ancient One.”
“Sydney mentioned something about her being very old.”
“And wise,” Dagon said. “She is one who would suit me well. She possesses all the qualities and more that I want in a lifemate.”
Sebastian laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Don’t bother making a list of what you want in a wife, it doesn’t work that way. We’re sent the one we’re supposed to join with, flaws and all.”
“Ali has flaws,” Dagon challenged.
Sebastian stood and faced him head-on. “She most certainly does. Her biggest one being her abilities—or lack of—in the kitchen.”
They both took a moment to think that over.
“I think it’s Margaret’s day to go to market,” Dagon said.
“I think we better get back,” Sebastian suggested.
Dagon reached for the thermos. “We ordered her to stay out of the kitchen.”
Sebastian shook his head. “Which means that’s exactly where she is.”
o0o
“Are you sure we can replicate the dough?” Ali asked.
“I have no doubt we can,” Sarina assured her. “I helped Margaret blend the dough this morning and recall exactly what she did. With your help we can have another batch made in no time.”
“About my help,” Ali said as they entered the kitchen. “I am not very skilled in the preparation of food.”
“I’m not very skilled at all,” Sarina said, “but I think we’re capable of making bread.”
Ali sounded skeptical. “I don’t know about that.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Sarina encouraged. “Now help me gather the necessary items.”
Flour soon covered the wooden tabletop, dusted the chairs, and was sprinkled over a good portion of the kitchen floor, not to mention the fine coat of flour that covered both Ali and Sarina.
“Recipes should be followed,” Sarina attempted to explain for the umpteenth time.
“But it’s all stuck together, it needs more flour,” Ali insisted and tossed a handful of flour into the bowl.
Sarina held her patience. “It’s supposed to be that way.”
“Oh,” Ali said and waved her finger over the bowl to undo what she had just done. “Has Margaret cast a protective spell over her kitchen? My powers refuse to work here.”
“Let’s do the best we can on our own.”
“That could prove disastrous,” Ali said.
Her lack of a smile and the last thirty minutes of working with Ali warned Sarina of that distinct possibility.
“I’ll add more water,” Ali offered and before Sarina could stop her, she spilled a half a cup into the bowl on top of the flour, sending gobs of wet flour spraying all over them.
Sarina shook her head and sighed.
“My goodness,” Ali said. “Cooking certainly can be dangerous.”
“I never realized just how dangerous it could be,” Sarina said, regretting her words when Ali’s plentiful smile turned sorrowful.
“I’m no good in the kitchen. I try, but I never manage to succeed.”
Sarina slipped her arm around her. “I’m even worse in everything I do. The only reason I know how to do this is because Margaret had the patience to show me. It took me weeks to learn how to peel a potato or carrot without scraping giant chunks out of them.”
“Really?” Ali asked with renewed hope.
“Really,” Sarina assured her with a gentle squeeze.”Now let’s take another shot at this.”
“You know what I was thinking?” Ali said, hurrying over to the large refrigerator, opening the door, and grabbing a jar to hold it up. “Cherries. I love cherries. Why don’t we make it cherry bread?”
Sarina nodded, not believing she agreed. But then the kitchen was already a mess, the dough a disaster—what else could possibly happen?
o0o
Dagon and Sebastian heard the startled cries as they neared the back of the castle and took off on a dead run.
“Turn it off, turn it off!” Sarina screamed.
“How? How?” Ali yelled back, the motor on the electric mixer sounding like a motorboat and drowning out their words.
Flour, milk, and gobs of dough were shooting out everywhere, hitting Sarina and Ali, the cabinets, the walls, and even splattering against Margaret’s cow clock.
Sarina attempted to approach the table and the angry machine. It spit out a wad of dough that stuck to her cheek not to mention the gobs of mess that already stuck to her hair and to her clothes. She supposed she looked just as bad as Ali, who was covered from head to toe with the flying dough, dusted with a film of flour, and looked completely at a loss of what to do next.
That’s when the foolishness of their situation hit her, and she began to laugh. Ali stared at her strange reaction, and as if finally understanding the absurdity of it all, she burst into a fit of laughter.
Dagon burst through the door first and wisely ducked as a lump of dough flew toward him, leaving it to hit Sebastian square in the forehead. Dagon laughed, though his humor was short-lived when he stood and was pelted in the face and chest with several gobs of gooey dough.
“Sarina!” he yelled and headed straight for her.
Sebastian wisely headed for the table using his arm as a shield. He grabbed for the projectile machine and rendered it helpless with the snap of a switch.
Ali held her hands up in surrender. “I thought my powers could right my wrongs, but Margaret must have a protective spell cast over her kitchen.”
“I don’t think it worked,” Sebastian said, taking slow steps toward his wife as he wiped the gobs of dough from his face.
“It’s all my fault,” Sarina said, close to tears.
“Nonsense,” Ali said. “I am absolutely clumsy in the kitchen. Sebastian knows that for a fact, and Dagon is also well aware of my lack of cooking skills.”
Sarina’s concern rushed over Dagon almost causing him to shudder. He felt her vulnerability and her isolation, and he ached to take her in his arms and chase her fears away.
Instead he reached out and gently wiped a gob of dough from her cheek. “Ali made the worst mud pies as a child and has yet to improve.”
Her smile, though faint, filled him with pleasure.
“Making a mess of my kitchen is one thing, Ali; making a mess of Margaret’s kitchen is another,” Sebastian warned and wiped a spot of dough from the corner of her mouth.
Ali’s chin went up defiantly. “Sarina and I are not finished. The kitchen will look spotless by the time we’re done.”
Sarina came to her defense. “Ali’s right. The kitchen will be returned to its usual spotless condition.”
“And the bread will be rising—cherry bread,” Ali said adamantly.
Sebastian laughed. “This I’ve got to see.”
Dagon caught Sarina’s sigh, empathizing with her momentary doubt, though she agreed with Ali. “Yes, there will be cherry bread for supper this evening.”
He was impressed by her fortitude and courage to help a friend even when she thought the task impossible. She did not retreat or surrender; she remained strong and he was pleased by her unselfish actions.
“I suppose we should leave them to their task at hand,” Dagon said to Sebastian. “We can clean ourselves up and drive over to Stirling for lunch, since the kitchen is presently out of service.”
Sebastian kissed his wife. “Have fun, sweetheart.” And he strolled out of the kitchen.
Dagon whispered near Sarina’s ear, “You are quite beautiful, dear heart.”
Both women stared at the retreating men, one making plans to bake cherry bread if it killed her, and one stunned by Dagon’s remark and the sincerity in which it was delivered.