“Four days,” Dagon said to Sarina as they strolled the castle grounds hand in hand.
The holidays had past, the staff had returned, and so would Tempest. Sarina knew all this, accepted it, and would deal with it, but Dagon was counting the days now, and she could see the worry on his handsome face.
She voiced her sudden thought with a smile. “When we have a son, I hope he looks like you.”
Dagon stopped and cast a reproachful glance. “You’re attempting to change the subject.”
With a tinkle of laughter she shook her head. “Not really, though I wouldn’t mind if we did, and I really, really wouldn’t mind having a son that looked like you.”
Her smile was much too contagious, and he found his own mouth turning to a generous grin. “And what if I give you three, four, maybe five sons that look like me?”
She bubbled with laughter. “We certainly would have our hands full with the women who chased after them.”
“Then I will teach them about bumbling witches and the power of rare love.”
She kissed him soft and long and released his mouth on a sigh. “I don’t wish to think of my sister’s return today. It is much too beautiful a day to waste, the sun is bright, the air is chilled, and I wish to spend a magical, memorable day with you.”
“Then let’s spend the day in Edinburgh.”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“We can be there in an hour, walk around the old town, browse the shops, and have supper out before we return.”
“It has been some time since I have been there,” she said.
“Some time?”
“A hundred years,” she admitted with reluctance.
“It’s changed.” And with a shake of his head added, “Your sister was right, you didn’t get out much. But that’s about to change.”
He took her hand and tugged her along behind him since she found it hard to keep up with his purposeful strides. Orders were issued to her along with the staff. She was to get dressed, comfortable shoes he insisted she wear, and he shouted for Alastair to ready the Rolls.
They were in the car within the hour, he dressed in black with the exception of the white silk scarf that was draped around his neck and tucked in his black overcoat. It highlighted his good looks and would no doubt draw women’s eyes to him.
She had chosen a long gray wool skirt and sweater that draped and curved along her body lines. Comfortable ankle boots and a matching wool gray swing coat finished her ensemble, and it was with much excitement that she accepted a glass of champagne from him as they headed toward Edinburgh.
Their talk was conversational, as if they were on a date, and she realized that this actually was their first date, and the thought thrilled her.
They talked, they laughed, and her eyes turned wide when she caught sight of Edinburgh Castle high on the hill. The hill was ravaged by time, but the castle itself sat with bold pride looking down upon the town. It stunned her as did the city itself, so vastly different from when she had last seen it.
The gray, almost black buildings were in the process of being cleaned of the soot that had penetrated the stone from years of mining. It was as if bleakness was being washed away slowly but surely and the hardiness of its people was once again shining through.
Alastair dropped them off in the old town, where history thrived and where she had once walked its cobblestone streets. They climbed the steep road hand in hand, her eyes darting to the many tourist shops and quaint restaurants.
“It’s called the Royal Mile,” Dagon explained. “From the castle down to the bottom here at Holyrood, it actually links four streets.”
“Castlehill, Lawnmarket, High Street, and Canongate, the heart of the ancient city,” Sarina said without thinking.
He grew concerned over her frown. “Do the memories upset you?”
“Some do,” she said and forced a smile. “But this chaotic splendor excites as well. I always loved the narrow lanes that trail between the tall buildings and that Robert Louis Stevenson explained so vividly in his book The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He captured the essence of that time period perfectly.”
“One of my favorite reads,” Dagon agreed, and they walked, stopping every now and then for Sarina to peek down the narrow lanes with wide eyes.
“The smells are more delicious than when I was here last.”
“Yes, a great improvement. I know a perfect place to eat later, but if you would like we could stop now for tea and something light.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, I’m not hungry yet, though I imagine these titillating smells will eventually do me in. Right now I’d like to see everything.”
“We could start up at the castle and work our way down.”
Her smile was impish. “Could we stop in some of the shops along the way?”
His delight in reintroducing her to the city shined as brightly in his eyes as did the excitement in hers. “Whatever you want, dear heart.”
He was toting a small shopping bag by the time they entered Edinburgh Castle. He had indulged her every whim, buying her sliver and onyx earrings in an antique shop, a stuffed bear dressed in a fashionable kilt, a book on Scottish landscapes, and a DVD of Braveheart after having listened to her explain that Mel Gibson looked nothing like William Wallace. He could only imagine how she would critique the popular movie.
They both opted not to use the guided tours or the headphone tours. They knew the history well, probably better than the written history itself. They walked in quiet reverence,
Sarina placing her hand on the gray stones and wiping a tear or two away as memories assaulted her.
“You know most of the kings and queens were advised by witches,” she said as they neared the end of their tour.
“Many sought my sister’s favor.”
He had not thought she would mention her sister today, but then perhaps memories had a way of stirring things.
“And did she give it?”
“She chose wisely as to who she would advise. She trusted few and those she kept at arm’s length. She complained that in their ignorance and greed they failed to learn the truth and in so doing chose their own demise.”
“I can only imagine what Tempest must have experienced in her long life.”
“She has watched, helped, and prayed for the growth of humanity, and never has she faltered in her hope and love for mankind.”
Dagon was beginning to gain a new respect for Tempest. He only hoped she would prove true to her character. He felt Sarina’s distress and sought to change it. “Hungry?”
“I thought you would never ask,” she said, hooking her arm in his. “I’m starving.”
“Good, I know a perfect restaurant, with the perfect atmosphere, and the most delicious menu.”
He hurried her along, their laughter ringing in the chilled air, his arm tucked snugly around her until they came to a narrow lane between two tall buildings with a sign that read THE WITCHERY.
She smiled with delight. “How perfect.”
Hanging plants and potted plants greeted their entrance as did a slim woman with a pleasant smile. They were led down steps to a table tucked in a corner with plants whose vines grew up the walls. Chamber music played its somber and repetitive melody, and tapestries depicting historical events graced the wall. The atmosphere was wonderful, the waitress cheerful and helpful with selections, and Sarina relaxed with a glass of chilled chardonnay in hand.
“They chose a good name for this place.”
He was about to tell her the reason for the name when he thought better of it and remained silent.
They were much too attuned for her not to sense his silence was on purpose. “The name has significance?”
Dagon was reluctant to repeat the tale, realizing it would probably upset her.
She reached out her hand to cover his. “They named it after the supposed witches that were burned nearby here.”
“Many think it a mere tale.”
She shook her head sadly. “It was no tale and not what most thought.”
“We don’t need to speak about it; I don’t wish to upset you.”
She cast bright eyes around the lovely dining room. “At least this delightful place stands in remembrance of those who were so wrongly accused. At least they will never be forgotten.”
“You knew of the burnings?”
“I didn’t witness them, my sister did. When she heard of the conflict, she knew there would be a problem, and she attempted to stop the senseless slaughter of mortals. But she wasn’t successful.”
“They say three hundred burned.”
“I don’t think there was that many, and it was not far from here were the chaos took place. Fear and ignorance drove righteous men to do evil deeds, and yet they thought themselves God-fearing men. Do you know not one true witch has ever been executed throughout all of history?”
“I have been taught that, but I have wondered over its validity. I have thought maybe one or two might have succumbed by mere accident.”
She smiled. “You don’t remember your lessons. There are no accidents where magic is concerned.”
“I stand corrected,” he said with a raise of his wineglass.
Their conversation continued as dinner was served.
“What help did your sister offer those unfortunates?” he asked.
“First she saw to securing the safety of the witches in the area. All were immediately dispensed elsewhere. Then she attempted to reason with the unreasonable.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t accuse her of being a witch; she is certainly beautiful enough to be termed a seductress.”
He bit his tongue as soon as the words left his mouth.
Sarina hid her smile with a frown.
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” Dagon attempted to explain. “It’s just that beautiful women, though she’s not as beautiful as you, have often, through the ages, been accused of being witches.” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m just putting my foot farther in my mouth.”
She laughed then and leaned over to kiss him. He didn’t relinquish her lips, he tasted them and savored them until Sarina pulled away nervous that they might draw attention.
“No one pays attention to witches, or lovers today, dear heart,” he said and kissed the tip of his nose. “Now let me correct my blunder.”
“You didn’t blunder, you were correct in your assumption,” she informed him. “Tempest was accused of witchcraft, and it was her beauty that caused the accusation, that and a man denied.”
“How did she escape?”
“She could have simply vanished in thin air, but there was one whom she could not leave behind.”
Dagon remained silent, eager to hear the tale.
Sarina continued. “A young girl, barely twelve and possessed with the power of sight—”
“But not one of us?” he asked.
“No, though I am sure somewhere in her bloodline was a witch, needing saving. Tempest simply would not leave her behind to suffer a vicious and senseless death. She cast a spell over the guards and went in search of the girl. The man who had propositioned my sister had the girl. He was telling her that he and he alone could save her.”
Dagon shook his head in disgust. “And by submitting to him, evil itself, she would save her soul.”
Sarina nodded. “Fortunately, Tempest had other plans.
“She materialized in his home, and he all but fainted at her feet. She then cast a spell over him that would only allow him to make love with a woman if there was love in his heart.”
“Damn, your sister’s good. Didn’t hurt or harm him, but taught him a much deserved lesson.”
“Yes, my sister is wise,” Sarina said with pride.
“What happened to the young girl?”
“Since she wasn’t a witch, Tempest couldn’t transport her to safety as fast and easily as she wished. She had to journey with her for several weeks until they finally reached a safe place. She then talked with the young girl, and I suppose you could say they became good friends. She died in Tempest’s arms when she was ninety-two, never having betrayed Tempest to anyone, not even her husband or children.”
The story tugged at Dagon’s heart. “Damn, I’m getting to like your sister.”
“She really is likable.”
“You could have fooled me.”
Dagon ordered tea and dessert.
“I would like you to get along with my sister,” Sarina said after the waitress had left.
“As long as she does nothing to hinder our relationship we’ll get along fine.”
“She is accustomed to having her way.”
“So am I,” he said firmly.
“You two will forever clash,” she said with a shake of her head.
“I disagree,” Dagon said with confidence. “All she needs to realize is that you will be my lifemate, and she is not to interfere.”
Sarina threw up her hands. “That’s all? How simple. And did you follow your own dictates when dealing with Sebastian and Ali?”
“That was different,” he protested.
“How?”
“Ali needed protecting and help.”
“And what if my sister thinks the same of me?”
“She doesn’t need to, I’m here to protect and care for you now.”
“And Tempest should just accept this after looking after me for over a thousand years?”
“You’re over a thousand years old?” he asked with surprise.
“Damn,” she muttered.
“You told me—”
“No, you assumed.”
He shook his head. “I better get some mighty good life insurance on you.”
They both laughed and it eased the mounting tension. She took his hand, turning it over to trace circles on his palm. “You do realize that when my powers are restored, they will far surpass yours.”
“Warning me, are you?” he asked, her playful finger causing heat to rise within him—and that wasn’t all that was rising.
“Will it disturb you? My powers being greater than yours?”
“I’ll worry about it when the time comes.”
Her finger ceased its gentle play. “You don’t think my powers will be restored?”
“Let’s just say that your powers are not significant to our relationship.”
The thought should have delighted her, but it didn’t. She missed her powers and yearned for their return. “If the spell isn’t fulfilled, then I return with my sister and it matters not about my powers.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said firmly and with a grasp of her wrist. “We are going to be lifemates, and nothing, not even the Ancient One, is going to prevent that feat.”
“You certainly are tenacious.”
He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “And aroused, dear heart. Your playful finger worked its magic.”
“Should we go back to the castle?” she asked with her own anxiousness.
He brushed his lips across hers. “I was thinking more of a hotel room.”
She turned wide, teasing eyes on him. “Sir, are you attempting to seduce me?”
His smile charmed and his blue eyes invited. “I can only seduce if there is love in my heart.”
Her smile warmed, her hand slipped into his. “I love you, Dagon.”
“That’s all I needed to hear.”
She didn’t know the name of the hotel and didn’t care, though she realized it was expensive. The lobby had been grand, the staff gracious, and the room they were showed to was simply stunning. Large and expensively decorated in blue and gold, and the bed a king-size that openly invited lovers.
Their clothes were discarded in haste, their hands reaching out to roam as they collapsed on the bed together. He teased her nipples with his tongue and his teeth, she moved in an exotic rhythm against his hardness, and they both moaned in pleasure.
This would not be a fast joining, they would take their time, pleasing and teasing each other, driving themselves to madness and enjoying every crazy, passion-filled moment.
His fingers penetrated, hers cupped, his teased, hers stroked, and they both sparked and flamed their raging desires. Their bodies grew damp, though they felt no chill, they rode on a fever pitch that had them aching for all they could give and more.
And when he entered her with a methodical slowness, she cursed him and arched beneath him, but he merely laughed, pulled back, and leaned over her to nip at her breasts and lips, and instructed her to be patient.
She cursed him again and he laughed again, though he reached out and grabbed her wrists tightly in his hands.
“It’s patience I’ll teach you, witch.” He yanked her up along with him as he moved to bended knees, forcing himself deeply into her, and she yelled out with the pleasurable penetration of his full hardness. But then he released her wrists and slipped his hands down to her waist, grabbing hold of her slender curves, and ordered her to wrap her legs around his waist.
When she did he set a rhythm with his body and with his hands on her waist together they rode on a crest that swelled and peeked and collided like a crashing wave on shore.
That was only the beginning. The night was spent in a frenzy of lovemaking. Tender and slow, fast and furious, quick and urgent, patient and gentle, they shared it all. And Sarina fell in love all over again, but then she had the distinct impression that she would do that time and time again throughout their lifetime together.
Dagon felt the same. When he thought he knew everything about her, understood her every move and feeling, she surprised him and he discovered her all over again. He would never grow bored with her, never tire of making love to her, and never stop telling her how very much he loved her.
They fell asleep wrapped around each other at the foot of the large bed, the sheets twisted around their damp bodies and their breathing finally returned to normal.
Sarina was embarrassed the next morning when she looked about the room. The bedcovers were torn from the bed and lay in a heap on the floor—only a crumpled sheet remained on the mattress. The couch cushion lay clear across the room, and the chair cushions were strewn beneath the windows along with the throw pillows. Empty champagne bottles lay discarded on the table and floor, and all that was left of a bowl of plump strawberries were the stubby stems.
She immediately began to straighten the room, rushing around naked, picking up pillows and tripping over sheets.
Dagon simply laughed at her antics, scooped her up, and demanded she shower with him.
The bathroom looked no better, and she blushed when she recalled their time together in the tub and out of it.
He merely laughed and dragged a protesting Sarina under the warm pulsating shower spray.
She slept in his arms all the way home, and he held her tightly, protectively.
“Three days,” he said to himself, and they still had not come to a rational decision of how to handle her sister.
Tonight, they would talk this out and make definite plans. He would not lose her. She belonged to him and he belonged to her, and they would join as lifemates. Her sister would simply have to understand. He would make her understand.