Scent of a Witch (5 page)

Fionn refused to let go of Maeve as the power of the spell exploded around them. She may have thought he couldn’t follow, but she was wrong. Not only could he follow, he could hitch a ride. Interlocking their fingers, he grabbed the medallion around her neck, no longer hidden by the cameo, and boldly representing the inte
rlocking of their family lines.

When the light vanished, leaving them in the dark, Fionn inhaled, not surprised when he smelled the scents of cold storage used by those of long ago: damp earth, potatoes, onions, and wooden barrels. So they’d traveled back in time. The weight of humid air and the memory of the word
slide
in her spell
gave him the assumption
they were still in the south. But when?

And there was someone else there. His heightened senses immediately pic
ked up another presence nearby.

“By all that is holy…” Maeve almost cursed but he covered her mouth and dragged her into the shadows under the steps. A creaking door opened and light appeared, follow
ed by heavy but sure footsteps.

“You get down there boy and you get that barrel before the mas’r notices the drink runs low,” a heavily accented woman’s voice called. Yep they were still in the south.

Light from the full moon slanted through the open door, momentarily filled by huge shoulders and a bulky figure. A large man lumbered down the rickety steps, his nearly black skin and the rough material of his dark clothing blending him with the shadows. A litany of swearing was on the tip of Fionn’s tongue. He recognized the slave named Little Jim
,
and now he knew to which time she’d brought them. They were back just before the Battle of Franklin…a time
Fionn
had already been to. Suddenly, he was thankful for the blue uniform and his longer hair, which made him feel a little safer. But that didn’t stop the fact he needed to know exactly why they were here. However, his interrogation of the little witch in his arms would have to wait until Little Jim retrieved his barrel. Lips
of
rose petal soft
ness
pressed into his callused palms teasing him. It had been ages since Fionn’s arms had held a woman. And according to his memory
,
none
had
ever
felt as perfect as she. The top of her head pressed against his shoulder, her body’s soft curves molded to his hard muscles. It was as if they simply fitted. What was he thinking? He had to concentrate on his interrogation as the sound of Little’s Jim’s grunts and heavy steps faded and finally stopped after the slamming of cellar doors.

With more force than needed, he turned Maeve around, snapped and all the candles in the room lit.

“How did you—?”

He held up an impatient hand, warning her into silence. “No lass, it is my turn to ask questions and you gave
me your word you would answer.”

Maeve’s eyes narrowed and she jutted her chin out. “Fine. Get on
with it. I haven’t much time.”

Fionn studied her before he let her go. Oh, she was a beauty. But her feature
s gave up none of her thoughts.

“Why are we here…now? Better yet
,
how did you perform a slide that easily?” Going back in time was one thing, going to the future was a disaster no sane time walker would attempt, but a slide
in either direction
took not only talent but intelligence
,
and also true power. One had to be at exactly the right place at the perfect time to attempt a slide back. Buildings were built, the earth changed, powers aligned on different planes
.
A
ll these things had to be
accounted for in order to
slide.

“There is a nexus under this plantation and I’m here to fix a mistake my grandparents made on this night. Consider it the fulfillment of a last wish
,
”
s
he answered
,
untying her sash and pulling her sle
eves down to reveal her corset.

“What exactly are you planning to fix?” Fionn demanded as she took off one of the many layers of skirt. He struggled for enough saliva to swallow over his suddenly dry throat. “And why are you undressing?”

“Preventing the kidnapping of a child born this night. And I can’t very well be seen walking around the slaves’ quarters looking like this
,
now can I?”
s
he retorted
,
pushing do
wn another skirt.

“You will not be going around the slave’s quarters. Not on this night especially,” Fionn insisted, remembering the plans of some of the soldiers. With the speed that cost him the lock of hair above his right ear she pulled a knife…a silver knife, backed him up against the wall holding the blade at his neck. Never in his life had he been amused, afraid, and proud all at the same time. The l
ass truly had spirit and skill.

“I don’t know how you traveled with me and I don’t have time to care. There is one thing and one thing only that I am here to do this night. When I’m done, everything will be as it should be. Now, you may be immortal and you are obviously a warlock…a strong one too. But silver certainly does hurt and a wound that would prove fatal to anyone else may not kill you, but it will take time to heal.” She slid the blade along his skin while the candle light flickered in her feral cat-like eyes. Determined eyes.

“I’m not one to result to such barbaric means…and right now for this night I’m stronger than you.” Without backing away
,
she spoke what he recognized as a bondage spell.
“Born of two, but meant as one, by birthright,
by blood
right, I
invoke the power of the nexus…”
She smiled, her cat’s eyes glinting in the dim light.
“To bind this man, u
ntil the light of dawn’s rays.”

Unseen restraints
held Fionn’s wrists and ankles.

After returning her knife back to the holster Maeve continued to undress. Unable to look away, Fionn couldn’t help but appreciate the irony of the situation and therefo
re couldn’t resist goading her.

“If you wanted me to watch you undress I would have been willing
.
” Her response was to cut a strand of hair from above his left ear this time. The laughter came perhaps more easily than it should have, but he couldn’t suppress it any longer. With only one petticoat left on her, she turned the white material in her hands inside out and revealed a white cotton dress. After stepping into the skirt part, she began to but
ton up the front of the bodice.

“Perhaps I should have given the compliment. You
are
a bonny clever lass.”

She flinched when he said “bonny,” but
then picked her rhythm back up.

“Aren’t you going to relieve yourself of that corset? Lasses
of lower standing wouldn’t wear those now. I would be willing to help
,
”
h
e offered.

“Nay, it will keep my ribs in place when I jump from the cliff. I’d rather die of a broken neck than a rib piercing my lung. Much quicker and less painful.” She spoke of her death with such calm, even precision; it took a moment for the words to sink in.
Fionn swore violently at her in Gaelic and English as he fought against his bonds. This behavior
finally got her to look at him.

“Peace, Fionn Hughes. No one will find you and at sunrise
you can go on with your life.”

He’d only known her for hours but the thought of living in a world or a time without her breathing caused him
pain that didn’t seem possible.

“Tell me lass…tell me
,
Maeve
,
what game do ye play?” he asked as rage boiled
with
in him. She pulled the bobby pins from her hair, freeing the curly mass of copper and brown to fall chaotically over her shoulders. Lickin
g her lips, she approached him.

“You said you weren’t here to hur
t me. Why are you here, Fionn?”

“My father, laird of the Hughes, sent me to your time for your grandparents. Only I was too late. And it is so that I can’t change. But I guess you already tried.” He briefly felt bad for not telling her the truth but he was desperate. She was talking of dying and he had to stop her. Those who could manipulate time could oftentimes prevent death, so long as it wasn’t fate’s plan. Only that hadn’t been the case with Cordelia and Patrick Sweeney. He had tried to go back and prevent both their deaths only he couldn’t…proving that it had been fate’s design. If he had tried he assumed she had too. But he figured she wouldn’t answer him clearly, which was why he employed the manipulation of words. The gentle tear that slid her cheek confirmed his accusation.

Sweeping the tear away she
hoped,
for the briefest moment
,
the plan was wrong, but Fionn’s mission confirmed her thoughts as well. Her grandparents were needed much more than she was. “Like I thought
,
it’s not really important to what I must do. Because I know my granny spoke fondly of the clan Hughes laird and there is nothing you can do to stop me
,
I
will share with you my plans.”

“I was abroad when my granny died. By the time I returned she was already dead and buried per her last wishes as indicated to her attorney. I travel and often am difficult to reach. She knew that and prepared. All her will said was that I should go to the attic of the Sweeney House and would find what I seek.” She laughed but it was a sad sound, as she wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Granny was like that…all cryptic and riddle
-
like. When I got there, I found a chest with my name written on it. In the chest was a scrap of material stained in blood, directions to find this necklace, and a letter.” Maeve held the Celtic Knot forward from her chest
and massaged it with her thumb.

“What did the letter say lass?” Fionn spoke tenderly
,
as he would to one of his wee cousins.

“It explained the origin of my birth. My mother was heavy with child when she was stolen away from the time she belonged on the day of my delivery and brought here. A kind slave man found her and brought her to his wife where they delivered a healthy son…” She paused looking into the dark then her eyes met his. “And a very small, very weak
,
twin daughter. Me.”

“I don’t understand
…
why wouldn’t you just prevent your mother’s kidnapping?”

“My mother died after I was born and my brother was brought to the Cartons to
be
raise
d
. Only my twin is a cruel and devious man by nature. He must be allowed to live in this time and stay ignorant of our lineage. And I must keep my grandparents from retrieving me. With my death they will not be hunted by the leaders of Witchery and then killed. They will live and die to
gether as it should have been.”

She stood and went toward the sta
irs. Fionn fought against his restraints
again.

“Maeve you’re wrong!” He twisted in the grip of the invisible bonds, straining his muscles against the force of the spell she had spoken. “Maeve! Come back! This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I
will
stop you…I swear I will protect you…Even from yourself!” he vowed. But she took the steps two at a time without looking back.

Maeve leaned against the side of Carton House, panting as she caught her breath. The emotional power coming from Fionn had been so strong it had almost stopped her. Never had she felt the same kind of connection with anyo
ne except her blood family.

She inhaled deeply, taking comfort in the smells of autumn. Lanterns adorned the steady stream of carriages traveling the lane to the mansion, their feeble light outshone by the full moon. Each carriage that pulled in front of the massive, white-columned mansion stopped just long enough to spit out a guest or two and then drove on. It amazed Maeve how they could continue with life when war raged all around them. She sighed. In a few short weeks the deadly Battle of Franklin would change the way of life they knew so well. Perhaps ignorance was a tender mercy, and they deserved to live the carefree time for now.

Maeve took a moment to remember the description of the plantation she’d memorized from the old records. There was no guarantee they were correct but it was a good backup plan to know the lay of the land. Her first choice was to find the slave man named Little Ji
m and follow him to her mother.

“Jim, did you hear? Your maw needs you at the house
,
”
a
woman with the gentlest voi
ce Maeve had ever heard called.