Secret Of The Rose (Legacy Of Magick Series, Book 2) (12 page)

“Hmmm. I guess we fell asleep after the second round.”

“We earned it,” he said.

I slid down, and ran a line of kisses from his chest down to his belly. I smiled in satisfaction when his stomach quivered. “I guess I should probably go.” I trailed my kisses lower and felt his hands tighten in my hair.

Duncan’s hands clenched and he groaned when I ran my tongue across the length of him.

“Unless you’d rather I stayed?” I paused. The light of the waning moon shone through the window and I could see him clearly. His hands tightened in my hair again, and he seemed to be holding his breath.

“Can’t make up your mind?” I teased.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, and yanked me back up to the top of the bed. He flipped me over onto my back and pushed my knees apart. I bit back a moan when he lowered his head between my thighs. I reached my hands back for the spokes of his wrought iron headboard and held on.

Beside us, the bedside clock blinked, crackled, and went out.

***    

“Well, holy crap.” I panted, sometime later.

Duncan and I lay side by side trying to catch our breath. I felt him reach out for his alarm clock. He banged it against the night stand a few times but it stayed dark. “We fried it,” he said, and began to laugh.

I snorted out a laugh as well. I covered my mouth, horrified at the un-ladylike noise, but that only made Duncan laugh harder. I gave it up and let the laughter come. “I’ll get you a windup clock,” I said. It struck me as ridiculous that our combined energy had literally shorted out the living room lights
and
the bedside alarm clock.

Duncan reached down and took my hand in his. He raised it, and pressed the back of my hand to his lips. “How about a shower and then I’ll fix you breakfast?”

I smiled at him. “Sounds good.”

The sun was beginning to rise as I stood wearing only my unbuttoned blouse, bra and panties in Duncan’s bathroom. I brushed out my hair, and Duncan sat on the side of his bed, shirtless, in unsnapped jeans, watching me.

“You have a little tattoo on your left hip,” Duncan said.

“Too busy last night to notice it?” I grinned at him as I walked in the room. I reached for my jeans and stepped into them. Before I could pull them all the way up, Duncan came over to inspect the small tattoo.

“A blue crescent moon and yellow stars.” He ran a fingertip over them.

“You like?” I asked as I hitched the jeans up the rest of the way.

“Yes, I like that little smiling moon. Now I’ll seethat every time I look at you.” He grinned at me.

After a casual breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, Duncan dropped me off at the manor. The gates were open as we pulled in. We shared a lingering kiss before I hopped out of his blue truck and waved goodbye.

I watched as he backed his truck out of the driveway, and as soon as he cleared the gates, they closed— all on their own.

I dug my keys out of my purse and stood for a moment, enjoying watching the eastern sky brighten. The crisp smell of leaves and mums were ripe in the morning air. How I loved the colors, and scents, of the season my father had named me after. With a happy sigh, I headed for the front porch. My foot had only hit the first step when I heard someone singing.

I cocked my head to the side and listened. Whoever they were, they had a strong voice. Intrigued, I followed the sound. I walked around the corner of the house, and realized I was hearing a woman singing the old Robert Palmer song, “Addicted to Love”.

There in the rose garden, kneeling in the plants, was Ro. Her back was to me, and, once again, she appeared with the fuchsia sweater, denim overalls, and that silly straw hat with the pink flowers on the brim.

Seriously?
A singing ghost?
I stopped for a second, and rolled my eyes to the sky. I took a deep breath to psych myself up, and continued forward. As I walked closer to the rose garden, Ro turned around.

“Good morning,” she said turning back to her gardening, and to belting out that song from the 1980’s.

“Good morning, Ro.” I stopped at the edge of the rose garden. I crossed my arms against the early morning chill.

“Have a nice time with Duncan last night?” she asked.

“What?” I gaped at her.

She continued to sing the song while she fussed with the lavender planted under the roses.

I blushed at the appropriateness of the lyrics. I didn’t even want to know how a ghost had kept tabs on my sex life.

While I stood there at a loss for words, Ro turned her head up to me and grinned. “I assume you had a
very
nice time as you are strolling home after sunrise.”

“I am so
not
having this conversation,” I said and turned away. I managed about two steps before Ro suddenly materialized directly in front of me. I couldn’t help it. I squeaked as I came to a halt.

“Did you use protection, young lady?” Ro planted her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows.

“Dear god,” I muttered, shutting my eyes in embarrassment. “Keep your voice down.”

“No one can hear me but you.” Ro tapped her foot. “Well?”

“Yes! Yes, we used protection.” I tossed my hands up in frustration. “And clearly I’ve had a psychotic break since I’m standing here discussing safe sex with a ghost!”

“Well, a baby would complicate your plans for that Master’s degree,” Ro pointed out.

A baby would complicate your plans...
“Ro, what can you tell me about my father’s son? The baby that was born in 1985?”

Ro’s image suddenly started to fade. I could see her lips moving, but there was no sound. I reached out, as if that would stop her departure. My hands passed right through her image and felt chilled.

“Ro!” I called out for her, but she was gone— again.

I walked around to the back of the manor on the off chance that the ghost had materialized somewhere else, but found nothing.
Figures, the minute I start to ask the important questions...
My good mood was sliding towards annoyance, and I pulled my jacket closer to ward off the morning chill. I heard the loud call of a crow, and tipped my head up to discover one perched on the peak of the roof of the manor.

“Don’t you start with me,” I said, and to my amazement the crow launched itself from the roof and landed a few feet in front of me.

The crow folded its wings under. It walked along with its head bobbing. “
Koww, koww,
” the bird called.

“Okay.” I stood still, waiting to see what the bird would do. I held my breath, partly curious, and partly thrilled at my close encounter with the large bird.

The crow cocked his head at me and seemed to be waiting. I took an experimental step forward, and the bird flapped his wings as if he wanted to keep me from going anywhere. I stepped to the left, and the bird hopped over playfully as if to block me. I tried going right, with the same result. “Well, aren’t you smart?” I said to the bird. “I read somewhere that the crow was thought to be one of the smartest animals in the world.”

I started to chuckle as the bird’s head bobbed up and down, and he called again. Wondering what would happen, I sank slowly to my knees in the wet grass. I held my breath when the crow ambled over close enough to touch. It seemed to regard me carefully.

“You’re very handsome,” I couldn’t help but grin as the crow held his head a bit higher at the compliment.
I mean, it wasn’t any stranger than anything else that had happened recently.
My fingers itched to touch, and I considered getting my phone out of my purse to get a picture of the crow.

The bird began to pick through his feathers. He pulled a small feather from his wing, and as I held my breath, the crow dropped the feather on my knee. “Thank you,” I said.

The crow hopped back, and with a few flaps of his wings that had my hair fluttering, he launched himself back into the sky.

I picked up the feather and rose to my feet. I brushed at my wet knees, and watched the crow circle around the manor and then settle back on a point of the roof. I twirled the feather as I let myself back in the house, thinking about today’s ghostly and avian visits.

I quietly went up the stairs, figuring everyone was still sleeping, and eased into my own bedroom. I shut the door behind me and flipped the lock. I walked over to the mantle above the white brick fireplace and picked up the large feather from the crow that had smacked into my truck’s windshield last month.

That crow had caused me to stomp on my brakes and avoid a SUV that had ran a stop sign. The bird had probably saved the twins and me from being in a serious car accident.
There’s no way this playful bird today was the same bird from before... was there?
I considered the possibility, and tucked the new smaller crow feather next to a few of my favorite framed photos displayed on the mantle.

I wandered over to my bedroom window, glancing down towards the rose gardens. They looked normal at the moment— whatever normal was around here anyway.Before I could forget, I grabbed my notebook. This was my second ghostly encounter in the manor’s gardens with Ro, and I wanted to document it. At her first visitation she had told me to study my family tree. This had led me to uncovering the secret of my father’s first child. But when I asked her about that baby today, she had faded away.

Who was Ro, really? And why was she haunting me?

I needed to speak to Gwen. It was time for some answers. Today would be crazy with the girls getting ready for their Homecoming dance. But early this evening, as soon as they left, Gwen and I would be alone in the manor.

I tossed my jacket over the footboard of my bed and stripped out of my damp jeans while I went through various scenarios as to how I could confront my aunt about the ghost in the rose garden
and
the family tree.

A loud knock sounded on my door. Before I could open it, the lock popped, and the glass door knob turned. I knew what was coming and stepped quickly back, right before it slammed open.

Ivy stood out in the hall with both hands full of nail polish. “Good! Your back! What color should I paint my nails tonight?”

“Using your magick to open locked bedroom doors isn’t polite, Ivy,” I said, standing there is my underwear.

“Whatever.” Ivy shoved the bottles at me.

I glanced down at the nail polish. “Every one of these polishes are black.”

“Hey! Is that a tattoo on your hip?” Ivy grabbed at my hips and turned me around.

“Aack!” I jumped back to evade. “Hands off my butt!”

“What’s going on in here?” Gwen stood smiling from the doorway. Wrapped in a plush hunter green robe, she wore flannel pajama pants and was sipping calmly from a mug.

“Mom, check this out!” Ivy turned me so Gwen could see my back. “Autumn has a design close to the family’s magickal crest tattooed on her hip.”

“Family magickal crest?” I asked them, my hands still full of bottles of nail polish.

Gwen stepped into my room setting the mug on my dresser. She unbelted her robe, turned her back to me, shrugging her right shoulder free. As the robe dropped down, I saw above the tank top that she’d slept in, a large black crescent moon tattoo. The crescent was made up of Celtic knot work, and three small stars were sprinkled around the moon.

“Your father also had this tattoo.” Gwen pulled the robe back into place. “His was centered—”

“On his back,” I said, handing the polish back to Ivy. A little shaken, I went to my dresser for a pair of yoga pants. “That was the reason I got this little blue moon,” I admitted. “It was a way to honor his memory after he died. I didn’t realize that the crescent was a family crest.”

“It’s a cute tattoo, but you need a bigger one,” Ivy suggested.

“It’s an interesting coincidence,” I said.

Gwen picked up her mug and moved to the doorway. “I don’t believe in coincidences.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Before I could call after my aunt, Ivy was waving nail polish at me and demanding to know which was better, shiny black, black glitter, or a flat black for her manicure.

I pulled my yoga pants on and helped Ivy pick out a sparkly black polish. It was at that moment that I realized I had found my opening for the discussion I needed to have with my aunt. A discussion about our resident ghost, my father’s past
and
his son.

While I listened to Ivy’s happy chatter, I considered what I had learned. I didn’t think it was a fluke that the family’s magickal crest was a crescent moon, and we were now searching for a grimoire tied into the magick of lunar eclipses.

I was starting to think that Gwen was right. There was no such thing as
coincidence.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I had never seen such a commotion in all my life as the twins getting ready for Homecoming. I was roped into their preparations for the rest of the day, whether I liked it or not. Once they were ready, the sheer amount of pictures Gwen took was staggering.

The girls posed on the decorated staircase, and Ivy’s halter top style black polka dot dress was perfect for her. She paired the knee length dress with red chucks, and somehow it worked. Holly’s dress was also above her knees, and was a strapless number in a pretty aqua-blue. Their dates, Travis and Eric, arrived, and the photos started all over again.

Still, I was determined to have a private talk with Aunt Gwen. So I stayed at the manor, and tried to be a good sport. While I watched the girl’s photo session with their dates, I decided— for the time being—not mention the information about my father’s son that I’d found. Instead, I wanted to bring up the subject of the ghost and see what, if anything, Gwen could tell me about her. Then depending on that, I’d broach the other sensitive topic. We’d had enough drama at the manor lately.

I bided my time, and waved goodbye to the girls and their dates. It was late afternoon, and apparently they were supposed to meet up with a large group before the dance for dinner. As soon as I heard their car leave, I followed Gwen into the kitchen and, verbally, pounced. “Did you know that we have a ghost?”