Spellbound (3 page)

“
I
diot
.” Jane scolded herself. “You had one of the MacGregors right there, willing to talk to you, and you could have at least tried to act normal and land yourself a decent paying job. So what if he’s handsome. You shouldn’t hold that against him. You’re not trying to date him. You only want to get your hands on his gardens. You’re trying to get paid.”

A tiny voice in her head that she couldn’t seem to control answered,
You want to get your hands on his garden? Is that what Scotsmen are carrying under their kilts these days?

She paused, glancing behind her while contemplating if she could turn around and accept the offer for a drink. “Oh, shut up, brain. Now I’m the crazy lady talking to herself again.”

There was no graceful way to resume a conversation with Iain, so she continued down the hill. Besides, Iain was definitely not the MacGregor she wanted to do business with. The sound of his voice had turned her insides to mush and made her hallucinate being in a Scottish field.

The hallucination worried her, but it didn’t frighten her as it would have most people. She was living on borrowed time as it was. The doctors had warned her there would be symptoms as her body deteriorated. They’d given her a year to live, even though they couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong with her. She’d well surpassed that prognosis.

“Dammit, Jane,” she swore as she thought of the man’s alluring smile. The last thing Jane needed in her life was complications. “Stupid. Stupid. Stu—”

Jane stiffened as goose bumps washed over her. Trying not to react, she forced her feet to keep moving. She hoped the ghosts from Lydia’s house hadn’t followed her. Why did she have to look directly at them?

“Stupid.”

Just because she could glimpse through the veil, didn’t mean she wanted to. If she ignored the spirits, they would go away, as long as they didn’t suspect she could see them. Jane walked faster, hoping it was a residual haunting who wouldn’t know she passed. Residual spirits just replayed the same scene from their life, repeatedly, unaware of what they’d become and of the people who passed by them.

Jane wasn’t so lucky. The chill followed her as she strayed off her direct path. She’d stumbled upon what was called an intelligent haunting, a ghost that was aware. Sometimes, spirits followed people around when they were bored. Though ghosts were normally locked to a location and couldn’t move about too freely, there were some who figured out how to break out of their boundaries. Jane imagined that, for them, watching the living was much like having their own personal reality television show. It was time for her current undead stalker to change the channel. If she was boring enough, the ghost would lose interest and flutter away.

Bagpipes. Ghosts. Hallucinations. Walking fantasy in a kilt. Jane didn’t need this. All she wanted to do was keep her head down, work hard enough to run her nursery, and that’s it. The end. She didn’t have any grand aspirations beyond that. Work was honest. Loneliness was safe. And when the time came, she wouldn’t leave anyone to grieve her.

She turned again, correcting her course toward the nursery. The chill stayed with her, keeping pace. She lowered her eyes and walked faster. Why wouldn’t it leave?

“We know a secret,” a voice whispered in her ear, startlingly loud.

Jane jolted in surprise. The ghost giggled, having caught her reaction. She turned to face the apparition, but it faded before she could get a good look at it. A steak of darkness ran away from her and disappeared completely.

“Stupid,” Jane berated herself. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

“
L
ittle Jane
, there you are, dear. Did you think you could outrun your fate forever?”

Seeing Jane try to avoid a couple of child ghosts was quite amusing to the
bean nighe
as she watched from her perch in a tree. A feeling of relief and excitement came over the old being. In all her imagining, she never would have guessed Jane had ended up in Wisconsin. But this place would do as well as any other. She wondered how Jane had managed to heal herself so well, but it didn’t matter. Soon, the
bean nighe
would feed.

“Come here, children,” the
bean nighe
whispered. Instantly, the two ghosts blurred and came toward her as commanded. They materialized from their dark shadows to stand as the perfect vision of innocence. White matching dresses with blue stripe trim encased pale, translucent skin. Their petticoat skirts fell to their knees to reveal ankle-high boots. Sweet smiles and cherub cheeks belied the mischief in their little brown eyes. Dark blonde ringlets framed their faces in large curls. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

One of the girls’ smiles widened, and she glanced at her twin. They didn’t speak.

The
bean nighe
hoped down from her perch. The girls dissipated before the creature landed on them and reappeared, holding hands, a few feet away.

“Why do you follow her?” the
bean nighe
asked.

In a singsong voice, one girl answered, “She is on borrowed time. Soon, she will be sleeping fine.”

Laughing the old creature nodded. “Come, children. Show me where you live. I can see it takes a lot of energy for you to be out here, and I think we have much to discuss.”

The other girl warned in the same eerie tune, “We’re not bound anymore. We’re not leaving like before.”

“Oh, my little darlings,” the
bean nighe
said, “I wouldn’t dream of sending you away.”

They giggled in response and began to run across the clearing, fading into nothingness.

“
B
rilliant
!” Malina laughed and clapped her hands. Even though she carried an English accent, she was a MacGregor. Like all the MacGregors, she had dark hair and eyes, but since Euann had tampered with her shampoo, her hair currently had streaks of silvery white in it. Until the prank spell wore off, she’d be coloring her hair dark every morning to hide the reemerging gray.

Iain ignored his sister as he focused on the bar napkin he’d magickally formed into a little swordsman. His paper champion wielded a green plastic cocktail pick sword at his cousin Rory’s little soldier.

“Get him,” Malina ordered quietly though neither combatant knew who she cheered for.

The MacGregor men were overprotective of Malina. She hated it. Rory and Iain had boxed her in at a table along the wall of the bar as an unnecessary precaution. If any male wanted to talk to Malina, they’d have a whole clan to get through first.

Iain’s swordsman slashed the weapon over his opponent’s napkin stomach.

“Hey, no fair, bird boy,” Rory protested. “Ya should stick to feathers and flying because ya can’t swing your weapon like that. It’s clear that is no Viking broadsword. Have a little respect for the art of swordplay.”

“Ya are just mad my guy is winning,” Iain whispered in return.

“I am—” Rory’s protest was cut off as Malina slammed her palm down on the napkin warriors.

“Incoming.” She swiped her hand to the side and wadded the evidence of their play as an elderly gentleman came up behind them to thank them for the free drinks. The bar wasn’t anything special. It smelled of old beer and dust and had wood paneling on the walls. There were the requisite pool table and dartboard, bad neon-lit signs and beer flyers on each table. Yet, for what it was—a bar in a small town—it served its purpose.

When the man left, Euann joined them and slapped Iain on the shoulder. To Malina, he said, “Hey, old lady, did Iain tell ya about his new girlie-friend?”

Malina arched a brow and unconsciously touched her gray-streaked hair. “Oh, paybacks are coming, brother, trust in that.”

Euann laughed, unconcerned. Over the centuries, boredom often led to familial pranks. This wasn’t the first, and it wouldn’t be the last. In fact, Malina might bide her time for the next one, waiting a hundred years for the perfect revenge.

“I don’t have a girlie-friend,” Iain grumbled. He made his crushed swordsman crawl wounded toward Malina for help before doing a couple of death quivers.

Malina plucked the umbrella pick out of her drink and bit off the pineapple chunk before conjuring a paper lady in a Victorian gown. She handed the lady the umbrella and made her walk, hips swaying, toward Iain. He swiped his hand in the air to knock the napkin lady over. Malina made a small noise of affront before magickally standing the woman back up and having her stab Iain in the back of his hand with the sharp end of the umbrella.

“Ow.” Iain snatched his hand away before crushing the moving sculpture beneath his flat hand and wadding it in his fist.

“So barbaric.” Malina chuckled. “And that’s why you will never have a girlfriend.”

“Better a Scottish barbarian than an English rose,” Iain teased.

The North Berwick witch trials had made it a necessity to get Malina out of Scotland when she was born. She’d been raised in England and, though hundreds of years had passed since her birth, she still carried the British ways—unless she was mad. Malina had a fierce temper, and when it flared her Scottish accent came flying out. “Better a rose than a pain in my ars—”

“So what’s this about a girlie-friend?” Rory interrupted.

“Iain tried to talk to a chick.” Euann laughed. “It did not go well. She ran away from him practically screaming in fear.”

Rory gave Iain a mournful look. “Well, Iain, what did ya expect? Ya are not a pretty man.”

“I tried to tell him,” Euann said.

“Enough. A man does not have to take this abuse. I’m going for a walk.” Iain finished his dirty vodka martini and set the glass down. With the mention of his mystery woman, he found he wanted to find her. There was something about her that called to him.

“Aw, we’re just teasing,” Euann called as Iain walked out the door. Laughter followed the statement. Iain wasn’t insulted by his family’s joking.

With all the private residences, businesses, parks and streets in Green Vallis, Iain wasn’t sure how he’d find her. Logically, he wouldn’t. It was a good thing he didn’t have to rely solely on logic. Taking a deep breath, he let instinct guide him. Magick would lead him where he wanted to go. He cleared his mind and just let his feet wander.

“
H
ello
?”

Jane whipped her head up and stiffened at the male voice. On instinct, she looked for a place to hide. Since she was outside, she couldn’t really crawl underneath a tomato plant.

“Janey?”

Slowly, she looked behind her. “Sean. How did you…? What are you…?”

The last time she’d seen her stepbrother was at her father’s funeral. They’d never been very close. He was older than her though to look at his perfectly chiseled face one would never guess. He had the kind of features that looked early twenties, not forties. As a teenager, he’d been athletic and beautiful. Jane had been sickly and underweight. There was an easy charm to Sean’s smile and manners that made him instantly likable. At first, Jane had been very fond of him. He’d been nice to her. That was before she’d learned the hard lessons of human nature. His niceness was a façade, and she’d mistaken it as caring.

Now, seeing his white-blond hair and piercing blue eyes left her cold. The same easy smile was there, spread over his face like a mark in time, bringing her back to childhood. Her stomach began to ache, tightening in knots. She remembered what it was like to be too weak to stand up, to be too tired to turn over in bed.

“Sis!” Sean spread his arms and came toward her. She didn’t move as he hugged her. Confusion set it. Why was he hugging her? What was he doing here?

“Sean, how did you find me?” Jane leaned away, and he let her go.

His smile faltered some, but he didn’t let it drop completely.

“What are you doing here?” She looked over his shoulder. “Is Dana with you?”

“I’m so sorry, Jane, but I come with bad news. Mother is dead. I tried to find you before she passed, but you’re a hard woman to track down.” Sean paused as if waiting for her words of sympathy.

“Dana is dead?” Jane tried not to let her relief show. At least her stepmother wasn’t out front waiting in the car.

“She talked about you a lot at the end. She missed you. We tried very hard to find you.” Sean made his way over to her garden and seemed to study the evenness of the rows. “She was so good to you, you know?”

“Uh, yes,” Jane whispered. If by
good
he meant her stepmother always smiled and gave her gifts, then yes, Dana had been good to her. Too bad smiles and new shoes didn’t equal love.

Dana’s life had been more of a performance for others. She’d been obsessed with presenting the perfect family. When Jane had been at her worst, Dana had insisted on carting her wheelchair around the neighborhood so others could see just how loving of a stepparent she was. Jane had been forced to endure every bone-jarring, painful bump in the sidewalk.

“Not everyone is born pretty, so those who aren’t must work harder at being agreeable,”
Dana had instructed her on one such outing. Jane had just gotten out of the hospital, was twenty pounds underweight and had spent the night vomiting.

Oh, but who cared about all that sick stuff. Surely my unfortunate ugly ass could have been more agreeable for my neighborhood performance
, Jane thought sarcastically.

The memories rushed at her, and she tried to push them down. It was the past. She didn’t want to let it into her present.

“She was certainly the only mother you had since your own mother ran off on you when you were born. Do you ever hear from her? Your mother?”

He wanted to talk about her mother? Jane didn’t answer.

“Any idea where to find her?”

Jane slowly shook her head in denial. “No clue.”

“So you never hear from her? Not even an address?”

“No.”

“No idea at all?”

“Why are you asking me about this?” Jane prayed she was hallucinating again and that he would simply vanish and take his awkward conversation with him.

“Making conversation,” Sean said. “You mother was a runner too. My mother never blamed you for inheriting that trait. You can’t help you come from a family of runners.”

Jane closed her eyes and willed him to disappear. No such luck.

“She didn’t blame you for never contacting us. After your father died, you were grieving.” Sean placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded in understanding. “Mother was thoughtful like that.”

Jane knew there were polite things she should say, things she should probably ask, but the shock of seeing him after so long had caused social etiquette to leave her.

“I’m sorry you lost her,” Jane managed, the condolence coming a little later than it should have.

“
We
lost her.” Sean’s eyes narrowed and hardened. It was a subtle change most people wouldn’t notice, but she knew this man. “We are still family.”

“Sean, I…” What could she say?

“It’s okay, Janey. You must be in shock. But we have each other. It’s what she would have wanted,” he assured her. Turning around to look at the nursery, he nodded. “You live here alone?”

“Yes.”

“It’s quaint.”

“It suits me,” she said, not sure if he’d meant it as a compliment or not.

“I’ll be in town for at least a couple of weeks.”

Jane knew he wanted her to invite him to stay with her, but she couldn’t bring herself to extend the offer. The two-minute family reunion they’d just had would last her another five years, if not longer. She just wanted him gone. “Are you staying at the Dorchester House or one of the motels by the highway?”

“Dorchester. It will be nice catching up with my little sister. We’ll have plenty of time to spend together.” Sean touched her cheek. “It will be just like old times.”

Jane really hoped not. Before she could answer, she realized they were being watched. Iain MacGregor stood next to the building, still wearing the kilt from the earlier parade. He wasn’t exactly who she wanted to see at the moment, but considering it was either Iain or Sean, the choice was clear.

“Sean, I have to help a customer. Maybe we can catch up later over dinner?”

Sean glanced at Iain and frowned. “Sure, Janey. I’d like that very much.” He moved to leave but paused to give Iain a once over. The men’s eyes locked, and their expressions hardened as they stared at each other. It might have only been for a few seconds, but it was enough.

W
hen Iain had finally stopped wandering
, he stood before the small nursery they had marched past during their parade. He remembered being compelled to return. Apparently, his magick thought now was a good time.

The front of the building resembled a two-story cottage. By the curtains on the second story, he imagined the owner lived upstairs. He’d watched the windows for movement but didn’t detect any. It was the sound of voices that urged him to go around back.

Irritation burned inside of him as he watched the man touch his mystery woman’s cheek. The gesture was intimate, but Jane’s expression didn’t seem to encourage the attention.

Ex-boyfriend? Unwanted admirer? Luckily, Sean excused himself before Iain had to summon a tree limb to reach out and drag the guy away. The little staring contest the man had tried to initiate had been laughable. With one flick of his hand, Iain could have directed enough energy at Sean to send him flying. His hand flexed now as he watched the man walk away. It was tempting. The sound of Jane’s voice stopped him.

“Mr. MacGregor, how can I help you?”

Iain smiled, instantly forgetting all about Sean. Traces of dirt marred her skin and strands of her curly hair framed her face. There was an earthy appeal to her jeans and work shirt. Jane looked nothing like the women he normally dated. Considering Iain quickly lost interest in the women he dated, he’d say that was one thing in Jane’s favor.

He didn’t answer right away. She remained standing by her garden, eyeing him from the depths of her brown gaze with a kind of wariness that caused any attempts he would make at pleasantness to falter. Silence surrounded them. No wind, no birds, no cars on the street, nothing but the stillness punctuated by the sound of his own breath leaving his lungs.

He couldn’t move. No part of him wanted the moment to end. After a couple of minutes, he realized they still hadn’t spoken. Iain ran his hands through his hair, dropped is head forward and grinned at the ground. He felt like a young lad talking to his first pretty noblewoman—the fluttering in his chest, the tightening in his stomach, the pure adrenaline that fueled his magick and made him want to shoot fireballs from his fingertips. “Sorry. I must have had too much to drink.”

She didn’t answer.

“I suppose I should tell ya, lassie, that I’m here to buy something, but that would be a lie. I was drawn to see ya.” The bumbling honesty surprised him. Not only did he feel like some greenhorn, he was acting like one too. “That was my brother who proposed to the local girl. Is she a friend of yours? Perhaps, if ya like, we could arrange a double date.”

Still nothing.

Iain finally lifted his eyes to face her. She hadn’t moved. Not even to breathe.

“Petrified?” Iain glanced around to see who might have cast a petrifying spell. It would be just like one of his brothers to tease him by messing with the poor woman. Leaves didn’t move, not even to quiver on the branch. Insects held frozen in the garden. It wasn’t just Jane that had become a statue, it was everything. Time had stopped.

The earth beneath him hummed. Energy and magick flowed through his veins.
He’d
made time stop. As he’d gazed at her beautiful face, the fleeting thought that he’d like to look at her for hours had passed through his mind. Apparently, his magick had taken its cue and made it happen. But how? That kind of spell took a lot of fuel to make it work, much more than the rows of tomatoes he’d caused to droop.

Iain took a deep breath and released his hold. Instantly, a breeze hit him, and Jane coughed lightly.

“Not again,” she whispered. Jane blinked several times and looked around before sighing in relief. When she faced him, she stiffened as if just remembering he was standing there. “I apologize, Mr. MacGregor—”

“Iain,” he corrected.

“I haven’t been sleeping and I must have spaced out. My stepbrother just delivered some family news and…” She dusted her hands on her jeans. The gesture looked automatic. “Have you come about the landscaping services? I’ll admit I would love to get my hands on your box elders. They’ve been left unattended for so long they’re starting to take over the perimeter of the gardens. Tree roots can wreak havoc on old stones.”

“Ah, aye, I need help. The family left me in charge of the grounds, and I don’t know the first thing about…” Iain stopped himself from outright lying. Just great. He’d intended to ask her out on a date, and instead he was trying to hire her so he could play boss. No offense to non-magicks, but their way of caretaking tended to take a lot longer than a few spells and energy exchanges.

Iain smiled as an idea struck him. Actually, the non-magick way would be perfect. She’d be at his house all the time. Maybe then he could charm a smile out of her with the thought of something other than box elder trees.

“Do you have an idea of what you would like to have done?” Her face lit up, and she seemed to relax as she came closer to him. “I would recommend preservation over demolition. If we keep and tame down the plants that are already established, it will be much cheaper. Some can be moved and replanted. The cobblestone paths can be repaired. They obviously won’t look like new, but they are original to the design, and I think there is charm to the old—”

“I was thinking a swimming pool and giant slab of concrete,” he teased, interrupting her rapidly processing ideas. “Just mow it all down.”

Her mouth opened, and she looked horrified. “I, ah, I…”

“I’m joking, lassie.”

“Oh.” She gave a nervous laugh. “Of course.”

She apparently didn’t think he was very funny.

“Though we will be putting in a driving range, and there are a few other family requirements. I’m warning ya, we can be a demanding lot.”

“It’s your home. You have every right to make it the way you want it.”

“The key is to come to me if the others start making annoying demands. I’ll handle them for ya.” Iain gave her a charming smile and waited for a reaction.

Blush? Smile? Anything?

Jane merely nodded. “All right.”

“When can ya start?” Iain found himself mesmerized by the gentle slope of her neck where it met her shoulder. Her shirt collar pulled just enough to the side to give him a peek. He’d bet the warmth of her skin would cause his lips to tingle if he kissed her there. The closer she came to stand by him, the more aware he was of his attraction to her. He felt her pulling him in like a magnet, drawing the magick from the tips of his nerve endings. Unlike Charlotte, who had painfully ripped his powers from him, Jane sweetly beckoned them.

As the invisible threads forced him closer, he could barely breathe. Their bodies had not touched, but it didn’t matter. Magick revealed the press of her form to his, the stirring of her breath in an imagined kiss, the awkward hesitation of new lovers. His arousal thickened beneath his kilt. There was something familiar to his impressions of her, of her mouth, her eyes, as if they’d done this dance before, in another life, another time. After over hundreds of years, he was bound to forget many things, many people, but surely he would remember her,
this
?

“Perhaps it would be easier if you give me an idea of where you’d like to begin.” Her breathing deepened. She had to feel the attraction sparking between them. How could she not? “That way I can draw up proposals and we can go from there.”

“Ya smell like honey,” he said.

“I’m allergic to bees,” she whispered.

“I’ll do my best not to sting ya, love.” Iain leaned in for the kiss. Doing so felt natural and right. She didn’t pull away as he lifted his hand to touch her cheek. The tips of his fingers brushed her warm skin the same moment his lips met hers.

Jane gasped loudly and tossed her head back. Confused, he jerked his mouth away in time to see her eyes rolling back in her head. On instinct, he caught her and lifted her into his arms. Her body jerked violently a couple of times before going limp.