Spellbound (6 page)

“
I
want to help
,” Rory said, eyeing Jane through the window as she kneeled on the ground and dug small holes. They weren’t sure what she was doing, but her backside was pointed in their direction. He grinned at his cousins. “I am suddenly feeling the need to get dirty.”

“Me too. Anything the lady commands,” Euann added, muscling Rory out of the way so he could get a good look at the woman’s ass. “Those stones she was talking about might be heavy. I’m sure she could use a little manpower.”

“It will be welcome exercise,” Niall added gruffly, his way of saying he was offering his services. He didn’t move from his chair or look up from his book. “She should be watched.”

“Watched? Ya are a strange one, brother,” Euann told Niall.

“She’s human,” Niall said by way of a dismissive answer, “and there is something off about her. Ma does not like her, and Aunt Cait has concerns. That is enough reason for me.”

“Ma is not right in the head,” Euann stated. “And Aunt Cait has concerns about all outsiders. Do ya remember what she did the first time she encountered a pizza delivery boy? Poor kid peed himself.”

“To be fair, he could have been carrying Pandora’s box. No one remembers what it looks like,” Niall defended.

“It’s a jar, not a box,” Euann said.

Niall waved a dismissing hand and kept reading.

“Jane smells like honey,” Rory whispered. “Have ya noticed?”

“And I sting like a bee.” Euann’s voice dipped playfully.

Iain growled in warning. They turned to where he was petrified into a living statue, frozen while walking through the door. It was a weak spell, but enough to force him to listen to their banter without being able to retort…or punch. Rory and Euann had hit him with it mainly out of boredom. While Iain watched, unable to react, they had been spying on Jane. He focused all his energy on trying to shake off the stiffness in his limbs.

“Should we worry? He’s starting to thaw out.” Rory chuckled, clearly not concerned.

Just then, Iain pushed out of the spell and came flying toward them. Niall shifted his feet out of the way and kept reading, unconcerned. Rory jumped to the side. Iain’s unstable aim missed Euann’s face and instead hit his shoulder with enough force to send him sprawling.

Euann laughed even as he tumbled to the floor. From his place on the ground, he said, “Easy, queen bee, no one is dipping in your honey pot.”

“Unless she asks us to,” Rory corrected.

Iain spun a little too quickly, and his vision momentarily blurred as he attempted to shake off the remnants of his family’s prank.

“She does make a man warm and tingly to be around her,” Euann agreed, not bothering to stand back up.

Iain glared down at him. He didn’t want anyone’s warm tinglies around his Jane.

“She smells like nature,” Niall stated, his tone even as he walked out the back door to go to the gardens. “Most green witch types do.”

“Hey, uh, Iain, ya might want to clean that drool off your chin before going out there. I think your mouth might still be frozen.” Euann pushed to his feet as he made his way out the door after Niall.

“Don’t leave me alone with him,” Rory called, his way outside blocked by Iain. He held up his hands and took a step back. “Iain, don’t make me tell Aunt Margareta that ya are consorting with the
reipseach
again.”

“Don’t ya call her that!” Iain lunged at his cousin. His voice sounded strange since his throat was still a little frozen.

Rory laughed and ran through the doorway leading deeper into the house. Wiping his mouth, Iain sighed in frustration. He should have known the second Jane appeared his family would spring into mischievous action. Now that Erik and Lydia were to be married, his relatives needed something else to occupy their time. The fact Raibeart kept bemoaning his lost love, Shelly Jane, and warning Iain he’d be waiting to reclaim her should his nephew mess things up, didn’t help. The ensuing jokes had only stirred the MacGregor clan’s need to misbehave.

His feet felt sluggish as he made a move to follow his brothers outside. The sound of Jane’s voice drifted over him, and he paused to look at her through the window. Niall stood, arms over his chest, listening to her speak with the countenance of a surly sea captain about to throw a sailor overboard. Euann distracted her by moving his arms to encompass nearby trees and bushes. When Jane turned her back on him, Euann grinned and winked audaciously toward where Iain watched. Rory suddenly appeared, having run the long way around the side of the house.

Iain had seen enough. Slightly paralyzed or not, he wasn’t going to leave Jane alone with them any longer.

J
ane didn’t know
what to make of the sudden offers of help. Three MacGregors surrounded her. Rory merely grinned at her to the point she wondered if she had something on her face. Euann smiled and asked an extraordinary amount of questions about trees. As kind as Euann was, he couldn’t counteract the severity of Niall, who studied her like he contemplated grabbing a shotgun and running her off the property.

“And ya will work exclusively for us until the job is finished?” Niall asked. He wore a kilt that looked as if it had seen better days. Both it and the loose white shirt were clean, but he clearly didn’t put much thought into getting dressed in the morning. It was a trait made all the more noticeable when contrasted to the more immaculate dress of his siblings and cousin.

“Um, well, no,” Jane said. “I have other commitments in town. But I will provide you with—”

“Ya smell pretty,” Rory said.

“Uh, thank you,” Jane answered distractedly before turning back to Niall. “I’ll work nonstop until your job is finished. I have extra help who I hire for the bigger jobs so—”

“No rush,” Euann insisted with a playful grin.

“There is no need to hire help. We will assist ya,” Niall stated. He absently rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “Tell us what ya need done.”

Jane glanced around. Afternoon had turned to evening. “It will depend on what plan you agree on. Perhaps you should speak with Iain and decide what you want done as a family and then I can give you quotes—”

“We’re not worried about cost,” Rory said.

“I’m sure ya will be fair, lassie,” Euann added.

“The sooner we start, the sooner we will finish,” Niall said.

You mean the sooner you will be rid of me on your property,
Jane thought.

“Forgive Niall the Neanderthal.” Euann dismissed his brother’s surliness with an unconcerned wave of his hand. “He hates everyone.”

“I do not hate—” Niall began.

“Get off me, hell spawn!” Iain burst through the doors with his sister clinging to his back.

Jane gasped. Niall sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. Rory and Euann simply laughed. No one went to break up the fight.

“Get off me!” Iain spun in circles as Malina kept her arms wrapped around his head. When this didn’t dislodge her, he finally stopped and jerked back and forth to try to throw her off.

“You can’t go out ther…” Malina’s words trailed off as her eyes met Jane’s. She smiled widely even as she was bounced. “Hi…Jane. Did you…bring my…tomatoes?”

Jane nodded. Iain’s peeked out at her through his sister’s hold. The whole clan of them was crazy, but at least this crazy batch had clothes on.

“Lovely,” Malina said as if her position was the most natural in the world.

“They’re in my truck,” Jane answered belatedly.

“Malina,” Iain insisted with a shake of his body.

“Oh, right.” She let go and quickly backed away from her brother. “Boys, help me carry in the vegetables.” When Malina passed by Jane, she paused and said, “Sorry about his face. I tried to keep him inside.”

Jane frowned in confusion as she was left alone with Iain.

“I’m sorry ya had to deal with my family. I was running late,” Iain said.

“No, it’s,” Jane turned and stiffened, “
omigod
.”

Iain’s facial skin resembled something akin to a plastic doll that had been smacked on the ground a few times. He looked incapable of blinking, and she was pretty sure the right side of his mouth didn’t close all the way as if the lip had been frozen mid-speech. There was very little movement to the underlying muscles.

“It’s, ah, it’s…” She tried to remember what she was going to say, but it didn’t readily come to her.

Was that how all the MacGregors looked so young? They had a great surgeon who made house calls?

“Did you have…?” Jane realized she was unconsciously touching her own temple and lowered her hand. “I mean, you’re a handsome man, Iain. I don’t think you need to inject yourself with paralytic drugs to…” She made a weak noise. “There’s no need to resort to plastic surgery.”

He made a sound that was very much like a nervous laugh as he touched his face. “Right. Plastic surgery.”

Jane averted her eyes down his black cashmere shirt and nicely fitted denim jeans. The curve where his hip met his waist caught her attention. Her heartbeat quickened. “I’m sorry, that sounded judgey. I didn’t mean it to. It’s your body. You can do whatever you want with it. I should stick to landscaping.” She forced her gaze to the overgrown path and lifted her arms. “As I was telling your family, it might be best to start closest to the house and work outward.”

“So ya think I’m handsome?” Iain asked. She could tell he was trying to smile at her, but somehow the usual devil-may-care was lost in the paralytic effect. Knowing how handsome he normally was, the strangeness was a little difficult to look at—like a 1980s horror movie’s special effects gone wrong.

Gone way wrong.

Way, way,
way
wrong.

Even so, that didn’t diminish her attraction to him. Her feelings were based on much more than appearance. People didn’t look sexy and glamorous every day of their real lives. Jane should know. Most of the time, she was covered in dirt and wore old clothes.

“I think all of you like to say things that will fluster me,” Jane answered. She tried to turn the conversation back to the job. “If we pull weeds from the stones, the paths can be cleaned up fairly easily. Where the paths dip and become too uneven, we can pull the stones and re-lay them.”

A hand brushed the back of her arm. Iain whispered, “You’re talking fast. Do we make ya nervous, Jane?”

“No.” Jane shook her head. It wasn’t a complete lie. Euann and Rory were harmless man-boys. Niall frightened her. The elders were mostly a bunch of naked mischief-makers. Only Iain made her nervous—the way he was touching her, the way he whispered her name, the way she wanted to turn and kiss him. She glanced toward the house, wondering if his mother would appear to screech at her again. Not as confident as before, she continued, “Then it is a matter of clearing out the unwanted overgrowth. Once that stage is complete, you will have a better idea of what we’re working with.”

“I’m sorry we were interrupted.” Iain ran a finger along the side of her neck. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he referred to. “And I know my family can be overwhelming. Let us make it up to ya. Stay for dinner tonight.”

“You want to make it up to me by having me spend more time with your overwhelming family?” Jane gave a small laugh. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. You’re my boss.”

“Now that’s a game I’m willing to play, lassie.” He glided his finger over her shoulder and down her arm. Jane shivered. “Though I think we both know women will always rule over their men.”

The possessiveness of his statement caused sadness to well in her chest. She tried to step away. “We should keep things professional.”

“What fun is there in that?”

“Iain—”

“Stay,” he insisted.

“Iain—”

“For dinner. Stay for dinner,” he said. “Ma is feeling better. She’ll behave.”

“I don’t know—”

“Ya will make Uncle Raibeart very happy.” Iain grinned.

She tried to keep a serious face but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “Are you sure it won’t be too painful for him after our failed engagement?”

“I’m taking that as ya are coming,” Iain said. “It’s settled. Ya finish up what ya need to and come inside. I’ll be sure they set an extra place at the table.”

“
W
ho is this
?” Raibeart pushed up from a mahogany dining table and looked over Jane with a scowl. She would have sworn the furniture looked different from what she’d walked by hours before. Fine porcelain china place settings had been laid out on the shiny surface, complete with cloth napkins, wine glasses, and polished silver. The MacGregors even dined stylishly, like they lived inside a magazine spread. “Iain, what are ya doing with this woman?”

Jane started to laugh before she realized Raibeart appeared very serious. Iain’s arm was threaded through hers as he led her into the dining room. She recognized Angus, Murdoch, and Cait. At least this time the men wore clothes and appeared sober.

“What are ya doing with this one? Do ya dare spit in the face of love, laddie?” Raibeart shook his finger in warning before continuing to lecture Iain in Gaelic.

“Da?” Iain pleaded, looking at Angus to stop the man’s tirade. Iain’s features were beginning to soften, and he was returning to his normal-looking self.

“How is the hand?” Cait asked, leaning to look around Raibeart at her.

“Better, thank you,” Jane answered. She pulled away from Iain and was instantly sorry for it. There was comfort in his touch. She showed her healed cut to Cait. “Your husband was right. Your cream worked. It didn’t even leave a scar.”

“Put that hand down. There will be no spell casting here,” Raibeart warned as he slapped lightly at Jane’s wrist as if she were a child about to plug a hanger into a power outlet. “Who are ya?”

“It’s Jane,” Jane said.

“What’s that to me? I don’t know a Jane.” Raibeart eyed her suspiciously.

“Um, Shelly?” Jane said.

“Shelly?” Raibeart suddenly smiled. “My Shelly? Why didn’t ya say? Sorry, lassie, didn’t recognize ya when your face wasn’t dancing around my vision. Hey, ya are a sight prettier and less blurry than I remembered ya being.”

“Ignore him,” Murdoch stated. “Sanity has never been Raibeart’s burden to bear.”

“Have ya met the clan, Shelly?” Raibeart asked. He waved his hand over his generation. “These are elders. The children are out playing. I’m the king.”

“Who are ya calling a child?” Niall entered carrying a large salad bowl topped with wedged tomatoes. He set it on the table. “And, yes, we met the green witch.”

“This is the
wulver
I was telling ya about,” Raibeart stated, pointing at Niall. “You’d call him a werewolf. Don’t get too close. He bites.”

Niall’s expression didn’t change, but Iain stiffened and took her elbow to lead her around to a chair.

“He doesn’t look very hairy to me,” Jane said. She couldn’t tell if Uncle Raibeart was mentally compromised or just a jokester-troublemaker. Perhaps he was a combination of both.

“That’s because he waxes.” Euann entered and placed several wine bottles on the table. “Everywhere.”

“Real metrosexual, our Niall.” Rory brought two large baskets of rolls.

Niall grunted. With his rugged appearance and stoic demeanor, he was anything but.

“Behave yourself,” Angus warned Raibeart, pulling the man’s arm to get him to follow him out of the room. Raibeart’s answer was lost in a string of foreign words.

“Let’s get the rest from the kitchen,” Cait told her husband. They too left.

“Where are Erik and Lydia?” Iain asked.

“He’s probably singing show tunes to her or something,” Rory answered with a dismissing wave of his hand.

“No. They’re with Charlotte,” Euann said. “She’s not feeling well.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious,” Jane said, taking the seat Iain had pulled out for her. “Maybe I should offer to bring them soup or—”

“No. Malina has gone to help her. It’s nothing that soup can cure,” Euann said. “She’s having memory, uh…with her…broken—”

“Heart,” Rory filled in quickly.

All eyes turned to Iain for the briefest of moments as if by an involuntary tell.

Iain stopped mid-gesture as he reached for a nearby bottle of wine. He didn’t pick up the bottle. Instead, he took a seat next to her. A pang of jealousy hit her stomach, but she forced it down.

She leaned into him and asked softly, “Am I missing something about you and Charlotte? Do you need to go?”

“No,” Euann broke in a little too firmly. “He’s fine where he is.”

“No,” Iain said more calmly. He gave her a small smile that made her heart do little flutters in her chest.

Murdoch and Raibeart returned with decorative bowls and platters of food.

“Why did your brother call me a green witch?” Jane whispered.

“Ya have a green thumb,” Iain said. “It means a woman who is good with plants and nature.”

“So it wasn’t an insult?” Jane clarified.

Iain shook his head in denial. “No. It’s not an insult.”

“I can walk myself,” a woman chided from the other room. “Quit treating me like I’m about to turn to dust.”

Murdoch and Raibeart quickly hurried from the dining room.

“What’s going on? Why are ya looking at me like that?” the woman’s voice continued. Jane imagined someone whispered an answer because the woman then said, “What are ya babbling on about, ya old fool? I always behave myself.”

Angus led the source of protest into the dining room—Iain’s mother. Though she still appeared wrinkled and hunched over, there was a new vitality to her features that had not been there before as if the age had melted off her skin. The change struck Jane as much more than a quick plastic surgery injection, and she found herself standing up from the table.

“Jane, this is my ma, Margareta,” Iain stood next to her and angled his body as if he’d put himself between Jane and his mother.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jane said.

“What is she doing here?” Margareta asked her husband. She shook her head. “I will not have that—”

“Margareta,” Cait said loudly, hurrying in with a bowl of potatoes. She passed them off to Angus before taking the upset woman by the arm. “It’s all right. We talked about this. Jane is our guest.”

“She grew the tomatoes Malina used in the salad,” Iain offered, his voice begging his mother to behave.

“My daughter is careless,” Margareta muttered. “If we’re not careful, Malina will kill us all.”

Iain looked as if he would apologize. Jane shook her head and mouthed, “It’s all right.”

Jane wanted to say something polite to Margareta, like she looked like she was feeling better, but no manner of phrasing sounded right in her head, so she stayed quiet. The family began helping themselves to the food. Jane followed their lead, passing serving dishes around and putting small portions on her plate. She had the feeling the MacGregor table wasn’t normally so quiet.

“Where’s the thing?” Raibeart demanded as he grabbed a wine bottle. The voice sounded abnormally loud in the quiet room. “Ah, never mind. Shelly, do ya want to see a trick?” Not giving her a chance to answer, he placed the flat of his hand over the corked top and slowly lifted. The cork came out of the bottle. Grinning, he dropped the cork on the table and poured himself a large glass of merlot.

“How—” Jane began, awed.

“So, Jane,” Euann interrupted. “I like the plans ya have for the gardens.”

“Thank you,” she said. Raibeart stood and leaned over the table to pour wine into her glass. She made a gesture that he should stop. He didn’t and filled it nearly to the top.

“Have ya always had a green thumb?” Rory inquired.

Jane nodded. “Ever since I was a child.”

“Why—?” Euann asked.

“Stop interrogating her,” Iain broke in. He slipped his hand onto her leg under the table. She wasn’t sure if he was showing support or attraction. “Jane is my guest.”

“I was only going to ask why she liked plants so much,” Euann defended.

“Plants are simple.” Jane looked at the tomato slices in her salad. “If you know how to listen, they’ll always tell you what they need, and in return they feed us.”

When no one answered, she looked up to see all eyes on her. She noticed everyone had taken salad but no one was eating it. In fact, the salad bowls were pushed forward away from their plates.

“Iain, did ya tell her about the putting green?” Niall inquired, his voice gruff.

“We don’t need a putting green,” Euann countered.

“Iain, did ya tell her about the puttin’ green, laddie?” Raibeart asked. “We have to have the puttin’ green.”

“Jane has it all in hand,” Iain assured them.

“We don’t need a putting green,” Euann repeated.

“Och, ya are not a real MacGregor!” Raibeart declared, leaning forward to poke his fork past Niall toward Euann. Then, to punctuate his point, he stabbed a tomato wedge. “And ya get no say.”

Raibeart opened his mouth to bite the tomato.

“No! Don’t eat that.” Margareta inhaled sharply and waved her hand toward Raibeart from the far side of the table. Blue light shot out of the woman’s palm and caused the fork to fly from his fingers, taking the uneaten tomato wedge with it. The silverware hit the wall with force, and the tines stuck in the wood briefly before it dropped to the carpet.

Jane pushed up from the table. The chair tipped over behind her, and she almost tripped on the wooden legs. She closed her eyes briefly and breathed, willing herself not to fall into a full-blown delusion. When she opened her eyes, all hints of the blue light had gone, and she made her way for the door.

“Jane, wait,” Iain moved to follow her retreat from the room. “I can explain.”

“I can tell when I’m not welcome,” Jane said. She looked at Margareta, hurt. “I’m sorry you don’t like me. I’m not sure what I did to you, or if you simply don’t like me because I’m American, or poor, or—”

“Or trying to kill my son,” Margareta muttered.

“Kill?” Jane answered. She grabbed a tomato slice between two fingers and held it. “I don’t even use chemical pesticides in my gardens.”

“Ya tell her, Shelly,” Raibeart cheered. Everyone ignored him.

She turned to Iain. “Thank you for inviting me, but in the future, I think it’s best if we keep to a strictly working relationship. I hope this does not affect my employment.”

“Of course it won’t,” Iain said softly.

“Thank you.” Jane nodded once and walked with as much dignity as she could from the MacGregor home.

Once the night air hit her, she inhaled deeply, trying to fight the tears that threatened to fall. Logically, she knew it was stupid to get worked up over tomatoes, but they had been her tiny contribution to the meal. Everything she had went into her work. Her plants were part of her, and the rejection she felt was keen.

The message was clear. The tomatoes she grew were not good enough to eat. Iain’s family didn’t think she was good enough to dine with them. His mother clearly thought Jane wasn’t good enough to be with her son.

A cold chill worked over her. “Go away. I’m not in the mood.”

Childish giggles rang out around her. Jane moved faster, charging down the side of the hill in the most direct path toward home. She felt the spirits following her. Lydia Barratt’s old Victorian came into view. Jane stopped on the edge of the property. The air was decidedly colder, and she could instantly see the reason for the change in temperature. Spirits had gathered around the home, standing on the lawn as if they waited for something.

“Shoo,” an older female ghost ordered. Her translucent form glittered when she moved through the spirit crowd. The unusual sparkling came from her emerald green ball gown. “Get off my lawn. Go on now. Get outta here. There’s only room for one spirit here, and that’s me.”

“Gramma Annabelle, what are you doing, you crazy old bat?” Charlotte Carver ran out of the side door of the home. She worked for Lydia’s lotion-making business,
Love Potions
. Jane had heard someone mention Charlotte had just moved into the old Victorian as Lydia’s roommate. If Annabelle thought this was her house, it must mean she was Lydia’s dead grandmother. Continuing after the ghost, Charlotte grumbled, “What are you doing out here?”

Jane didn’t move. What had the MacGregors meant when they said Charlotte was sick? The young woman didn’t look too heartbroken or ill. The ghosts on the lawn turned toward Charlotte. Jane watched to see if Malina, Lydia or Erik would join them. No one else came.

Jane always thought Charlotte had a bit of a hard edge to her. Maybe Jane only assumed the woman had an attitude because she was so exotically pretty—tanned complexion, dark brown hair, light brown eyes. Or maybe the attitude was because Charlotte had the same secret Jane did. They both were constantly trying not to acknowledge ghosts.

Charlotte chased the sparkling Gramma Annabelle across the yard. She gasped in pain and then hopped onto one foot while holding the injured foot in her hands. The gathered specters surrounded the woman, but Charlotte didn’t seem to notice them. Maybe Charlotte wasn’t like Jane after all. Charlotte could only see Annabelle.

“Jane the gardener,” Annabelle said, catching her spying on them.

Jane quickly averted her eyes.

“Jane?” Charlotte repeated, dropping her foot as she searched the shadows. When her gaze found Jane, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

Jane tried to smile and focus on Charlotte. It was hard with all their undead company. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was taking the shortcut down the hill. The MacGregors hired me to do some work for them.”

“Do you see…?” Charlotte looked at Annabelle and then Jane.

“Yes, she sees me,” Annabelle said. “There’s something interesting about this one. She’s glowy.”

It was only with years of practice that Jane managed to pretend not to hear the ghost. Annabelle drifted before her face. Jane focused her eyes through her at Charlotte. “Do I see what?”

“Uh, well, a ghost?” Charlotte gave a nervous laugh and again glanced at Annabelle as the ghost drifted away from Jane toward the others.

Jane pretended to look around the yard. She felt the eyes of those gathered on her. The last thing she wanted was for the crowd to follow her home. “No, sorry, I don’t see anything out here but us. Though I once saw a white dog running in the shadows and was convinced it was a spirit until it tried to lick me. I’m sure it’s nothing to be concerned over. You’re probably just seeing shadows.”