The Phoenix Charm (7 page)

“Which of us will she tempt?” Thorn asked, his voice now subdued.

“Like any other female, she’ll be attracted to power.”
Nightshade tossed back his hair. Cordelia assumed he was intimating the Siren would call him; then he turned his silver gaze onto Michael. “She’ll call the bard.”

They all looked at Michael. He blinked in surprise and nodded toward Nightshade. “Why not you?”

Nightshade didn’t answer, just gave Michael a long level look, the glittering water reflecting in his silver eyes.

“He’s right,” Cordelia whispered, a touch incredulous that she and Nightshade agreed on something.

Michael walked to the water’s edge and stared silently toward the boat. The swish and splash of the oars intruded on the silence. After along minute he turned back to face them. “So how do we play this?”

Cordelia swallowed, her throat tight with nerves and an edgy excitement that scared her. “I can help you resist her call.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nightshade staring at her through narrowed eyes. He must be able to hear her racing heart.

“Aye then, lass. We’ll trust you.” Michael glanced over his shoulder at the water as the swishing of the oars came closer. “The boat’s nearly here. Better get ready.”

Thorn detached Tamsy’s claws from his shirt and deposited her in the cat bag. Closing her eyes, Cordelia stroked Tamsy and relaxed. She could protect the men if she stayed alert.

She straightened her back. “Right, although we expect the Siren to go for Michael, we must prepare for her to switch her target if she fails.” The boat scraped on the gravel at the water’s edge, and the old Teg boatman beckoned them. Cordelia followed Michael and Nightshade, Thorn at her side. She could easily hold Thorn’s focus and protect him, but Nightshade was a different matter. Her insides trembled at the thought of having to get close to him mentally or physically. Then she had an idea.

“Nightshade.”

He paused and looked back at her warily. She unhooked her cat bag from her shoulder and, with a flash of trepidation, held her precious cat out to him. He frowned. “You take Tamsy. Keep your hand on her body during the crossing. Through her I’ll feel if you’re in trouble.” His breath hissed out in what sounded like relief. With a nod, he grabbed the bag and hung the strap over his shoulder. Tamsy poked her head out and mewed at Cordelia. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Be a good girl and stay safely inside.”

“What time is it here?” Michael asked as he stepped into the boat. The elderly Teg boatman stared straight ahead without answering.

“The Tylwyth Teg could do with a course in manners,” Cordelia whispered to Thorn as they approached the boat.

Nightshade sat beside Michael while Cordelia took the bench opposite them, with Thorn at her side. When they were all seated, the boatman braced an oar against the rocks and pushed the boat free of the gravel.

Cordelia gripped Thorn’s hand. “You keep hold of me until we reach the other side. No matter what happens, don’t let go.” His chest rose and fell rapidly, his palm damp in her grip. She squeezed his hand, her heart pinching at the hint of panic in his eyes.

“What do you want me to do, lass?”

“Michael.” Cordelia had to swallow before she could continue. “You need to focus on something to resist the Siren. Hold my other hand.” Her insides quivered as his hand slid around hers, engulfing it. The allure undulated through her body, warm and slow, contained within her wards. She prayed her fear for their safety would damp down her response to him. “Look into my eyes. Whatever happens, don’t look away. Concentrate completely on me, and I’ll concentrate on you.”

She steeled herself. Focused on the dark points of Michael’s pupils, she tried to hold his attention yet still keep her distance.
Impossible.

“I have a little idea how to help us hold our focus,” Michael whispered, a smile in his voice. Before she could comment, the deep blue of his eyes drew her in, the tempting depths closing around her like the welcome embrace of warm water.

She found herself walking through the great hall beneath Trevelion Manor. She tensed, expecting the usual evening crowd, but the hall was deserted. A skitter of surprise raced through her. Before the sensation faded, she’d forgotten why she was surprised. A pale blue, silky dress flowed around her body as she walked. Her loose hair caressed her bare arms. Michael walked beside her, clasping her hand firmly in his. He stopped in the center of the hall, pulled her closer, and held the back of her hand against his chest so she could feel the beat of his heart. His lips curved in a wide seductive grin, his eyes twinkling. Warmth melted through her, pulsing hot in her veins. The warbling lilt of an Irish tin whistle drifted into her consciousness, its tune circling around her head. Michael placed his hand on the small of her back, warm and firm. “Dance with me, lass,” he whispered against her ear.

There was a reason she shouldn’t let him touch her, but her thoughts slipped from her grasp. His breath against her cheek sent shivers racing across her skin. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and his muscles flexed beneath her grip. The air whispered between her lips in a rush as he drew her closer, pressed his nose to her temple. “You smell of sweet peas.”

“Michael.”
Michael, Michael…
She repeated his name, again and again in her head. If she stopped, she might lose him.

He smiled, stroked the hair back from her face, his fingers gentle against her skin. “Move for me.”

Her feet followed his small steps as he swayed around in a slow circle.

“I love the color of your eyes. Sometimes they’re soft as a dove’s wing, sometimes they rage like stormy seas.” He eased
her closer, cupped his hand behind her head, and pressed his cheek against her hair. “Ah, Cordelia. This feels good, does it not, lass?”

His lips brushed her temple. Heat swirled down to her toes, back up to bloom in her cheeks. He touched the side of his nose to hers, his breath on her lips. She tilted her face up, every cell in her body yearning for his kiss.

A bump on her knees shot pain up her legs. She jerked back from Michael, her pulse jumping.

“Dee! We’re here, Dee.” Thorn’s strident tone pierced her stupor. He tugged on her hand.

She blinked at the sight of Thorn kneeling awkwardly in the bottom of the boat beside her, gripping the hand she was resting on Michael’s shoulder.

“Let me go,” Thorn ground out between clenched teeth.

Cordelia glanced around, confused. “Have we crossed the lake?”

Thorn snatched his hand from hers, then leaped out of the boat as if it were on fire. Cordelia’s gaze followed his flight and met Nightshade’s steely look. Only then did reality hit her: the firm warmth of Michael’s arms around her, the herbal fragrance of his hair near her nose. She and Michael were kneeling in the boat, his arms holding her close to his body.

His fingers flexed against her back. “Looks like your strategy worked, lass.” His lips brushed her temple, smooth as warm silk. Shame and shock tangled inside her. Cordelia pushed back, rocking the boat so violently Nightshade staggered and nearly dropped Tamsy’s bag.

“It’s easy to resist the Siren when she ignores us,” she snapped.

“She didn’t,” Nightshade said in an accusing tone.

“Didn’t what?”

His nostrils flared impatiently. “Ignore us, woman. The Siren followed us the whole way across. You two were so engrossed I don’t think you even knew where you were.”

Michael watched Cordelia clamber from the boat, heedless of the water soaking her boots. She ran about ten yards up the shingle beach toward the castle and hugged her arms around her body.

Nightshade gave Michael a narrow look of disapproval, then stepped out of the boat cautiously, avoiding the water, and went to give the cat back to Cordelia.

The old Teg boatman ignored them, staring up at a window in the castle tower from which faint strains of music floated into the still air.

Michael heaved himself off his knees back onto the wooden bench seat and sighed. The pleasurable sensations lingering from the vision he’d shared with Cordelia slipped away. He’d intended to share an innocent visualization with her. But something strange had happened.

He loved females, was attracted to all types of them: human and fairy. When needed, his control was absolute. But not with Cordelia, it seemed. Inside her prim exterior churned an elemental sensuality bursting for release. He’d thought to entrance her to keep her occupied. Yet he’d been the one entranced. Given another few seconds, he’d have kissed her.

He slapped his palms on his thighs and stood, furious with himself. This was neither the time nor place for such behavior. Could he not even restrain himself long enough to rescue Finian?

Thorn stood on his own, staring at the ground with his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans. Nightshade glared at Michael while Cordelia had her arms wrapped around herself. Michael walked up the pebbles feeling like a prize jerk. He halted a few feet from Cordelia and rubbed a hand over his mouth.

“I owe you an apology, lass. Don’t know what happened. I thought to distract us with a harmless visualization, but things got out of hand.”

She sucked on her bottom lip, then looked up at him. “Thank you for being chivalrous, but the fault is mine.”

He shook his head slowly. “Me lack of control is not your fault.”

She looked away, a pretty pink coloring her cheeks. Instead of responding to him, she turned toward Thorn. “Sweetheart, come here.”

The young man slouched closer, kicking the stones. She wrapped an arm around him and pressed her cheek to his. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you. Do you forgive me?”

Thorn hugged her while Cordelia stroked his hair.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought we’d come to speak to Gwyn ap Nudd.” Nightshade wedged his hands on his hips, jaw clenched. When Michael smiled at him, trying to ease the tension between them, Nightshade turned away.

Michael pinched the tight muscles in the back of his neck. How in the Furies did Niall cope with leading a whole troop of piskies when he could barely cope with three people? He shook his head and turned to the Teg boatman, who was still staring at the castle. “We’ll be needing to speak with Master Devin. W here do we go?” He expected the man to continue ignoring him, but the old Teg raised an arm and pointed to a door set into the wall on the side of the castle. That wasn’t much help as the door was obviously the only way in.

While Cordelia whispered to Thorn, Michael went to Nightshade. The stalker glared at him as he approached. He wanted to tell his friend to just get over the incident and move on. But that would not ease the bad feelings between them. And he needed Nightshade on his side. “I’m sorry if what happened in the boat made you uncomfortable. Was not me intention.”

Nightshade’s silver eyes grazed over his face, tracked insolently down his body and back up. His nostrils flared and he hitched up his chin. “When I’m
uncomfortable,
you’ll know it, bard.”

Despite his apparent rejection of the apology, the tension
in his stance eased. It seemed that was the best Michael could hope for at the moment.

The crunch of stones behind him signaled that Cordelia and Thorn were ready to move on. Cordelia’s expression appeared composed once more, and Thorn had lost his angry scowl.

“Time to do what we came for.” After the temporary distraction of the experience in the boat, the reality of their situation crashed back on Michael. His gut churned as he made his way up the stone steps leading to the door into the castle.

The ancient wooden door was weather bleached, the hinges leaking rusty stains through the wood grain. Michael knocked, then tapped his fingers on his thigh while he waited for someone to answer.

“Try again.” Cordelia’s voice sounded tentative, as though she’d rather give up and go home.

He knocked twice more, getting no response. “Typical. We come all this way, and they won’t answer the door.” He’d expected to overcome perils before he gained access to the King of the Underworld’s castle. He hadn’t expected the biggest obstacle to be getting someone to open the blasted door.

A glance along the walls confirmed his first impression. On this side of the castle, the small curve of shingle beach provided the only solid ground. At each end, the lake lapped against rocks that rose sheer to the castle walls. If they could not enter through this door, they’d have to use the boat to reach the other side.

That would be a problem because the boat had now disappeared. He heaved a sigh and raised his fist to knock again.

“Just a moment.” Cordelia stepped up beside him. “Probably a waste of time, but worth a try.” She gripped the metal ring of the door latch and twisted. With a creak, the door swung inward.

Thorn laughed. Nightshade smiled reluctantly.

She glanced back, suppressing a triumphant grin.

“Hang on a minute.” Michael went to the wall and banged his forehead against the granite a couple of times to knock some sense into his head. “Okay. That’s done.” He held out his hand, indicating she should precede him. “Brains before beauty.”

“I can’t win with that one, can I?”

“Nah, lass. Neither can I.” He grinned. When she smiled back, heat flared in his groin as he remembered how her body had felt pressed against his in the boat. Prim on the outside, hot on the inside obviously hit his sweet spot.

As he followed her through the door, a dark-haired woman wearing a stained white apron over a brown dress walked around the corner in front of them. She would have been pretty without the puckered scar running through her eyebrow and across her cheekbone. She pulled up with a shriek and pressed a hand to her mouth. Her eyes flitted between Cordelia and Michael. “Are you human?”

The hope in her voice made him sorry to disappoint her. “No, lass.”

She blinked, her curious gaze on Tamsy’s bag. “You look human—or more human than the Teg.”

“I’m a Cornish pisky,” Cordelia said gently.

“Oh.” The woman stared at them, then started to back away, her hand trailing along the wall.

“We’re wanting to find Master Devin,” Michael said, infusing his voice with reassurance.