The Silver Rose (20 page)

Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at the warlock who had breathed fear into her sisters. “I wasn't talking about entry to Marylebone. Are you suggesting that's a possibility for me?”

Goran shook his head. “I can say nothing more. I have said too much already.”

Did Marylebone know her greatest desire had been to serve them? Now it was to survive. “I love my family with all my heart. I would do anything for them. I would take their burden of no magic if it was allowed.”

“Reach deeper. There's more.”

“But how,” she asked, more insistent this time. “I don't know how.”

“Yes, you do. Already, you have an inkling.”

But was an inkling enough? “The familiar I saw
was
a dragon. Albert is definitely his name. How many apprentices are there?”

“A few.”

“But only one warlock Dragon.”

Goran corrected her. “There are several warlock Dragons, each with an apprentice. There can be several in training at any one time. Not all of them have familiars. They choose you.”

“Damn it!”

“I can't tell you who you saw the other night.”

“What about you?” Rosa asked.

Goran frowned, his eyebrows drawing together. “Me? What do you mean?”

“Is it possible I should be choosing you as my mate?”

Goran brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I think you know the answer to that one.”

He was right. He was not for her; she felt it in his touch and acknowledged it with a slight nod of her head. “You've already been unfaithful to me, and you've only been here a week. Such a husband I would not tolerate.”

“I have flirted only. Not that I need to answer to you. I do as I please.” Dropping his hand, Goran turned and walked back to the remains of their picnic. With a quick glance around to ensure no one would witness his magic, he waved a hand over the picnic basket and it packed itself. The blanket then folded itself and landed on the top.

He winked. “I'm grateful I still have earth magic.”

So was Rosa. There might be a time when she needed his help.

• • •

Hands tucked into his pockets, Aden sauntered with a tuneless whistle across the lawn and up the side of Lavender Cottage to see who had come knocking on his door. Dressed in a sleeveless T-shirt and faded denim jeans, he appeared relaxed despite knowing who is visitor was.

And there she stood, waiting for him to open the door. He wondered whether he should pretend he wasn't home, but she must have heard his whistle because she turned and her gaze latched onto his.

A warlock's dream! She looked good enough to eat and then some. Dressed in cut-off jeans that showed more leg than denim, she had him wanting to see more. The tiny top she wore left nothing to the imagination, but that did not stop him imagining all manner of unbidden thoughts including strawberries and kisses so sweet he had lost his mind.

“Hi.” Rosa moved toward him.

“Right back at you,” he drawled. He felt as tongue-tied as a teenager. “So what are you doing here?” No use being polite when she had all but kicked him off her property the other day.

“I came to apologize,” she told him.

Her apology was unexpected. “No need,” he told her gruffly. He fought the impulse to tug his T-shirt away from his neck. It felt far too tight. “It's me who should apologize.”

They stood there, both awkward and not knowing what to say next. Softly, he verbalized the first notion to pop into his addled brain. “Would you care to see what I'm currently working on?” and was rewarded by an excited light in her eyes.

“I'd love to.”

“Come down the side. The doors are open at the back.” It was a relief to be talking again. The silence between them had been a strain, and the effort to stay away from her had been far harder than he'd expected it to be.

As they walked together round the back, his thoughts turned to what he could show her in the studio. Recalling the bowl he'd been working on he issued a stealthy secretive spell to move it to another room. He did not intend to tell her what he was crafting between commissions until it was finished.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said as he walked through the doors. Picking his way past the detritus he had managed to create in just over two short weeks, he admitted, “I'm not the tidiest creature when working.”

“I can see that.” Rosa's eyes danced in delight. “It does my heart proud to know I'm not the only messy one in town.”

Their eyes caught and they both laughed. The underlying tension between them took a holiday, allowing them to relax and enjoy the visit for what it was. A making up of a friendship barely started.

Aden dragged an additional chair from the kitchen into the studio and placed it beside his workbench for Rosa. He sat and picked up the piece he'd already begun for Beth. When he'd received the lump of silver from Marylebone, he had visualized the delicate image begging to be released within the metal.

Rosa gasped. It was a fairy. Small, fragile, and strangely ethereal she knew straight away it was for Beth. “She will love it?”

“Beth? Do you think so? Sometimes the piece tells you what it's meant to be and who it's for. This piece did just that.”

“She'll adore it.” Rosa leaned forward and ran a finger over wings that were as fine as gossamer. “This is incredible.”

“It will be a gift.” He was relieved he hadn't melded magic into the piece. “My way of saying thanks for all the meals, coffee over the fence, and her easy friendship. And she seems to have lost her sparkle over the past week. I thought this might help bring it back.”

Rosa was overcome and her eyes glistened. “That's so thoughtful. She will love and treasure it, I'm sure.” This man had a heart. Oh, how she wished his heart was more open to her. “How did you craft the wings? I've never seen anything like it. Could you show me how you accomplished something so fine and delicate?”

“I can try.” Aden nodded. “But it's a technique I've been playing with for a long time, and it's only just beginning to work for me. I'll cover the basics.”

And the time just disappeared as Aden pulled out a new nugget and set to work, explaining as he went how to make gossamer from silver without the skills of magic to back him up. He needed all his concentration to do it. In a small way, he was silently proving to himself and to Rosa, on a very subtle level, that without magic her sisters would still be able to create. That they would survive until Marylebone forgave them.

Rosa watched intently, hanging on every word, asking questions from time to time, her long hair tied back into a ponytail, her slim, almost ethereal form leaning in, absorbing everything. Ever conscious of her presence next to him, all Aden wanted was to shove away the paraphernalia littering his workbench, drag her in front of him, press her back against the wood, and make love to her. He used that passion to create gossamer. Even without magic, it was the best piece he'd ever created. His satisfaction at the end result filled him with elation.

“Do you want to try?” he asked and was rewarded when her eyes widened at his unusually generous offer. He had apprentices at Marylebone, but they were magical apprenticeships that did not include teaching them his craft. That he had been saving for his offspring.

His heart faltered, and his improved mood would have taken a dive but her enthusiastic response immediately brought him back to the present. “Can I?”

“That's the best way to learn.” Standing, he shooed her into his seat. “It's meticulous work and requires the patience of a saint,” he told her. “But I've seen your work at the gallery. I believe you're my equal in this medium.”

Rosa blushed at his praise. “There's no way I'm as good as you.”

“Don't undersell yourself,” he told her and sat quietly beside her, offering suggestions as she slowly but surely created her first piece of gossamer. It was nowhere near perfect, but he'd been making it for years. She would have this mastered within weeks. He was sure of it.

By the time Rosa finished, the light had begun to fade. Rosa arched her neck back and pressed her fingers into her tight shoulders. The creases around her eyes spoke of tiredness from such close concentration, but they were also alight with something akin to love as she turned to him, the final piece in her hands.

“I'm … overwhelmed,” she admitted. “I can't tell you how much this means to me.”

“There's no need,” he said gruffly and pushed back his chair. Any second now, and he would have her on the floor. “Keep the piece. A gift from me to you. It will help you to remember what to do when you practice at your own workbench.”

Rosa rubbed the back of her neck again, and Aden found his fingers massaging her neck and shoulders before his mind caught up. “When you get home, run a bath and relax. You've been sitting in the same position for — ” He looked at his watch, “ — the last three hours.”

Rosa released a slow moan of sheer pleasure as he worked the kinks out of her shoulders. “I actually came over to ask if you would come over to my house around eight. I've something I want to show you.”

He didn't think he could be more surprised. “What about that reporter you've been dating? Don't you have something arranged with him?”

Rosa laughed softly. “Goran? Apparently he has other plans.”

So he was her second-best option. Jealousy curled an ugly fist around his heart. “You know the raffle odds are starting to swing in his favor with the townsfolk.”

“Don't I know it. Between you both competing for raffle tickets, the odds change daily.”

“So there's nothing going on between the two of you?” Damn it! Why did he have to ask that?

Rosa shot him a sharp, knowing stare. “He's like the brother I never had. Charming, entertaining, and so totally wrong for me. But why the sudden interest?”

“I thought you were trying to find that husband to settle down with and have lots of lovely little witchy babies.”

Rosa huffed a small breath of laughter. “I'm all for ensuring the raffle is a success. What's with the twenty questions? Anyone would think you were interested in me, but we both know it's not that.”

They were back on shaky ground. “I never said I didn't want you.” Damn it, his tongue was loose in his jaw. Interest sparked anew in Rosa's eyes. A light blush on her cheeks deepened. Her breathing grew shallower, her pulse quickened, and he felt it match his. “Any man would be mad to turn you down,” he growled.

“And yet, funnily enough, you did just that the other day.”

Warlocks' Breath! He was digging himself in so deep he might as well dig a little deeper. “I can't deny there's something between us. But, like I said, I'm not here for the long haul.” Internal war waged a battle in his over active brain. “I don't want to have to reject you again.”

“So don't.”

He brushed his hands down over her shoulders. “So what do you want to show me tonight?”

She swatted at his hands and pulled away. “You'll have to wait and see. Come tonight. Eight o'clock. If you don't come, I won't ask again.”

• • •

A white silk shift fell to mid-calf. Rosa wore it mainly for formal occasions. Tonight she wanted to make an impact. Tonight she would reveal just who exactly Aden was dealing with. She was not a witch to be fooled by shields and half-truths. She wanted him to know there was no use hiding any longer. She wanted him to kiss her senseless and lie with her and meld their potentials together. He wanted her. She wanted him. Simple. Yeah, right.

It had come to Rosa in a flash of understanding. How could she have been so blind? She had checked Aden's aura time and time again. She had scried him without his permission. A force field of potential swirled around him, but no inkling of magic had revealed itself except for the time she'd fainted at the gallery. Goran told her to listen to her heart. Well, her heart told her Aden was the one. He was warlock. She would bet her reputation on it. And if she was not mistaken, he was a Dragon of Marylebone.

Tonight she would wear the long-stemmed, silver rose her mother had gifted her a scant few weeks before her death. It was a welcome reminder of her mother's love. Rosa picked the rose from off the bed, wound the long, linked chain loosely about her waist twice, and with a quick charm secured it in place. The rose dangled from the stem, the closed bud pointing downwards.

Tingles of nervous energy rippled in her stomach, and she placed a hand over the area, closed her eyes, and forced herself to breathe. Whether she succeeded or not in securing Aden as her future, at least she would have tried.

Squaring her shoulders, she spared one last glance at her reflection in the mirror then marched out of the house and into the center of her backyard. Closing her eyes, she tapped into the earth, raised her arms, and welcomed the waft of magic as it swirled about her and caressed her skin. Her dress floated about her legs in soft waves. She prayed to the Goddess to assist where she saw fit. She gave permission to the stars above to light her path. She asked spirit to direct and control her magic. She could no longer trust her own abilities and knew she needed help in order to create clarity instead of chaos.

“Blessings of the Goddess,” she whispered as a soft light glowed around her, illuminating her where she stood.

And then she waited … for Aden.

The bell on the gate tinkled and her heart skipped. A sigh of relief increased the glow of her aura. “Aden,” she called. “I'm in the garden.”

Unnecessary, really, as she blazed like a street lamp, lighting most of the garden, but she needed to ensure he saw her in all her magical glory.

She heard him gasp. He hissed out a breath and whispered her name. “Rosa.”

She pointed her finger toward him and a stream of light emerged, lighting an eerie pathway to her.