Concentric Circles (3 page)

“I shouldn’t stay here,” Shayla said. “I can go back to the Tor Sunset Inn and rest there.”

“We need to talk. I thought you had questions. You know, about the mark on your hand?”

“Perhaps,” Chaeli said, “if you eat or drink something you’ll feel better.”

“Are you American?” Shayla asked. “Your accent sounds different.”

“No.” Laughter tinged Chaeli’s voice. “I lived there though. Meekal was born in Salem, Massachusetts.”

“Oh.” She gazed at him in astonishment. “He doesn’t sound American, but you do. How’s that?”

“Perhaps because he was young when we came home?”

Meekal rolled his eyes and squeezed Shayla’s knee. “Can you stand? If not, Mari can bring something in here for you. Mum’s right. It might make you feel better.”

“I guess it might be a good idea,” Shayla said, and pulled her knee away.

The action left a cool empty chill in the center of his palm.

“I haven’t eaten since early today,” she admitted. “Maybe a bit of lunch will help, but only if it’s no trouble.”

“None,” he said, relieved. He picked up the telephone and dialed ‘O.’ “Mari, please bring lunch for three to the library. We have a special guest today. Thank you.”

“We only have English stew,” Mari said. “Our current guests, the Foxhills are eating out for lunch. They wanted to explore the countryside some more before leaving for France in the morning.”

“Hold on.” He quirked a brow in Shayla’s direction. “Vegan?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Mari, that’ll be excellent. Thank you.” He rested the receiver in its charger, the click resounded through library stillness. Anticipation niggled under his skin.

“So Shayla,” he said her name and savored it on his tongue like a peppermint. “Has anything like this ever happened before?”

Her eyes dropped to the new tattoo, and she murmured, “Not exactly. Definitely nothing as big as the White Lady transforming from an osprey so she could chat.”

She passed a fingernail over the purple mark. Although new, it healed perfectly, giving the impression it had always been there.

“The symbolism of the tattoo mirrors the Vesica Pisces Pool and the cap of the Chalice Well. You realize that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Mari entered at the back of the room followed by Harry.

“Shayla, this is Mari Bree and her son Harry. They work here.”

“Hi.”

“Hello,” Mari said in greeting and began placing lunch on the table.

Harry shared a look with Meekal and set a tray of drinks in the center. “Later, mate,” he said low, angling his head slightly toward Shayla, inquiry in his expression.

Meekal couldn’t resist a grin. “Catch up to you later.”

Harry made a cat sound in his throat, rolling the “rrrrr.” Shoulders shaking with laughter, he exited.

“Thank you, Mari,” Meekal said. “Everything looks first rate.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you’re feeling better, dear,” she said to Shayla and slipped through her special entrance in the back library wall.

Chaeli indicated the repast on the table. “Can you stand?”

“Yes.” She rose and approached the table and looked down. “Ah, this is too much.”

Meekal laughed. “Eat what you can.”

“Er, well. I guess.” She began eating and kept her focus on the food.

Chaeli buttered her brown bread while watching the knife spread melting golden butter. “Where are you from, Shayla?”

“Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio. A small city just north of Akron.”

“I know the area,” Meekal said, with a thrill of recognition. He set his iced tea down. “In fact, I’ve been to the University of Akron.”

“Akron U? When?”

“Last year, I spoke with Professor Lieghtner in the History Department about arranging tours to visit the Abbey.”

“We have family in Columbus,” Chaeli said.

“Really?” Shayla asked, and then took a sip of her tea.

“Professor Lieghtner dated my Uncle Phil. He lives in Columbus now,” Meekal answered. “Dad was American.”

“Oh. Um, was?”

“Aye. He died when I was three.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, dropping her gaze.

Chaeli gave them a misty-eyed smile. “Why did you decide to come to England?”

“Well,” Shayla said, and moved the vegetables around in her bowl. “I wanted to do something different. You know, from my boring and often tedious job. I feel as though…”

She lifted her left shoulder because the words dropped away. “Anyway, I was surfing the Internet at work one day and Glastonbury and its spiritual significance called to me. So I clicked. Later, I did more research and decided to come over.”

“We have visitors from all over the world,” Meekal said, understanding the fascination. “Many seek, and then return home changed in deeply spiritual ways. You said nothing like this ever happened before. The White Lady, I mean.”

“Little things, but definitely not that. I guess I don’t really know what to think about it. It’ll probably take some time to work it out in my brain.”

Chaeli reached across the table and patted her arm. “When the White Lady speaks to someone, that’s a sure indication they’re special.”

“I’m not special,” Shayla insisted, adding a curt shake of her head. “She did say I’m strong willed. That isn’t news to me.”

Meekal circled the dark purple tattoo with his thumb. “This marks you as special. You are a guardian of the Chalice Well. You wouldn’t have it without the White Lady’s application.”

“No,” she said, drawing her hand back and tucking it in her lap. “I’m just an American tourist—nothing more.”

The telephone rang. “Excuse me,” Chaeli said, rising to answer it. “That’s fine, Mari. I’ll see to it.” Chaeli replaced the phone. “Please excuse me. I have to take care of an early arriving guest. Meekal can answer any questions you may have.”

Shayla stiffened slightly; her face transformed into a sheer mask as though she were losing an important connection. “Thank you for lunch. I feel much better.”

She avoided eye contact with Meekal and fiddled nervously with her spoon.

“Strong willed?” he asked, teasing and winked. A thrill shot down his spine when her cheeks flushed.

She rose and placed her napkin next to the half-empty bowl. “I should be going.”

“What about the questions you have?”

Shayla stopped halfway to the door. Ramrod stiff, she hissed through her teeth, and then spun on her heel.

What an astounding glare,
he thought.
Write sonnets about it.

“Why do you think I have questions?” Each word came out with a huff.

He approached while putting on his sexiest smile. It had always worked before, but his time was a pivotal moment. He knew for sure.

Shayla backed up a step, breathing fast.

He leaned in closer, intentionally mingling their breath. “Because I know,” he whispered, tilting in, just shy of contact. “Some can’t be answered by Mum.”

“What makes you think…”

He stopped her words. Warmth and softness consumed his mouth. He moaned when her arms rose to embrace his neck. He dipped his tongue, and tasted ambrosia.

She fit him, melding into perfection.

Longing for deeper penetration, he explored with languid strokes.

Shayla groaned and wove her fingers into his hair.

He clasped her, hands spread beneath her jacket, energy spiking, igniting urgency.

“Ohh.” She drew away, her breath brushed his face in lover’s caress.

“Rec’n,” he said, placing his forehead against hers, “that answers the first question.”

Shayla gazed deep into his eyes, searching. Gentle hands smoothed his hair in petting motions, and she whispered, “I thought it was just me—my imagination.”

She paused to kiss him quickly. “Adrenalin after what happened.”

He didn’t want to speak so he returned to her luscious lips.

Eagerly, she responded.

“Nice to see you're getting acquainted,” Chaeli said.

Shayla jumped backward, embarrassment overwhelming her features.

He laughed.

With an intense glare of defiance, she flipped a long curl over her shoulder.

Humm
.

“Should I have Mari remove lunch?”

“That’d be fine, Mum. I think I’ll take Shayla for a walk. Show her some of the finer points of Glastonbury Abbey and Chalice Well.”

“All right. Be sure to visit the Tor. I’m sure she would enjoy that.”

“Aye, Mum. We’ll wait for sunset to go there. Come on, my little Fae,” he said teasing and folding her hand in his. “Ye have much to learn.”

* * * * * *

Okay, so the hunk can be annoying, too
. Shayla stepped into the central foyer of Chilkwell Manor and glanced around inquisitively at the understated elegance.

Antique rugs graced the shiny wood floors with regal elegance. Two life-sized portraits caught her attention. The one to her left presented a view of the Chalice Well Gardens.

In the other portrait, a warrior dressed in full Highland regalia sat astride his horse, and leaned down to kiss a mysterious maiden.

Shayla froze in step while the sight of the portrait's scene made her heart race. Somehow, her breath became lost outside her body as she studied the life-sized man and woman.

Meekal laughed. “Aye, I know. Spooky.”

Shayla attempted to swallow.

Glistening black hair topped the warrior. That wasn't unusual. The angle of the portrait allowed a slight view of brilliant cobalt blue eyes.

However, the maiden’s back faced the foyer. Her waist length tresses showed garnet red highlights mingled with opulent black.

Shayla could not draw herself away from the discovery. The likeness was too much like her own hair. She had never seen that before.

“Come on,” Meekal said, in a low voice.

“Who are they?” she asked.

Meekal lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “Ancestors.”

They stepped outside into the fall sunshine, a new and oddly disquieting silence between them.

Shayla stopped. Unspoken words left heaviness and abounding questions welling in a spiraling rush through her mind. Feet rooted to the portico floor, she insisted, “Meekal.”

He faced her, biting his lower lip.

She swallowed and pulled eyes away while trying to escape the memory of those lips.

He squared his shoulders and locked their gaze. “That was Dhu Bry. Black Bryan. He was the first Guardian of the Well. Morna was his wife.”

“Why does the Well need guardians?”

He inhaled sharply, released the air with slow deliberation and caressed her hand with strong fingers.

The new tattoo tickled and anticipation boiled. She tugged his hand to remind him of the question.

He shrugged and scanned the street. “There have been people, wicked criminals who attempt to steal its Power.”

“Power?”

“Aye.”

She stepped down the stairs, floating in a daze. First, she experienced strange vibrations at the Vesica Pisces Pool. Then the miraculous appearance of the White Lady. Her mind spun in dizzying pirouettes.

Birl. Why’d it come back around to that little word? That wasn’t the first circumstance, but the first cognitive step?

To top it all off, Meekal arrived on the scene and elicited emotions and physical attraction beyond all previous fantasy. She had fainted twice—something she never did.

“Shayla.”

She moaned from somewhere so deep, it had to be primal. The physical reaction wasn’t her imagination. Its potency raced under her skin, enflaming unprecedented desire.

His physical presence blurred.

Oh no. Not again
. Head spinning, she leaned on him for support.

Meekal held her steady. “It’s okay. I know this is all new to you. It’ll be fine.”

His voice titillated her. She endeavored to find his mouth. Moaning into him, she sought solace from sudden apprehension of the unknown.
Steal Power? How?

He caressed her gently, and ran his hands through her hair.

She quivered, moving closer, savoring his taste.
Forget such thoughts
. She delved in, tonguing pleasure to new heights.

“Bloody hell, git a room.”

Meekal pulled away with a laugh.

Harry’s friendly face registered humor from his height advantage on the portico. “This is a B&B, you know, Kal. Course there’s also the fact you do have your own room.”

“Harry, you’re embarrassing Shayla.”

“Uncanny,” Harry said, leaning against the pillar on his left. “Don’t cha think, Kal?” He scanned Shayla with blatant curiosity.

Her knees wobbled. Apparently, she was not the only one to notice the likeness to the portrait.

“Later, mate,” Harry said with a smirk, and then wiggled his brows in jest. “I’d avoid the Abbey if I were you.” He stepped down the stairs with an air of jauntiness and fun.

“Actually, that’s where we’re going,” Meekal replied. “Wanna join?”

Harry grinned, and then tossed Shayla a wink. “Three’s a crowd, mate.”

Meekal pulled on her hand. “Fine.”

Still dazed, Shayla followed. History always fascinated her. This was not history; it was more into the esoteric.

“Are you all right?”

“No, Meekal. I want to know what’s going on.”

His fingers caressed her jaw, and then skimmed over her pulse. He stopped there, mesmerized by the contact of his skin on hers.

Watching him, his handsome features expressing a newfound awe, took her breath away.

“You can call me Kal. That’s what my close friends do.” He sighed and leaned in, brushing lips across her cheek, and then her mouth.

She accepted his amorous kiss eagerly.

Pulling away, he whispered, “At this rate, we’ll never make it to the Abbey.” He nuzzled and ran a wandering hand down her arm. “You’re beautiful. You know that?”

“No.” She never liked her hair color and even changed it to blonde for awhile. That was the singular reason she never saw herself as beautiful. She detested her hair’s difference.

Before today, she had never seen another person with her signature black hair blended with naturally deep, jeweled garnet highlights. Usually someone with her dark shade possessed a blue-black sheen.