T is for Temptation (34 page)

Pressing a fist to her mouth, Tee stifled a whimper.

Hordes of black-webbed-winged creatures hanging upside down covered the ceiling. Panicked and revolted, she squeezed her lids shut and imagined a breeze blowing over trees and rustling leaves.

Testing, she opened one eye. Trees, a bed of leaves, Brodick, red-bricked and solid, the welcome sight made Tee sigh and she took a deep breath. Clean, pine-scented forest air filled her lungs, tension seeped out of her shoulders, and she rested against the rough bark of an oak, half-hidden by the faint shadows of its swaying branches. Men in every stage of sleeping dotted the castle grounds. Poultry pieces littered rough-hewn tables and the dewy grass.

She stood and swayed, leaned a shoulder against the tree’s trunk, and fingered the back of her head. Wincing at the stab of pain the gingerly exploration caused, her mind flashed back to the destrier. Someone had knocked her unconscious.

The ring of men in the stables. Brandy.

How long had she been out? A quick glance at a sky crowded with angry black clouds turned up no clues; it could be early morning or late afternoon.

In the distance, she saw a line of males striding towards the edge of the forest, two women straggling behind them. Jake’s fiancée and her family? Were they leaving? One could only hope and pray.

A sudden gust blew away the cobwebs in her brain, and she straightened, hot-wired to the vulnerability of being out in the open. Tee slipped away to the castle’s side entrance, opened the wooden door, and dropped the bar into place behind her.

Not in the mood to struggle with a flickering torch, she simply pictured a flashlight. A cone of light illuminated the stairs. She raced up the stone steps, ignoring the pounding in her head and a flip-flopping belly. At the top of the last flight, she slowed her pace and trudged to the attic room.

Exhausted, she dropped to the double bed and let the flashlight fall from her hand. Flames leapt from the fireplace in the attic grate. The yellow-blue blaze shrouded her in a soothing glow, and she fought the icy wave of shivers wracking through her, the chill a result of circumstances, not the dropping temperature.

Tee scooted across the bed and looked out the window onto the grounds below. Knuckling her throbbing temples, she caught a waft of her scent and shuddered in disgust. Desperate to shed the stink, she conjured a shower in the tiny room and drowned her senses in a hot, steamy torrent of water. She dressed, swallowed three ibuprofen tablets, and set off in search of Jake and Alex. In the kitchen, Tee bumped into Tiny. She shook his arm. All around them, men, women, and children bustled about, their low murmur of conversation punctuated by an occasional shout and clanking metal.

“Where’s the laird?” She tiptoed, so she wouldn’t have to shout.

“Can’t be located.”

“Pardon me?”

“Where’ve you been, lass?”

“You don’t want to know,” she muttered, ashamed to admit her mistake. “Tiny, where’s the laird?”

“Lass, mayhap you’d best take a seat. Until the handfasting, the Ramsays have him under guard.”

“Guard? Where?” The long line of Ramsays heading into the forest flashed across her pupils.

“I have the men looking for him. Aye, there is one other wee fact you should know. They plan to hang the evidence of consummation of the ceremony this evening.”

She thudded onto the wooden bench, and her stomach revolted, churning acidity to her throat. Between the clobbering in her brain and the waves of nausea, not a single solution to the nightmare formed. Instead, her thoughts circled to a hysterical edge. “This can’t be happening. I’m going crazy.”

“Father MacAuley’s starting.” A chubby-cheeked maid cupped a hand over her mouth and giggled. “Look, Laird Ferguson’s dressed in all his finery.”

Every forearm hair tickled to attention. A dawning sense of impending doom proved a dire contrast to the everyday commotion pulsing around her, the joyful smiles and the rising excitement in the voices of the kitchen helpers. The scent of apples cooking filled the air and the normally comforting aroma became macabre. She eyed the rows of fruit pies on the window ledge, and the bile in her gullet intensified, Tee swallowed once, twice.

A flame-haired, freckled cherub giggled. Next to her, a dark beauty crooked her finger at the gaggle of females crowded around a kitchen table. Tee joined them, hovering in the doorway. Throngs packed the banquet hall, and a rumble of buzzing conversation circled the room.

In front of the cavernous fireplace stood a man dressed in a long burlap tunic, rope-belted at the waist. A priest. Her insides strummed like a trampoline after a strident workout. Turning her chin a nudge at a time, certain of what she’d see, hoping against hope she was wrong, dread shrouded her entire form as the scene unfolded. Jake, standing beside a striking, voluptuous girl with angelic features, an arm draped around her waist.

Tiny’s words haunted her, “
hang the evidence of the consummation
.”

Jake stroked the peaches of the girl’s cheek, a lover’s tender gesture. The priest made the sign of the cross and boomed, “Before these witnesses you have sworn your vows to be true to each other as man and wife.”

Caustic sourness rolled across Tee’s tongue. The room spun. Her eyes rolled up in her head. As she sank to the floor, she reached for safety, for the comforting familiarity of her nanna.

Groggy and befuddled, she awoke to the sound of crackling. A roaring fire blazed and danced in a familiar stone fireplace. She was back in her nanna’s cottage, curled into a ball on the burgundy carpet in front of the sofa.

A laid table centered before an empty fire grate held her attention. A half-eaten, brown-crusted round rump of beef and three muffin-shaped
Yorkshire
puddings drenched in brown gravy decorated an oval porcelain platter. A few leaves of lettuce, a couple of cherry tomatoes, shaved cheese, and a black olive dotted a wooden salad bowl. Bits of fruit and cake clung to a crystal dish.

Their dinner.

Had it all been a dream, or had she surrendered the last remnants of her tenacious hold on reality?

The room spun. It was as if nothing had ever happened—
Brodick
Castle
, Tiny, Alex, Jake.

Jake.

Bile raced to her mouth. She sprinted up the stairs to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach into the white toilet bowl.

Had Jake married sometime in the past?

Another series of convulsive retching commanded her, and she vomited again and again. Tears streamed down her face. If Jake and Alex were stuck in the past, she didn’t know how to get them back.

She’d failed them. Failed
Douglas
. Failed her parents. Failed the tryouts. Failed at living. Failed at being a witch.

Bankrupt, inconsolable, Tee crawled to the bedroom and passed out, succumbing to complete emotional and physical exhaustion.

Sirens penetrated her dulled mind. She jerked awake, rolled off the bed, and headed to the bathroom. The alarms rang louder as she washed her face and hands and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. A tear-streaked, swollen face substantiated her utter misery. The horrible wailing grew closer. She held on to the sink for support and leaned across the narrow space to peer out the dusty windowpane.

Police cars, six or more, sped up the graveled driveway, screeching to a halt in front of the steps leading to the cottage. Uniformed men dashed up the stairs, and the doorbell ding-donged. She searched the medicine cabinet above the sink, found an aspirin bottle, and shook two pills into her palm.

The persistent buzzing formed a nagging background noise as she filled a glass with water and swallowed the tablets with the icy liquid.

Life’s relentless march when she needed it most to halt. Shoulder slumping, back hunched, Tee trudged down the stairs, each one a descent into an abyss of despair.

Where was Jake now? Would she ever see him again?

Numbed, resigned, she opened the front door.

“Mrs. Trent?”

Flood.

Figured.

What she deserved.

What she expected.

The other, younger, man stood behind him.

“Inspectors.” She stepped backwards. “Come in.”

“Actually, Mrs. Trent you need to accompany us.” This from the nicer one.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To Scotland Yard headquarters in
London
.”

“I see.” She turned around. “Let me get my coat.”

“We’ll get it for you.” Detective Flood grasped her arm. “Get it.” The man jerked his head at the wooden coat stand. “You have a habit of suddenly disappearing, and it’s not happening on my watch.”

They conducted the four-hour journey in complete silence. She could’ve disappeared again, but that meant delaying the inevitable confrontation with the authorities, Tricia, Dad. Each passing mile magnified her imagined arrest, the scandal, her mother’s icy disapproval. Slow, measured rage seeped in halfway to
London
.

Fury rankled every pore. Not only did her mother not love her, she didn’t like her. Every second of her life to this point, Tee had lived a lie, assumed a mantle someone else wanted her to wear. Losing Jake cleared the layers of disguise. She was a witch.

Crossroads.

She could strive for the unattainable, Tricia’s approval, and deny her inherent powers.

Or embrace he conjuring abilities, find the reason she had them in the first place. Use them to find Jake, rescue him.

Before her marriage, before Jake, she’d never thought she had options. She did.

Dandelion clocks surfaced, and Tee cringed. Then she thought about the two jackets, the fries and shakes for Tiny, her escape from the dungeon, and a certain light-headedness set in. She could do this. Make it work.

On her own.

For too long she’d relied on the strength of others, Dee, Douglas.

Her mother’s reaction to her powers colored everything she did from the first time she realized the woman was ashamed of her, embarrassed by her. She remembered being a shy four-year-old, awkward around other children and uncomfortable with adults. On her first day at Montessori school, excited and wanting the others to like her, she’d conjured up treat after treat, cakes, candy, even a white pony with a pink ribbon in her mane.

They sent her home, permanently.

Confused, hurting, insecure, she turned to her mother for comfort. Instead of soothing words, hugs, and kisses, Tricia had said, “Why can’t you be normal? A lady does not draw attention to herself. You need to learn to control your urges, Tallulah, and behave as expected.”

Those words surfaced time after time during her childhood. When she discovered riding and horses, it became her escape, an outlet for her competitive spirit. Being different and excelling in the equestrian arena meant rewards, acclaim, not punishment and rebukes. For so long, she’d yearned to be just like everyone else—normal—and that required repudiating her talents, hoping if she didn’t use them, they’d disappear. Conjuring was an intrinsic part of her, and she wasn’t whole without it.

Damn it, being different did not mean being inferior.

The time had come to learn how to control her special abilities. Tee felt as if she’d crossed some sort of threshold, stood on the edge of a precipice.

She was ready to accept her powers and use them when necessary.

Sitting up and straightening her shoulders, confident and certain of her direction, she smiled.