Witches of Three: Charlene (13 page)

“I thought everyone was demented and scared of something that never really existed so they killed a bunch of innocent women.”

“Yes, well, those women were all innocent. Think about it. A real witch wouldn’t allow herself to be caught and put to death. She would have the power to escape.”

He sat and thought about what she said, his food untouched. Finally, he turned his gaze back to her.

“That business with the car earlier today when we were going after Nolan. That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she replied and suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore. “Is this going to make a difference?”

“A difference? Yes, of course, it does. You’re a witch, and I’m an unemployed policeman. I’ve never been in this position before.”

“Neither have I.”

He jerked his head up to meet her gaze. “What do you mean? You’ve always been a witch. You’ve had years to get used to it.”

“But I haven’t had years to get used to loving someone—someone who may not want to spend his life with a witch.”

“Oh, that,” he said flatly. “That part’s not a problem.”

“Now it’s your turn to explain,” she said around the tightness in her chest.

He turned his beautiful baby blues on her, and she grabbed what little breath she had, waiting for him to say the words she needed him say. Even if she were a witch, she’d die if he didn’t.

“I’d love you even if you were an old crone cooking up potions in a cauldron. That’s never going to change. Can you have children? Because I want a baby with you.”

“Of course, Phil’s expecting her first.” Her heart melted at his words. Her whole being suffused with joy.

“One other thing, did you put a spell on me? Because in the beginning, I couldn’t think of anything else but you, still can’t. I guess it doesn’t really matter if you did. I just need to know what I have to watch out for in the future.” He wound some spaghetti around his fork and thrust it into his mouth then sat chewing and studying her with a quizzical smile.

“I would never do that to you,” she said solemnly, her gaze steady on him. She saw relief spread across his face.

“I need to explain something to you. I have the same moral sense as any other human being. I don’t use my gifts to hurt or deceive. I’m capable of loyalty to the one I love and empathy and support. I won’t use my powers to wash your clothes or make your meals.” She paused and glanced at the salad.

“I just did that to show off, but…” She held up her finger to emphasize what she was about to say. “If you’re in danger, I’ll use everything in my power to protect you.”

He’d remained silent through all this, now he tightened his lips.

“This is very lopsided,” he said seriously. “What have I got to give you in return? I’m just an ordinary man.”

Charlie smiled widely. “You are not an ordinary man,” she told him. “You give me love and passion and support. You would die yourself trying to protect me. You’re smart and steadfast and so much more. If you don’t tell me again that you love me and still want to marry me, I’ll die right here.”

“That’s something else,” he said. “Do witches age and die like the rest of us?”

“I will,” she vowed.

“You don’t have to. It would be kind of cool to be an old man with a babe on my arm.”

“Is that your way of telling me you’ll marry me and stay with me forever?”

“Of course, I will. The thought never crossed my mind not to.”

“Oh, Nick.”

She ran around the table and threw herself into his lap. His arms curled around her.

“When do you want to get married?” he asked, nuzzling her ear.

“Now, this very minute. I don’t want you to change your mind.”

He hugged her tighter. “I never will. I just wondered if you want me now when I’m broke and jobless or later when I’m a successful lawyer.”

“Now,” she repeated. “I have money enough for both of us.”

“Actually, I have, too.”

She drew back and looked at him questioningly.

“I inherited from an uncle a few years ago, and I’ve never spent a nickel. I don’t have to work ever again if I don’t want to, but I do.”

“I know how you feel. I don’t want to stop being a policewoman, but I feel so guilty that your career has ended.”

“Don’t. I’m excited about the prospect of becoming a lawyer.”

He put up his hand to cup her jaw. The bandage fell away, and he stared at her, startled. Self-consciously, Charlie put her hand to her jaw. There was no sign she’d ever been injured. She shrugged and looked away from Nick’s gaze.

“Sometimes, I use witchcraft for good,” she said. “I didn’t want to have a scar.”

“Did you help, Geronimo?” he asked softly.

She nodded.

“You know you saved his life?”

She nodded again.

“I’m learning all kinds of things about witches,” he said softly and pulled her head down on his shoulder where he feathered kisses across her face. Charlie sighed contentedly.

“Are we going to bed soon?” she asked.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Do witches know how to use all kinds of positions?”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Oh, maybe, while flying through the air or something?”

“I’m willing to try,” she offered.

About the Author

Temple Hogan is the author of over forty books, some hard cover, under the name of Peggy Hanchar and Peggy Roberts. She lives on an inland lake in Michigan with her husband, three cats and one naughty Shitz Tzu named Gizz. Her hobbies are cooking, gardening, acrylic painting and reading detective stories. She’s currently at work on her next book.

Temple loves to talk to her readers and can be found at TempleHogan.blogspot.com.

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