The Wedding Spell Page 10

  Spotless.

  “A dream,” he mumbled and rushed out the front door almost colliding with Thelma Burns, the woman who kept his house sparkling clean.

  “Sorry, Thelma,” he said and stepped aside for her to enter.

  “Running late?” she asked, returning her key to her purse.

  “Running way past late,” he confirmed with a wave and in a rush rounded the front of his car, jumped in, and within seconds was down the driveway.

  Thelma shut the door and went directly to the kitchen. She always brewed a fresh pot of coffee for herself when she arrived.

  She was about to fill the glass pot with water when a bright piece of material on the floor caught her eye. She leaned down and scooped up the yellow cloth that partially peeked out from beneath the cabinet.

  She smiled, stretching out the yellow bathing suit top in front of her. The woman who wore this was obviously well-endowed. Mr. Wainwright must have had a good time in his kitchen last night.

  Thelma took the top to the laundry room to add to the wash. She would discreetly place the item in Mr. Wainwright’s closet so when he came across it he would simply think that the lady forgot her top and no one would be embarrassed or the wiser.

  o0o

  Sydney Wyrrd never demanded attention or respect, she simply received it. She was treated like a beloved queen by all, and the special attention didn’t amaze Sebastian. It actually seemed appropriate given the generosity and love she spread so freely.

  When she requested to speak with the chef, the man immediately rushed out to see her. He listened intently while she detailed the way she preferred her crab salad prepared, and if he wouldn’t mind seeing to it for her she would be grateful.

  The chef guaranteed her food would be prepared strictly to her instructions.

  When the fussing subsided and they were finally alone, Sydney settled an appreciative smile on him.

  “I am ever so grateful to you for meeting with me on such short notice.”

  “I never turn down a meal with a beautiful woman.”

  Sydney reached across the table and patted his hand. “Then you should ask my niece to supper.”

  “I was thinking the same thing myself,” he admitted with reluctance.

  Sydney appeared surprised, though pleased. “And here I thought you were running away from my niece.”

  He laughed, a deep rumble. “I couldn’t run far or fast enough, she even invades my dreams.”

  Sydney sighed knowingly. “Ali is a determined one.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  Their meal was served with style and grace of years gone by, and Sebastian had to admit he was impressed.

  “Tell me, Sebastian,” Sydney said with great care. “What do you really think of Alisande?”

  “Are you certain you want me to answer that?”

  “By all means,” she encouraged.

  He didn’t hesitate. “She is willful, spoiled, crazy, independent, beautiful, charming unpredictable—”

  He stopped short, placed his fork on his plate, and looked her directly in those stunning Wyrrd green eyes that seemed to contain age-old wisdom and strength. “Why does she insist that she is a witch? And why do you encourage it? Are all Wyrrd’s crazy?”

  His candid question did not upset her in the least. She spoke without a trace of irritation. “You don’t believe in witches?”

  “Neo-pagan witchcraft, those who practice Wiccan, but the broom-flying, spell-casting kind? He was shaking his head before he finished.

  “So witches are a figment of the imagination?”

  “Overactive imagination,” he amended.

  “Then where do you think witches originated?”

  Sebastian ignored his food, finding the interesting conversation stimulating. “From what I have read so far, I would say that their origins took root in a harmless secular group based on and around nature.”

  “What today is referred to as Wiccan?” Sydney asked.

  “No, I would say Wiccan took some beliefs from this ancient sect but deviated from the original.”

  “Interesting perspective.”

  “Consider history,” Sebastian said. “Fear and ignorance bred by radicals who practiced tyranny contributed to the demise of many old religious and secular beliefs. Think of what was lost to the world because of the frenzy to dominate the masses. What better way to instill fear than to create the illusion of evil.”

  “So what you are suggesting is that witches never existed. They were created to inspire fear and thereby used as means to control by those in places of power.”

  He nodded. “Created supposedly by intelligent men whose beliefs were based on good and evil and greed.”

  “And anything that wasn’t understood was evil.”

  “Right. Say this ancient sect was a highly evolved race who understood the energy of nature, their crops flourished, their health flourished, their knowledge expanded. Yet those around them suffered from disease, starvation, and such. Wouldn’t it make sense to think that those who did not suffer, but were fortunate, made a pact with the devil?”

  “Why not just offer their knowledge to the less fortunate?” she asked.

  “Because the less fortunate are innocent and they are made to believe by those who wish to propagate ignorance and domination that it is the devil’s work and that he is attempting to coerce them to the side of evil.”

  “And this highly evolved group of people, do you believe them capable of possessing,” —she paused a moment—“certain abilities?”

  “I suppose you mean the broom-flying, spell-casting kind?” he asked with humor.

  Sydney answered with a nod and a smile.

  “An intelligent race would have no need for such antics.”

  “Antics?” Sydney said indignantly.

  “Why cast a spell when a matter can be settled intelligently?” he asked. “Take your niece for instance. She is a beautiful, alluring woman. Why insist she is a witch?”

  “Honesty is important in a relationship.”

  “Precisely,” he agreed and cast a suspicious glance at Sydney. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that Ali is a witch?”

  “Have you ever for one moment suspended your belief in the obvious, the practical, and looked beyond?”

  “There is always a sensible explanation for everything,” he insisted, his opinion strong on the subject.

  Sydney spoke softly. “Like the time you were a little boy, no more than four, and you got lost in the woods that surrounded the cottage your parents had rented in Ireland for the summer.”

  Sebastian stared at her in disbelief but remained silent. Any good security firm could dig up basic information on him, and he was certain Sydney Wyrrd had not wasted a minute in hiring the best— or second best, since his firm was number one. And he planned on finding out who was responsible for invading his past so thoroughly.

  Sydney continued. “You began to cry. You felt frightened and alone and feared you would never see your parents again. Do you remember what happened?”

  He nodded. “Distinctly. My father found me.”

  “By the edge of the woods near the cottage,” Sydney confirmed.

  “That’s right.”

  “But how did you get there? You wandered a considerable distance into the woods.”

  Sebastian stiffened. “I was lucky.”

  Sydney smiled. “Come, my dear boy, admit the truth.”

  “What truth?” he asked with reservation.

  “Beatrice.” She said the name as if she were familiar with the woman.

  Sebastian had not heard the name in years. He had put it out of his mind, relegated it to childhood fantasies or dreams. No one knew about Beatrice. How could they? She wasn’t real.

  “Beatrice saved you,” Sydney said, offering his hand a comforting pat. “Beatrice is like that. She loves children, but then all forest fairies do. When she spotted you sitting on that rotted stump sobbing and your knees skinned form a
tumble, her heart went out to you. Normally, the forest fairies will direct the lost child home without them realizing it, but she sensed you were special and so she appeared to you.”

  “On my shoulder,” he said in a whisper, “wearing that lopsided flowery wreath on her head, fluttering her crooked wing and sporting a wide magical smile.

  Sydney’s own smile widened. Magical. There was hope for the dear boy.

  “Beatrice promised she would help you find your way home, and of course she did. Fairies never lie. She remained on your shoulder all the way to the edge of the woods.”

  “Chatting incessantly along the way.” He laughed, recalling her endless, nonsensical string of chatter whispered softly in his ear.

  “To keep you calm,” Sydney said, “though she can go on at times.”

  “At the edge of the woods she instructed me to call out to my father. She told me that she could go no farther.”

  Sydney nodded. “The woods protect the fairies. Once past them they are in danger of being discovered.”

  Sebastian continued, the long-ago memory vividly returning. “I asked her who she was and she told me, Beatrice. Then she disappeared.”

  Sydney’s smile faded. And when you told your father, he didn’t believe you.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “No, he didn’t. He stared suspiciously at Sydney. “How did you find out? No one knows that story but me and my father, and my father passed on years ago.”

  Sydney’s smile returned. “You are an investigator, you figure it out. Now, are you going to ask my niece out on a date?”

  Subject changed meant subject closed. She would leave him hanging. Give him food for thought. Sebastian smiled at the older woman’s cunning. “Do I have a choice?”

  “I think, my dear boy, that your choice has already been made.”

  o0o

  Sydney sat alone at the table having explained to Sebastian she would wait for a friend she was to meet.

  With a gracious kiss to her cheek, Sebastian thanked her for a most interesting lunch and suggested they meet again soon.

  She had promised him they most certainly would.

  “Daydreaming or conjuring, Sydney?” Dagon asked as he joined her at the table.

  “A little of both,” she admitted. “Sebastian Wainwright is extremely intelligent. He came terribly close to understanding the history of our heritage.”

  Dagon raised a concerned brow. “How did he manage that?”

  “Logical deduction from various facts he had gathered. But his logical, pragmatic mind refuses to accept anything out of the ordinary. Actually, I don’t think he believes that anything exists out of the ordinary.”

  “Meaning that he will never accept Alisande being a witch.”

  “If he can rationalize it he might,” she suggested, “though I have a feeling logic will fly out the window as he becomes more involved with Ali.”

  “And how is he to do that when he keeps his distance from her?”

  Sydney smiled with joy. “He is going to ask her out.”

  Dagon shook his head in disgust. “What good will that do? Ali will not deny her heritage, and he will not acknowledge it. He is destined to hurt her.”

  Sydney disagreed. “I think not. I sense he has feelings for her. Feelings he has yet to understand or accept.”

  Dagon laughed. “How wouldn’t he be having difficulty? The little minx is probably invading his dreams and tormenting him senseless.”

  “She can only do so much,” Sydney reminded. “Remember the spell she cast.”

  “She always ran headfirst into things never giving thought to the consequences, always believing all would turn out well.”

  “And you always managed to catch her if she should fall, softening the impact.”

  Dagon sighed with resignation. “I don’t want to see her get hurt. If she wants this mortal, heaven forbid, then I will do all I can to help her.”

  “That’s what I was counting on,” she said. “There is nothing like an extra wheel to upset the applecart.”

  Dagon’s sinful smile elicited several gasps from the women at the surrounding tables. “Is it time for us to put your plan into action?”

  “I have managed to set it in motion,” she admitted. “It won’t be long before you are called into action.”

  “Good,” Dagon said, rubbing his hands together then stopped and dared to direct a finger at Sydney. “But I warn you, if this plan doesn’t resolve the issue, I will take matters into my own hands, and you know what a temper I have when someone I care for is made to suffer needlessly.”

  Pushing his wagging finger aside she said. “I am counting on it.”

  o0o

  Sebastian rode the elevator to his suite of offices on the top floor, thinking of his conversation with Sydney Wyrrd.

  Damned if he wasn’t annoyed that she had uncovered that incident in his youth. And who had she hired to research his past? Being in security, he had taken certain precautions to guarantee his privacy. So how did Sydney breach his security? He would have to look into this himself, and when he found the source he would make certain he hired him. The person was good. Damn good to have uncovered that bit of personal information about him.

  Sebastian informed Ms. Smithers that he had an important case to work on and she was to hold all calls. He then spent the remainder of the afternoon searching. It wasn’t until Ms. Smithers announced she was leaving for the day that he realized that no one had breached his defenses. No one had done a legal or illegal background check on him, at least not through normal channels.

  Then who had related the story to Sydney?

  Sebastian relaxed back in the large soft leather desk chair, resting his head, closing his eyes, and remembering.

  He had been so frightened when he realized he was lost, he didn’t know what to do except cry, as any terrified four-year-old would do. The towering trees, the thick high bushes, the odd sounds were like strange creatures closing in on a small lost boy. He had thought for sure a wood monster would appear and swallow him whole.

  But instead of a monster he got a fairy.

  Beatrice appeared on his shoulder. She attempted to dry his wet eyes with the sleeve of her white and pale blue gauze dress. She was plump, cheerful, and had the pretties face framed by the blondest hair Sebastian had ever seen. But it was the lopsided flowery head wreath she wore and her crooked wing that he would always remember. The wreath sat tilted on her head until it almost covered one eye, and she was forever pushing it up only to have it fall down again. And her crooked wing caused her to fly or flutter in place on an angle so that she appeared off balance more often than not.

  She chatted endlessly, though to him reassuringly, in his ear as she directed him through the woods. And she walked along his shoulder, sat on it, even leaned against his cheek several times to wipe his trailing tears. If it hadn’t been for her?

  He shook his head slowly. What was wrong with him? His father had explained that she was only a figment of his childish imagination and that his own good senses got him out of his predicament. After all, he had walked himself into the woods; he was certainly capable of walking himself out. But he had liked Beatrice and he had so wanted to believe she had been a real fairy.

  Think logical, boy.

  His father’s words rang in his ears.

  Apply logic and sound reasoning, and the answers will appear.

  “Okay, Dad,” Sebastian said aloud. “If I didn’t tell Sydney and you didn’t tell her, then who told her about the woods?”

  Beatrice.

  The thought had him shooting out of the chair, raking his fingers through his hair, and pacing in front of the row of windows.

  He was losing his mind. He had to be if he believed in wood fairies.

  His glance went to the phone.

  Ask her out and get some answers.

  He walked to the desk and reached for the phone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The restaurant was a small, intimate p
lace outside of D.C. The menu was tastefully selected, the wine list exceptional, and the atmosphere discreet. It was the perfect place for a lover’s rendezvous.

  Ali had no doubt Sebastian chose it with privacy in mind, and the thought pleased her. Just as it pleased her to know he couldn’t take his eyes off her. And she owed his rapt attention to the wisp of white silk she wore. The dress was designed to tantalize, leaving just enough to the imagination to tempt and torment. She wore no jewelry so as not to distract, and her hair was fashioned in an intricate twist with falling strands accenting her neck and face. A minimum of makeup, a touch of color to highlight her lips, and pearl white polish on her nails complimented her attire. She had chosen wisely for this evening’s attire.

  But then, so had Sebastian. He looked simply delicious. His clothes were obviously tailored to fit his athletically built body, and she liked his choice of the contrasting navy and tan colors of his sports jacket and trousers.

  “And his aftershave? She sighed and quietly murmured, “Sexy.”

  After she took the seat he held for her, he leaned over her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Seductive.”

  Her smile turned to one of pure pleasure mixed with excitement.

  Sebastian took the seat opposite her at the round, cozy table, and their eyes instantly met and held.

  The waiter obviously accustomed to discretion, left the menus and quietly disappeared.

  “You wore that dress on purpose,” he accused in a low whisper.

  “For a purpose,” she corrected with a look that promised more than an intimate dinner.

  He leaned nearer to her. “Behave.”

  She moved closer. “Do you really want me to?”

  What a question to ask him. Damn if he didn’t want her to be just who she was; a passionate, audacious and seductive woman.

  He cringed at his own answer. “Yes.”

  Her laughter sounded like soft chimes drifting on a gentle wind. “I am who I am, Sebastian.”

  “Who are you?” he asked, suddenly in need of knowing, really knowing Alisande Wyrrd.

  “A woman who wants you,” she said without hesitation or coyness.