The Wedding Spell Read online

  “Now therein lays the problem,” Ali said and took a step toward him, though he took another step away from her. “You see that’s why I need you to be my lover. I have neglected to keep my powers energized and now I require a powerful man to sort of—”

  “Stimulate your magical abilities?”

  “Something like that.”

  Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck as he once again shook his head. Was she a certifiable nut or a woman looking for sex? “Look if you want to go to bed with me, why don’t you just come right out and say so instead of making up some dumb story?”

  Ali wasn’t at all disturbed by his insensitive remarks; after all, he was only mortal. “I can understand how strange this all must sound to you, but once you get to know me—”

  “Know you?” he nearly shouted. “I know enough about you, and crazy women don’t interest me.”

  “What about witches?” she asked with a laugh.

  Her laugh felt like a gentle caress across his face, and once again his body sparked to life. Her hair even glittered as if moonbeams danced off every silky strand and...

  He caught his rebelling thoughts and shook his head as if shaking them away. He’d had enough, especially with his mutinous body responding so adamantly to her obtrusive advances. She was obviously nuts, and he wanted her out of his office, out of his building and then he would immediately do a thorough background check on her to determine her exact identity and whether someone, mainly a competitor, could possibly have sent her.

  Sebastian pressed a button on his desk. “Ms. Smithers, where is security?”

  “On their way, sir.”

  “On their way?” he asked puzzled. “What about the guards on this floor?”

  “They appear indisposed at the moment, sir.”

  He sent Ali a scathing look.

  She was not at all repentant, though she did explain. “The magic dust is just beginning to wear off. They will all be fine soon, which means I best hurry and finish here.”

  Sebastian stared at her skeptically. “Finish? Oh, you’re finished all right. Now get out.”

  Ali shook her head slowly as she approached him with a sinfully erotic sway of her gently curved hips. “Oh, but I can’t do that just yet.”

  Her suggestive sway caught his attention, and he could think of nothing but her completely naked beneath him moving in that languid rhythm that could drive a man wild. With a brief and sharp shake of his head forcing him back to the reality of this absurd situation he asked, “and why not?”

  She stepped nearer, their bodies dangerously close to connecting. A fraction, just a mere fraction, and they would share the intimacy of their bodies first touch.

  Sebastian stood his ground, never having backed down from anyone.

  She pressed her finger gently to his lips, those thin lips that so excited her. “You’re my destiny,” she murmured, “and I am yours, nothing can stop our intimate union. We shall have a glorious love affair.”

  “You’re crazy,” he said, moving away from her and feeling just as crazy for wanting her so badly.

  Ali laughed. “No, not really and soon you will understand. I promise.”

  Her expression turned serious and she raised her hand to the heavens and traced an imaginary circle in the air around them. Diamond-like dust sprinkled down over them, and in a soft, sensual rhythm she recited her spell.

  “True love is often rare; forever love is always shared; mistaken love cannot be denied; make-believe love cannot hide; practical love makes two people whole; but magical love touches the soul.”

  Gently, she tapped his chest, just above his heart with her long fingernail. Her spell was cast.

  The office door burst open and ten security guards rushed in. Sebastian stared at her speechless and was astonished when she simply waltzed past all of them, as if she didn’t exist, as if she was invisible, and left his office as mysteriously as she had arrived.

  Chapter Three

  Sebastian shook his head, stopped and shook his head again. If he didn’t know any better he would swear that he shook something loose in his brain, he had shaken his head so often these last two hours.

  Endless work on the computer and countless phone calls and still he was unable to uncover anything significant about Alisande Wyrrd.

  He rubbed at his temples, the dull ache of an impending major headache just beginning to form. He had barked orders at his men to go after the blond woman who had invaded his private sanctum and return her to him for questioning. They had stood gawking at him as if he had suddenly sprouted two heads. Ms. Smithers saved the day when she announced that the woman was making her escape on the elevators. The men scrambled out of his office, gratefully without tripping over one another. Several took the fire stairs and the others the elevators and lobby security was alerted to the intruder’s impending arrival.

  All reported the same findings; the mysterious woman seemed to have vanished. She couldn’t be found anywhere in the building or the surrounding area.

  Sebastian had then resorted to the computer and noteworthy contacts, coming up with only basic information. Alisande Wyrrd was actually part of the Wyrrds. She lived on a two-hundred acre estate in Virginia. Sydney Wyrrd, Alisande’s father’s sister, presently resided with her. Both women were known for their charitable natures and eccentricity which appeared to be a long-standing family trait. The Wyrrd Foundation, a nonprofit organization, hosted numerous fund-raisers throughout the year, helping to raise millions for worthy causes.

  Alisande Wyrrd appeared to be legit — crazy — but as normal as one would expect for an eccentric.

  Sebastian rubbed at the spot on his chest where her finger had gently poked him. The skin there was warm and highly sensitive almost as if she had branded him with her simple touch.

  “Impossible,” he muttered. He was letting his imagination and the nutty woman’s suggestive words play on his mind. No doubt she had dabbled some in Wicca and now thought herself a bona fide witch, though he had to admit that she didn’t fit his image of a witch.

  A cauldron-stirring crone like in Macbeth was more his idea of a witch. He laughed; of course there was always Kim Novak in Bell, Book and Candle.

  “Damn,” he mumbled and tapped angrily at the computer keys. Here he was a practical and successful businessman debating with himself over good and bad witches. When all along Alisande Wyrrd was nothing more than a wealthy heiress with too much time on her hands, playing foolish games.

  But then her family wealth could just about buy her anything. It certainly could help keep her privacy private. Further investigation was necessary; Sebastian didn’t care for unanswered questions. A sensible explanation could be found for any situation, and he intended to find out what Ms. Wyrrd was up to.

  Besides, his business reputation was at stake. If word got out that a woman had breached security in his own building, his business would be ruined.

  Ms. Smithers buzzed him with a reminder about his three o’clock appointment and supper with two senators. His investigation into Ms. Wyrrd would have to wait.

  “Tonight, when I get home,” he promised himself and reached for the folder on his desk.

  o0o

  Sebastian stared at the digital clock on his nightstand. It was almost midnight, the witching hour. He was about to shake his head but stopped himself. He had hoped to be home earlier, but the senators had much to discuss with him regarding private security in their homes, leaving him to walk in the door only twenty minutes ago. A quick shower and he had dropped into bed.

  The day had taken its toll, and being an early riser, never later than six and closer to five, he felt the drain of his long day catching up with him. He had intended to research the Wyrrd family at greater length and read some on the history of witches, but presently he found himself too exhausted to lift a finger.

  He did manage to set his alarm and turn off his light, but as soon as his head touched the pillow his eyes closed and he instantly fell asleep.


  o0o

  “Really, Ali, do you think this is fair of you? After all, he is only mortal. And if it is a mortal male you wish, then you should play fair,” Sydney said, watching her niece about to cast a spell to the heavens.

  “All is fair in love, dear aunt. And besides, he spent a good portion of the afternoon investigating me; now I wish to do a little investigation myself.”

  “Investigation?” her aunt asked with a glint in her blue eyes. “I would say you are about to torment the dear man.”

  A slow smile spread across Ali’s face. “I must determine if he fits my needs.”

  “Then take some advice,” her aunt said. She poured herself another glass of white wine and walked to the edge of the flagstone terrace where her niece stood barefoot in the thick carpet of grass. “Make certain that he excels in kissing, so few men know how to kiss well. Only a handful possesses the skill to kiss with passion and promise.”

  “Kisses it shall be,” Ali said and with a ripple of laughter that sounded like the tinkle of wind chimes, she raised her hand to the heavens and silently cast her spell.

  He stood in a field naked. It was night and the stars twinkled brilliantly overhead. The rush of a warm summer breeze swept around him, and the scent of fresh heather filled his senses. It was a dream — it had to be — since Sebastian Wainwright would never do anything as absurd as standing naked in a field of heather.

  Sebastian cast a curious glance around him. The place didn’t look familiar. He cocked his head to listen to the soft sound that suddenly caught his attention. Wind chimes. No, more like laughter, a gentle female laughter.

  He caught sight of the shapely image that floated effortlessly across the field toward him. He had no doubt to the person’s identity. She had invaded his personal thoughts all evening. No matter how many times he had pushed the image of Alisande Wyrrd from his mind, she would pop right back into it and always with a shake of her finger at him, as if warning that she would not be so easily dismissed.

  So it was only fitting that he would dream of her and since this was his dream, he could enjoy himself.

  She settled only inches in front of him wearing a white transparent gown that covered her from neck to toes yet displayed a hint of intimate beauty to tempt and tease.

  He remained as he stood, waiting for her to make the first move.

  She didn’t disappoint him. Her hand reached out and her fingers faintly caressed his lips. “I have wondered how you would taste.”

  His tongue gently sampled her finger as it passed over his lips once again. “You taste sweet and —”

  He grasped her wrist, feeling the sudden urge to sample more. Slowly he drew her toward him, his dark eyes focused on her lovely face, his free hand circling around her narrow waist and his head tilting at just the right angle to capture her full lips as their bodies gently came together.

  He lost all thought and reason after their first initial contact. A faint brush of the lips, a small electrical charge and like magic they were locked in each other’s arms, their bodies snug against each other and their lips sharing the heated passion of eager lovers.

  He teased and enjoyed her as one would a rare vintage wine. He intended to drink his fill, make himself heady with her potent taste, and then vanquish her from his mind forever. But like a good, old wine, one can never get enough, never feel satisfied, always wanting more of the rare flavor and pleasure it leaves you with.

  So he continued to enjoy her. His tongue mated with hers in appreciation, wanting to show her how very much he savored the intimate essence of her.

  He wasn’t sure when or how they wound up stretched out on a soft mound of grass or how the fresh heather lay sprinkled across them, and he didn’t care. His only thought was of Alisande, the rare taste of her and the feel of her pressed so intimately against him.

  He felt her move as only a woman does when she wants more from a man. She slipped her leg over his, urging it down between her own, urging him closer, urging him to give more.

  “Damn, why can’t this be real,” he murmured.

  “It can be,” she whispered. “Come to me, Sebastian. “Come to me and love me.”

  She kissed him then, a kiss that threatened to rob him of his sanity. It was packed with such passion and promise that it actually shivered him to the bone.

  “Come to me,” she whispered again and floated out of his arms.

  He reached out for her, a feeling of such utter loneliness invading him that it brought him to the edge of despair. “Don’t go.”

  “You must come to me, Sebastian. Come, don’t keep me waiting.”

  She drifted up into the starlit sky and vanished in the blink of an eye.

  Sebastian lay with his arm draped over his head, watching where only seconds ago she had hovered above him. Rarely in his life had he ever felt lonely. He always had family and friends around, and even when he spent time alone it was with a sense of peaceful solitude. But now, lying here with the night sky so splendid overhead and the potent scent of nature surrounding him, he felt alone, dreadfully alone. Something was suddenly missing from his life, and he couldn’t quite understand what it was.

  “Wake up, you fool, it’s only a dream,” he warned himself.

  But he remained in the field, the scent of her still upon him. It was a strange fragrance that seemed to suit her, sweet, tart and womanly. He had never smelled it before and doubted it would suit any other woman.

  He sniffed at his hand and smiled. He liked her scent on him. It was almost as if a small part of her lingered with him, teased him and tempted him.

  “Come to me.”

  Her parting words sounded once again in his head and continued in a steady rhythm lulling him into a deeper sleep.

  o0o

  Alisande’s smile was unusually bright when she joined her aunt for breakfast on the terrace.

  “Do I need to ask how your night went?”

  Ali deposited a peck on her aunt’s cheek and took the seat opposite her at the glass-top table. A white umbrella trimmed in Belgian lace provided shade from the brilliant early-morning sun.

  Ali reached for her glass of pineapple juice.”He’s so much more than I imagined.”

  “That good?”

  Ali put her glass down without taking a sip. “You know that I’ve kissed many a man, but never have I had a man kiss me with the power, passion and skill of Sebastian Wainwright. He’s simply remarkable. I couldn’t get enough of him, though I did see enough of him.” She sighed dramatically. “He’s beyond splendid.”

  Aunt Sydney raised a questionable brow. “You didn’t go beyond the acceptable, did you?”

  Ali shook her head. “I wanted to, but I’m not a foolish young girl who lacks control. I fully understand the consequences of my actions. The decision must ultimately be his. And besides how was I to know he slept naked.”

  “Correct,” her aunt said with obvious relief and a smile. “You may go only so far. He must come to you of his own free will and,” — her smile grew — “dressed however he wishes.”

  Ali pushed the fresh slices of melon around on her plate, her thoughts straying. “Do you think a kiss can taste rare, like a fine wine that has waited ages to be tasted, savored and enjoyed by just the right appreciative person?”

  “Definitely,” her aunt said and laughed. “Uncorking a rare bottle of wine is like sampling your first kiss. You taste lightly at first, testing the texture, and then you sip, savoring the flavor and finally you enjoy the rich, full body.”

  Ali sighed, recalling her evening tryst. “That’s similar to how I felt last night. His initial taste was pleasant, then his flavor became more potent, and in the end, I must admit, I was mindless to anything but the taste of him.”

  “And his response to you?”

  “He wanted me, of that I was certain, but then, most mortal men respond to a woman who stands near naked in front of them.”

  “Continue to take the necessary steps, only then you will discover for ce
rtain if he’s what you desire and you’re what he desires. And to make certain it’s not only his mortal male hormones responding,” her aunt advised. “And remember one other important fact.”

  Ali listened, cherishing any advice she offered.

  “Half the fun of finding a lover is the chase.”

  Both women laughed and raised their juice glasses in a salute.

  o0o

  Sebastian eyed the alarm clock and groaned. He must have repeatedly hit the snooze button. He never slept past six and here it was seven-thirty and he felt as if he hadn’t slept a wink.

  He rolled over and dragged himself out of bed. He headed straight for the shower, needing the pulsating spray to bring him to life. He shocked himself with a burst of cold water for a minute before turning it hot.

  He worked a heavy lather of soap over his arms and chest before his thoughts wandered to his dreams. Vivid dreams were nothing new to him. Many times when he was on a mission for the agency and found himself in a tight situation, his dreams would turn vivid, almost lucid as if he were actually living them.

  Last night was one such lucid dream. He could still taste Alisande on his lips. And the feel of her supple body next to his was simply unforgettable not to mention the arousal he had gotten from it. He wondered if he would have the same reaction if he actually held her in his arms.

  He obviously found her attractive, but then what man wouldn’t. She was a gorgeous woman, though there was her oddball nature to consider. Perhaps it was a bit of her craziness that attracted. He was always practical and sensible about things. Alisande on the other hand seemed not at all disturbed or uncomfortable in announcing that she was a witch.

  Did he need a little magic in his life?

  He was about to shake his head when he stopped himself. They’d be no shaking his head today, especially when he intended to further investigate Ms. Wyrrd. And heaven only knew he shook his head enough when she was around or in his thoughts.

  Though, come to think of it, last night he hadn’t shaken his head at all. He had been too busy kissing her and thoroughly enjoying it. When was the last time he had felt that way about a kiss? And when was the last time he had felt so completely desolate at the prospect of a woman leaving him?