The Wedding Spell Page 22
Her familiar cough stopped him dead and he turned. “Is there a problem?”
Ms. Smithers wasn’t one to waste time, either, especially delivering news he wouldn’t welcome.
“Senator Milton will not be having lunch with you today. Sydney Wyrrd will.”
His first, brief thought was not to meet with her, but that would be refusing to face your adversary. And while he felt Sydney Wyrrd could provide him with no further help, he was curious as to what she had to say to him.
“Thank you, Carol,” he said sincerely. “I assume you were requested to keep this information from me?”
“Only if I felt comfortable doing so.”
He smiled his appreciation. “Thank you for your loyalty.”
Sebastian took the elevator down, Craig Munro from research joining him on the tenth floor.
“Glad I caught you, Mr. Wainwright,” he said and fumbled with the hefty pile of papers he held. “I am so pleased to be working on this Wyrrd matter. I can’t begin to detail the extensiveness of the Wyrrd Foundation research and the significance of their findings. They are truly a pioneer in the field of development, any development; their interests are so wide and varied. And the craziest thing is that most of their findings have a fundamental basis in nature. It is incredible, simply incredible.”
Sebastian caught the flush of excitement in the young man’s face. A flush that was inherent to researchers upon a fascinating discovery. “How did you find that out? I only requested basic information on their research projects. Nothing extensive.”
“I never intruded, sir,” Craig clarified. “I was running through one of their programs, attainable when requested through proper channels, when a Wyrrd employee popped in and asked if he could assist me. He was extremely cordial and more than helpful, providing me with information far beyond what I had hoped to find. I’m writing up a report for you now.” He tapped at the stack of papers in his hand.
“I look forward to reading it,” Sebastian said as the elevator arrived at the lobby level and he briefly wondered who at the Wyrrd Foundation had given permission for Wainwright Security to receive the information.”
Both men got off the elevator.
“You know what the strangest thing was?” Craig said with a shake of his head. “I still can’t figure out how the guy from the Wyrrd Foundation knew my name. I was signed in under the company password and there was no way they could have known who I was, and yet this guy immediately upon greeting me used my full name. Not just my first name, but my full given name. Crazy.”
Craig walked away still shaking his head.
Not if you’re witches.
Sebastian kept tight rein on his head and walked out the door.
o0o
Sydney looked elegant in a silk pale blue suit, pearl knob earrings and a three-strand pearl necklace. She appeared to be the perfect Washington lady, poised, educated and well-bred.
No one would ever suspect she was a witch.
Sebastian, however, knew the truth. He walked over to where she sat waiting for him at a corner table that was discreetly tucked away from the usual chaotic lunch crowd.
She greeted him with a smile, and he graciously kissed her cheek before taking the seat beside her.
“You were so sure I would come?” he asked.
She appeared surprised. “Of course, you are much too wise a man not to. And besides I assumed you live by a code that advises you to keep your opponent as close to you as you would a friend.”
Sebastian couldn’t help but smile. He liked Sydney. She was a remarkable woman; witch or not.
“Now I know why all the men chase after you.”
She laughed softly. “Why is that, my dear boy?”
“You bewitch them with your charm, grace, and intelligence.”
“Only after years of practice and sensible knowledge,” she added with a wink.
Sebastian laughed himself.
“Have I bewitched you, Sebastian?” she asked more seriously.
His answer was delayed by the waiter’s presence, and as soon as orders were taken, Sydney looked to him for an answer.
“Your niece has more than demonstrated the powers of a witch.”
“That doesn’t answer my questions,” she said softly. “Have I bewitched you?”
He answered without hesitation. “I think you bewitch every man you meet, but in the mortal sense.”
She smiled and nodded. “You are as intelligent as I believed.”
“What do you want from me, Sydney?”
She reached out and patted his hand. “To let you know that I care.”
“Not to help your niece snag me?”
She placed her hand over her heart and feigned a stricken expression. “To think I would do such a thing.”
He reached for his filled wineglass. “I think you would do anything for your niece.”
“She is impetuous and stubborn. Often not looking before she leaps.”
“That’s an understatement,” he said and gulped down a good portion of the wine.
“She reacts more with her heart than her wisdom.”
That statement got Sebastian’s attention, and he ignored the remainder of wine in his glass.
“Witches are really not a complicated breed,” she continued. “They care deeply and wish harm to none. They are aware of the consequences of their actions if they do not follow their heritage. Still there are a few who find boundaries impossible to accept. They take chances and go beyond, but then, I suppose mortals would refer to them as visionaries.”
“You can’t change her, you know,” he said without thinking.
“I am well aware of that. She is who she is.”
“A witch,” he whispered and reached once again for his wineglass.
“This troubles you?”
“There are so many variables, and I am not sure what’s real and what’s not. I’m trying to understand but it’s difficult. A witch has power; powers far beyond the imaginable. How do I deal with the probabilities of those powers and what they represent?”
“You don’t know?” she asked sadly.
“I sometimes think it’s close and then I feel I can’t grasp it at all.” He shook his head and laughed. “And if I shake my head one more time, I think it will finally unscrew from my neck and fall off. Then I won’t have to concern myself with anything.”
Sydney smiled and pushed randomly at her Caesar salad with her fork. “What do you plant to do?”
“Take time to make sense of it all.”
“Is there nothing I can do?”
“This is something I have to do on my own,” he admitted with his usual stubbornness.
“And what will you do?”
He looked directly at her. “Search for the truth.” He laughed and added, “And be foolish.”
o0o
Foolish.
Was he being foolish in dating another woman?
It was Friday night and he had a date. He was dressed in his black tuxedo and all ready to attend a charity ball. At least it wasn’t a Wyrrd Foundation charity ball. And it was a last-minute decision.
James had called him yesterday and he had begged him to help him out. His associate’s date had canceled at the last minute and she couldn’t find a replacement. Would he please fill in a pinch?
He almost refused and then thought better of it. He hadn’t been able to get Alisande off his mind all week. Not that she had pursued him; on the contrary, she had completely ignored him. No phone calls. No mind intrusions. No dreams.
Damn, how he missed those dreams.
He thought that if he could empty his mind and control his thoughts he could rid himself of any spells that had been cast over him, and yet he found himself missing her more each day.
Was he being foolish in accepting this date? It meant nothing to him. He wasn’t interested in the woman; it was a mere favor to a friend. And what the hell did he think it would accomplish anyway?
“Damn,” he murmured
to himself, angry that he had agreed to the stupid evening after all and grabbed his keys off his dresser and headed out the door.
o0o
The evening was half over, and Sebastian couldn’t wait for it to end. Janelle, his date, was nice enough but—ordinary.
He almost laughed at his own thought. Ali had certainly spoiled him. Her audacious manner and temptress nature was something he hadn’t realized was so important to him. They defined her, and he had grown to admire and love each and every one of them.
He refused to shake his head in a crowd full of people, so he downed the remainder of his wine and went in search of another glass. Janelle had taken herself off with a group of friends to talk business, and he was left to mingle and network, which he had no intentions of doing.
Downing more wine and keeping to himself sounded more appealing.
A sudden hush descended over the filled room, the music slowed, the dancers stopped, table chatter softened, and Sebastian watched as all heads turned.
Sydney Wyrrd had entered the room on the arm of a retired admiral, silencing the usual gossiping tongues long enough for them to stare in awe at the woman who defied age. She was simply stunning in a black dress that spurned her advanced age and made her look twenty years younger.
He smiled at her outrageous and unexpected entrance and turned to walk away, promising himself to pay his respects later in the evening.
He stopped short, his eyes resting on Alisande.
She stood only a few feet away from him, dressed in a purple gown that shocked the eyes and senses and was created strictly for seduction.
The sleeves were long, the bodice low, the waist curved and the remaining portion lethal. And her hair? A windblown creation that reminded him of the way she had looked after a night of ardent passion.
She was a vision of carnal temptation that could easily entice a saint to sin. But then he was no saint.
He made no move to approach her, and she made no move at all. He blinked a few times, thinking she might not actually be there but rather a figment of his desires or the wine.
She whispered something, and he strained to hear her words. He shook his head, annoyed he was unable to catch even a faint sound.
She whispered again, her words riding on a gentle exhale.
He failed to catch them and grew even more irritated, yet still he didn’t move toward her.
She pressed three fingers to her lips and gently blew her message to him, then turned and slowly walked away.
His wide-eyed stare was glued to her erotically swaying backside and wasn’t prepared for her words that were delivered with a punch to his lips.
The muscles in his face tightened, his dark eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. He dumped his near empty wineglass to the silver tray on a nearby stand so hard that the stem cracked.
He stormed after Ali with her words reverberating in his ears.
Prudent mortal.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Ali waited on the terrace for Sebastian. A smile tempted her moist lips, but she kept it at bay. It would do her no good to display such open confidence in her ability to challenge him successfully. He would assume it a witch’s trick when it was simply mortal logic.
The thought brought a brief smile, which she quickly suppressed. Confidence was one thing, arrogance another. She might be able to make him follow her, but what then?
She couldn’t make him love her. That was his choice and his choice alone. She could only try to make him see reason, an absurd idea since she had been trying desperately upon first meeting him to convince him otherwise.
Strange the tricks life played. Here she was a witch using logic to help a mortal understand magic.
This mortal just happened to be too stubborn for his own good, refusing not only to see the obvious but to admit it. And time was running out, if he did not request help soon or admit that he loved her of his own volition and with no help from the spell, then the spell would begin to wave its final magic and all would be lost.
Ali raised her face to the heavenly night sky and wished on the brightest twinkling star that—
His arm shot out passed the side of her face and he grasped at the dark sky. He brought his clasped hand back to hold just beneath Ali’s wide eyes.
He whispered near her ear. “Make a wish.”
Ali slowly released the breath that had caught so nervously in her throat. She brought her hand up to rest over his clasped one and gently directed it to rest against her breast over her heart.
His hand was warm, taut, and filled with the strength of his warring emotions. She closed her eyes and squeezed his clutched hand in hers.
Please. Please let him believe.
His hand opened slowly and he pressed it firmly over the swell of her breasts. He eased her back against him and his words sounded more like anguished pleas than mere whispers.
“You drive me to the brink of insanity time and time again, and still I want you.”
“Then you haven’t been truthful with yourself,” she said, relaxing her body back along his.
“Truth?” He laughed softly. “Does the word exist for you?”
“Have I been anything but truthful with you? Or is it that you have failed to see?”
“I am not blind.”
“But you do not see.”
“You talk in riddles as witches supposedly do.”
“I speak the truth as witches cannot speak otherwise.”
“Then tell me the truth,” he demanded roughly turning her around to face him.
“I love you,” Ali said without hesitation.
“And you’re a witch,” he added as if in some way it tainted her acknowledgment.
“I have never denied my heritage.”
“And the spell—”
“Is yours to decide.”
He stepped away from her, though his dark eyes remained fixed on her green ones. “So you say.”
“I say nothing, the spell does.”
“Repeat the spell for me,” he ordered, his dark intent eyes challenging her.
“You wish it repeated to see if you can make sense of it,” she said with an insolent smile that announced the acceptance of his dare.
He remained silent, unwilling to confirm her suspicions.
He folded his arms over his chest and Ali couldn’t help but wonder if the movement was instinctive or protective.
She gave her head a toss; dramatics were definitely called for after all, mortals expected them and she didn’t wish to disappoint Sebastian. She raised her hands to the night sky and spoke in a voice that soothed and lulled the listener.
“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.”
Sebastian felt a shiver race over him and rolled his eyes to see if he caught any glimpse of gold dust floating down around him.
“Once a spell is cast, it cannot be cast again, Sebastian,” Ali said, hoping to alleviate his concern.
“Why?”
“The strength of a spell is in its cast. Subsequent casts would serve little purpose. Either you believe when you cast it or you don’t.”
“You believed?”
“I wouldn’t have cast the spell if I didn’t. A spell is issued for a reason. A good, sound, proper reason.”
“And making someone fall in love with you is a proper reason?” he asked with a brief shake of his head before stopping himself.
She smiled and sadly shook her head. “You have just answered your own question.
He stared at her in complete confusion.
She walked over to him and gently tapped her finger to his temple. “The spell is yours to recall and yours to understand if you so choose.”
“I suppose that means within the spell lies the answer.”
She ran her hand lovingly over his white dress shirt and sighed ever so softly.
Her sexy
sigh and her gentle touch sent his testosterone level soaring, the results being evident when Ali brushed suggestively against him before she reluctantly stepped away.
“Could the answer be that simple, Sebastian?” she said with a teasing smile, finding it nearly impossible to control her own hormones when his were so obviously potent.
“Where you are concerned nothing is simple,” he said, taking a deep breath and berating himself for his uncontrollable desire for her.
“Simple?” Complicated? It is all how you perceive it.”.”
“Crazy,” he said this time shaking his head on purpose.
“Who?” she asked and sent the question to him on a soft breath that reached his lips in a faint kiss.
He stormed over to her, grabbing her by the arms with a determined strength that still possessed enough gentleness not to hurt her.
“You,” he said his mouth a bare inch from hers. “You tempt me; you torment me, you—”
“Love me,” she finished and captured his lips in a breath-stealing kiss before he had a chance to think or respond.
He surrendered to the passion that raged through him and lost himself in the questionable love that surrounded them. Later was time enough to argue, to debate, to make decisions. There was time. Plenty of time.
Not enough.
He heard the soft warning in his head. Had it come from Ali, or from himself?
He felt the earth spin around him, felt their bodies lock tightly together, felt a rushing heat that almost consumed him, and then in a flash it ceased.
He stood alone, his head spinning, his lips aching, and his heart hurting.
“She really leaves an impact, doesn’t she?” the familiar voice said.
Sebastian took a moment to settle the strange sensations assaulting him before turning around and facing yet another witch... Dagon.
“She was really there then?” he asked, feeling foolish, lightheaded, and completely distraught but nonetheless needing to know for sure.
Dagon handed him a full glass of wine. “Without a doubt.”
Sebastian downed a generous gulp.
“Ali possesses a nature that defies all logic,” Dagon said, raising his own wineglass in a mock salute.
Sebastian raised his own glass. “You can count on it.”