The Witch's Journey Read online

  “Sure there’s nothin’ to be done about that.”

  She turned away emitting a sob that effectually gutted him. He didn’t want her to be maudlin, but felt utterly helpless. The tension thick, he longed to comfort her, but simply went to his bed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  They were in the front seat of Newt’s restored classic ’69 Ford Mustang. There wasn’t much room. Faolan had gotten in beside her and she couldn’t really protest. Now with his thigh resting against hers and his appealing masculine scent so near, she wished she’d sat in the back.

  “Don’t make me stop this car, you two,” Newt said, clearly trying to break the awkward silence.

  Faolan stared, obviously not understanding, so Angelique explained.

  “Parents often threaten their children like that when they’re fighting or arguing. If they stop the car, they’ll be in for a severe lecture.”

  “I wouldn’t declare this a fight or an argument,” Faolan said.

  “No, you’re getting along fabulously well,” Newt said. “I’m so pleased I’m here when you’ve said barely ten words since we left Boston. I’d at least like to know what caused this non-fight or non-argument.”

  “Nothing!” Angelique said.

  “The dreaded nothing! What about fine and perfect? Want to throw them in, too?” Newt said.

  “Just give Faolan the tour. I’ll pretend I’m an unopinionated eighteenth-century woman.”

  “Clearly you don’t know women from my century,” Faolan said.

  “How would I?”

  “You see ghosts.”

  “We don’t discuss more than how they died or why they’re still walking the earth.”

  “Did you sleep together and it didn’t go well?” Newt asked.

  “Faolan spent most of last night with Janelle, a far more exciting, fashion-conscious career woman. A ditzy, heavily made-up, horny social climber with absurdly large fake boobs, but hey, maybe that’s Faolan’s type.”

  “I do not have a type! I was home just after midnight. The woman wasn’t particularly exciting and what’s horny?”

  “Wanting sex. You reeked of her perfume and had lipstick on your collar.”

  “Why should that matter when you won’t lie with me?”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “Grand.”

  “Fine. Perfect!”

  Newt pulled the car over to a rest area and glowered.

  “I really won’t listen to this.”

  “You take Faolan to Maine. I’ll use my magic to go home.”

  “It wasn’t me who planned this getaway and you’re not just going to walk away from conflict, Angie.”

  “Thankfully, I don’t have to walk away,” she said snapping her fingers and disappearing.

  *

  “What the fuck, Faolan?” Newt said. “Did you really sleep with someone else?”

  “I did not. We went for food and drink. I took the woman back to her residence, had one drink then returned to Angelique’s home.”

  “And the lipstick on your collar?”

  “The woman wished for a different conclusion to the evening. It was Angelique who suggested I go out. She’d left me at the lawyer’s office without even a farewell simply because I was speakin’ with the woman.”

  “Angie’s jealous!”

  “You look surprised.”

  “She’s never liked someone enough to be jealous. She also seldom argues, usually just backs down.”

  “She’s clearly backed down, using magic to leave.”

  “She also doesn’t use magic unless she’s really pissed off—and she doesn’t get pissed off unless you’re worth it to her. You should consider yourself lucky.”

  “I don’t feel lucky in the least,” Faolan said.

  “She’s gotten under your skin, too?”

  He blew out his breath.

  “She has a way of doing that,” Newt said.

  “You appear to know her well.”

  “I’ve had fifteen years to get to know her.”

  “I’d give much if I could have that time with her,” Faolan admitted.

  “You really have it bad for her?”

  Faolan turned away.

  “Let’s walk awhile. Angie will be somewhere by the water.”

  Faolan got out of the car, wrapping the thick scarf around him; the sea breeze was cold. He inhaled the smell of the salt air and closed his eyes.

  “Angie does that, too. She adores the sea.”

  “Tell me more about her.”

  “First off, Angelique’s completely contradictory. She’s sweet, kind and gentle, but can be stubborn and a force to be reckoned with when she’s angry.”

  “I’ve learned that.”

  “When Angie’s happy and smiling, it brightens your world exponentially. But when she’s sad, it breaks your heart. When she’s really angry, that’s freaking scary. It frightens her because she can’t control her magic. That’s why she tries to hold her temper, backs away from conflict. If she’s really upset she uses whiskey to calm down.”

  “She was drinking whiskey last night,” Faolan said. “What can I do to make her less vexed with me?”

  “Just be understanding. She obviously likes you a lot. I suppose you are her perfect man. You haven’t slept with her?”

  “No.”

  “Not because you haven’t wanted to?”

  “What man wouldn’t want to? Well other than you?”

  Newt only smiled.

  “Angie’s brilliant, too, has an off-the-charts IQ. She graduated high school at barely fifteen, yet never acts like she’s smarter than others. She has no idea how beautiful she is. She has naturally what most women spend a fortune on. She’s never dyed her hair. Those soft auburn curls are all hers as well as the long, thick dark eyelashes, the perfect skin, the lips that look like they’ve been injected with collagen. Her body’s also pretty much perfect.”

  “I find her the most intriguing, beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

  “It’s not just outer beauty. Angie sees the best in everyone and comes to people when they need her most. I don’t admit this to many but at eleven years old, the day I became her friend, I was considering stepping onto the train tracks. I was being bullied badly. She saved my life that day with her powers. She threw those bullies to the ground. They started gasping for air and turning blue.

  “She found another lifetime friend by using her magic to save her, too. Sylvie was being sexually abused by an uncle. When Angie found out, the man fell and broke his back, left him paralyzed from the waist down.”

  “Purposely?” Faolan asked.

  “Angie’s kind of an angel vigilante. She sometimes seems fragile, yet she can do karate like a damn ninja. Elegant and refined one moment, a badass tomboy the next. She hates how easily she cries. She took Mrs. Boyle’s sick cat to be put down, even bravely held old Fluffy while it was being done, then went home and wept inconsolably for two days. We experienced a bad storm then. The shelter animals break her heart. She donates money, ensures there’s a no-kill policy till homes are found.

  “She was so strong the whole time her mom was ill. After Genny died the sea was rough; bad storms persisted for over a month.

  “As a kid and teenager, Angie was all dark and Gothic; now she delights in feminine things. You’ve probably seen her whimsical bedroom with butterflies, lace and fairy lights.

  “She also aces everything she does, but if pushed, she drags her feet. When Jim’s mother urged Angie to become a concert pianist—because she’d excelled at piano—Angie stopped altogether. When Jim suggested she could make it to the Olympics because she’d won every swim meet; she just quit.”

  “I don’t see her as bein’ spiteful.”

  “She doesn’t like the spotlight. Genny was great—she encouraged her but didn’t push.”

  “Why do you wear that look?” Faolan asked.

  “Trying to figure you out, too. Why haven’t you slept together?”

  “It
’s not as though I haven’t suggested it.”

  “I see she wants you, too.”

  “She doesn’t wish to be hurt,” Faolan said.

  “I don’t want that either. Hopefully your time together will end on a good note, at least being friends.”

  “It’s already more than that for me. I admit I’ve never felt like this.”

  “You’re saying you’re in love with her?”

  “I didn’t say that!” He put up his hands in protest but then exhaled again. “As you say, she’s under my skin. Last night when she went home with Danhoul, I longed to retrieve my sword.”

  “She went home with Danhoul? You neglected to mention that.”

  “He only walked her home, I think—but I feared they might have lain together.”

  “How did Angie react to you being with this Janelle?”

  “I told you, she was displeased.”

  “Did she use her powers?”

  “She might have used magic to break the lights and bottles at the pub.”

  “She was that annoyed?”

  “I suppose she was.”

  “You have decisions to make, Faolan. Is whatever you have back in your time worth leaving Angie for?”

  “Angelique thinks if I don’t return it may affect the American Revolution.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “Maybe you should take her back with you.”

  “To disease, hunger, danger and the time when many women die in childbed?”

  “I suppose not,” Newt said. “There she is. I knew she’d be by the water.”

  “What should I do?”

  “I can’t tell you, Faolan. I’ll go wait in the car. I hope you can at least make up.”

  *

  It was obvious Angelique had been weeping. Faolan desperately wanted to hold her.

  “Did you sleep with her?” Angelique asked straightaway.

  “I did not.”

  “But you wanted to?”

  “It’s you I desire, Angelique.”

  “Why did you look at me like that yesterday when I wore expensive clothes?”

  “I felt unworthy of being in your company.”

  “I’m not impressed by wealth, Faolan. Actually you won’t find many women less influenced by material possessions or social prominence. Why did you flirt with Janelle if you weren’t interested? Was it to annoy me?”

  “Perhaps. Did you know going home with Danhoul would irk me?”

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “I’m not certain where this complicated dalliance between us is leadin’, Angelique.”

  “It doesn’t have to be complicated, Faolan. From here on in we’ll be friends, enjoy this unique opportunity to learn from one another. Sleep with Janelle or whomever you desire; I won’t interfere. I’ll find a way to calm my jealousy and not react with my powers. Make sure you use a condom so you don’t father a baby that wasn’t meant to be.”

  “I’m not a perpetually lustful man, Angelique, though I suppose that’s how I’ve been behavin’ with you.”

  “Let’s be friends and not fight anymore, Faolan.”

  “I don’t wish to disagree either,” he said reaching for her hand.

  “Friends don’t usually hold hands—not when they want to do more than hold hands.”

  “How can this not be complicated, Angel?”

  She sighed as they walked to the car.

  *

  The rest of the drive went pleasantly. Newt and Faolan talked. Angelique mostly watched the beautiful landscape. The leaves were truly magnificent with the glorious autumn colors; the red maples almost indescribable.

  She tensed when they approached a curve even though Newt slowed down knowing her fear. Faolan must have sensed it. He put his arm around her protectively. How could she discourage that when it came instinctively?

  “Why so quiet, Angie?” Newt asked.

  “Just enjoying the view.”

  “I think Faolan is, too.”

  Angelique looked to see Faolan staring at her chest. This scoop-necked blue sweater hugged her breasts and Mom used to say she was generously endowed for a woman with a slender build.

  “I was looking at your locket…well mostly,” Faolan said. “I’ve always wondered if you keep a photo inside.”

  Angelique opened it.

  “No photo, just a Celtic design. It was my birth mother’s locket. Mom was adamant I never take it off. It seems to alert me to danger—gets hot if something bad is near.”

  “It looks old,” Faolan said.

  Touching the locket, he grazed her skin. Angelique reacted with a gasp.

  “Jeez you’re jumpy, Angie.”

  Faolan’s eyes held a steamy quality. She longed to kiss him. He exuded sensuality and had the most appealing lips. Their last discussion had obviously changed nothing.

  “That symbol’s a triquetra,” Faolan finally said.

  “Yes, originally a pagan symbol of femininity representing the maiden, the mother and the crone.”

  “It was sometimes associated with witches back in my time but I never imagined I’d meet such a beautiful witch as you.”

  She smiled and he took her hand again.

  “You two should really get a room,” Newt joked as they pulled into the harbor town.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sound of the seagulls squawking, waves crashing against the shore and the salty sea wind blowing, all quieted Angelique’s mind. Late in the season it was calmer; she could relish in nature’s beauty.

  “You two go in. I’ll get some gas,” Newt said.

  “We just passed a gas station,” Angelique replied.

  “Just go check in.”

  Angelique threw Newt a questionable glance but Faolan carried her purple overnight back and the backpack she’d found for his things. He held the door. The B&B was a lovely two-story stone building with mature elm trees surrounding it. There were some fragrant late-blooming purple sweet alyssums still flowering in the hanging pots.

  The sunny foyer smelled of lemon furniture polish and fresh-baked bread. Several antiques adorned the large room. Angie rang the bell and a middle-aged man with dark glasses and greying hair joined them.

  “Welcome. I’m Chad Martens. You’re checking in?” he asked.

  With his thick Maine accent, he sounded like someone from a Stephen King movie.

  “We have three rooms reserved under Kavanaugh.”

  The man shook his head. “That reservation was changed.”

  “Changed? How?”

  “Man called yesterday—said you’d decided on the honeymoon suite.”

  Angelique looked at Faolan. He shrugged and shook his head.

  “There’s been a mistake. We will need three rooms.”

  Her phone buzzed and she looked at Newt’s text.

  You’ll thank me later. I’ll be back Monday. Spontaneity, Angie. Just go with it for once in your life!!!

  “Apparently we’ll only need two rooms,” Angelique finally said, trying to remain composed.

  “Sorry, only have the one. Rented the others yesterday…after your husband called.”

  “It wasn’t my husband,” Angelique said.

  He glanced at Faolan. “We ask no questions here.”

  “Did you know about this?” she questioned Faolan.

  “I did not.”

  “We’ll go to the room, but I’ll try to find another in a different B&B.”

  “It’s unlikely,” Mr. Martens said. “Most’ll be booked with so many here to see the autumn leaves.”

  “Are there two bedrooms?”

  “One room, one bed, one small antique love seat. Room’s paid for and there’s champagne waiting.”

  “Why is it called a suite if there’s only one room?” she grumbled under her breath.

  Faolan tried to conceal his smirk.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “It’s a bit amusin’, Angel. Sure, it must be a sign.” He grinned.

>   “I’ll call Newton, get him to come back and take us home.”

  “If that’s what you want,” Faolan said looking so damn sexy, it definitely wasn’t what she wanted.

  “Breakfast’s between seven and ten. If you’d like to book dinner reservations for the restaurant down the road, let me know. Just up those stairs,” Mr. Martens drawled, passing her the key. “You’ll like the shower we’ve installed recently.”

  Angelique ascended the steps wondering what to do. Faolan courteously unlocked and opened the door, then waited for her to go in.

  The room was large, light and airy with a massive window looking out on the ocean. Beautifully furnished with a table and two chairs, a dresser, nightstands, and love seat, all antique. The king-sized four-poster bed had a soft blue and white comforter and throw cushions.

  When Angelique stepped into the bathroom, she gasped. Although the bathtub was standard-sized, the shower was immense (certainly large enough for two) and there was an enormous window in the shower—which she guessed was one-way—that also faced the ocean.

  “Wow!”

  Faolan came to see. “What’s the purpose of a shower looking upon the sea?”

  “Probably for those who really like the ocean.”

  “Like us,” he replied.

  “You truly didn’t know about this? You and Newt didn’t plan this romantic getaway?”

  “You don’t trust my word?”

  “What are we going to do about this?” she asked stepping out of the bathroom and looking at the bed.

  “That’s up to you, Angel.”

  “Let’s go for dinner,” she suggested.

  “We just stopped for lunch.”

  She began to pace.

  “Don’t make a flummery of this. I’ll sleep on the settee.”

  “You wouldn’t fit on the settee. Hell, I wouldn’t fit on it.”

  “The floor then,” he suggested.

  “The hardwood planks would be ice-cold. I’ll see if the other hotels or B&Bs have rooms.”

  “We’ve been staying in your home alone together.”

  “Not sharing a bed.”

  “I promise to do nothin’ you’re not in favor of.”

  “That isn’t saying a lot,” she said, half under her breath staring at his appealing body as he took off his leather jacket and hung it over the chair.