Love Potions (11 page)

“Whammied?”

“Hexed, cursed, erased,” she answered. “Not to mention the fact I walked around my house like a freaking ceiling fan turned on high.”

“A ceiling fan?”

Lydia glared at him. “If you keep repeating everything I say I’ll touch you and suck all your power out and…and….and then I’ll—”

“I handled it badly,” he interrupted, trying to show her he understood.

“Badly?” She scoffed.

“Admittedly, very badly,” he amended.

“Very badly?”

“Are ya now going to repeat everything
I
say?”

She placed her hands on her hips. “You call that an apology?”

“No, I call the flowers ya kept throwing on your lawn an apology.”

“I hate that you’re sounding reasonable.” She stubbornly arched a brow. “I want an apology.”

“I did apologize,” he said, exasperated. Why wouldn’t she calm down and let him kiss her? So what if kissing her made no logical sense? He’d missed her while she kept him away. He wanted to touch her. Surely the binding spell he put on himself would work this time. It had to. He willed it to be so with the sheer desperation of his lust for her.

“No, you dug up my roses and killed my lawn. Who does that?” She stalked the long way around the table, going the opposite way from him, and made a move to the door. “I need to check on Charlotte.”

“My brothers won’t hurt her.” He went the short way to follow her. “Lydia—”

“But
I
very well may hurt
you
.” She thrust out her hand. A tiny breeze hit his chest. The last of his power fizzled out of her. It tickled and he laughed. By the expression in her face, it was evident that the sound of his humor only irritated her more. Lydia shook her hand a few times, frowning at it. She gestured to hit him with wind, but nothing happened.

“For the record, ya killed your lawn,” he said.

“Well, I wouldn’t know that.
Someone
erased my memory.” Lydia reached for his hand, held it tight for a few seconds before letting go. She tried to hit him again. A slightly stronger breeze knocked into his chest, and he stumbled back one step. She smiled in satisfaction as if she’d thrown him across the manor into the wall. The power transfer it took to perform that trick left her breathing heavy.

Erik sighed, growing more frustrated by the passing moment. Apparently, Malina hadn’t done a good job explaining things on his behalf. He wasn’t sure how to handle an irate female. Habit told him to cast a spell and make her emotions go away. Instinct warned that such a thing might not be his best course of action.

She paused on her way up the stairs. “Which way to the roof?”

“Mo chreach!”
he swore under his breath. Never mind logic. He was casting a spell to calm her down. Erik narrowed his eyes and whispered an incantation.

Lydia arched a brow, cocked her head to the side and gave him a superior smile. “Nice try. Your sister helped me with that too.”

That little meddlesome banshee!
he thought, ready to find his sister and throw magic at her.

“Oh, wonderful, my order is here!” Malina announced coming in the door with impeccable timing. She spoke before she could have visibly seen Lydia’s delivery on the table and Lydia on the stairwell. After a lifetime of being related to his sister, Erik recognized the fake concern in her tone as she exclaimed, “Erik! Why ever are you stalking our poor lotion supplier?”

…

Lydia was very happy to see Malina. She’d been seconds away from leaping down the stairwell to wrap her body around Erik’s. Oh, but he was frustratingly sexy as sin. Even when she wanted to yell at him, she wanted to kiss him. When she’d touched his hand, purposefully trying to pull power out of him to wipe that smirk off his face, she hadn’t counted on the tingling aftermath of contact to remain in her fingers. It radiated up her arm and neck, adding sensitivity to her skin.

“Wonderful to see you again, Lydia,” Malina said, walking past her brother up the stairs to where Lydia stood. The woman hooked her arm through Lydia’s and led her away from Erik. “Care to investigate something with me? I think a couple members of my dear family tried to douse me with whiskey on my way in. We’ll see how funny they think it is when I knock them out of the attic window.”

Lydia glanced back at Erik, but let Malina pull her along. The woman did smell of hard liquor.

“Malina.” Erik sounded exasperated as he tried to stop his sister. “I was speaking to Lydia privately.”

“Hm, I don’t think she wants to talk to you,” Malina answered for her.

“I’ll paint your room first,” Erik said.

Malina stopped and smiled as they reached the top of the stairs. “Perhaps you should listen to him, Lydia.” She let go of her arm. “Just make sure he grovels before you forgive him.”

It didn’t take a genius to discover that it was difficult to get a word in when two members of the MacGregor family were in the same room. They seemed to fill up a place with their personalities.

“Lydia,” Erik began, coming up the stairs as his sister left them.

“So, first, don’t ya be mad,” Rory said, coming toward them. “Second, she’s alive. Third, it wasn’t me.”

“What wasn’t ya?” Erik demanded.

Euann and Iain appeared carrying an unmoving Charlotte between them. Malina trailed right behind them shaking her head in disapproval.

“What happened?” Lydia asked, rushing to her friend. “You said you’d take care of her.”

“She’s alive,” Euann offered. “Just…sleeping.”

“Her eyes are open!” Lydia reached for her friends face. The men gave Charlotte a small bounce, readjusting her in their arms. “And why is her hand all stiff like that?” The woman looked like she was mid-drink.

“Now, love, it’s only a small petrifying spell,” Iain tried to explain. “She may not look like it, but we did put her to sleep.”

“Put her to sleep!” Lydia looked at the crazy lot of them and held out her arms. “Give her to me.”

“That means you killed her, moron,” Malina said, before correcting, “They helped her to fall sleep.”

Lydia had understood what the men meant, but she still worried about her friend. Charlotte didn’t know about real magick. “I’m taking her home. I should never have brought her with me.”

“Don’t say that,” Rory tried to soothe.

“We should get her to a bed,” Iain said.

“She’s getting heavier,” Euann agreed. “My room is this way.”

“A
guest
bed,” Malina ordered. The brothers ignored her as they hurried down hall to a door. Malina placed a hand on Lydia’s shoulder, stopping her from following. “She’ll sleep like a rock, almost literally. She won’t remember anything in the morning. At least, nothing that can’t be explained away with a hangover.”

Lydia shrugged the woman off, going to follow her friend. She found the men maneuvering her onto a bed. Though she fully intended to yell at them if even one of Charlotte’s hairs was pulled wrong she found they were quite gentle with the woman, even taking the time to cover her up.

“Euann tried to spike my drink,” Iain explained.

“Only after ya spiked mine,” Euann retorted.

“Charlotte grabbed the wrong one. We tried to stop her and…” Iain gave a light shrug. “A petrifying spell came out on instinct.”

“It’s better than shifting into a rat.” Euann gave her an unconvinced smile.

“Ya were going to turn me into a rat?” Iain grumbled. “Had I known that I wouldn’t have tried to turn ya into a snake.”

“You used the last of my snake potion to prank each other?” Malina pushed her way into the room. “The next batch won’t be ready for nearly two decades.”

Lydia stumbled out of her way only to bump into warm flesh. She quickly turned, finding Erik right behind her. Rory had not joined them.

“Ya smell like a bar,” Euann said, sniffing Malina. “Miss your mouth?”

“You threw whiskey out the window at me, moron,” Malina hissed.

“We couldn’t leave the potions lying around,” Iain said. “A glass of whiskey around here is free reign to anyone walking by.”

“Iain threw it.” Euann pointed at his brother.

Malina glared at them in warning.

Iain didn’t try to deny it. “At least I didn’t toss out a match?”

An argument started about snake potions and stealing and a bunch of things she couldn’t understand because they were shouted in Gaelic. Very calmly, she looked at Erik. He smiled at her, ignoring his siblings as he brushed a piece of hair from her cheek. The man actually looked like he wanted to kiss her—right there in the middle of the chaos.

“If you want me to forgive you, Erik,” Lydia began. He nodded eagerly, clearly willing to please her any way he could. Leaning up to his ear, she whispered, “Then take your brothers out into the hall and petrify them.”

His grin only widened. “Easily done.” He kissed the tip of her nose before pushing his brothers’ backs toward the door. “Leave our guests in peace.”

Unsuspecting of their fates, the men mumbled apologies to Lydia, sheepishly unable to meet her gaze. When they cleared the door, she shut it behind them and turned the lock. She doubted the lock would do any good, but it made her feel better. She heard their muffled voices. Along the bottom edge of the door a yellow light shone briefly and all sound stopped.

Lydia crawled into bed next to Charlotte. She touched the woman’s cheek, but the skin was hard. Charlotte stared at the ceiling over the foot of the bed. It was too creepy to look at so Lydia rolled onto her back and shut her eyes.

Lydia heard the doorknob rattle and instinctively knew Erik was outside trying to come in. Obviously, these crazy people meant no harm, and yet her friend was still turned into a statue. It was clear that Erik’s family loved each other very much. She saw that in the way Erik talked about them, the way they looked at each other, and even in the way they mercilessly teased each other. Aside from Charlotte, she didn’t really have anyone. She couldn’t help but feel it would be nice to belong to such a big family.

Lydia held her breath, not moving, listening to see what Erik would do outside the door. The soft sound of tapping disappeared into silence.

…

Erik pressed the pads of his fingers to the door a couple times in thought, wondering if he should call out. Then, thinking enough damage had been done and progress had been made in his relationship with Lydia, he let her be. Tomorrow he’d start fresh. She was here. She was talking to him. And, he grinned, she said she would forgive him.

Erik glanced at his brothers stuck like two sculptures. Euann’s mouth hung open mid-sentence, his hands on his hips. Iain’s finger was lifted mid-point. Their eyes followed him.

“Sorry, lads, but ya had it coming,” he whispered. “At least it’s only a little one and ya will thaw out in the morning.”

Chapter Eight

“You should call someone about your tree,” Lydia said, not taking her eyes off the branches of the large oak in the MacGregor’s front lawn. Large brown spots dotted the leaves. The sun still rose, casting a brilliant orange light over the landscape. She never remembered a sunrise looking quite so pretty before. She felt Erik behind her before she bothered to look. “I know a lady in town. She belongs to the same women’s business interest group that Chef Alana and I are part of. She tested the soil for me when I had problems with my lavender crop.”

“How is Charlotte?”

“Supple,” Lydia answered before chuckling as she thought of the two human statues in the upstairs hall. “Her arm finally came down, her eyes are closed, and her skin feels like skin.”

“I can’t stop thinking about ya. I’m crazy about ya,” he said.

The confession caused a wave of pleasure inside her. She turned to him, smiling…until the very distinct scent of the special lotion she’d made for him with Malina drifted on the breeze. She looked at his face. His pupils were wide, too wide for the bright light of morning.

“I see you found my gift,” Lydia answered. She walked past him in an arc, keeping distance between them.

“Wait,” Erik darted forward, grabbing her arm. Without much warning, he kissed her. His lips pressed tightly to hers. A rush of pleasure and excitement filled her. She loved the taste of him, the smell.

Smell? Crap, the spell-tainted lotion.

She tried to pull back.

When their lips parted, his words came out in a rush. “I think I want to marry ya, Lydia. I love ya. I don’t know why I confessed that.” Confusion passed over him for a brief moment before instantly replaced by insistence. “I think we should marry. Tonight. No, right now. By this tree.”

“Oh, crap,” Lydia whispered, trying to pry her arms from him. Malina had said this potion would amplify Erik’s feelings for her, perfect payback for when he had cast a spell on Lydia to make her relax around him. Lydia wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but a marriage proposal wasn’t it. Did Erik actually want to marry her? Was that the amplification of his feelings?

“We belong together. Can’t ya feel it?”

Lydia didn’t know what to feel. The attraction between them was palpable, but love? Marriage? She said the only thing she could think of, deflecting the conversation over to the one who helped her make the lotion to begin with. “You should tell your sister.”

“Malina?” He frowned. “I don’t think…well, if ya think,
fíorghrá
?”

“Oh, I do. You should tell her in full detail what you’re planning.” Lydia managed to pry his hands off her arms. She quickly led the way inside.

“Malina,” Erik yelled, taking the stairs two at a time.

Lydia rushed to where Charlotte slept. Iain and Euann still stood, but Euann’s mouth had closed and Iain’s arms had fallen to his sides. They were coming out of it. Their eyes followed her as she passed them. She found Charlotte sitting on the side of the bed holding her head.

“Oh, good, you’re awake. Come on, we have to go.” Lydia slipped a hand around Charlotte’s back, under her arms. She hefted her to her feet.

“Lydia?” the woman mumbled. “What’s going on?”

“We have to hurry,” Lydia insisted. She didn’t know how long Erik would be preoccupied with Malina. Surely the woman would get some enjoyment out of the chaos she wrought and would entertain herself with her brother for a long while. And Malina had seemed so nice and helpful when she came to place the lotion order. She said the spell would make him feel bad about what he’d done, give him a dose of understanding. Instead, he proposed marriage. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Malina had used her. “That will teach me to trust a MacGregor.”

“Lyd?” Charlotte mumbled.

“We have to go. I need to replenish the stock.” Lydia forced Charlotte to walk.

“Is it time for work?” The woman lifted her arm looking at her watch, though Lydia doubted the woman could read it by the way her arm swayed in front of her face.

“Yes, hon, it’s time for work.”

“Oh, ok then.” Charlotte didn’t protest. She sounded a little drunk. In the hall, she stopped, looking at the two frozen men. “What the…?”

“They have a bet going,” Lydia lied. “Been at it for hours. Come on, we have to hurry.”

“You work too much,” Charlotte protested. “And I work too much. We need lives. Nothing interesting ever happens to us.”

“We have lives,” Lydia assured her, trying not to drop her down the stairs as they stumbled their way to the main floor. “And trust me, they’re more interesting than you think.”

“Does that mean you finally slept with the sexy Scotsman?” Charlotte asked loudly, too loudly for Lydia’s liking. “You talk about him enough. I demand to know details.”

Lydia grimaced. “Grab that red bag.”

She led Charlotte past the table. Charlotte obeyed. “Hey, this is Erik’s present.” Her eyes rounding as they went out the still-open front door, she mourned, “Oh, no, Lydia, I’m so sorry. Was Erik’s little Erik really that bad in bed you have to run away?” Then trying to stop, she asked, “Am I on your walk of shame? You did sleep with the right MacGregor, didn’t you? Though, I have to say the others aren’t bad to look at. I’d get frisky with—”

“Char?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, but shut up.” Lydia practically dragged her all the way down the hill to her home.

…

Erik threw his arms open to express the full depths of what he was feeling as he finished his impromptu love ballad. He grinned happily at his sister.

Malina laughed heartily, clapping her hands. “Perfect,” she snickered, “I think she’ll love it. Especially the part about how you like staring at her ass when she walks, and think of fucking her when she talks. That’s,” Malina covered her mouth and took several deep breaths to quell the merriment choking her, “that’s truly beautiful, brother, truly. And it all rhymed.” She tapped her chest as another snort of laughter escaped her. “You got me a little choked up inside.”

Erik watched his sister, not really paying attention to her reaction as much as her words that Lydia would love his ballad. It was as if a dam had been broken inside him, letting all his hidden feelings out to play. They surged through him. The moment he looked into her eyes that morning, at her beautiful face caressed by orange sunrise, he knew she was his destiny. All his centuries had been leading to one thing—marrying Lydia, making her his, possessing her.

“You should go and sing it to her,” Malina encouraged.

“Then ya think she’ll marry me?”

“How,” Malina snorted, barely managing to get out, “could any girl resist?”

Erik ran to her for a hug. She stiffened, putting up her arms in defense at the un-Erik-like gesture. He kissed the top of her head before letting go. “I owe ya, sister.”

“No, no, you really don’t. Your happiness is enough for me,” she assured him.

…

“Ly-di-ah! I sit beneath your window, laaaass, singing ’cause I loooove your a—”

“For the love of St. Francis of Assisi, someone call a vet. There is an injured animal screaming in pain outside,” Charlotte interrupted the flow of music in ill-humor.

Lydia lifted her forehead from the kitchen table. Her windows and doors were all locked, and yet Erik’s endlessly verbose singing penetrated the barrier of glass and wood with ease.

Charlotte held her head and blinked heavily. Her red-rimmed eyes were filled with the all too poignant look of a hangover. She took a seat at the table and laid her head down. Her moan sounded something like, “I’m never moving again.”

“You need fluids,” Lydia prescribed, getting up to pour unsweetened herbal tea from the pitcher in the fridge. She’d mixed it especially for her friend. It was Gramma Annabelle’s hangover recipe of willow bark, peppermint, carrot, and ginger. The old lady always had a fresh supply of it in the house while she was alive. Apparently, being a natural witch also meant in partaking in natural liquors. Annabelle had kept a steady supply of moonshine stashed in the basement. If the concert didn’t stop soon she might try to find an old bottle.

“Ly-di-ah!”

“Omigod. Kill me,” Charlotte moaned. “No. Kill him. Then kill me.”

“Ly-di-ah!”

Erik had been singing for over an hour. At first, he’d tried to come inside. She’d not invited him and the barrier spell sent him sprawling back into the yard. He didn’t seem to mind as he found a seat on some landscaping timbers and began his serenade. The last time she’d asked him to be quiet, he’d gotten louder and overly enthusiastic. In fact, she’d been too scared to pull back the curtains for a clearer look, but she was pretty sure he’d been dancing on her lawn, shaking his kilt.

“Omigod,” Charlotte muttered, pushing up and angrily going to a window. Then grimacing, she said, “Is he wearing a tux jacket with his kilt?”

“Don’t let him see you,” Lydia cried out in a panic. It was too late. The song began with renewed force.

“He’s…” Charlotte frowned. “I think it’s dancing.”

Since the damage was done, Lydia joined Charlotte at the window. Erik grinned. He lifted his arms to the side and kicked his legs, bouncing around the yard like a kid on too much sugar. “Maybe it’s a traditional Scottish dance?”

Both women tilted their heads in unison as his kilt kicked up to show his perfectly formed ass.

“He’s not wearing…” Charlotte began.

“I know. He doesn’t,” Lydia answered. Damn, the man had a fine body. Too bad Malina’s trick had turned him insane.

“Let’s not call the police quite yet,” Charlotte said just as the kilt kicked up to show the back of his thighs. “Maybe he’ll tire first and go home.” They watched, suppressing giggles and looks of admiration. When the song became winded, Charlotte asked, “Is he drunk?”

“Kind of.” Lydia avoided her friend’s probing gaze and went to the tea glass she’d left on the counter. Thrusting it at Charlotte, she said, “Hold your nose and drink it.”

“What do you mean, kind of? He’s not on drugs, is he?” Charlotte sniffed the tea and grimaced. She wrinkled her nose, closed her eyes and tried to take a long drink. The liquid went down, but barely. She coughed, unable to finish all of it.

“Not really.” Lydia moved to put the pitcher back in the fridge before hurrying to check the computer for orders…and to avoid answering. Since the MacGregors purchased most of her supplies on hand, she had her work cut out for her making more. “Can you grab lotion base from the basement and make sure we have enough labels for everything?”

“What do you mean, not really?” Charlotte arched a brow.

“He’s under a spell,” Lydia tried to explain.

“Obviously a
love
spell.” Charlotte laughed, and then moaned as she held her head.

“Can you grab the lotion base from the basement and make sure—”

“No,” Charlotte said, moving instead to go upstairs. “I’m calling in sick.”

Lydia thought she might be joking until Charlotte didn’t stop walking. Instead, she heard a door close and the shower turn on.

“Ly-di-ah! You smell just like a, uh, la-ven-der-ah mint, and I think I like your scent.”

It would have been funny if she wasn’t trapped inside her house unable to leave the protection of Gramma Annabelle’s spells. She marched to the door and pulled it open. Yelling through the screen, she said, “Erik!”

He was standing before her almost instantly, his body blurred as if carried by magic. With a daydreaming expression, he answered, “Yes, my lavender.”

“Don’t call me lavender,” she stated firmly.

“Yes, my rose.”

“Don’t call me rose.”

“Yes, my—”

“Erik, could you find me lavender like you did the other day? I have a lot of work to do and I could really use a…” He was running off into the hills before she could finish. “…a bushel.”

She closed the door, sighing in relief that the singing stopped. Really, how long could magickal lotion last? She’d grabbed the remainder in the gift bag and brought it home. It was covered in old ash, hidden inside the broken wood furnace in the basement. There was no way he was getting into it again.

“Malina better run the next time I see her,” Lydia threatened, though no one could hear her. It was just as well. She wasn’t sure how she’d go up against a powerful warlock family.