Love Potions (14 page)

Charlotte took off down the hill, her steps light.

“It’s good to see she is well,” Erik said.

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest. “Her mind’s been erased. I’m not sure that classifies as well.”

“I just meant it could have gone so much worse,” he explained.

“Worse?” She gave a disbelieving nod and looked at her damaged home. “My garden is gone so I have no herbs to work with to make product so I can make money to pay for repairs. My insurance deductible is insane, if they’ll even cover this kind of thing. I’m not sure my policy covers magickal storms and crazy boyfriends.”

“Boyfriend?” He smiled slightly, his eyes widening playfully as if encouraging her to return the look.

“What would you call it? Manfriend?” Lydia gestured helplessly. His grin widened. Damn, but he was sexy even as she tried to keep emotional distance between them. “Listen, I know this is partially my fault. I should never have dabbled in whatever this was, and I take responsibility for…” She looked around her battered yard and stepped out of the kitchen doorway. “You can rest assured I’ll not be doing anything like this again. Ever. I’m done with magick.”

“Done?” He tried to close some of the distance between them but her look must have stopped him.

“Yes, done.” She sighed. “I can’t do this Erik. I should have stopped us before we even started. I want to go back to making my lotions and living like a hermit. The most magick I want is the town whispering about how my grandmother was the ‘witch on the hill’ and that’s it.”

“Ya want me to erase myself from your thoughts?”

Lydia shook her head in denial. Yes, that would make things easier but she didn’t want to forget him. “No, I don’t want anyone else messing with my brain. Or Charlotte’s brain. Ever again.”

“We can buy this house,” he offered. “We have property all over the country. Wherever ya would like to go, we’ll set ya up. It’s the least I can do.”

“No. I’m not asking for anything. This is my home, my grandmother’s home. It’s not for sale, and I can take care of myself.”

He glanced around before stopping to stare at where he’d drawn the large heart in lavender. The heart was no longer there, having been blown away. “I remember…that was your garden I picked?”

She nodded. “Technically I was trespassing, so I guess I can’t really complain that you picked it. You had every right. It was on your land.”

“I did not mean to upset your life like this,” he said, the words quiet and a little sad.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you for reordering shrubs planted after I stole your powers and killed my roses. It was very thoughtful though it wasn’t entirely your fault.”

He frowned. “I didn’t order shrubs.”

“You were a little out of it. You’d just picked the garden.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “It doesn’t matter. Please don’t reorder the plants. I’m thinking of doing something different here anyway. It’s time I redecorated and made a few changes. It’s what my Gramma would want.”

“I didn’t mean to harm your livelihood or wreck your home. I’m sorry, Lydia. I just wanted to get to know ya. I like ya.”

“I like you too, Erik, but let’s face facts. We’re too different.” It took all of her control to keep her expression calm. Inside tiny voices were yelling at her, trying to shut her up. She told herself if she just got through this, didn’t waver, didn’t give in to his beautifully pleading eyes or his charming ways, then the hard part would be over. “We might be neighbors, but I don’t see our paths crossing. We live such different lives.”

“If this is what ya wish?” He looked as if he might cross to her and touch her. She couldn’t let him. One touch and she’d be lost. The burn of tears threatened her eyes, she held them back.

“It is.” She nodded.

“Then, I’ll…” He looked up the hill and then down. “I’ll go. But I would like to help ya clean up the mess. It’s the least I can do after calling the winds. Neighbors can do that for neighbors, right?”

She wasn’t that foolish. There was no way she was lifting the giant uprooted trees or oversized branches scattered all over the place. And she sure as heck wasn’t going to try wielding a chainsaw to cut them. One miscalculated swing of the heavy power tool and she’d take off her own legs. “I’d appreciate that. Although, I do have a question.”

“Aye?”

“How is it no one from town saw all the magick sparks and lights going on up here? I expected a flood of people and not one person has come up. Well, Sheriff Johnson made the rounds, but he was just checking to make sure everyone was all right.”

“We cast protective spells around our homes to hide any hints of magickal mishaps as a precaution. Your home is included in all of our security measures. Normally we buy up all the surrounding property such as yours.” He looked guilty as he admitted, “My original intention was to get ya to move, after we had our fling of course. I would have erased myself from your mind.”

Wow. Honesty. She tried to ignore the slight sting of discovering his intentions, but respected that he’d told her the truth. “I told you, I’m not selling.”

“I know. I’ll make sure my family doesn’t interfere with your life any more than is necessary. I promise I won’t let them drive ya out of your grandmother’s home.”

Lydia nodded. “And I promise to keep the MacGregor secret.”

She closed the door on him and sunk to the kitchen floor. She felt him walk away. Now, alone, she let the tears of heartache fall down her cheeks. “Goodbye, Erik.”

…

“Well?” Euann demanded as Erik stepped up the drive to their house.

Erik stopped walking and said nothing.

“Does she forgive ya?” Iain chimed in, pushing past Euann who blocked the front door.

“Aye,” Erik nodded. “I need ya to come down and help me clear her yard of trees later. It looks like a warlock battlefield down there.”

“Of course,” Iain agreed. “I’ll get the lads together.”

“This is great news,” Euann said, grinning. “She forgives ya. All is well. Little harm done.”

“I said she forgives me.” Erik kept his eyes on the ground, unable to look at his siblings. All he wanted was to crawl into a bottle of whiskey and be alone. “But I didn’t say she wanted anything more to do with me.”

“But it was only a little harmless magick,” Iain said. He quickly stepped out of Erik’s way as the man moved to go inside.

Erik walked faster, trying to get to the privacy of the study where he could lock his brothers out—or at least try.

“Did ya apologize?” Iain asked.

“Aye,” Erik grumbled.

“He probably did it in song,” Euann said with a snicker.

To answer the jibe, Erik turned, pushing his magick at his brother to toss him across the floor.

Euann laughed harder as he braced his feet and skidded to a stop. He began crooning, “
Ly-di-ah! Let me sing to ya my song so crass. Baby, how I loooove your a—”

“You’re dead!” Erik turned and ran at his brother, forgetting the whiskey.

Euann ran, singing all the louder. “
Ly-di-ah! Ly-di-ah!”

Chapter Twelve

“This is not exactly what I had in mind when I said to redecorate.”

Lydia gasped sharply. Startled, she lifted her head and pressed her back hard into the kitchen door. Tears stained her cheeks but she’d stopped crying several minutes before, at which time she started to wallow in self-pity. With Charlotte’s memories altered and her break up—if one could call it that—with Erik, Lydia had never felt more alone. The world was full of magick and secrets and she had no one to share the burden of that knowledge with.

“Breathe, dear.” Annabelle’s transparent figure stood before her, hands on hips. The ghost looked down at her, seeming completely aware of what was happening.

Lydia’s mouth opened. Annabelle was much more visible than before.

“Close your mouth or the flies will get in,” Annabelle said.

Lydia snapped her lips shut.

“Not even a hug?” Annabelle shook her head. “Tsk, tsk.”

Lydia pushed to her feet and lifted her arms, wanting nothing more than to have a comforting hug from her gramma. When she stepped forward, she went through Annabelle’s body. A cold chill caused goose bumps to rise on her flesh and a pant of mist to come out of her mouth. The smell of lilies clung to her clothes. The coldness of her grandmother’s spirit left her shivering, and feeling a little empty inside.

“Oh, poo.” Annabelle pouted. “I thought I was corporeal this time.”

“Where did you go?” Lydia sniffed.

“I’m not sure. Think of it as swooning. Something powerful sucked the energy right out of me.” Annabelle floated more than walked to the window. She wore the same fancy, sparkling green ball gown she’d been buried in. “Did you drink all the moonshine and then trash the house? Is that what’s wrong with you? You’re hung over?”

“Ah, not exactly.” Lydia wasn’t sure how to explain everything that was going on. She had promised to keep the MacGregor secret, but did talking to your dead gramma count? Most people would say she was hallucinating right now anyway, so really she was probably talking to a figment of her imagination.

“Too bad. It would have made one helluva story. Ah, well. Sit, I’ll make you some tea.” Annabelle flitted to the stove and ran her hand through the tea kettle. “Uh, dear, make yourself some tea and we’ll talk.”

Lydia nodded and obeyed, slowly crossing to the stove. Under her breath, she whispered, “So this is what crazy feels like.”

…

“Did ya have to chase your brother up a tree?” Margareta sighed heavily staring at Erik as he tried to ignore her. With a whiskey in one hand and an absent stirring of dust floating over the other, he swirled both. The library had been quiet and dark until his mother opened the heavy brocade curtains. “Well?”

“Aye,” he mumbled. Even as he chased him, Erik knew his brother had only been trying to distract him from his misery. It worked for a short time. Now he just wanted to be alone.

“Euann showed me the security footage he could find.”

Erik arched a brow, not following her topic choice. “Good?” Then dropping the dust, he pushed up from his chair in alarm. “Wait, do ya mean the
lidérc
? Ya saw him?”

“Not all threats are male,” Margareta scolded.

“Ya saw it?” Erik corrected.

“No.” Margareta sighed again, not taking her eyes off of him.

Erik frowned and fell back into the chair. “I have no idea what we’re talking about. If you’d like to drink, you’re welcome to close the curtains and pull up a chair. If you’re only here to say ominous things that make no sense in order to make me feel as if I am drunker than I am because I cannot follow them, then I’ll gladly take my misery elsewhere.”

“Ya are a bumbling idiot,” Margareta stated. At that, he again sat straight only this time in surprise. She continued, “God knows I love my boys, but ya are all idiots when it comes to women. No wonder I have yet to be made a grandmother after nearly five hundred years of waiting. I’m lucky we’re not mere humans or my line would have ended.”

“Uh, thanks?” he mumbled sarcastically.

“I blame your da. He’s an idiot too. When I met him he was tied to a tree limb half-transformed into a bird because he used one of your Uncle Fergus’s spells.” Margareta slowly crossed over to her son and then snatched the drink from his hand. Tossing it back, she finished it for him. She brushed her hand through the air to slide the bottle across the rug out of his reach. “I had to rescue him. He bumbled after me for a year until I finally caved and married him.”

His parents adored each other. He knew that. Sure, during the course of hundreds of years of marriage there were bound to be some powerful fights, but they always came back together.

“That’s not how Da tells it.” Erik tried to pull the bottle back but his mother slid it hard into the wall and shattered it. Liquor ran over the floor. He grimaced.

“My point is that ya tricked her into agreeing to a date. Ya crooned at the poor woman, and God knows ya can’t sing. Ya attacked her with magick. Ya attacked her with your beast. Ya erased her memories and her friend’s memories. I’m betting ya cast a few little spells here and there to avoid the true work of a relationship.”

Erik thought of that first day when she’d nearly drained him of all his magick because he’d wanted her to relax around him. Luckily, with his mother staring at him, his mind didn’t try to relive the full extent of what had happened. He looked guiltily to the ground.

“I thought as much.” She pulled at his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Sober up. Shower. And go win me a daughter so that I can have a grandbaby. Do it, or your sister’s love potions will be the least of your worries.”

“It’s a little soon to be talking marriage,” Erik said. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“Do ya blame her?” Margareta laughed. “She probably thinks your psychotic.”

Was this a pep talk? Erik wasn’t sure.

“Ya haven’t made your intentions clear, son. I don’t care what all those talk show hocus pocus hosts say. Courtships have been around since the beginning of time. There is a reason they worked in my youth and are so messy today. State your intentions clearly and then woo her. It is a simple concept. Forget those horribly misguided rules of waiting three days before ya call. Oh, and forget that tweeting text nonsense. Charm is what a woman wants. She wants ya to charm her with thoughtful gifts and—”

“Bumbling around after her for a year?” Erik supplied with an insolent snicker, cutting off his mother’s unsolicited dating advice.

“I heard Euann’s recording. Ya actually told her ya weren’t going to call your first date a date? That is not stating your intentions. And ya bribed her?” His mother laughed harder. “And I thought ya were the charming one. Now Niall, I can see him clubbing a woman over the head. Euann would study her to death from afar. Iain, well, I’m not sure he’ll ever marry. But, ya? Erik, ya can do better.”

“And Malina?”

“Your sister is not ready for the serious commitment of marriage.” The words were final and very serious.

Erik stood and swayed. Maybe he was drunker than he’d first thought.

“Or, we can always chase her away from here for the good of the clan.” She moved to leave. “Ya know our laws. No outsiders can know our secrets. It risks too much and too many.”

…

“Warlocks, as I live and breathe.” Annabelle declared as Lydia looked out the window. “Well, warlocks anyway. I thought they died out centuries ago.”

Lydia shivered at the ghost’s nearness, not used to the cold chill her grandmother radiated. Erik stayed true to his word, bringing all the MacGregor males down with him to clean up her yard. Iain pulled brand new chainsaws out of the back of a truck and laid them in a row on the ground as Euann carried a gas can to each and began filling them.

“That’s not very magickal of them,” her gramma said in disappointment.

“I think there have been enough supernatural things happening around here.” Lydia’s eyes strayed to Erik. His hair was wet and pushed back from his face. He smiled toward the house, finding her spying at them through the window. Her hand trembled, but there was no curtain to hide behind.

“You should put this in the grimmie.”

Lydia arched a brow? “The grimmie?”

“My great-grandmothers grimoire.” Annabelle frowned. The sound of chainsaws started up outside, forcing her to raise her voice, “Oh, that’s right. I didn’t give it to you.”

“We have a family grimoire?” Why wasn’t Lydia surprised?

“Where do you think I found all the protection spells? You didn’t think I made them up, did you?” Annabelle laughed and her figure became more transparent before disappearing. Lydia slowly crept to look in the living room. It was empty. That was going to take some getting used to.

Living with a ghost inside. Trapped by warlocks outside. Could life get any stranger? Though there was comfort in hearing her grandmother’s voice.

Lydia crossed to the window and again looked for Erik. The men were busy slicing up a giant tree. Euann paused about half way through his cut, glanced around and then pointed his finger at the log, splitting it the rest of the way. Iain slugged him in the shoulder and then pointed for him to get back to work. There was a slight argument before Erik smacked them both on the backs of their heads.

He turned instantly to look at her window as he withdrew his hands, as if to judge what she would think of such a thing. Then, slowly, he made his way toward the kitchen. Lydia hurried to the counter and began pulling out glasses and a plastic pitcher to look like she’d been busy doing anything other than staring at him. Her good pitcher had flown off the countertop during the storm and now resided in the trash. A knock sounded, and she nearly jumped out of her skin though she’d known it had been coming.

Pasting a pleasant smile on her face she tried to force her heart to slow. It did little good. She took a deep breath, fussed with her hair, glanced at her reflection in the dented toaster and tapped at her under-eye makeup though it did little good in hiding her tired appearance.

“I was just making you lemonade,” she said as she opened the door. Her smile fell and she gave a slight gasp. It wasn’t Erik.

Brad grinned at her. “Well, don’t mind if I do.” He used the vague offer as an excuse to step inside her home. She glanced for Joe, but the man wasn’t with him.

“I’m sorry, but I’m officially closed until further notice. A lot of my stock was damaged in the storm.” She tried to smile, reminding herself that though this man gave her the chills he was a customer and lived in the same town. When she glanced out the door she saw Erik frowning slightly in their direction. She let it hang open, hoping Brad would take the hint and leave.

“Oh, pity, my wife liked that stuff you sent for her.” Brad smiled. “Not the vanilla, but the other stuff. The bottle of lotion that you wear.”

For some awful un-nameable reason she received a flash of him screwing his wife while the woman wore the lotion. He grunted out Lydia’s name. Lydia gagged and tried to cover it with a cough.

“Is something wrong?” Brad asked.

Lydia cleared her throat and took a conscious step away from him. “No. It’s just been a very long couple of days.”

“Ah, the storms,” he glanced outside. “I came to help you clean up but I see the cross dressers beat me to it.”

It was obvious he meant the slight to be charming and funny, but it only caused Lydia to frown. Only Niall wore a kilt today. The rest were in jeans. “Thank you for checking on me. I’ll be sure to send your wife a flyer when I have my stock rebuilt.”

Brad looked around. “I can help you in here.” He moved past her to go the living room and kicked at one of the stray lotion bottles she’d yet to pick up. It rolled under the couch. He glanced around at the rehung curtains before making a move to go to the stairs.

“No, thank you,” Lydia said, raising her arm to herd him back toward the kitchen door.

“Hey, Lyd, ya in there?”

“One moment,” she called, giving Brad an expectant look. He again glanced around, as if considering his options before finally giving up and going back to the kitchen. She didn’t stop, forcing Brad to come outside with her. Unable to help it, she smiled at Erik. “Hi. I was just about to bring you guys some drinks.”

Erik stood, arms crossed as he eyed the smaller man. He didn’t speak. For a moment, Brad stared back, as if he didn’t plan on leaving.

Lydia turned to Brad, faked a pleasant look and said, “Thanks for checking in, Brad. I’ll be sure to mail that flyer.”

“Hm.” Brad nodded. He reluctantly left.

They didn’t speak as they watched him near the end of the drive. Lydia took a deep breath and sighed. “Thank you.”

“What did he want?” Erik asked, still watching the man’s back.

Was Erik jealous? A small thrill erupted inside her even as the very idea of anything happening with Brad was ridiculous. “General lechery and creepiness.”

“Did he try to…?” Erik stiffened and began to turn as if he’d go after the man.

“No, wait,” Lydia gave a small surprised laugh at the very alpha prince charming move. She reached to touch his arm, stopping him. “He’s just a creepy customer. Nothing happened.”

“Oh.” Erik relaxed some. “I just wanted to tell ya we should have this done by the end of the day.” He looked down at her hand on him.

A warm tingling erupted beneath her fingers, and she quickly pulled her hand away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take more power from you.” She shook her fingers, but the heat of his body still worked its way up her arm. Once it started, there was no stopping the sensations.

“I thought about what ya said, and I have an answer.” Erik cleared his throat and glanced back at his family. Iain and Euann quickly turned and pretended they’d been working, not watching. With a heavy sigh, Erik began scratching through his hair and feeling around his T-shirt. With a tiny growl, he pinched a small black object out of his hair. Lydia thought it might have been a bug, but he turned, lifted his arm to his brothers and then squished whatever it was.

“No, don’t!” Euann yelled, almost desperate. Rory grabbed his shirt and gestured that he should keep sawing.

“As I was saying, love, I thought about what ya said and my answer is no.”