Spiritbound (7 page)

There had been no expectation that she’d had a chance to beat him at his own game. She wasn’t a sore loser; that wasn’t it. It was because he’d kissed her and totally drew her into his moment and away from hers. That was what annoyed her, the fact that he had power over her. She did not want that. Right then, she didn’t want to fight anymore. She had to relax and let all that tension go. Declan was back in her world and she had to deal with it as best she could.

Declan held the helmet out to her again. Casting her doubts away, she took it and put it on her head. ‘Right then, let’s test out this bike of yours.’

Declan grinned and then turned away, leaving her to follow. She didn’t mind so much. There was something to be said about not fighting it, as she could enjoy the man Declan had become. It was only a picnic. The view was rather good. As he walked, his leather jacket hung from his wide shoulders and his dark blue denim hugged his butt cheeks. They were very squeezable. That made her grin to herself.
I bet he would find that disconcerting
. She filed that one away for later use.

The bike came into view. It was retro looking, with a curvy red petrol tank and cool spoke wheels. Its chrome exhaust pipe caught the light. ‘Wow.’

He chuckled at her reaction. ‘Mmm, exactly. It’s a Triumph Speedmaster. All the elegance of an earlier period, but with modern features that make for a great ride. I prefer the upright position; helps with being tall.’

Grace was impressed. The motorbike looked hot. Her attention moved to him. He looked hot in that get-up. Talk about bad-arse hunk status.

Don’t go there. Remember the bitch-witches
. She repressed a sigh and decided to change the topic.

‘You drive that?’

‘Sure I do.’ He pulled a small jacket out of one of his panniers, holding it up to her. ‘That should fit.’ He took her handbag and placed it inside.

Grace took the brown leather garment and sniffed it. It smelled new to her. Did he buy it especially? While she did up the jacket, Declan went over his bike. ‘I did a lot of touring when I was in Britain,’ he said as he squatted down to inspect the engine. ‘Lots of narrow roads with hedgerows and tunnels made out of trees, and out-of-the-way woods where you could stretch out and feel the earth beneath you, and hear the birds in the trees and the wind caressing branches and leaves.’

Grace lifted her eyebrows. Declan Mallory was a little bit more earthy than she’d expected. She finished buttoning up her jacket. ‘So where are we going on this little picnic?’

Declan straddled the bike, holding the handlebars so that the bike was fully upright and released the kickstand. ‘Come on, get on. Hold onto my shoulders and lift your leg over.’ Grace did as instructed. He pulled his helmet on. ‘Hold me around the waist.’

Grace did up the strap on her helmet. She thumped him lightly on the shoulder and yelled into his ear. ‘I said where are we going?’

‘The Blue Mountains.’ He started the bike, with the noise reaching her through the helmet.

‘The Blue Mountains? That’s no little picnic. It’s too late to go there now.’

Declan revved the motor, giving no indication that he’d heard a word she’d said. She didn’t attempt to mind speak him. That door had closed a long time ago. The bike lurched forward. Grace held on for dear life. She managed to hail her mother and Elena to say she’d be late for dinner and for them not to worry. Her mother sent back a distracted ‘okay’. Grace shrugged and held on, resting her face on Declan’s broad leather-clad back to hide from the wind.

The journey on the bike exposed her to the elements. Her face was buffeted by hard wind, her body stroked by powerful gusts. She’d never ridden on a bike before and she loved it. Declan’s strong body controlled the bike, expertly navigating the traffic along the Great Western Highway that led them up to the mountains. She’d been to Leura before, as a number of the coven lived that far out. They liked the bush setting, the mountain climate, and the small little wooden houses that reeked of old-world charm. It was an easy distance for key festivals and the mountains had their own magical allure. Grace had visited a family there during a series of thunderstorms. Energy had crackled and sizzled around them. She remembered that feeling of being so energised and close to nature, and the raw power that existed in the earth.

By the time they reached Springwood, hunger gained Grace’s attention. She hadn’t eaten since the morning. She’d left Earl’s scone behind. It was then she noticed that Declan didn’t appear to have any food with him. She remembered the panniers and if he had food in them, it was very modest indeed. Grace could have eaten several servings of turkey with all the trimmings, her hunger was that bad.

Finally, after zipping through a number of other mountain suburbs, Declan pulled over onto a grass-covered area. ‘He we are.’ He tugged off his helmet and gestured to a small cottage, obscured by shrubs and a riotous cottage garden.

Grace took off her own helmet and shook out her hair. Using her fingers, she tried to arrange it to get rid of the flattened hair she’d acquired from a couple of hours riding pillion while Declan held the bike for her.

‘Where is here?’ She lifted her leg off the bike, her muscles stiff.

Opening the pannier, he pulled out her handbag, passing it to her.

She stretched and shook out her legs. The sun had dropped lower on the horizon. They would have to travel at night to get back home to Balmain. She kept her mouth shut, although she was dying to make a snarky comment about the so-called ‘picnic’.

Declan dismounted from the bike and engaged the bike stand. He reached into the panniers and took out what looked like a bottle of wine wrapped in brown paper, and another shopping bag. Grace watched him with hooded eyelids, suspicious all of a sudden.

‘I thought you said we were going on a picnic. That to me implied food and maybe a blanket, a beach, a park or something.’

Declan tossed his keys in the air and caught them. ‘Patience. All will be revealed.’ He strode past her and stepped onto the veranda of the little house. He paused, looked over his shoulder and said, ‘What are you waiting for? You’re not a scaredy-cat, are you?’

With a sniff, Grace tossed back her head. ‘You would have to try a lot harder to scare me, Mallory.’

She raced to catch up, lifting her chin defiantly when she drew level with him.

‘Then enter.’ His eyes studied her, pushing the door open.

A warm liquid feeling overshadowed her annoyance. In that moment, for that moment, it was as if they had never been apart, never been separated by terrible deeds.

Then, letting that thought go, she stepped into the house. A warm polished floor greeted her gaze. The short hallway opened onto a cosy lounge room with stuffed sofas in natural-coloured upholstery, and a fireplace framed with old-fashioned green glazed tiles. A modern kitchen led off the room. Declan strode over and put the bottle on the bench and started opening cupboards and pulling out wineglasses. ‘Will you take a glass?’

‘Yes, I’d love a drink.’ Grace ambled around the lounge room. The fireplace was stacked with wood, ready to light. ‘Should I start the fire?’ It was starting to cool down as the sun disappeared, thought it wasn’t actually cold.

‘If you wouldn’t mind. I’ll get our picnic ready.’

Grace chuckled to herself as she sent a spark into the kindling. As the wood caught, she shook her head.
Declan Mallory was a trickster
. What was he planning?

Collecting her wine, she took a sip and then sprawled herself on the sofa, drinking in the atmosphere of the cosy little cottage. It really was a relaxing, peaceful place to be. She took another sip of wine and let it slide slowly down her throat. Then she frowned at a sudden thought.
What was she doing alone in the Blue Mountains with Declan Mallory?

She bolted upright. Declan was slicing bread in the kitchen. She didn’t know what to do. It was a bit far to hail her mother, and a tad embarrassing.

Climbing out of the seat, she tugged down her top and shored up her courage. Strolling to the kitchen, she leaned against the wall, projecting a calmness she didn’t quite feel. Declan was focused on embellishing plates with chicken drumsticks and salad. It was picnic food, but not a picnic place. ‘Declan, what is going on? I mean, it’s late. How will we get home in time?’

He glanced her way. ‘In time for what?’

Grace swallowed, not quite sure how to answer because it would reveal that she was insecure being alone with him, or worse, affected by being alone with him. And that was also presumptuous, because there was no romance between them. She’d made it quite clear she wasn’t interested, and she thought he had made it quite clear that it had been her fault all those years ago, and that she should feel sorry for him for the distress it had caused him. But then she realised that she was being a bit hysterical as she hadn’t really come to terms with seeing him again, or interpreted all the resulting emotions it had stirred up inside her.

‘Well?’

‘Oh? Nothing in particular.’ She watched him spoon some potato salad onto the plates, losing herself to her thoughts again. In the last few days, she’d calmed a bit—gotten used to the idea of him being around. And while him coming back had stirred up people’s memories of her necromancy, it had soon died. People were more interested in him. He had proven himself to be quite a legend while in Britain, battling rebel folk. Yes, she’d looked up the uprising he’d fought in. That was a disturbing incident, but there had been no signs of similar unrest here in Australia,
thank the goddess
, she thought. His parents were proud and had a right to be. She couldn’t begrudge him that, even though, at thirteen, the separation had been very hard indeed. Still, events had made her what she was and she wasn’t unhappy with that. Declan had done well, too.

‘Here we are then.’ He passed her a plate. ‘Shall we take a seat by the fire?’

With a nod, she followed him to the lounge room. He put his plate on the coffee table and she did likewise, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. The flickering fire sent out warmth to envelope them. Declan had taken off his leather jacket and proceeded to unclip his knee-length boots. He was making himself at home. ‘Is this your place then?’

‘Yes, I bought it before I came back. As much as I love my parents, I really enjoy my own space. They come out here on the weekends when they want to get away. I think they are tempted to move out here and retire.’

Grace took a bite of chicken and swallowed. ‘Witches and warlocks really retire?’

He swallowed a mouthful. ‘Not really, no. But I mean retire from the city life. There is a fantastic garden out back. My parents have plans to grow herbs and essential ingredients and supply them to the coven.’

Grace nodded and took another bite of chicken. It tasted delicious. Her hunger was still rampant so she took another drumstick and chomped on it.

‘You are hungry.’

Grace nodded and continued to chew. He passed her a napkin. She grabbed it and wiped two fingers, and dabbed around her mouth.

‘More wine?’ He held up the bottle. Grace lifted her glass.

She was starting to feel more at home. She kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes in front of the fire. ‘This is nice and quiet. I love it.’

‘I’m glad you like it.’

Grace picked at her salad and took a bite of bread, washing it down with a couple of mouthfuls of wine. She was starting to feel mellow. No longer wary of Declan, she leaned her head against the back of the couch and breathed deeply, letting the atmosphere sink into her senses.

Declan cleared their plates away and topped up their wine before he sat back down again.

‘I’m glad you like the place.’

‘Mmm. I do.’ Her eyes were closed. Drowsiness climbed up her limbs, stroked her mind.

Declan moved closer. She stayed very still, not quite sure what he was up to. His finger traced along her nose and her eyes snapped open. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Admiring the view.’

Grace sat up, her back straight. ‘Perhaps we should go back now.’

Declan sat back, relaxing into the sofa. ‘No, not yet. I think we need to rest a little longer.’

‘In that case, you should keep your hands to yourself and maintain your distance. I didn’t come here to be seduced by you.’

‘Why did you come?’

‘You asked me as a peace offering, I thought.’

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Is that the only reason?’

Grace had to think a minute. ‘Yes.’ She wasn’t about to go into her feelings or try to explore them with Declan. It was none of his business.

‘I see.’ He gazed into her face. ‘Well, Grace, I’ve got some news for you. We’re not going back to Balmain tonight.’

Grace chuckled to herself. ‘Sure. When did you become such a kidder?’

‘I’m not joking.’

Grace slipped off the sofa, putting the coffee table between them. ‘Is this some kind of joke? Because, you know, I’ve been there done that.’

‘You have? With who?’

Grace put their hands to her head. ‘Don’t go there. I really can’t be here alone with you…tonight.’

He stood up and came round the table, capturing her elbows in his hands. ‘Why, Grace? What’s so special about tonight?’

‘Nothing.’ She wanted to back away, but he held her gently in his grip. She wasn’t prepared for this, not expecting him to want to be alone with her, so far away from everyone else. She didn’t know what to do. She’d not been alone with any man. No one in the coven would have anything to do with her during her teens, except to tease her in some way about being a necromancer. Her peers had joked that she’d dated the dead because no live warlock would want to spend time with her.

‘Grace.’ He spoke her name softly in her ear and his breath brushed against her neck. She shivered. ‘Tell me, Grace, what are you thinking? Feeling?’

‘I can’t. Don’t make me.’

‘Share it with me. See into me—let me see into you.’

She put space between them, her back now to the fire. ‘No. I won’t. I—’

‘Why, Grace? We used to be close. I know it was a long time ago…we could touch each other again, if you try.’