The Marriage Spell (32 page)

“The best wizards have absolute mastery of their powers,” she said thoughtfully. “If Scranton is the exact opposite, it makes sense that he can barely understand or control what he's doing. Reading standard texts on magic wouldn't help him since his own talent works so differently.”

“How do you think he learned his kind of magic?”

“By trial and error, I imagine. Even if the only spells he wanted to cast were the ones to keep you away, his negative magic is likely so inefficient that he had to drain massive amounts of energy from his surroundings to get results.”

Jack pulled his second sandwich from his saddlebag and left it for the dog, then swung into his saddle again. “Why does he rob my land, not his own?”

“He probably wanted to keep his estate productive because that's where he gets his income. He wouldn't care what his depredations are doing to your income.” She shook her head. “There's too much we don't know.”

“If I can't kill Scranton, is there a way to cut off the flow of energy from the land to him?”

“There should be,” Abby agreed. “If so, it's the single most effective thing we can do at this point. Even though we can't attack Scranton directly, Langdale will start to recover once he can no longer drain its life force. If we can find how he connects to the land, we'll be able to come up with a plan of attack. But the estate is so large that it's difficult to know where to start. I've been watching, and haven't seen anything that looks like it might be the link between the land and Scranton.”

An image from one of his bad dreams floated through Jack's mind. “The well!”

“You've thought of a place?”

“There's a holy well with a reputation that goes back to the Druids and probably earlier,” he explained. “I visited often to read Mr. Willard's magic books and daydream and practice spells. If the well is the source of the land's health, might Scranton work his wickedness there?”

“Let's find out. Which way?” Abby collected her reins. Despite the somberness of the atmosphere, she looked magnificent on horseback—like a warrior queen ready to lead her troops into battle.

“The well is located very near the border of Scranton's property. His land falls in the next dale and is separated from mine by a ridge. The well is in a hollow not far below the ridgeline.” Jack gestured to the left and they set off. “When we get there, might I humbly beg one of your sandwiches, since I gave both of mine away?”

“Of course.” Abby's gaze shifted behind him. “The sandwiches were a good investment. They seem to have bought you a dog.”

Jack glanced back and saw that the ragged dog was following him, limping but determined. “I like her. Do you think Cleocatra will mind?”

“Cleo minds that animated fur muff of your mother's, but I'm sure she and this dog will learn to get along. Do you have a name for her?”

“Maxie, in honor of the Maxons.” He snapped his finger at the dog. “Come along, my girl. It's soap and water and regular meals for you!”

They rode toward the holy well, which was in an isolated area of the estate they hadn't visited yet. As they turned down into the hollow where the well was located, he said, “Is it my imagination, or is the general sense of doom we've felt all over the estate getting stronger?”

“It's not your imagination,” Abby said grimly. “I feel like I'm riding into a poisoned swamp that is trying to suck me under the surface.”

He scanned the hollow, where a cluster of trees concealed the well. “This used to be a happy place—the heart and soul of Langdale. The closer I was to the well, the better I felt. Now the atmosphere is so heavy the horses are skittish.”

She patted her mount's neck. “Even this old slug is nervous. Is the well close enough to walk the rest of the way? I'd rather not make the horses miserable.”

“The well is in the middle of this grove, so we can leave the horses here.” Jack reined Dancer in and dismounted. “I thought we could eat by the well, but unless the atmosphere improves greatly, we'll want to find another picnic spot.” He scanned their surroundings, military habit causing him to note potential ambushes and danger points even though the struggle with Scranton would not be fought on this kind of battlefield.

After tethering his horse, he helped Abby dismount. She was quite capable of getting off her mount, of course, but helping was a good excuse to catch hold of her waist and lower her to the ground. Which left him well placed to steal a kiss.

Her return kiss was so luscious that he was able to briefly forget the tainted energy of the well. She ended the kiss, looking mischievously from under her lashes. “Make sure the place we find for our luncheon is very private.”

He grinned. “Is it mere randiness that makes a kiss drive away some of the heaviness of the atmosphere? Or is it something more?”

“Something more.” Her horse secured, Abby caught up the long skirt of her riding habit with one hand and took his elbow with her other hand. “Passion is positive because it's the essence of life. It creates a spark of light against the darkness.”

They headed into the grove. Maxie, who had followed faithfully across the estate, began to whine. When Jack turned to look at the dog, she sat down on her haunches and gazed at him unhappily, a faithful servant being asked to do something impossible.

“She has good canine intuition,” Abby observed as she bent over to ruffle the dog's ears. “Would I prove myself deeply clairvoyant if I predict that this scraggly beast is soon going to be moving into the house and growing fat at Mrs. Watson's hands?”

Jack laughed. “And you said you had no ability to see the future.” He scratched the dog's ruff. “Go guard the horses, girl.”

The dog turned and trotted back to where the horses were tethered as if she'd understood every word. Jack's amusement faded as they walked through the trees toward the well. Not only was the atmosphere increasingly menacing, but he felt physically heavier with every step, as if he was carrying a mountain on his back. From her set expression, he guessed Abby felt the same way.

They emerged in the clearing of the holy well. The spring that formed the well bubbled out of a crack in a large rock that bulged from the hillside. The water collected in a small pool a couple of feet below, with the pool draining into a brook. Even in the driest of summers, the water had always been sweet and abundant and thick vegetation grew around the banks of the pool and brook.

Now the spring had dwindled to a damp film on the face of the rock. The pool was a mere muddy puddle and the banks were bare, no longer lushly overgrown.

By unspoken agreement, they stopped at the edge of the little clearing. Abby drew a deep breath. “I find myself reluctant to approach any closer.”

“I feel the same.” The sense of danger and dark oppression had increased with every step, and now the desire to bolt was almost overpowering. “This is worse than the fear before battle, when there's a risk of being blown to bloody pieces.”

“It's fear for the soul—a conviction that if we get too close to the source of evil, we'll be doomed forever. Which is nonsense, of course. Only God can choose what happens to souls. This is only a fear spell, but it's the strongest I've ever experienced.”

“Since fear is the most negative of emotions, Scranton is probably a genius at creating such spells.” Jack told himself that he'd visited here a thousand times before and there was nothing to be afraid of. His heart pounding as if crack French cavalry were charging down on him, he stepped away from Abby and began to walk the last fifty feet to what had once been a holy well.

“Jack, wait.” A hand locked around his and Abby fell in at his side, her face bone white but determined.

Jack's fear diminished to a manageable level. “Together we can face anything Scranton can throw at us.” This was the magical spell created by marriage, he realized. Together they were greater than the sum of their individual parts.

Side by side, they approached the spring. Though the sense of looming disaster increased, Jack managed to control his desire to turn and run.

By the time they reached the spring, negative energy was pounding them with almost physical force. It was like being inside a giant drum, assaulted from all sides. But endurable, barely. “Abby, I don't think one soldier in ten would have the courage to cross the clearing with me. You have the soul of a warrior.”

“No, I just married one.” She knelt and studied the stone where the spring emerged, leaning forward to explore the surface with her fingertips. “There are ancient runes carved into the rock. Do you know what they say?”

“Probably that the water is blessed. Below your hand is a Latin inscription that has been mostly worn away by the water. It says this is a sacred spring.”

“Fascinating.” Her voice showed that curiosity was driving out fear. “I'll copy the runes and send the inscription to my father. He might be able to interpret them.”

“What about the well itself? Has it been poisoned beyond redemption?” He watched uneasily, worried that this place might hurt her.

Abby moved her attention from the runes and drew her fingertips across the moisture that seeped down the stone. “It's not poisoned, but terribly twisted and suppressed. You were right—this is the connection between Scranton and his theft of the land's life force. See this faint, grayish thread?”

She traced a line in the air about half an inch from the energy thread, which he could see easily now that she pointed it out. The connection was as thin as a strand of hair, and even less substantial. It spun away from them and became impossible to see within a few feet. “Such a small thing to cause such damage.”

“With this connection, he has destroyed the natural balance of the dale.” She glanced up at him. “Was Langdale once considered unusually fortunate?”

Jack nodded. “The crops and stock always did well. My family has been here since before records were kept. A Norman knight of my line married a daughter of the Anglo-Saxon owner, so the old blood was joined to the new. The family name, Langdon, was taken from Langdale, the name of our valley. Do you think that our centuries of good fortune are a result of this holy well?”

“The well surely helped, though other factors must have contributed.” She smiled. “After all, your friends call you Lucky Jack.”

“The well has been part of my family's history for centuries.” He touched the stone, and an image entered his mind. Astonished by the power of his vision, he said, “How strange. I feel sure that distant ancestors were Druid priests who dwelled here and dispensed the healing waters to those in need.”

“That would explain the magic that runs in your family.” She seemed unsurprised by what he had seen, or the fact that he had seen it.

Wishing he could physically strike and destroy the dark energy that defiled this holy place, he asked, “How can we free the waters again?”

She flattened her palm on the rock face. “A healing circle might do it. Not as much power would be required as when you were healed because then we were working with a damaged physical body. For wizards, it's easier to deal with pure energy, which is what we would be doing here. I think that you, Mr. Willard, and I might be enough to dissolve the negative energy that has blocked the natural flow.”

She stood and brushed off her hands. “In fact, that would be perfect. The healer, the divine, and the man who was bred to this land.”

“Would a circle weaken Scranton by cutting off his supply of energy?” When Abby nodded, he continued, “Can we start the healing process by severing the thread?”

“Perhaps. I'll check the amount of power it's carrying.” Delicately Abby stretched out a finger and touched the thread.

The world exploded.

Chapter
XXXII

A
s Abby cried out, Jack was knocked backward in a maelstrom of warped light and searing madness that burned along his nerves and swallowed him in blackness. He had survived near hits by field artillery, but never anything like this.

He returned to consciousness in jagged pieces. From the position of the sun, very little time had passed, perhaps only a few moments. A dog was howling nearby. With painful effort, he remembered the dog they'd found. Maxie? That energy storm had been a trap, and by touching the trigger, they had been caught in its fury. Dark energy was boiling up from the pool, as frightening as lava spilling out of a volcano.

He lay sprawled on the hard ground. Abby lay motionless a yard away, one hand dangling limply into the empty pool. “Abby?”

It took all his strength to push himself up on one elbow. Hoping against hope, he asked hoarsely, “Abby, are you all right?”

She wasn't breathing.
His heart almost stopped when he realized it. He felt for a pulse. Nothing.

She couldn't be dead, she
couldn't.
Dear God, what would he do without Abby? At the beginning, he had been ready to choose death over marrying a wizard. Now he couldn't imagine life without her. This glorious, intelligent, sensual woman was his—and now he had lost her.

He was in love with her.
Why hadn't he realized that sooner? Maybe because he was a man and hadn't thought beyond how much he enjoyed bedding her and talking to her and riding with her.

And now she was gone.

A terrible grief seared through him. She was everything he could have wanted in a wife, and he had been too foolish to acknowledge it. By assuming her strength was equal to anything, he had lost her. He should have protected her better.

Tears burning in his eyes, he shouted up at the empty sky, “If there is a God in heaven, take my life and spare hers!”

His cry from the heart went unanswered. Dimly aware of the howling dog and the geyser of dark energy streaming up beside him, he bent and kissed her still lips. “I love you, Abby. Now and always.” His voice caught. “Sleep well, beloved.”

She coughed convulsively and her chest began to rise and fall. He caught his breath, paralyzed by hope. “Lass, you said that kisses were positive energy and they drove away the darkness,” he whispered. “Maybe another will help.”

And maybe magic would, too. After all, Abby had used it to save his worthless self. For the first time, he opened up and fully embraced the power that was part of him. Praying that he had a dash of healer in him, he touched his lips to hers again. At the same time, he imagined healthy, positive power cascading from him into her.

Under his lips he felt a faint, sweet response. Encouraged, he ran his hands over her body, checking for injuries from her fall. He found no blood or broken bones, though he guessed they'd both be bruised in the morning.

Though she was still unconscious, she gave a little sigh of pleasure when his hand brushed her breast as he checked her ribs. Experimentally he rested his palm on her right breast. Her lips curved into a smile.

If kisses and caring were positive energy, it was time for more of them. Once more he called on his magic, visualizing it as a river of health and well-being. When he kissed her again, her mouth opened and her tongue touched his with an unmistakable response. He whispered, “Abby, are you awake?”

Her eyes opened, looking soft and unfocused. “Jack, I had the most terrible dream, that I had gone away…”

“Don't think of that now, lass.” He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her with body and soul.

As he concentrated on sending her healing energy, he recognized that his innate power was being enhanced by a greater power that was drawn from the earth itself. The earth was the source of life, and that vitality blazed through him. He asked for more and shared it all with her, offering life and passion and love without end.

She closed her eyes again, but her hands and mouth were urgent as her passion rose to meet his. She was his goddess, personifying the rich bounty of the earth. It was utterly natural to seek her secret places, to stroke and caress until she cried. “Jack!”

He entered her welcoming body, and their union was as fierce as a summer storm. Male and female, forever opposites and partners. Miraculously she had been restored to him, and as he climaxed, he gave her his heart as well as the seeds of life.

She clung to him, shuddering, until the rage of passion faded. He cradled her in his arms with the tenderness of love. When his heart had returned to a normal rhythm, he asked, “Are you well, lass?”

“Never better, despite what has happened.” She opened her amazing eyes and smiled with a warmth that could have heated all Yorkshire. “What
did
happen?”

“When you touched the thread that connected the well with Scranton, you accidentally released a torrent of wicked dark energy that knocked us both out. I…I thought you were dead. No breathing, no heartbeat.” He swallowed painfully. “So I kissed you good-bye, and called on whatever magic I could summon. I think that helped you come back. The more positive energy we generated, the stronger we both became.”

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “Your aura blazes like a bonfire. You have connected with the earth energy of the estate. That is your special magic, Jack. This is your land, and it responded to you like a lover.” She blushed. “Like I did.”

“So together, we rekindled life here?” he said in wonder.

“We did indeed.” She turned her head. “Look at the spring.”

Water gushed lavishly from the crack in the rock and splashed into the pool. He hadn't noticed the sound because of all the other drama. “Has the well been healed? The energy coming from the spring looked like chimney soot.”

She sat up and stretched one hand under the spurting water. After a moment, she said, “The spring is pure and healthy again.” She scooped some water and drank greedily. “The negative energy that linked to Scranton was like a giant plug. When it was blasted away, the natural earth energy began restoring itself.”

He splashed his face, then scooped handfuls of the cool, clear water into his mouth. It was the sweet taste of Langdale. “How does this affect Scranton?”

“He has to have noticed that he has been cut off from his supply of life force. Beyond that, I'm not sure.” She got to her feet, wincing a little. “You have the power to protect the well so that he can no longer use it for his own twisted purposes.”

He closed his eyes and knew she was right. The life force of Langdale pulsed through him like a torrent now that its natural vitality had been restored.

He spread his hands and envisioned white light cascading from the spring, then flowing outward over every hill and hollow until it encompassed the whole vale. He'd been a damned stubborn fool to resist his magic for so long, but now he and his land were united, and he was blessed with its strength. He gave a heart deep prayer of thanks that he had been given the stewardship of this place and its people.

Never again would Scranton be able to steal this precious life force.
Never.

When he opened his eyes, Abby said in a hushed voice, “Look.”

Greenery was sprouting around the bare rim of the pool. In the branches above, plump buds were starting to leaf, and around the tree trunk, a cluster of daffodils gave a golden shout. He bent to pick one of the flowers, half expecting it to be an illusion, but it was real. He inhaled the buttery scent, which was the essence of spring, then tucked the stem inside a buttonhole on Abby's jacket. “It's a miracle, lass.”

She gestured. “Here's another.”

Maxie, no longer terrified of the well's evil, had trotted over to join them and was busily lapping water from the pool. Appetite slaked, she looked up hopefully.

“There is a dog ready for another sandwich. And so am I—I'm ravenous.” Abby brushed dried grass from her hair. “Shall we eat, then go confront Scranton?”

“It must be done,” Jack agreed. “But not on an empty stomach. I hope there's enough food left for the three of us.”

Amazing how quickly a dog could become part of the family.

A
bby had always enjoyed the vibrant energies of spring, but never had she experienced anything like the revival of Langdale. “One can almost see the grass growing,” she said with wonder.

“The vegetation on the estate will grow until it catches up with the rest of this part of Yorkshire.” Jack seemed very sure. No wonder, given how the life force of the estate was pulsing through him. Occasionally she had seen such connections between farmers or gardeners and the land they loved, but never with such intensity. The dale had waited years for Jack to return, and they had healed and completed each other.

They stopped at a cottage that lay on the route back to the manor house. The housewife came out and greeted them with a beaming face, a toddler at her heels. “Welcome home, Lord Frayne!” She bobbed a curtsy to Abby after they were introduced. “I was beginning to think spring would never come, but when it comes, it does at a run, eh?” She wiped floury hands on her apron. “'Tisn't much inside, but would my lord and lady join me for a bit of ale and bread toasted with cheese?”

Jack glanced at Abby, who nodded. “We'd love to, Mrs. Rome.” He dismounted and helped Abby from her horse. The cottages they'd visited in the morning had been full of depressed, sullen people. There had been no smiles nor offers of hospitality.

The ale and toasted cheese were delicious, too. Since Maxie had received much of Mrs. Watson's packed food, Abby and Jack did full justice to the food offered. Abby admired the way her husband talked so easily with his tenant, completely at home. He discussed the land she and her husband farmed, bounced the toddler on his knee, and promised to have the roof repaired.

After they were mounted and on their way again, Abby said, “You've found your place in the world, Jack. A year from now, all the cottages will be inhabited again and the residents will be grateful they live at Langdale.”

“It may take more than a year, but I hope such a day comes.”

They were close to the manor house when they passed a fenced field containing a small herd of milk cows. The livestock milled around listlessly, too unwell to enjoy the springing grass. Many had sores on their shaggy hides. Jack frowned at the sight. “Would you mind waiting here with Dancer? I want to try something.”

“Of course.” Abby took his horse's reins, curious what her husband had in mind.

Jack climbed over the fence and moved among the cows, talking and laying hands on them. To Abby's amazement, the beasts improved before her very eyes. Sores disappeared, heads lifted and coats lost their dullness, acquiring a healthy sheen.

Though the cows were still scrawny, the way they began to apply themselves to the grass showed that they would be fleshed out and sturdy in no time. One heifer became so lively she almost knocked Jack down with a butt of her head.

Jack returned, beaming. Abby bent from her saddle to kiss him. “That was remarkable. I didn't realize that you were a healer. A healer of animals, perhaps?”

He shook his head as he mounted again. “I don't think it was healing so much as an extension of my connection with this land. They are my beasts, and I was able to…to channel some of the land's life force into them.”

This was the man Jack was meant to be, she realized. Powerful, wise, kind, a nurturer of land and people and animals. He was like an ancient god of the harvest, one who could share his gifts all year round. She felt a pang at that recognition. She had healed him, then become his teacher as he learned to accept his magic. Now that he was fully realized in his own special kind of wizardry, he didn't need her in that way.

Regretful that he no longer needed her, she gave him her best smile. “We shall have to start looking for the people who left. Surely some would want to return.”

“The Langdale steward and Mr. Willard can help us put together a list of departed tenants and laborers.” The light died from his eyes. “But first we must deal with Scranton. How can we stop him from stripping the heart from other lands?”

“Perhaps my father will know a way.” She'd been trying not to think of Scranton, but she forced herself to visualize him. She touched his energy, then gasped with horror. “We must return at once! Scranton knows that you've cut him off from his energy connection, and he is about to do something dreadful!”

Jack's expression froze, and she saw in his eyes that he also knew about his stepfather. “I'll go see. Stay away, Abby! I couldn't bear to see you hurt again.”

He kicked his horse into a gallop and raced toward the hall at full speed. Abby followed, urging as much speed from her placid mount as she could. Foolish man, to think that she didn't belong at a confrontation with their enemy!