The Witch's Dream - A Love Letter to Paranormal Romance (Black Swan 2) (23 page)

Litha noticed where his attention was, but pretended not to. She got a rush of pleasure from imagining that Storm was thinking about her in a sexual way and it made her smile on the inside.

She didn't think she was pin up material and never intended to find out, but she wasn't embarrassed about her body either. Somewhere she had read that girls who were home schooled had a shot at escaping the "system" as free thinkers and with a healthy dose of self-esteem intact since it was never eroded away by either the systemic sexism or the sadism of other kids - girls or boys. In short, she felt good in her skin and, from what she could see, Storm was more than okay about her body. Even if he wasn't ready to admit it.

Once off, she tossed the hoodie onto the seat, sat back down and crossed her legs while leaning back. Storm couldn't hear the friction of skin sliding against skin or the rustle of skirt fabric over the noise of the train, but he imagined it.

"Anyway, one of the monks - I call him Cufay - was visiting a priest friend in England when I was found. Cufay has the sight and knew I was different. So he talked the friend into handing me over and brought me to California. He rescued me from being an orphan. And from being Anglish, too." She laughed silently.

"How did he get you out of the country?"

She arched a brow comically. "I think perhaps you underestimate clerics. They can be
very
resourceful."

Storm was staring with his lips parted.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know whether to be horrified or happy for you." She smiled and opened her palms as if to say 'all's well'. "And how did The Order hear about you?"

"Oh. Well, in some ways that's the best part of the story. The Cairdeas Deo monks are not actually part of The Order, but they are - shall we say - loosely associated with it. When Cufay brought me home, he expected that I might be a resource someday. The monks set up my education so that, in a way, I was custom designed for The Order."

Storm wasn't sure that was a good thing, but decided to take the conversation in another direction. "My father is a winemaker. He works for one of the big outfits."

"Really?"

"Yes. When I was little he used to take me to work with him on days when I wasn't in school. It was really the only time I didn't get in trouble. I think I loved it." He chuckled. "My mom tried to take me to her work once. She was a part time librarian. That didn't go nearly as well."

He looked up into Litha's face and his breath caught because she was looking at him like... No. Not a chance. There was no fucking way she could be in love. With him.

Had he not told her in the most concrete, definitive, and loud ways that he was
not
interested in a relationship? He glanced at her again to see if that beatific expression was still directed at him. It was. Holy hell.

The transfer in Milan went smoothly. They already had tickets to Siena, but it was a much smaller train with no first class or pre-assigned seating. After walking through two cars Storm found a bench seat with enough room for the two of them if they didn't mind a tight fit. He motioned to Litha to go ahead and sit down next to a woman with white hair pulled up on top of her head in a do that would have seemed chic on a young person. Apparently she was traveling with grandchildren and a daughter who looked like a younger version of herself sitting on a facing seat. With Litha's help Storm stowed the bags beneath the bench and then eased down beside her.

Both of them were independently marveling at how warm the other's body was. Storm had taken off his windbreaker and stuffed it in his bag. He was wearing a short sleeve knit shirt that was expensive and looked it. Litha shifted around trying to find a position that would be fairly comfortable for both of them for a one-hour ride, but Storm had an imposing upper body. She finally decided that it worked best for him to bring his right shoulder in front of her. At least it kept her from crushing the woman on her right.

Litha was happy enough with that arrangement. The only downside was from Storm's point of view. Litha's left breast was now pressed tightly into his bicep, moving rhythmically every time she breathed in and out, and jiggling with the movement of the train. He was not going to be able to think about anything else until they got off the train, which had been designed for Italians and not Germans, much less German-descended warriors.

By the time the train pulled into Siena, Storm was pretty sure he needed a shower. The two of them climbed the steps to street level and stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the station. Storm stopped and looked around like something was wrong. He asked a couple of passersby something in Italian. They smiled and answered. He thanked them and then muttered curses under his breath.

"What's wrong?" Litha asked.

"Not the best timing. It's the first Palio race of the year."

"What is that?"

He motioned to a taxi pulling up. "Come on. We're lucky to get one this fast."

Storm gave the driver the address of the Siena residence. The Order owned and maintained such places in every city of consequence all over the world.

"For centuries the old family groups have been holding these horse races three times a year. Each family has an entry. The piazza is covered in dirt so that the race can take place in the center of the old town. It gets crowded like Times Square on New Year's Eve. If we didn't already have a place to stay, we wouldn't have found a bed between here and Florence."

"That won't affect us unless we can't get close to my location."

He turned to look at her. "We'll get you there."

She envied the utter confidence he held in his ability to complete his part of this mission.

In seven minutes the taxi pulled up in front of an old stone building facing a narrow cobblestone street. A man waited by the front entrance. "Mr. Storm, I presume," he said in decent English. It wasn't a question.

Storm didn't commit until the man offered a key, which he took and then asked which Contrade the man would be supporting in the race. He said he was Drago, grinned with pride and pointed to the dragon banner hanging from a building at the next corner.

Inside, he and Litha climbed three flights of stairs and were rewarded with an apartment that looked out onto the tower of the thirteenth century square and down onto one of the prettiest piazzas in Italy. It was covered with dirt for the race the next day.

There were two bedrooms, one a loft open to the living area below. Litha wouldn't want to admit it to Storm, but she was tired. He pointed her toward the enclosed bedroom, saying he would take the loft and that she might want to take a little rest, that they would venture out for dinner later, and start fresh in the morning to find the spot she'd scryed.

Grateful for the respite, she fell down on the bed and was thrilled to be greeted with the smell of fresh laundered linen - no perfumes, just good, clean soap. The windows were open to a lot of excitement below, but not enough to keep her awake. She was sound asleep in minutes.

When she had fallen down on the bed there had been a couple of hours of sunset left, but she woke in the dark, disoriented. She located a light and tromped to the bathroom. The mirror said she looked like she'd been run over. She took a shower, pulled her hair up in a ponytail, put on a red silk shirt and covered her shoulders with a huge silk and linen scarf.

Storm was sitting on the sofa reading. He looked up when she came out. He'd changed his shirt and the damp hair over his collar indicated that he'd taken a shower, too.

"Hey," he said. "Hungry?"

"Are you?"

"If it's dinner time, I'm hungry." He stood up and started moving toward the door. He had an impulse to tell her she looked good in red, but thought it wouldn't be fair to lead her on since there was definitely no future with him.

"I'm with you."

"Nope. Other way around."

"What do you mean?"

"We're going to stroll around until you say, 'Stop here'."

Everything about that offer sounded delightful. And suspicious. She narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips in a gesture he found curiously appealing. It made him want to circle both wrists with his hands and pull her arms around him. It would be nice to transform that challenge into a begrudging smile and admission of affection.

"Are you thinking this is a last meal kind of thing?"

He laughed and stood up. "Come on." He held the door open for her.

The streets around the main square of Siena at night were as charming and romantic as you might imagine. There was a lot of pedestrian traffic, but not so much that they couldn't walk freely and at their own pace. The evening air had cooled off enough so that she wished she had on something more than a silk/linen blend scarf. A woman stopped sweeping a pretty entryway with potted geraniums long enough to look at them and smile. Litha knew she was thinking they were a couple; lovers, maybe more.

What Storm had been observing was how many men were taking overt notice of Litha. It was a little unnerving. Of course he knew she was attractive, in a witchy sort of way, but she was collecting way too many double takes from guys who ought to be paying attention to the women they were with instead.

The ambling felt comfortable. Storm seemed relaxed which was practically an occasion for notifying the press.

"I read the bio in your file, you know."

He angled his head in her direction and looked down at her with what could have been curiosity or amusement. "Oh?'

"Hmmm."

"And was it gripping reading?"

She chuckled. "There were some interesting bits. Like the fact that you were an athletic boy who shunned sports."

"Shunned?" He laughed, then rolled a massive shoulder in a half shrug. "Just didn't get it. Seemed like a complete waste of time to me."

"What did you think was a good use of time?"

He hesitated for a minute like he was trying to decide how much to share. "Well, wine making for one thing." He looked her direction and saw that she was waiting for him to say more. "It's an accomplishment. Something you can be proud of. I loved going to work with my dad. He told me that it feels good to coax and nurse these delicate plants to give you back a harvest of special fruit, then turn that into something that's food, but so much more. If you put a bottle of wine on a dinner table it elevates the meal into something entirely different. It suggests pleasure and contentment and well-being..."

"Romance."

Storm smiled at Litha in a way that made her feel like she'd just won a prize. "Yeah. That, too. Definitely that, too."

"You were actually listening to your father wax poetic about wine while the other boys were playing baseball?"

"Like they say, it takes all kinds to fill up the freeways."

They had probably passed a dozen restaurants before she spied "the one". It was tucked into an alleyway behind the cathedral and could easily have been missed. Still, enough people had found it that the place was packed. Storm fully expected to be told that there would be a lengthy wait, but they were ushered straight to a table for two by the fireplace.

When they were seated, he leaned over and quietly asked, "Did you do that, witch?"

"Do what?" she looked around with wide eyes as if to decipher what he might mean.

"Did you get us the best table without a wait and without a hundred dollar bill?"

She broke into a husky, throaty laugh that massaged his erogenous zones like expert fingers. He'd never heard her laugh before. If he was a guy interested in a relationship, he might want to hear that laugh again, often and without reservation.

"You know, Storm, sometimes people have plain, old-fashioned good luck."

A waiter came by to ask about wine. Litha told Storm she could afford one glass and still be good to go the next morning - a nice red to keep the chill away. Storm told the waiter they were hungry and asked for menus. He ordered a flatbread appetizer with s
ausage, pepperoni and ricotta. She ordered a salad and a penne with
mushrooms, spinach, sundried tomatoes, caramelized onions, Feta and pine nuts. Storm had the same, plus a double order of the grilled chicken with bacon and fresh Parmesan.

Litha smiled at Storm. "You wanted beef didn't you?"

He smiled in return. "We can't always get what we want."

It sounded like he was trying to get a larger point across. A glass of red wine was set down in front of her. She took a sip and closed her eyes to enjoy the little burn as the warmth seeped into her system.

Through dinner they chatted amiably about operations in their respective units and some of their more unusual assignments. When the dishes were cleared away, Litha looked around and saw that only a few people remained. Reluctant to let the evening end, she asked for another half glass of red wine.

"Dinner was wonderful. I'll never forget it." She put her hand on top of Storm's in a gesture of affection that made him feel warm and fuzzy and uncomfortable all at the same time. He looked down at their two hands and she withdrew hers. "What happened between you and Elora?"

Storm had let himself relax and was caught completely unprepared for that question.