The breeze off Puget Sound increased, swirling the rain around them as they stood facing each other. Stryker waited.They were linked, if only by circumstance. Was she in his life to help him understand the connections between his two worlds? There was no such thing as coincidence. The next step was for AJ to embrace the same conclusion.
He heard people running over a gravel path and pulled AJ behind him. “Stay close. They’re coming.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
As the rain over the Trolls’ compound intensified, festival goers secured tents and their wagons against the sudden storm. Isolated from the others, the gypsy wagon Cassandra had assigned to Rowan was tucked into a grove of trees a short distance from the mansion. This morning it had blended into its surroundings as though the Trolls didn’t want anyone to know the identity of its occupant. In a few short hours, however, there had been a transformation. Rowan’s wagon was outlined with twinkling rainbow lights. White, red and purple flowers hung from the eves in colorful baskets.
Morgan climbed into the wagon, calling over her shoulder for Rowan to hurry, excited to see inside.
“What do you think it means?” Rowan said, fingering one of the lights.
“It’s the Trolls’ way of saying they may have misjudged you and they welcome you to their home.”
The inside of the wagon exceeded her expectations. The same small lights that decorated the outside were strung over the curved ceiling like stars on a summer’s clear night. A carpet of rose petals blanketed the floor and fresh bunches of lavender adorned the open cupboard. The brass tub had been removed and in its place was a table brimming with food.
There was a variety of imported cheeses, from French Roquefort, English Stilton, and Italian Gorgonzola to Spanish Cabrales. Chunks of one hundred percent dark chocolate from Ghana and Peru, as well as French and Belgian chocolates, were displayed beside bowls of fresh fruit and platters of bright green, red and gold sliced vegetables on polished silver trays.
Rowan popped a strawberry into his mouth. “Impressive. But what I’d really like is a rare steak and grilled onions. What do you think are my chances?”
“Zero.” Morgan laughed as she reached for a chunk of dark chocolate and settled on the bed. “Trolls don’t eat beef, chicken, pork or lamb.” She curled her legs beneath her. “I wish we had a hot plate. We could warm the chocolate and dip in the fruit.”
“You forget who I am, milady.” He broke dark chocolate bars into a bowl and cradled it in the palm of his hand, melting it. “Usually, I do this to warm a can of chili for my dinner. I’m a lousy cook.”
Morgan dunked a slice of orange into the chocolate, the juice running down her fingers as she bit into the succulent fruit. “You are full of surprises, Fire Wizard. You should try some.”
He shrugged. “I’ll take your word. Fruit and chocolate mixed together is not my thing.”
“How can you not like chocolate?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like chocolate. What I said was that I don’t like it with fruit. You have chocolate on your lower lip.”
Her tongue skimmed the corner of her mouth. “Is it gone?”
He shook his head, then leaned over and kissed the corner of her mouth. The brief contact sent warm shivers running over her. Her eyes locked with his and the smoldering passion reflected in his gaze stole her breath away.
His voice filled with the heat reflected in his eyes. “I was right. Chocolate tastes the best on bare skin, or maybe it’s you. Whenever I’m around you I’m reminded of tropical islands and exotic seas. Why do you think that is?”
Morgan wiped the remaining juice off her hand with an embroidered napkin, knowing the moment she had both yearned for and dreaded had come. She must tell him. She must tell him all of it. Years ago, fearful and not trusting their love, she’d cast a forgetful spell. That he still remembered images of the magical island of Hy-Basil where they’d thought they could escape the pressures of the Talons and the Grey Council gaveher hope. Did his memories suggest that his love for her had conquered the spells she wove around him?
“Morgan.”
Startled, she looked up. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure how to start. I have a feeling we’ve met before the Fertility Festival on Vlad’s island.”
She laced her fingers together to keep them from trembling. Was it possible? No, she corrected. She must not hope. All she’d been taught argued convincingly that it was impossible for male Wizards to have any memory of the female they’d joined with. Yet, he remembered the recent Fertility Festival.
He turned her to face him. “I know it breaks the rules, but I want to know. Have we met before?”
She cleared her throat and nodded. “It was the first Bealtaine I was eligible to attend and took place on Taransay, an island in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland.”
“I know of it. It’s uninhabited and hardly a tropical paradise.”
She lifted her gaze.
“Sorry. Continue.”
She kept her hands locked together until the knuckles shone white in the flickering overhead lights. “My choosing you was an accident, and you were my first. You arrived late and so were not assigned. When you appeared, it sent everyone into a panic. I was so new to the whole process I did not understand the reasons for concern until later. Several years before, during a Bealtaine in Northern Ireland, you fought a male Wizard during the festival, and nearly killed him. The Talons and the Grey Council investigated the incident and judged it self-defense.”
