“Should Hector gain possession of you—” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It could be detrimental to both of us.”
Marlene eyed him steadily. “Because of the coven?”
His eyes flashed, his jaw clenching. “I know you shall look upon me as some sort of monster now, but I am not the sort of witch whose tales have been passed down through the generations. I do not perform any sort of sacrificial rituals, and I abhor the thought of keeping some sort of ancient emblem from hell. I am the sort of witch who desires peace and harmony above all things. As do the rest of my acolytes.”
Marlene glanced around foolishly, as if his followers might appear from the very shadows around them. “Where are they?”
He stepped away from her and said vaguely, “They are close should I require their assistance. When we are unified, it’s what makes our bond unbreakable. Hector was once a part of that circle, but he chose to disrupt it.”
A thought occurred to her. “If Hector had been part of that circle, but was removed, does that mean your bond isn’t as strong as it once was?”
His blue eyes glimmered. “If you are asking if I might be able to defeat my adversary, then I can assure you that there is power in numbers. Hector is but one. No matter how much his strength might have grown over the intervening years, he is still greatly outnumbered.”
She lifted her chin. “Unless he’s managed to gain a following of his own.”
“I’m not going to lie and tell you that isn’t a possibility,” he admitted grimly. “That is why I have ensured our current coven is as strong as it can be.” He took her hand. “What I’m more concerned with, at the moment, is your hesitancy to believe in my cause. I think the best thing to do would be to show you that there is nothing to fear. At least, not from me.”
Marlene followed behind those broad shoulders, admiring that midnight hair in its queue. When he turned his head, she caught a glimpse of his hard profile, and the swirl of heat that she’d tried to repress abruptly flared to life in her midsection. She continued to remind herself to resist Sir Gothry and all he represented.
Danger.
Did she not recall those dark days after her fever when she’d been subjected to the sort of horrors she was witnessing now? If she allowed herself to continue down this path of lust and desire, she could fall into a dark pit from which she might never be able to awaken.
It was unbearable to think about, and what she needed was to set herself back on the right path.
She noted that he led her farther into the north wing. In this section, the shadows that generally plagued her in the manor were silent, as if they knew not to bother her here. They came to a long hallway where a single door stood at the far end of the corridor. He glanced at her for a moment, but when he opened it, she gasped. Not because it was full of bats or some sort of witch cauldron, but because he had led her directly to heaven—or as close as she could possibly be.
“This is… remarkable,” she breathed. At first glance, it appeared like an overly large kitchen, but in truth, it was an herbalist retreat—or that of a wicca who used the power of healing to invent various tonics and concoctions.
Some might even call them spells.
She walked around and peered at all the dried, hanging herbs, jars filled with various liquids and spices, the endless shelves lining every single wall from nearly floor to ceiling. Everything was in its place and clearly labeled. Two wingback chairs sat on opposite sides of a stone fireplace with a plain rug between them, as common as one might find in a parlor. Marlene had to smile, however, when she spied a black, iron pot hanging on a hook from the inside of the grate. The only other furnishing was a large, wooden table in the center of the room where a mortar and pestle lay, waiting to be picked up and used once again.
To Marlene, it was a place of fascination, where medicines could be procured and used for a variety of ailments. There were some flowers and weeds that she didn’t recognize, and many more that she did, like the deadly nightshade, monkshood, ephedra, and the Lady’s Mantle. She looked over at her host who was leaning nonchalantly against the table in the center of the room. “Where did you come by all these herbs?”
“Years of study and traveling abroad to various locations. From the Americas to the Orient and beyond, there is very little that I have yet to find.” He paused, and then added, “Even saffron, which some would say is the rarest to come by because it takes so long to cultivate.” He grinned. “But I only use it on very special occasions when there is a full moon.”
Marlene laughed, even though there might have been some bit of truth to his words. It felt good to jest about something that she might have otherwise considered frightening. But to someone who loved to study plants, she looked at Sir Gothry as just another kindred spirit. “Thank you for showing me this,” she said sincerely.
He shrugged. “I had a feeling you would appreciate it more than most, but this room has to remain of the utmost secrecy. Only my aunt is aware this room even exists. I put a concealing spell upon it so that I don’t scare the few servants who choose to remain, due to my safely guarded reputation.”
“Lady Erica?” Marlene blinked. “Is she part of the coven?”
“No, she is not. She doesn’t carry my father’s bloodline. She is my mother’s sister, but she is privy to the family secrets. Not only that, but I trust her implicitly. She raised me after my parents died and helped me through the changes that started to occur when I came of age, due to my wicca heritage.”
Marlene nodded. She admired the lady very much, and she hadn’t been around her but a handful of days. “I can tell that you care about her greatly.” She tilted her head to the side. “Is that why she isn’t here? Because you don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust what Hector can make you do,” he countered.
She accepted that answer. “Is your aunt the only one at Rosedale Heights who is aware of your gift?”
“As far as I am aware,” he returned. “But I have to wonder how many people Hector might have told during his exile. He was angry at being ordered to leave the circle and being denied the one thing out of his reach. His revenge has always felt palpable.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “You can feel that?”
“At times,” he admitted. “It’s like the sensation of being watched… or forgetting something important.”
Marlene realized that she knew that feeling all too well. “I understand.”
