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  Birds trilled outside the small window, and Shay struggled to breathe. Bitter hatred boiled for not only the witch who’d caused this but for his own part in Caitlyn’s taking. Gwyneth had caused his suffering but he had helped her. Gwyneth. He would make her desire death the same way he wanted freedom. In the end, they would both have their just desserts.

  Sunlight moved across the room with the passage of time. The door creaked open. A shadow fell across the floor. With the door hiding the identity of the intruder, he couldn’t see who was about to enter. Worry shot through him. Please, not Caitlyn. The idea of her seeing him in this condition overrode all his suffering. He had wanted to frighten her but not like this. She’d be driven over the edge and be lost to him forever.

  A titillating laugh reached his ears. Worry and pain forgotten, he centered on the sound. So familiar, yet, he couldn’t recall from when and where. The door clicked shut. An arm, slender and graceful, came into view followed by a feminine shape. She stepped closer. How did he know her? With a finger, the stranger traced a path down his cheek.

  “Aw, poor Shay,” she murmured.

  His heart missed a beat.

  Gwyneth. Yet, not her. The once glorious golden hair was now a deep chestnut. Shorter, the ends brushed the top of her shoulders. Still slender, the witch wore casual khaki slacks and a mud brown fleece pullover. She tilted her body and gazed up into his eyes. Her irises were clear blue, the pupils dilated. The same as he remembered.

  Damn Rhys and his anger–with Gwyneth before him, Shay was unable to exact revenge. Rhys had left him in this unprotected state. The older man had to suspect she would appear.

  “I had no idea he makes you suffer so. Does it hurt?” she cooed.

  The fingers brushing lightly across his cheek drifted to his right arm. She glanced at it. Those same delicate fingers peeled the skin further apart. Shay groaned, intense agony searing through his arm.

  Even as she stayed in his sight, she left him and wandered about the room, wiping the blood from her fingers against her slacks. After a few seconds, she returned. She held a grass blade. When she passed by a patch of sunlight coming from a small window, the blade flickered. Fearful anticipation coursed through Shay’s veins.

  Dammit. Where was Rhys? He had to feel her presence.

  She pointed the sharp tip of the blade at his chest. “I wonder, sweet, how much blood you have left in your body? Or did it turn to sawdust? Um, let’s see.”

  Slicing into an unmarred section of skin, she cut a shallow furrow into his flesh. Shay gusted out a breath. Droplets of spit flew from his mouth, some landing on her cheek. She laughed.

  “So, you do bleed.” Giggling wickedly, Gwyneth proceeded to make another incision on the top of his right thigh. Once she finished, she flipped the blade and placed it under his jaw, pressing against his throat. “Send her away. Have mercy on her. Let her simply fade away. If you don’t, I’ll kill her now. You can’t watch her every second. I’ll find an opportunity. I will have my revenge.”

  From outside, footsteps approached. Gwyneth lowered the blade and retreated several steps. Tilting her head, she listened. The steps drew nearer, and the door handle rattled. She raised the blade and swung at him.

  Pain seared Shay’s shoulder. The door was flung wide. Rhys stood inside the threshold. Gwyneth barreled past the older man. He grunted and fell against the door. Off balance for a breath, Rhys met his gaze. The other man’s gaze shifted and caught on the gardening blade. The cutting edge glinted in the sunlight above where it protruded from his shoulder. Rhys swung about and leapt out the door.

  Shay listened to his blood drip, land with tiny splashes at his feet. Several minutes dragged by before Rhys returned. Crossing the room, he winced and took hold of the handle. He jerked it free as he muttered an incantation to release Shay from his transformation spell.

  The enchantment dissolved from his body. His legs folded under him, and he gulped air as he collapsed. Rhys knelt next to him, studying the slices. He probed the stab wound and asked, “Gwyneth?”

  His rough tone belied his true feelings. Shay searched the older man’s emotionless features. Yes, there in the lines bracketing his mouth, the strength of his frustration and anger lingered. Rhys was always more dangerous when calm. A shiver of unease shook him. He’d had enough of his punishment, along with the bitch who was too cowardly to fight fairly.

  Shay’s strength ebbed, and he lowered his head. His chin bumped against his chest. “She intends to see Caitlyn dead. She’ll kill anyone who gets in her way.”

  Rhys lifted Shay’s left arm and pulled it around his shoulders. “Come, you need a bit of magic to heal you.”

  “Is that why you returned? You realized she’d come here?” Shay bit his lip as Rhys helped him stand. The pain cleared some of the haze in his mind.

  “I suspected she might. Caitlyn’s too close to home for Gwyneth to feel secure.”

  Shay glanced at him. “I should choke you for leaving me like that. If you suspected, did it not occur to you that she might want me dead too?”

  “No, it didn’t. I thought she would go after Caitlyn, not you. Curious, though. Why would she want to hurt you? Did she give you the answer to the riddle when she took Caitlyn?”

  Rhys half-carried him out the door and to the back of the shed. The forest, closer at this spot, greeted them as they entered it. Branches swayed, their leaves fluttering where no breeze existed. Even the grass shifted to draw closer to their liege. Flowers bloomed in his footsteps.

  Shay swung to face Rhys. A small smile lifted the older man’s lips. “You, my king, are as much loved as the queen.”

  “Of course, I am. They are well tended. In return, they adore me.”

  “I’ve never noticed before. Was it always so, or have I forgotten?” Shay frowned.

  He fought for each breath. Had the blade punctured his lung? Heaviness pressed on his chest. Blackness edged his vision. His tired mind wandered. He searched for the queen. His eyelids drooped. Blood flowed from his wounds and left a trail behind them. With each step, he heard the slight splash as another life-giving drop fell and struck the leaves covering the forest floor.

  Rhys stopped and eased him down on the ground with his back against a tree trunk.

  Myrielle spoke as though from far away. “Oh my dear, what has happened?”

  Blackness continued to creep closer, blinding him. “Rhys, go to Caitlyn. Keep her safe until I return. Must keep her...safe.” He had difficulty speaking. Weakness gripped him.. Tired of fighting against the beckoning darkness, he allowed it to carry him away.

  Chapter 16

  Caitlyn sat up straight in the bed. Something had awakened her. She wasn’t sure what. Fumbling around on the bedside table, she searched for her glasses. Finding the elusive pair, she slipped them on. She switched on the lamp next to the bed. A quick glance around the room revealed nothing out of place. The clock on the mantle read eleven o’clock. Still exhausted and suffering from jet lag, she’d overslept.

  She shut her eyes and, for a moment, an image appeared behind her eyelids. Her eyes shot open. The image remained. Filled with pain, Shay’s face paled while blood poured from his body.

  She whispered his name.

  Heart pounding, she struggled against the covers. Her legs tangled within the sheets. A need to see him increased with each passing second.

  Something was wrong. Very wrong. She knew it.

  One foot hit the floor, and she had to tug twice to release the other. She had to find him. Make sure he was all right. Racing across the room, she came to an abrupt stop.

  Rhys. If he hurt Shay...

  She frowned and stopped, hoping to calm her frantic pulse. She was acting like she cared about him. Like she... No, she wouldn’t finish that thought. She’d had a nightmare. That was it. No, wait–she was awake when she saw him. Perhaps the image was a fragment left over from her dream. A dream she didn’t remember having?

  As quick as it started, her disquiet les
sened. Her heart slowed to a normal beat. Her reasoning made her uneasy while worry for Shay still nagged at her. She would find him to see if what she envisioned was true.

  The darkened, silent hallway bothered her. She squinted in the dimness, trying to see a switch plate or control. Her stomach growled. She rubbed the spot. Why had no one called her about dinner? Concern deepened. Something wasn’t right, and she intended to find out what was causing her to feel this way.

  Battling the building anxiety, she moved with caution the few feet across the hall to the rear staircase. She’d never realized there was darkness, and then there was a deeper dark. Before her, the black opening to the staircase beckoned her forward. She hesitated a moment. She stepped onto the landing and narrowed her gaze, fumbling along the walls, searching for the light switch. She found nothing but painted wood along both sides.

  Now, this was great.

  Feeling her way, she found the banister and placed her foot on the first step. One by one, she maneuvered down the stairs.

  She thought about Marcy and grinned. She could just hear her friend. ‘News reporter found dead in famous illusionist’s kitchen after tumble down back staircase’.

  Feeling a little better, she went down two more steps. When she reached the first landing, relief raced through her. The enclosed space was warmer, and the air thicker than upstairs. An old musty scent surrounded her.

  “Almost there.” Hearing her voice gave her a little comfort. Where was everyone? The silence hung heavy in the air about her. What about Blake? Was he in his room or somewhere else in the immense spaces of the castle?

  Four steps and at last, she reached the bottom. She sighed. Searching for the door leading into the kitchen, she found it and twisted the knob, shoving until it swung open.

  On silent feet, she moved through the short hallway, able to see with the light coming from where the swinging door stood propped open. She reached the threshold and stopped. The only light in the room came from the hood over the stainless oven on the opposite wall. The table was occupied.

  With his back to her, Shay’s long hair spread over his shoulders. His right arm moved from the table to his face. Relief flooded her, and she found herself sagging against the doorjamb. Thank goodness, he was all right. She whispered his name.

  The muscles in his back stiffened. He glanced over his shoulder at her. The twin amethyst pools of his eyes glimmered in the dim light.

  “Caitlyn. You’re still up.” The reassuring sound of his voice washed over her. “I thought you were asleep by now.”

  “No. I just woke up,” she said, moving closer to the table. Pulling out the chair next to him, she eased down, gaze glued to his face. “Are you all right?”

  A slight frown puckered his brow. His stare drilled into hers as if he searched for the reason behind her question. Caitlyn had a sinking sensation her vision held a measure of reality.

  He slowly nodded. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  “I had an impression something was wrong–with you,” she said, placing her folded hands on the table top. “You were in pain and...”

  Hearing the words spoken out loud forced her to stop. Was she crazy? She sounded that way to her ears. He appeared healthy. With no apparent injuries in sight, she watched his movements for any signs of damage.

  “And?” He prompted.

  She shook her head, glancing away. “It’s nothing.”

  The warmth of his hand covered hers, sending heated streams through her body. With a gentle look in his gaze, he squeezed. “Tell me.”

  “I thought there–I saw blood...” She cut a quick glance in his direction to assess his reaction.

  The slight widening of his eyes didn’t tell her anything. His gaze dropped to the table and he shook his head. “No, I’m not hurt.”

  She remained expressionless. A strong feeling washed over her that he lied. But why would he? He was too quiet, subdued even. The charismatic illusionist no longer sat next to her. She didn’t recognize this man. “I thought maybe you and Rhys had fought.”

  His brows shot up. “What makes you think that?”

  “I saw you two yesterday in the garden. He didn’t look happy. And then this afternoon when he interrupted us, he seemed angry. Why? Did you do something to upset him?”

  He studied her for a second. “I suppose you can say that. I’ve been promising to help him with some things, and I keep putting him off. He doesn’t like to wait.”

  “Oh, so that’s what you did this evening. You helped Rhys.”

  “Yes. He had me rooted to the ground in the gardener’s shed among all the potting supplies.”

  “It was nice of you to help him. He’s not angry anymore?” Please let him tell her the truth. She had to know.

  Shay shook his head and ensnared her in his gaze, refusing to release her from the burning purple depths. Finally, he lowered his gaze to the bowl in front of him.

  The silence started to affect her the longer she stared at him. He looked at her. She jerked at the impact. “This impression you had about me. It frightened you?”

  “A little,” she said, shrugging and sliding her hands from beneath his. “I suppose it’s my imagination. New place, I guess.”

  “That’s probably so. After all, you’re not psychic.” The corners of his mouth twitched.

  For a second, she observed him. This was the Shay she was familiar with–teasing and full of life. The quiet, contemplative man from a few moments ago was the stranger. She wasn’t sure she cared for the subdued man. That man carried deep secrets and unseen scars. He reminded her of her past with its painful memories.

  These were the types of facts she needed for the interview. Yet, at that moment, she dared not delve deeper into his soul. She would discover the inner man at another time. Not now.

  “No, I’m not.” She smiled in return. Glancing around, she found the porcelain bowl on the table. Strawberries sat soaking in rich cream. Her smile widened. “So, is that one of your vices?”

  The famous grin flashed as he looked down. “I suppose you could say that. For some reason, I can’t get enough of them. What about you? What’s your vice?”

  “Strawberries.” She lifted a brow. “Are you going to share?”

  “By all means, take as many as you like,” he murmured, sliding the bowl closer to her.

  Caitlyn chose a plump, deep red one. Sweet and tart, the juices escaped to drip down her chin. “Mmm, this is good.”

  Shay chuckled and leaned nearer. “Here, let me clean that up.” He brushed a napkin over her chin.

  She watched him through half-lowered lids. The smooth and lightly tanned skin of his face showed laugh lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. She studied his features, looking along the slim ridge of his nose and stopping at his berry-stained lips.

  She forgot to breathe.

  Memories rose unbidden. Her nipples hardened. When she shifted in the chair, they rubbed against her shirt, sending pangs shooting to her toes. Heat built in a throbbing rhythm at the junction between her thighs. When she looked up, he watched her with fierce intensity.

  Their gazes held for several moments before his shifted to the strawberries and he released a soft chuckle. “Here, take the rest. I think I’ll retire. Sleep well, Caitlyn, and enjoy your sweet dreams.”

  With that, he stood and strode to the door leading outside.

  So much for him retiring. She contemplated the closed portal, trying to ignore the messages her body sent her. Sticking her finger in the cream, she stirred then licked the sugary juice from the tip.

  What was wrong with her? She had a job to do, and it did not include lusting after the person she needed to interview. She repeated in her mind his parting words.

  Sleep well, Caitlyn, and enjoy your sweet dreams.

  The general comment brought forth a memory of what he’d asked in her dream. The words ‘sweet dream’ were common. Of course, she didn’t use them. She never dreamed. Never, that was, until she’d met Shay Eve
rs.

  A nagging thought rose. She denied it but it remained. What if he really was an elf? Did he have the capabilities to come to her in her dreams? The night visions were so real. She shook her head. No, that was impossible. She didn’t believe in magic. All this analyzing wasn’t helping her.

  She glanced at the door. Where had he gone? Curious, she decided a walk through the gardens might help her relax enough to go back to sleep. If she happened to see him, maybe she could watch without him knowing.

  Her mind made up, she finished off the strawberries and drained the cream in several swallows. Taking her time, she washed the bowl and wiped the table. A jacket hung on a peg next to the door. She tugged it from the peg and slipped it on, hoping no one minded if she borrowed the battered coat.

  The door opened on silent hinges, revealing a moonlit wonderland. Bluish-gray light covered the plants and grass. The stone-covered path glowed white. She looked toward the horizon, then lifted higher in search of the full moon. Silver clouds floated in the midnight blue sky. Stars twinkled, their light battling with the bright moon.

  Caitlyn smiled. Living in Los Angeles, she had never had the opportunity to see the night skies in such a clear, open place. Strange, that she’d never thought about what the stars and moon looked like, but here it seemed appropriate.

  Did Shay request this night’s beauty just for her? A low laugh escaped her. She tugged the jacket closer, moving with slow steps down the path. Peaceful silence enfolded her in loving arms.

  Stopping here and there, she admired the plants along the way. They appeared silver- tipped in the moonlight. Coming to a fork in the path, she stopped and glanced in both directions. The one to the left led toward the forest. She shook her head. No, not that way. With a sigh, she headed to the right.

  The path climbed a low hill. She reached the top and halted. Looking down at the sight before her, she clasped her hands to her chest in awe. This was one of the most spectacular views she’d ever seen. An irregular lake reflected the night sky on its surface.