Enchanted (14 page)

His eyes widened, and a twitch started at the corner of his mouth. “None that I’m aware of.”

She stood and glared at him, “If this is how you intend to treat this interview, I don’t think we need to go any further. Good day, Mr. Evers. I’ll see about scheduling a flight out in the morning.”

He leapt up and held his hand out, staying her. “Wait. Sit down.”

The sincere expression on his face gave her a reason to resume her seat. Once she settled, he continued. “Which do you think sounds better? That I am an elf from a distant magical planet or my parents, alcoholics, savagely beat me when I was a child? That I ran away from home at twelve and lived on the streets until I was discovered because of the quickness of my hands in doing card tricks? I much prefer the first explanation than the reality of what happened to me. If I believe I am an elf, then what’s the harm in it?”

Her heart constricted. His early life had been no better than hers. An image of her mother and father, their clothes soiled and wrinkled and smelling of stale whiskey and the remnants of dope, flashed through her mind. The laughter on their aged faces switched in a blink to livid rage, and she saw her mother’s swinging fist. Caitlyn flinched. If they were truly two of a kind, he had desired his parent’s love but had never received it. The alcohol and drugs were much more important.

She spoke softly, “Where are they now? Your parents?”

“Don’t know. I never went back to find out,” he said. “Enough. Ask me another question, and I’ll decide whether to be honest.” He grinned at her.

Caitlyn smiled and shook her head. One thing about this interview, Evers would keep it interesting.

They spent the rest of the morning verbally sparring. During a short break, Fred brought them a tray of tea and biscuits. After they ate, she tried to stifle a yawn.

Shay leaned forward. A worried frown creased his brow. “You’re tired? Was your room all right? Were you comfortable?”

Caitlyn waved a hand, averted her eyes and mumbled, “Everything’s fine. I was tired before I arrived. I guess I haven’t caught up on my sleep yet. Sorry.”

“Maybe you didn’t sleep long enough. Would you like to finish later? I don’t mind,” he said.

She raised her gaze and stared into his worried eyes. Her breath stuck somewhere between her lungs and her lips. Desire flared. She wanted to reach out and brush away the lines on his forehead.

“I’ve been dreaming a lot lately.” Oh, god, she couldn’t believe she’d said that. Why had she told him that?

“Dreaming?” He tilted his head, a grin forming on his sculptured lips. “What about? Was I in your dream?”

Fire burned her cheeks, and she squeaked, “No.”

She cleared her throat and put strength in her voice. “You were not in my dream. Listen, maybe I do need a little nap...”

Shay stood and moved to sit next to her, staring at her with a serious expression.

“Caitlyn, you’re not a very good liar.”

“I am not–”

Leaning closer, he spoke low. The deep tone vibrated over her nerve endings. “Yes, you are. I can tell. You dreamed about me. What happened? Damn, I wish I could have been there. Come on, Caitlyn, spill the beans. Sing like a canary.”

A laugh bubbled from her. Her embarrassment ebbed. “Dream on, Evers. You’ll have to show up in another one to know for sure.”

“Aw, tell me. I swear I don’t gossip,” he said, shifting closer. He reached out, cupping her jaw in his palm. “What happened?” Flames scorched her skin where his hand rested. She tried to breathe. He moved nearer, his gaze focused on her mouth.

A gust of wind ruffled the pages on her tablet. Caitlyn glanced toward the French doors leading to the garden outside. Rhys stood in the opening, his eyes hooded, staring at them. Shay released her face and eased away, and she missed the warmth of his touch.

“Excuse me. The shipment you’ve been waiting for has arrived. I thought you might like to inspect it.” The blond man’s face remained expressionless.

Tension radiated between the two men. Curious and hoping to delve deeper into the conflict bubbling under the surface between the two of them, she started to question Shay, but he got to his feet.

“Of course. Caitlyn, I’m sorry, but I must go.” Without meeting her gaze, he crossed the room and brushed by Rhys. The gardener nodded to her, turned and followed him.

Caitlyn stared at the closed door for several minutes. Something major was definitely wrong with Shay and Rhys’s relationship. The harder she thought, the harder it was to fit the fragments of their odd behavior together. Rhys couldn’t still be upset about Shay’s little snip at the party in Los Angeles, could he? Maybe they’d had words on the flight home. If not, then the friendly way they acted toward each other in LA was fake.

The hostility she sensed coming from Rhys toward Shay had not started in the last two days. This type of animosity tended to grow with passing years. They had claimed to be friends since Shay was a child. What had happened in the past which dug such a rift between them? She didn’t know, but she would find out.

Sighing, she closed the tablet. The idea of a short nap tempted her. A disturbing thought tiptoed through her mind, but she quickly pushed it away. She was not starting to like sleeping better than she liked being awake.

No, she just needed a little rest, and if she dreamed...well, she couldn’t help that. After all, a person couldn’t control her dreams. Rising, she headed for her room.

Chapter 15

A cold breeze ruffled Shay’s hair. He gritted his teeth. Behind him by several feet, Rhys’s aura shoved him forward with each step.

The bastard possessed perfect timing. One kiss was all he wanted, one, but as soon as he made headway with her, Rhys had to interrupt. Again, damn it.

The gardener’s shed came into view. Without stopping, Shay threw open the door and stepped inside. Pivoting, he barely saw the well-aimed fist looming before his eyes. Caught off guard, he crashed against the work table on the far side of the room, tilting it on its back legs. Tools and clay pots scattered across the one-room building.

“If you touch her again, I will see you dead.” Rhys towered over him, fury contorting his handsome features.

Shay straightened and swiped at the side of his mouth. Blood streaked the back of his hand. He glared at Rhys. “Good. Kill me now. Be done with it.”

“You are unfit to lick her shoes.” The flesh on Rhys’s face flared a crimson hue. One hand rose, but he became still, his gaze boring into Shay’s. The older man inhaled a deep breath. His coloring faded to normal.

When he spoke, his voice was calmer. “No, I don’t believe I will. Not now, at least. She is opening to you. I can sense it. But, I have come to the realization that the years you were imprisoned have affected your memory. ’Tis why I am watching you. Let me remind you once more. Your task is to open her mind to magic. Not once did I grant permission for you to seduce my daughter. Am I making myself clear?”

Shay shifted, anger still controlling his thoughts. “I don’t care about what you want.”

“You will. I swear on my lady, you will,” Rhys bit back.

Before Shay could open his mouth to speak, his feet burned. Roots emerged from his flesh. The ground trembled and cracked.

“No,” he shouted, reaching out and grabbing the other man by his shirtfront. The flesh covering Shay’s body tightened and split. Twigs sprouting leaves sprang from the fissures. Pain flooded his body. Gasping, he managed to rasp out, “She…needs…me. You…know it.”

Rhys smiled, the twist of his lips more mocking than amused. He stepped back, tugging his shirt free. “Perhaps, but then, perhaps not. She is here, and that is more than what I had hoped. You will consider your actions for the remainder of this day. Mayhap, by the morn, you will see the folly of disobeying me.” He pivoted and left, silently shutting the door. The lock rattled.

Unable to move, Shay stood suspended in a half-flesh, half-tree form. He tried to straighten his back but pain bolted through him. He stared at his outstretched arms. Blood seeped from his torn skin.

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?”