Page 11 of Druid Cursed

“Perhaps.” He gestured for her to walk ahead, falling in step beside her, then continued, “If you merely need money to achieve your dreams, I will see that you receive the necessary funds for your business and home when you depart.”

Her smile was small and vulnerable, a fist to his heart.

“My offer troubles you.”

She kicked past a tuft of grass. “That’s very generous, but I can’t accept.”

“’Tis no financial hardship to help you.” Caedmon had grown their empire to a preposterous state over the centuries. They could always use more of it to aid others.

“That’s not the issue.” She pushed her fingers through her hair, mussing it in a way that made his temperature rise.

“You may tell me anything, m’eudail. ”

“Don’t.” She jabbed a warning finger at him. “Using Gaelic on me isn’t fair. It’s bad enough how you speak, all Irish lilt and formal with words belonging to another time.”

“My apologies,” he said stiffly. “I did not realize my speech offended you.”

“‘Offend’ is definitely not the right description,” she muttered.

“Look, I appreciate the gallantry act more than you know, but I’m recovering from the full jerk experience.

I married my high school sweetheart the day after graduation, and it took me too long to realize Darren wasn’t all that sweet.

He wanted me to be someone I’m not, someone who wasn’t me. I mentioned my father earlier?”

Kellen nodded, his throat tight as if her pain were his own. While they walked and Maggie talked, he scanned the trees for any sign of Wendy. Or Sorcha.

“When my dad died, I inherited the house he built with his own two hands, where he raised me…made memories with me. Darren and I moved in. It was only after we split that I learned about the delinquent loan and years of unpaid property taxes.” Her fingers tightened around her bracelet.

“The only way I’ll get my dad’s house back is if I pay off the delinquent taxes and loan, legal fees, and Darren’s undeserved interest by next month. ”

Every word cut him like a knife. “This Darren sounds like a cur-hearted cullion.”

“That and more.”

“You wed the wrong man.”

“Obviously.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Do you wish for me to place a curse on him?” He preferred not to use his magic for ill, but this vile Darren had all but ruined Maggie’s life.

“Thanks for the offer. But what goes around comes around, and once I pay him off, I don’t have to worry about it.

” She smiled, and for that alone he would cast a thousand curses.

“My life belongs completely to me now, and I’m happy about that.

I need to do something on my own, with no man as a crutch or chain—emotionally or financially.

” She lifted her chin, the vision of resolve.

Maggie was a strong lass who had endured heartache and hardship and not collapsed.

Her bravery brought him a stab of pride, as if she was already his.

Cacamas . He cleared his throat. “You are clearly a force to be reckoned with, Maggie O’Malley.

I have no desire to stand in your way, and I suspect Darren, the miscreant, will rue the day he foolishly allowed you to slip from his grasp. ”

She looked quickly away, not fast enough to hide the glitter of tears unshed. “We should go back. There’s no way Wendy wandered this far.” Her tone turned teasing. “Or are you leading me to some secret, sacrificial site complete with bonfire and circle of standing stones?”

A chill knifed his heart at the image she’d unwittingly painted, an innocent unknowingly being led to her doom.

Aye, Sorcha had likely stained Caedmon’s vision, naming Maggie as Kellen’s true love, had created a powerful enough compulsion spell that he, himself, began to believe ’twas possible, yet Maggie was no villainess.

Whether or not she was his perfect match, he could never sacrifice her for his freedom.

There had to be a substitute for her blood, her life. If not…Sorcha had already won.

He would never be free.

An invisible noose circled his throat, strangling. He tried to drag in a breath and failed. Cursed forever, only an eternity of emptiness waiting for him.

“Kellen, are you okay?” Maggie touched his arm with warm fingers. She looked up at him. The worry in her eyes nigh slayed him where he stood.

“Aye,” he croaked, laying his hand over hers, her presence an anchor. The chokehold on his neck dissolved, and he drew a great breath of air into his lungs.

Maggie’s gaze slipped past his shoulder, catching sight of something, and before he thought to move, she had darted past him, up a side path and into the trees.

Directly to his ancestral home.

Her gasp of wonder brought him a small smile, nigh erasing the black moment from before. If only she’d seen it in its glory, before time had taken a toll…

The last century had weathered the gray stonework of the walls, smoothing without destroying. Moss grew in the crevices, and without human hands to tame the landscape, the trees and brambles had crowded in, giving the building an abandoned, melancholy air.

’Twas not far off from the truth, considering how long he had been away.

Caedmon had offered to maintain the castle and grounds, but Kellen had refused to allow it.

His brother already bore too much responsibility in his absence, and he preferred that strangers not roam about his personal quarters.

The spells he left woven among the stones and wood preserved it well enough—and kept intruders from entering.

Tendrils of mist curled around the foundation as early morning stole the last remnants of night.

Tangled ivy choked the stairway and alcove above the entrance, giving the chiseled raven gargoyles an appearance of peering through the glossy leaves like guardian dragons disturbed by thieves.

The tower and turrets were mostly hidden by overgrown boughs, and enough spiderwebs glistened silver in the sunlight to suggest no trespassers had intruded. No human trespassers, anyway.

“It’s a freaking castle,” Maggie whispered.

Pride swelled in his chest. “My ancestral home.”

Whether she intended to or not, her gaze turned from the castle and drifted to his mouth.

His body went taut, and it took all his effort not to cross the small distance between them, take her face between his hands, and kiss her until she admitted she felt the same, undeniable connection that he had since they met in the garden.

“I have not forgotten the softness of your lips on my skin.”

The color rising in her che eks gave him hope.

She studied him openly, as if searching for any sliver of dishonesty.

She would not find it. The more time he spent with her, the more he realized his attraction was true, not the result of any spell.

Even if they were not fated, if a hex were at work, he would sense its distortion in his soul.

Her gaze drifted over his face and again lowered to his mouth, where it remained, and he could not deny the need to be closer to her. This could only lead to folly, and yet…

Slowly, as if approaching a hare hiding in the grass, he took a single step, enough to erase the space between them to mere inches. He leaned in slightly, pulled by invisible ribbons tethered only by her.

Her lily scent perfumed the air, and the warmth of her breath grazed the open V of his sweater.

She was a wee thing compared to him, exquisite as the first summer blooms on the moors, the ones he dared not pick, unwilling to watch them fade for his own pleasure.

The tip of her tongue darted out and moistened her lips, and he nearly growled as heat roared in his blood, an unstoppable, pounding river that seared his senses.

Never had the mere glimpse of another’s tongue addled him in such a manner, threatening his control.

Her mouth was only inches away, lush and lovely. Irresistible. Kellen dipped his head for a kiss.

As if suddenly waking from a daydream, Maggie jerked back. She pivoted to again face the castle. “If Wendy found this,” she said, her voice husky, and she cleared her throat. “She’d break in to explore every nook and cranny.”

He paused, needing a moment for his pulse to slow. His head to clear. “Nay, if she had found my castle, she would be in even graver danger.”

Maggie whirled on him, her blue eyes sparking. “What do you mean, graver danger? You promised we’d find her, that she’d be safe. What aren’t you telling me?”

He swallowed the knot of dust in his throat as she watched him, eyebrows lifted, clearly awaiting further explanation.

Damnation, he was tempted to tell her everything, loathed dishonesty in any form.

And yet he could not, even if she abhorred him for it.

The first ritual would reveal more, mayhap even determine what, if any, magic she possessed—magic that Sorcha may twist for her own corrupt purposes. Until then, he must hold his tongue.

“The ritual begins anon.” He clenched his jaw, turning away. “We must return.”

She gave him a hard glare, cold fury burning in her blue eyes, then jerked the protection charm from around her neck and tossed it at him.

“Thanks for nothing. I’ll find Wendy myself, and for your sake, she better be okay.

From now on, do me a favor and focus on your Halloween festivities without me.

” Lifting her delicate chin like a warrior queen, she swept back the way they had come, leaving him and his castle behind.

He still had a duty—nay, a need—to keep her safe. But ’twould do neither of them good to further incense her. He would follow but remain at a distance.

And as he did, a wind stirred through the leaves with a dead, crackling sigh. Red, gold, and orange swirled over the ground, trailing Maggie like prey.

Sorcha.

That much was clear. But whether the witch wanted Maggie for help or for harm—and to whom—was yet to be determined.