Page 9 of Druid Cursed

The handwriting was Wendy’s, the antiquated words no doubt an attempt to inspire Maggie to embrace being immersed in the Ravenwood Halloween week, but goose bumps erupted on her arms. Wendy never went anywhere without her phone, and the fuzzy memory of her odd muttering last night stabbed frosty needles into her heart.

Or had that been just a bad dream washed in too much whiskey?

She took a deep breath. There was no reason to freak out. Wendy knew how she loved old-fashioned speech, and after last night’s barf-a-thon, she had to be hungry. Sneaking out early for food and coffee had to be the explanation.

Forcing her shoulders to relax, she stretched and yawned. Yes. Caffeine. Must have some. Wendy would surely return with an extra cup for her.

Maggie shuffled toward the oversize shower, refusing to let worry gain a foothold.

If Wendy wasn’t back by the time she finished, she’d simply find her own java, track Wendy down, and momentarily interrupt whatever bachelor seduction her friend had in play—just to make sure she was really okay—before returning to the fabulous window seat in her room and settling in with a book until nine a.m., when the first ritual started.

Of course she had to be chosen for the first one—this whole creepy place had it out for her.

Or maybe just the Ravenwood twins did. They were in charge of everything that happened this week, weren’t they?

Shower-fresh, dressed in jeans and her favorite oversize sweater, scuffed ankle boots on—she wouldn’t be caught outside without appropriate footwear again—and Maggie still didn’t have coffee or her best friend.

She left Wendy’s phone on the nightstand and slipped into the hallway.

Oil lanterns scented with cinnamon had replaced the sage candles from last night, supplanting the horror-movie atmosphere with a homier feel.

The silence still ached, as if she was the only guest up and about.

She turned the corner and slammed into a hard, male chest. “Oof. Sorry. I—”

Hands with an iron grip caught her forearms and kept her close, enough for a good whiff of lemon-licorice.

Kellen Ravenwood.

Her heart picked up speed. Wonderful. The one person she’d intended to dodge and duck the rest of the week, and now she was back in his arms.

She lifted her gaze from his broad chest to his powerful throat and skipped over every tempting detail of his lips, to his eyes.

Daylight had no negative effect on their dark intensity.

Unfortunately. He looked even better in jeans and a charcoal fisherman’s sweater than a tux.

And he still wore his sexy black boots. She’d hoped her reaction the night before had everything to do with moonlight and whiskey, not the man. But clearly not.

“Excellent, you are awake,” he said and released his hold on her arms, his voice carrying a strange note of cheerfulness that had been completely absent before.

Suspicious. One corner of his full mouth twitched, mellowing his stern expression.

His voice dropped to a husky rumble. “Did you dream of me?”

That would have been nice. Not helpful to her cause, but nice. “How’d you know?” she replied instead. “I had this freaky nightmare of toads and snakes. You were their ringleader.”

“Intriguing.” He hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets and tilted his head.

“The toads in your dream imply that you conceal your feelings. The snakes are more complex, perhaps an indication of resolution or healing, transition or transformation.” His eyes filled with heat. “Or more likely, a phallic symbol.”

Dear god . She took a moment to breathe.

“Luckily, I had an axe.” She made a chopping motion. “Hacked that baby into wriggling pieces. It was awesome.”

He winced.

She pounced on the opportunity to end the conversation before it turned into something not so easy to resist. “My friend Wendy will no doubt find your symbolism fascinating. In fact, I’m off to find her right now. It was lovely running into you, literally, but—”

“You lost her?” The growling tone was back, simmering under the surface, which was weirdly comforting. His obviously fake cheeriness of before had unnerved her.

“I didn’t lose her,” she clarified. “She’s not a child or a pet. I just don’t know where to find her. She didn’t say where she was going.”

Kellen straightened, and his confident, determined air returned full force. Like a man on a mission. “How long ago did your companion depart?”

His sharp tone danced a warning between her shoulder blades and renewed the niggling sense that something was off, despite him acting more like himself now. “Not sure,” she said. “Is getting up before the butt-crack of dawn against house rules?”

“You declared your friend was sick yestereve. Did she exhibit any manner of peculiarity?” He studied her like a detective at a murder scene where even the smallest, seemingly unimportant detail could save the next victim. Evading wasn’t an option.

“There was some strange talking in her sleep before she snapped out of it, but I couldn’t make out the words. Is that peculiar enough for you?” She smiled brightly.

His jaw tightened, and he muttered something in Gaelic beneath his breath.

Her humor faded at his serious expression.

He seemed to be suggesting that Wendy’s illness might be something more than a flu bug or food poisoning.

If anything happened to her… No, Wendy was fine.

It was just Kellen’s duty to add an air of intrigue and danger to the Ravenwood festivities at every opportunity.

“Are you trying to scare me, Kellen?”

“Never. You need not fear.” His chin dropped a fraction and shadows hollowed his face. “Stay close to me. I will keep you safe.”

“I’m worried about Wendy, not me. She’d rather lose a kidney than be parted with her phone, but she left it behind— Whoa, wait.” She paused and stepped back. Pinned him with a stern glare. “Safe from what?”

“Allow me to explain while you break your fast.”

“No, what about Wendy? There isn’t time to eat.” She brushed past him, headed for the stairs. “If she’s in danger, I need to find her.”

He followed on her heels. “Worry not. I am certain we will find your friend, and I will ensure she is protected as well. An ancient magic lingers at Ravenwood Estate. Guests are often enchanted by it and find themselves wandering much longer than they anticipate.” He caught up with her and slid his hand into his pocket.

“Or they find another wanderer, sense an irresistible connection, and forget nigh all else—their location, the time, their common sense.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Their friends.”

“So you’re saying this is sort of like Fantasy Island , the Halloween version?

” And his description sounded exactly like something Wendy would do.

She never refused a spark of interest or denied exploring feelings that may or may not be real, and if it led to a steamy encounter with a rich, handsome stranger in a magical forest?

Wendy would be all over it like sparkles on a unicorn.

Kellen pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. “Ireland ’tis an island, and I have always felt a deep connection to my ancestral home, yet I have never considered it a fantasy.” His gaze flicked to her, warm and wicked. “Until I chanced upon you in the gardens last eve.”

Maggie’s stomach fluttered, and she did her best to ignore it, instead shaking her head and putting on a sad face.

“You poor man. Were you assigned to me? Is that part of the Ravenwood Estate motto, to make guests and competitors feel extra-super special?” She patted his arm.

“There’s really no need. I’m only here to win the cash.

I’m not looking for anything besides quiet hours of reading in my room between the required participation in whatever hullabaloo you’ve planned. ”

He stopped so suddenly she stepped past him before swinging around to face him. His black eyebrows drew down in a full-out glower. She was half surprised he didn’t bare his teeth and snarl, and she couldn’t deny a tiny, unwanted thrill.

“I do not condone trickery. I am here, with you, of my own volition.” Ah, there it was, the missing snarl. It rumbled in his deep, sexy voice. Clearly, he took his role very seriously.

“Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers, Mr. Ravenwood. Kellen,” she amended, continuing onward.

“My feathers, if I had such, are not ruffled.” His expression didn’t change. “I speak only the truth.”

The butler, Jeeves, stepped out of an alcove, as if he’d materialized from the shadows.

She squeaked in surprise. She’d been so focused on where Wendy might be—or too distracted by Kellen—that she must’ve missed him standing there.

“Master.” He bowed to Kellen.

Glowering, Kellen muttered something so low she didn’t catch it.

Jeeves nodded and met her gaze. “Blueberry muffins hot from the oven await you below, Miss O’Malley. I believe you will find a basket at the foot of the stairs, accompanied by coffee with a touch of gourmet cocoa and cinnamon.”

She narrowed her eyes. Morning brew made just the way she liked it and blueberry muffins, her favorite. How could he possibly know that?

Posture perfect, Jeeves strolled away.

“Your butler is good,” she said to Kellen, half expecting Jeeves to vanish in a puff of smoke, off to conduct his master’s bidding. “ Too good.”

“Never tell him. His ego trumps Caedmon’s already, which is saying much.” He gently cupped her elbow and guided her toward the stairs. “Let us be about finding your friend.”

Maggie tried to ignore the heat of his hand seeping through her sweater. The steady assurance made her feel like she wasn’t alone, that everything would be okay. A nice change, coming from a man—not that it mattered. Whatever Kellen did or didn’t do had no bearing on her life.

“Okay,” she said, “but if any toads or snakes show up, I’m going solo.”

“While we search for your friend, it will be my delight to present you with a tour of my home, if you wish.” At the bottom of the stairwell, Kellen gave her the waiting ceramic coffee mug and swiped the basket of muffins. He handed her one, like a dare.

Maggie stared him down over the rim of the mug.

She’d had enough of caving to men, and if he thought she’d pass up a hot blueberry muffin with sugar sprinkled on the top just because her curves were more ample than current society standards, he could go back to whatever dark hole he came from.

Without this particular muffin. She swiped it from his fingers.

Holding his amused gaze, she took a big bite. How’s that for sexy?

“Brother, there you are. And I see you found Maggie.” Caedmon Ravenwood approached from down the hall, looking every bit the eligible bachelor Wendy dreamed of, a modern version of Kellen.

He wore a navy, pinstriped button-down shirt tucked into designer jeans that were probably worth more than her entire wardrobe.

A black belt circled his waist, accentuating lean hips and defined torso.

His dark hair was trimmed short, expertly tousled, his face freshly shaved.

He was undeniably attractive…and didn’t ignite a single spark of heat.

Not like the rough-around-the-edges, temperamental man standing beside her.

How could that be when they were identical twins?

Maggie took a sip of coffee from her mug, needing the extra brain power to kick some sense back into her thoughts.

None of it, neither of them, mattered to her goal.

Win the cash however you can. She had to focus on the competition, make it to the end, and win the prize money.

Period. The only addendum was that now she also needed to find Wendy.

“For you, m’lady.” Caedmon slipped a velvet cord over her head and settled a tiny pouch around her neck. His fingers grazed her throat, slow, warm and gentle, almost flirtatious.

What sounded like an animal growl came from Kellen. When he shifted slightly closer to her, Caedmon stepped back, his smile impish.

“What’s this?” Maggie lifted the pouch Caedmon had given her and sniffed, but she didn’t recognize the scents. Some kind of plant.

“St. John’s Wort, a four-leaf clover, and holly berries,” he said. “To keep you safe from wee ghoulies, goblins, and other fey creatures that may prowl nearby, not charm your olfactory senses.” Caedmon’s black eyes were teasing, so different from his brother.

“Smells okay, I guess.” If he expected her to believe that plants had any superpowers against evil, he’d have to try harder. Really. There wasn’t even any salt in there.

“Never remove it whilst you wander the grounds.” Kellen’s eyebrows were bunched, his face stern. “Most especially if I am not with you.”

“Or me,” Caedmon added, earning another dirty look from his brother.

“I can handle it.” She resisted an eye roll. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen my friend Wendy this morning?” she asked Caedmon. “Medium height, auburn hair, a dazzling smile she would have definitely used on you?”

“I haven’t, sorry.” Caedmon’s smile stayed on tight, but his eyes lost their warmth.

His gaze slid to Kellen, and something she couldn’t read passed between them.

“But I familiarize myself with every guest prior to arrival, so I’m aware of what Miss Hayes looks like.

If I run into her, I’ll let her know you’re searching for her.

The first ritual is in an hour, little sparrow. Don’t be late.”

Sparrow. Why did he keep calling her that?

The air seemed to drop a few degrees, and as Kellen guided her past his twin, toward the exit, she could have sworn flames reflected in Caedmon’s dark eyes—a great trick, considering there wasn’t any fire around.

A shiver rolled through her. While Caedmon had neither said nor done anything threatening, she had the oddest sensation that if he found Wendy first, it wouldn’t be good. At all.

“Come,” Kellen said, his commanding tone matching the urgency she felt. “We have much ground to cover and little time to do it.”