Chapter Nine
This could be really romantic, Chloe thought as Gavin turned the headlights and ignition off and let the car glide silently off the gravel road to stop behind several scrub oaks. A couple of hundred yards away the lake lapped gently at the shore, rippling silver from the light of a nearly full moon. Even the weather was cooperating; cool enough to cuddle, not cold enough for layers of clothes. Gavin could lay her down on the grass, press his body against hers—
“Are you coming along or do you wish to stay in the car, Miss Whitney?” Gavin asked as he opened the door for her.
Damn. She hadn’t seen him come around the car again. Her erotic fantasies were really taking their toll. “Of course I’m coming,” she said and pulled out her notepad and pen.
“You won’t need those.”
“Every reporter needs these.”
“Miss Whitney,” Gavin said in a tone one used for inattentive children. “I believe I told you we are not here for a story. Now come.”
Like she wouldn’t like to come. But Gavin was already walking away. Geez. How could a man who was so hot-looking have such a cool demeanor? If all Englishmen showed this little interest in women how in the world had Britain ever populated itself?
But then, Chloe told herself as she followed him, maybe it was just her he wasn’t interested in. After all, they were here to spy on the Sisterhood Circle because Morgan was a part of it. Although, of course, Gavin didn’t admit that. Oh, no. He had said he wanted more information on the group that Sara Kincaid had belonged to and Chloe had looked up the archives on condition that she could accompany him. “Ouch!” she said as she tripped on a tree root in the rutted path.
“Shhh!” Gavin turned around. “We don’t want them to know we’re here!” He looked down at her sandals. “You should have worn sensible shoes, Miss Whitney.”
Sensible shoes. She didn’t own any. Sensible was not an adjective she ever used for anything. “B-o-r-i-n-g,” she said.
Gavin blew out a breath and took her arm as they proceeded. “I just don’t want you tripping.”
Well, okay. She didn’t mind if he wanted to play the gallant knight. Not at all. His hand was firm and comforting, although she was surprised to realize he had calluses on his palms. That didn’t fit with the Armani suits he favored or the casually stylish clothes he wore. Even tonight, his black turtleneck was cashmere, the denim jeans high-end. Now if she could just convince him to take them off…
“Here’s a good spot,” Gavin said and gestured to a place behind some low rocks not too far from the shore. It didn’t look all that comfortable to her, but he’d already crouched down, his back to her. So much for romantic inclinations. With a sigh, she sank down beside him.
“What is it that you think you’ll see tonight?” she asked. “Witches dancing naked under the moon?”
“Shhh!” he said again. “People are coming!”
Chloe turned to follow his gaze. Several women emerged from another group of trees and she wondered how they’d gotten there. Even though this was a popular boating and fishing lake, the area they were in was pretty desolated, given that the slough was pretty shallow. Probably a perfect place for teenagers to make-out on the weekends—if that was a term they still used these days. It would certainly do for her, if Gavin would just…
Chloe shook her head. Gavin had a one-track mind, it seemed, and it wasn’t centered on her. She focused on the women. They were all dressed in long, flowing robes that looked light blue although it was hard to tell in the moonlight. Each was holding a round object. She spotted Morgan. Another woman, dressed in green with flowing platinum hair approached from an area near them. Chloe glanced backwards. Where had that woman parked?
She watched as they gathered in a circle. The round objects turned out to be candles as each was lit and the women held them high and began to chant as they moved clockwise. The green-robed woman stood in the middle of the circle and appeared to be its leader. The chanting changed, turned more into a droning sound, and then became very melodious as they began a harmonious litany, moving in graceful, fluid movements with their music.
“It’s pretty,” she whispered.
“Shhh!”
Well, geez. Gavin didn’t have to treat her like some nit-wit child. It wasn’t like those women could hear her or something. She turned her attention back to the ritual which seemed to be concluding as the circle stopped and then walked counter-clockwise one time.
“Widdershins,” Gavin said below his breath.
“What?” Chloe asked.
“Shhh!”
“Don’t ‘shhh’ me if you’re going to talk,” she huffed back and then watched as the women dispersed the way they had come. After the last one disappeared behind the copse of trees, Chloe asked, “Ready to leave now? I didn’t see anything special…”
Her words were lost as Gavin suddenly crushed her to him, his mouth covering hers in a heated kiss. Chloe gasped, only to find his tongue entering her, his hands sliding along her back, pulling her even closer. His lips were firm, his kiss demanding as he deepened it, sucking her tongue into his mouth. Oh, Lord, he felt good—
“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude!”
Chloe stiffened at the sound of a woman’s voice, but Gavin kept her muffled against his shoulder as he turned his head slightly and muttered something. She heard the woman’s footsteps retreating and peeked over Gavin’s shoulder. It was the woman in the green robes. Damn it. Just when things were finally going the way she wanted…
And then Gavin was on his feet, lifting her up. “That was close,” he said.
Chloe stared at him. The kiss had been a gimmick? She felt like she’d swallowed a sack of marbles. Of course it had. Gavin didn’t want to be caught spying. She’d been a fool to think otherwise.
Well, she could be cool too. Lifting her chin, she somehow managed to smile.
“Anytime,” she said and started toward the car, walking as regally as she could in the dark.
She just hoped she didn’t trip on another darned tree root. The last thing she wanted right now was Gavin’s help. With anything.
* * * *
Gavin wasn’t sure if he were relieved or annoyed that Chloe had left earlier that morning when he got down to the dining room for a late breakfast. A part of him wanted to see her to prove to himself that the kiss had been only a fleeting attraction. What man wouldn’t enjoy a kiss when he hadn’t had any relations in a good while?
What he hadn’t expected was Chloe’s total responsiveness to him. She fit against him perfectly, her body molding its soft curves to him in all the right places. Nor had he expected how electrifying it was to feel her hands slide across his shoulders and finger through his hair. Her lips had been soft and warm, her mouth hot and she tasted like the sweetest ambrosia without even a speck of blood being had.
He hadn’t desired a woman so completely since his days at Arthur’s court.
Gavin sipped his coffee—laced with synthetic blood—and contemplated. From what Chloe had told him about the Circle of the Sisterhood, the group practiced white magic. Sara Kincaid had been the leader until her disappearance and the warlock Michael had served as the group’s druid to balance the yin and yang energy. Gavin grinned. The easiest way to balance the female and male energy was sex. Gavin remembered the old Celtic Great Rite held on Beltane when the king symbolically ‘married’ the land through copulation with a high priestess representing the Goddess. Gwenhwyfar had been furious when Arthur participated, but people had prospered with plentiful crops and increased flocks and herds. White magic at its best.
So what was Morgan doing with a group who, from what Gavin could tell, were not involved in anything destructive?
As if he had conjured her, she slipped into a chair next to him. “Not hungry?” she asked.
The scent of her cologne was cloyingly sweet unlike the slightly spicy, refreshing scent Chloe wore. “I guess not,” he said as he pushed the scrambled eggs to one side and considered taking a bite of the blood sausage. It was blackened to the point of being almost tasteless, unlike the way it was served in England. Even after all these centuries, his body could only absorb a small amount of solid food. He forced a smile.
“You’re doing a good job with the media.”
Morgan shrugged, but somehow it came off as a slow, sensual shoulder roll. “There’s really only a handful of die-hards guys left since no other bodies have shown up.”
“But the die-hards are the most difficult to handle, aren’t they?”
“Perhaps,” she replied in a tone that gave Gavin the impression she had never had a problem in handling any kind of man. She gave him a sultry look. “I find that I like a challenge.”
“And what is your idea of a challenge?”
She ran her fingertips across his hand lightly. ‘You?”
Gavin lifted a brow. “You think I’m a challenge?”
Her lower lip protruded just slightly in what might almost be a pout. “You certainly have not seemed very interested in me.”
Gavin let his gaze slide from her mouth down to her cleavage. Her clingy tank top exposed a generous portion of her full breasts barely covering her nipples. She leaned toward him so he had a better view and gave him a smile. “If you are interested, I’ve been told that I’m good—very, very good, if you get my meaning.”
He got it. He’d have to be comatose not to. Morgan was the kind of woman that he normally would not have hesitated in taking to his bed, but he felt no stirring. Instead, a petite waif with orange-spiked hair came to mind and for a brief moment, he wondered how her soft body would feel under him, slender thighs wrapped around him as he teased her with slow, lazy thrusts—Gavin jerked himself out of that fantasy to find Morgan’s eyes lit with pure lust. He realized he must have let his mask slip and desire show. It wasn’t like him to do that and he had no intentions of taking her to his bed. Still, he knew he had to taste Morgan’s blood to discover the source of her darkness. What better time than the present? They were alone in the dining room and Chloe was out. Gavin turned his dark eyes on Morgan, beginning the mesmerization. “Kiss me.”
She smiled slightly and sidled up against him, her large breasts pressing firmly against his chest. Her mouth opened over his, her tongue greedily sucking at his. Gavin fisted a handful of her hair, pulling her head back slowly, exposing her neck as he broke the contact. He stared into her eyes until the familiar glaze came over them. His mouth drifted down to the throbbing vein in her neck and he nipped sharply. She shuddered. He licked tiny droplets and then sealed the slight wound.
Instantly, darkness swirled around him and he was back on the field of Camlann. A serpent hissed and the demon rose laughing at Gavin, its red eyes shooting sparks that threatened to engulf him in the hellish nightmare he thought had been over. He heard men scream and Arthur loomed in front of him, clutching the sword that had skewered his body, his grey eyes wide with shock. And, to Gavin’s horror, the nightmare became worse, for it was he who was holding the hilt of that sword.
Trembling, he used preternatural strength to break the spell and stared at the woman who still looked enthralled. Who in the hell was Morgan and how did she have knowledge of the demon who’d killed Arthur?