Page 50 of Entranced
Above, a twinkling of stars could be seen through the skylights he’d opened to the night and the air. There were chairs and tables and stands, all of them looking as if they belonged in some medieval castle, rather than a modern home in Big Sur. On them she saw orbs of crystal, colorful bowls, scribed silver mirrors, slender wands of clear glass, and goblets encrusted with glittering stones.
She didn’t believe in magic. Mel knew there was always a false drawer in the magician’s chest and an ace of hearts up his sleeve. But standing there, in the doorway of that room, she felt the air pulse and throb as if it were alive with a thousand hearts.
And she knew that there was more, here in this world she thought she knew, than she had ever dreamed of.
Sebastian sat in the center of the room, in the center of a silver pentagram inlaid in the wooden floor. His back was to her, and he was very still. Her curiosity had always been strong, but she discovered something stronger—her need to give him his privacy.
But, even as she stepped back from the doorway, he spoke to her.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” She toyed with one of the few buttons left on his shirt. “The music did. Or I woke up and heard it, and wondered …” She looked around, baffled. She could see no recording device, no stereo. “I wondered where it was coming from.”
“The night.” He rose. Though she’d never considered herself a prude, she found herself flushing when he stood naked in the candlelight, holding a hand out for her.
“I’m naturally nosy, but I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You didn’t.” Her hesitation had him lifting a brow, then stepping forward to take her hand. “I needed to clear my mind. I couldn’t do it beside you.” He brought her palm to his lips, pressing them at the center. “Too many thoughts clouding the issue.”
“I guess I should’ve gone home.”
“No.” He leaned down to kiss her, lightly, sweetly. “No, indeed.”
“Well, the thing is …” She backed away a little, wishing she had something to do with her hands. “I don’t usually do this sort of thing.”
She looked so young, he thought, and so frail, standing there in his shirt, with her hair mussed from love and sleep, and her eyes too wide.
“Should I say that, since you decided to make an exception with me, you do this sort of thing very well?”
“You don’t have to.” Then her lips turned up. She had done well. They had done incredibly well. “But I don’t guess it hurts. Do you usually sit naked on the floor in candlelight?”
“When the spirit moves me.”
More comfortable now, she began moving around the room, picking up objects. Lips pursed, she examined a centuries-old scrying mirror. “Is this supposed to be magic stuff?”
In that moment, watching her peer suspiciously at the priceless antiques, he adored her. “That was said to belong to Ninian.”
“Who?”
“Ah, Sutherland, your education is sadly lacking. Ninian was a sorceress, reputed to have imprisoned Merlin in his cave of crystal.”
“Yeah?” She took a closer look, found it a pretty piece, then set it down to study a globe of smoky quartz. “So what do you use this stuff for?”
“Enjoyment.” He had no need for scrying mirrors or crystal balls in order to see. He kept them around him out of an appreciation of tradition and a sense of aesthetics. It amused him to see her frown and squint at the tools of power.
There was something he wanted to give her, a small gift. He hadn’t forgotten the fleeting sadness he’d seen in her eyes when she’d told him she didn’t remember her father.
“Would you like to see?”
“See what?”
“To see,” he said gently, and walked to her. “Come.” He took the globe in one hand, her fingers in the other, and drew her back to the center of the room.
“I don’t really think—”
“Kneel.” He nudged her down with him. “Past or future, Mel? Which would you like?”
With a nervous laugh, she settled back on her heels. “Aren’t you supposed to be wearing a turban?”
