Bewitching My Love (6 page)

It wasn’t until her flailing arm slammed onto the candle that she came out of it. She screamed loudly again when she felt the pain of the flame. With eyes wide and tears streaming down her cheeks, she stared up at him. “I’m sorry, oh my God, Rowen. What have I done?”

“
You almost killed me, Fern.” He was still hovering over her, not sure if he should let her go just yet. She’d obviously been put under a spell. Then he felt her body soften and knew she was all right. The burn of the candle must have brought her out of it. “You’ll be alright now, Fern.”

Rowen scanned Fern’s body with his eyes, stopping to rest on the creamy white skin nestled in the middle of her breasts where they pressed against each other. It took a lot of concentration but he eventually let his eyes creep back up to settle on hers. They drew him in to the very depths of her soul. He’d removed his coat and shoes earlier to help ward off some of the heat and had unbuttoned his under shirt. Relaxing slowly, he laid down on top of her before taking her mouth with his. His entire body tensed when the hard buds of her breasts reacted from underneath the silk of her bra, raking against the hairs of his chest.

Fern wound her fingers through Rowen’s black hair as she gave in to his kiss. Arching her back she pushed her breasts against him harder until the hairs of his chest poked all the way through her bra. Their tickles brought forth an instant moan of satisfaction from her throat. When his mouth pulled away she grumbled her disapproval. Trailing tiny kisses down his neck, she urged him to continue.

“
Fern, don’t do that, I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He was fighting his urge to take her. She wasn’t making it easy. “Come on, let me go, honey.” He bit his lip when Fern gently suckled his earlobe, then let it rake between her teeth. Grumbling, he placed his hands on her shoulders, hesitating when she ran the tip of her tongue along his jaw. Shaking his head, he pushed her back down against the blanket.

“
Did you forget where we are, Fern? I haven’t. Nor can I forget what we are here to do. How can I make love to a woman I might have to watch…” He almost blew it. “We can’t do this, come on, stop what you’re doing before I’m unable to stop myself.”

Fern rolled back to her blanket. Rowen was right; they had to stop before they both regretted it. “I’m sorry Rowen, I don’t know what got into me, again.” Blinking her eyes, she concentrated on pulling herself out of the remaining effects of the spell. Never had she been so prepared to give herself to a man she hardly knew. If he knew she was still a virgin he wouldn’t believe it, she certainly hadn’t acted the part. “Rowen, what happened to me earlier? Was I under a spell of some sort? Those words I kept saying must have meaning. Do you suppose that old woman put a spell on me to kill you?”

He rolled over and faced her. “I am sure we can consider her the culprit, Fern. How long had you been down by the river before I came back?” He kept his eyes averted to keep from gawking at her body. He wished she would put her dress back on.

“
You know, Rowen! I don’t even remember leaving. One moment I was clearing rocks out of the cave, the next I found myself sitting by the water. She must have hidden until you left.” She gasped then when it all came back to her in a flood of unexpected memories. Sitting up, she stared down at him. “Rowen! I remember what happened. I was still irritated with you for leaving me alone, so I started throwing rocks out of the cave to keep busy.”

Pointing to the far side of the cave, she continued. “Over there I found a beautiful gold cross on a chain. I was so engrossed with it that I didn’t notice the old woman had returned. She told me to give her the cross because it belonged to Mary. I hesitated only for a second Rowen, but it was long enough for her to get inside with me and cast her spell. Those words, I know what they mean now. They were meant to freeze you out of my life, for good.” She was working hard to keep herself from shaking, her teeth rattled together as if she were cold. “E-Even if it meant I-I had to kill you! Oh my God R-Rowen, what are we to do now? If she can get to me t-this easily, I don’t think I should be left alone any m-more.”

He nodded his head to agree. “This means we stick together from now on, Fern, no matter what. We’ll just have to think of a way to conceal your face. I think if you wear your cape and put a cloth over your face, no one will know. We’ll work it out in the morning. Come back over here and lie next to me, I know you’re frightened.” He wound his arms around her as she cuddled close.

Fern would have found her way eventually even without his invitation. Somehow the fact that she was practically naked didn’t seem to matter any more. When the muscles of his arm wrapped around her, she lost all fear. But when the soft stubble of his short beard rubbed against her forehead she knew that all she had to do was look up into his eyes and the spell would start all over again. She feared she would not have the ability to stop if it did.

CHAPTER FIVE

“
I tell your worship the truth, Mary Wilds is a witch.” Sarah stood in front of the judge, tears streaming down her cheeks “Sir, I say before God, and before your worship, that I know Mary Wilds is a witch. I witnessed her practicing her witchcraft.”

“
Has Mary Wilds hurt you, Sarah Nichols?” Judge Hauthorn sat forward in his chair listening to yet another story of witchcraft. How many more would have to die before his village was free of this curse?

“
No, your worship. I have not been hurt.” She looked down at the pebbles under her feet and smiled. He believed her. She was still angry with Jonathan for trying to keep her quiet with a gift. He was her husband; she would make Mary suffer for trying to take him from her.

“
Go back to your home, Sarah Nichols and tell thy husband to come here. I will have him arrest Mary Wilds straight away.”

* * * *

Fern was feeling a little apprehensive, as much as she wanted to go to the village. She feared the unknown. “I’m nervous Rowen, today is the seventh of June, isn’t Mary supposed to be arrested today?”

“
Yes, Fern. That is why we have come to the village. To make sure history takes place the way it is supposed to. I don’t understand the powers of Elizabeth Wilds; I’m hoping she hasn’t done anything to stop it again.”

“
Forgive me sir, I meant not to step in your and your lovely wife’s way.”

They stood maybe ten feet apart. Fern and Rowen were both practically speechless when they realized the woman was Mary. Rowen cleared his head and managed to speak first.

“
Pardon me, madam.” Her smile was breathtaking, almost as beautiful as Fern’s.

“
What sort of language do you speak, sir? You be not from our village, lest I would have noticed you before now. Who is your family?” Mary noticed he didn’t wear a wig. Not many of the men in her village were seen without them nowadays. She found it attractive, much more masculine.

Rowen had no clue what to do; she’d picked up on his English quickly. Well, he couldn’t stand here looking like an idiot. He would have to respond. “We are only passing through, madam, I am not a relative to anyone in your village.”

She smiled, what strange place did this man come from? And the woman by his side, she was familiar. Surely they had met before today. “You do speak stran— She looked past him. Jonathan was approaching them from across the road. He never approached her in public. She looked around to make sure they wouldn’t be noticed before bringing her eyes back to his. But his eyes betrayed him, something was wrong. He stood away from her, with shackles dangling from his hands to rest against his thighs.

“
Mary Wilds!” Jonathan swallowed the lump in his throat as he called to her.

What was wrong? He was the magistrate of their village, and was speaking to her as if she were one of his prisoners. “’Tis I, Jonathan Nichols.” She smiled at him, but didn’t hide the questioning in her eyes.

“
You have been accused by Sarah Nichols of witchcraft, Mary Wilds. What say you, are you guilty of witchcraft, of which you are suspected, or not?” Jonathan felt as if his heart would surely break. He had no choice but to do as the judge told him. If he refused his life would be ruined.

“
If it please you, Jonathan Nichols, I know nothing of witchcraft.” Turning her head and eyes about to take in the crowd that had now gathered, fear began to build in the pit of her stomach. “I take all these people to witness that I am clear of this accusation, Sir.”

Fern and Rowen stood back and witnessed the frightening scene before them. Rowen wanted to see Jonathan, but not like this. It took everything in his power to keep from jumping on the man when he turned Mary around and pushed her against the wall, then cinched the shackles to her wrists as if she were a common thief. They both stood staring into Mary’s eyes where her face was pressed against the wall, watching in horror as her tears rolled down her cheeks in a silent plea for help. They couldn’t intervene, history forced them to stand and witness what must take place. Fern’s heart was breaking; Rowen’s fists were doubling.

* * * *

“
Mary, where do you be, girl?” The old woman crept through the house, dragging her wooden cane behind her. “Speak girl!” It took her all night to drag her old bones back from the Northfield’s. Casting spells always made her hungry. “Mary! I have found your cross.” Her screechy voice was even unnerving to her. Where was that girl? Stopping at the base of the stairs she looked up, listening for any sound from up above. She had her foot on the first step when she remembered what day it was. Old age was taking her mind before she was ready. “It is time for thee to save thine only child.”

Scooting her tired feet back to her chair, she sat again and read from her book.

She let the pages flutter through her crooked fingers before returning the bound book to its place next to her chair. She felt the bones of her spine grate against each other as she made her way up the stairs. She kept her book of spells hidden in her bedchamber.

* * * *

Rowen and Fern stayed in the village long enough to watch Mary be thrown into the back of a wagon and hauled off to the village jail. The villagers screamed at her,
“To the gallows you go witch, to hang for your sins.”
Rowen had to hold Fern back from running after the children when their mothers allowed them to chase the wagon, throwing rocks at Mary as they went.

“
Oh Rowen, how can we be expected to allow this to happen? We’re from the future, surely we can tell them that what they are doing is wrong.” As she watched the wagon make its way down the cobblestone road, Fern saw Jonathan turn on the buckboard to look down at Mary where she sat huddled against the side of the wagon. It wasn’t until Jonathan’s head rose toward them that she realized her Vizard had fallen away from her face. “Oh my God Rowen, he saw me.”

“
Fern, I told you to be careful. Here, let me help you fix it.” After he tucked it back in place he took her hand and led them away from the village. “I don’t think he noticed you, Fern. I’m sure he was too distraught over what he’d just done to see anything beyond Mary.”

“
I didn’t see any remorse in his eyes, Rowen. How could he do that to Mary if he is supposed to love her? This place is wicked, I want to go home, now!” Yanking her hand free she ran ahead of him, wiping her hot tears as she went.

Rowen caught her just as they were crossing back over the Wooleston Bridge. “Fern stop! Now look at me.” With his thumb and index fingers he lifted her chin so she was forced to look at him. “I didn’t say this was going to be easy. I’m sorry you had to see that, hell Fern, I’m sorry I had to see that. Now that we know for sure we stopped you from killing Jonathan and Sarah, we must concentrate on the rest of the curse. We have ten more days before the execution, maybe if we try really hard, we can fall in love, hmm?” He smiled down into her soft hazel eyes, losing himself in their depths.

“
You know I hate you, don’t you?” She smiled at his look of pain.

“
About as much as I hate you, Fern!” Taking her hand again he turned them toward the field. “Let’s go, we have much to think about.”

* * * *

Elizabeth was tired. At sixty-four years old she had lived well beyond her time. With her cane in hand, her sack with her mixture thrown over her slumped shoulder and her love potion memorized she prepared to make her journey yet again, across the Northfield’s.

* * * *