Rite of Passage (16 page)

Courtney had alluded to making plans, promising I wouldn’t regret staying. Simon repeated the assurance. It sounded wonderful, but suspicion returned. What could be happening on her birthday to make it a special evening for me? After what I’d heard and seen in the last four days a disturbing image of Christians and lions materialized.

I began processing what staying here would mean. The problem was making excuses. Explanations would have to be made to friends, my mother, and of course, Rachel. There was no way I could do it.

I looked at Courtney. Her delicious smile melted my resolve.

“Absolutely, Simon.” I shook his hand. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Spend the rest of the week with Courtney?
Why not? It was what I wanted. But despite the pleasant glow I felt thanks to the beer, fine wine, and the angel on my arm, my pragmatic side kept pricking my subconscious. I remembered the old maxim, If it seems too good to be true.
Christians and lions,
I thought again.

I studied the room, still curious about the crowd. Only Jon and Gretchen’s inner circle remained. I found that strange since tonight was supposed to be the grand finale—lobster, fireworks, celebration. Another mystery or my mind teasing me?

Uncle Jonathan, the most practical and calculating man I ever met, wore a silly smirk, nearly drooling over Simon. The entire room seemed engulfed by a sense of euphoria. The elderly Brahmins who remained wore giddy appearances, laughing and giggling like schoolchildren. The austere, often somber atmosphere of the past three evenings had been transformed into a fraternity house.

“So, you’re going to stay the week?” Courtney asked tightening her grip on my arm and pulling me toward a quiet corner.

“You know I want to, but…” My head buzzed.

“Ah yes, the inevitable ‘but,’ McGregor,” she said with a frown. Her face looked twisted, taking on an expression of frustration. “There’s always a qualifier with you, isn’t there?”

“If I recall, this afternoon you were the one with all the conditions and doubts,” I answered, my face flushing. I studied her, still feeling that strange sensation.

She laughed softly. “Touché.” She looked up at me, searching my eyes. “Before the evening’s over, you’ll understand why.”

“I can’t wait,” I said, unable to hide my sarcasm. “But come on, Courtney. It’s not that easy. I have to call and explain to...”

“Rachel?” Releasing my arm, she turned to face me. Her eyes found mine again, holding them. I wanted to look away but found it impossible.

“You have to do what’s best for you. I’d never ask you to do anything you didn’t want to.” Her assurance sounded sincere. So why did I have the feeling Courtney could make me do anything she wanted? She frowned again, kissed my cheek, and walked away.

When we sat down for dinner, I pulled the chair to my right out, expecting her to join me. Instead, Courtney walked around the table and sat between Simon and Mrs. Mac. She stole a look at me. Despite her inability or unwillingness to appreciate my situation, I wanted to take her in my arms. I remembered the sweetness of her lips, the warmth of her tongue. I was consumed by a desire to taste them again.

Simon was the center of attention. Jon explained that he and Courtney were direct descendants of Welsh royalty. Simon had skills in everything from football to finances. More than once I watched in amazement as Jon, the Wall Street expert, wrote down Simon’s suggestion on some obscure business opportunity. He seemed to worship his guest. Gretchen showed equal fascination with their new arrival. Sitting to his right, she touched his arm frequently, attempting to steal his attention.

I glanced at Mrs. McPherson. When involved in conversation she had a reserved, sweet bearing, but more than once I saw her look in Courtney’s direction. The expression on her face changed, sending chills down my spine. As she studied her charge, her face took on a dark and sad countenance. I wondered why. She’d see me and resume her simple, modest façade. When Courtney looked at her mentor, the older woman flashed a warm smile.

I watched the whole intriguing show unfold as I made conversation. Everyone seemed as animated as Jon and Gretchen, slapping me on the back, laughing, recounting adventures and stories. Cigarette smoke clouded the eight feet that separated me from the object of my desire. Courtney did her best to avoid looking at me. The dining room staff refilled our wine glasses as if we were guests at a Roman orgy. When the chef invited us to take part in the sumptuous lobster buffet, I rose. I needed a break and some fresh air. Sneaking away, I headed out to the courtyard for a chance to make sense of the scene playing out before me.

I walked to the boathouse and beyond, out onto the dock where I leaned against one of the thick pilings. The festivities inside were so boisterous I hoped not to be missed. Somewhere in the background the sound of loud, gruff voices echoed; commands and laughter came from men a hundred yards into the lake, joking, and scolding each other as they prepared the massive display of fireworks.

I studied the tranquil waters of Sebago. As I was about to turn around and head back to the house I inhaled her jasmine scent and felt the warmth of her slender fingers as she placed them over my eyes.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Courtney whispered, giggling. “Actually, in your case, I’d give ten shillings.”

I took her hands away and turned. She was dressed in her riding clothes again.

“Where did you come from? I didn’t hear you,” I asked, marveling once again at her apparent ability to appear out of thin air. “How did you manage to change so quickly and why?”

“I keep explaining but you don’t listen, Robbie. I’m a witch.” She made a scary face and laughed.

Suddenly I understood. It all made sense. She’d been telling the truth from the beginning. The catch was I assumed she was joking, which she expected. The mysteries, the stories, the smaller group of guests, Simon’s arrival. It all resonated. It was a plan, all of it. I shook my head, feeling disoriented. I had no idea where all this was going. Part of me was terrified. That part wanted to run away, get in my car, and head back to reality. But there was another part. That part felt exhilarated, challenged. Adrenaline surged through me. I had to stay and see how this played out.

Courtney saw my expression. “Are you all right, darling?” she asked.

“I’m fine. I thought you were angry with me, because of my comments about your party. You seemed to be ignoring me,” I said, managing my best pout.

She took my hands. “Haven’t you learned I could never ignore you?” Her voice was sultry, seductive as she pulled me to her. “I understand how confusing and difficult all this must be for you. I really do, dear.” She stood very close, arms hanging around my neck as she began caressing my lips with hers, teasing, playing over and around them at first. Suddenly she found my tongue, doing things I’d only dreamed of. I floated, then sank, drowning gloriously as I fell into the warmth of her supple body. She released me and backed away, giving me a delicious smile. “Does that feel like I’m ignoring you?”

“I could have been mistaken.” I grinned, pulling her close and taking her in my arms. My lips found every inch of hers, the enormous eyes, the sculptured ears, her delicate nose, and that wonderful mouth I could never get enough of. I took its full measure. As I became aroused she rose to meet me, pressing close as our bodies melded. There never was, never would be another woman to excite me this way. Whatever else was happening, I had no doubt that Courtney meant what she said. We held each other breathlessly. I opened my mouth to speak.

She put her hand to my lips. “Don’t even try,” she whispered, her fingers clutching my back. “It would be a waste of breath. There are no words to describe what we feel.” She released me. “Go. Change quickly, darling. Meet me at the stables. There’s a special place where we can watch the fireworks. I’m going to tell you a story. It’s a magical story that will change your life, change both our lives forever.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

She’d decided to tell me the truth!

I ran back to my room and opened the door. Nothing that happened close to Courtney surprised me any more, so when my riding clothes lay clean and pressed on my bed, I smiled, taking it in stride. I changed in a flash and hopped out the door, pulling my left boot on as I headed through the courtyard and down the gravel path to the stables. I could hear the crowd gathering on the broad lawn by the lake, laughing and singing as they awaited the grand finale.

A single light shone brightly, guiding me to the stable entrance. I opened the office door. As I did, Courtney called to me from the barn. “Come on, Robbie. It’s been ages since I’ve seen fireworks. I don’t want to miss the festivities.”

Romeo and Pumpkin Patch stood saddled and waiting. There was no sign of Wendy, but that was no surprise. The evening had long ago taken on a dizzying, surreal quality. I didn’t give her absence a second thought. Courtney slid into the saddle with her usual grace.

“Ow,” I complained as I raised my boot to the stirrup. I was trying to follow her example despite the tired, aching muscles occasioned by hours in the saddle. I let my sore backside down carefully on the unforgiving leather.
Damn, that hurt
, I whined silently, refusing to give Courtney the satisfaction of hearing my discomfort. When we reached the large double door, she pulled open the latch and spurred her mount toward a small hill overlooking the lake.

“Don’t be concerned, just follow my lead. I can see the trail perfectly.”

How she did I had no idea. The moon was a giant orb rising above the trees in the west while the dazzling Milky Way sprinkled light sparingly on the countryside. Maybe witches could see in the dark. It looked pitch black to my untrained eyes, but I knew better than to doubt Courtney. Her instincts proved flawless once again. In a matter of minutes we traversed the steep, winding path, arriving atop a bare, knobby rise. It offered a spectacular view of the estate below and the cove where the fireworks would be launched.

Courtney dismounted, sliding off gracefully. I did the same, minus the grace. We’d spoken little on the trip up the hill. I was too busy following her. As she had earlier in the day, Courtney pulled the saddlebags off the broad back of her gelding. I noticed a thick blanket rolled up as well.

“What about tying them?” I asked. It was very dark on top of our private retreat. One of the mounts could wander and a misstep might mean a twisted leg or worse.

“There’s no need,” she assured me, touching them on the snout. Each whinnied and nodded as if to offer me reassurance. I could only marvel. There was something wonderful and fascinating about her kinship with animals.

“You can take off their saddles. We’ll put them on this.” She spread out the blanket she’d brought. “It’ll give us something comfortable to sit on. We may be here a while.”

This sounded promising, even provocative, but Courtney’s tone was casual. I followed her suggestion and took off the saddles, putting them on top of the blanket I spread on the ground. As if following an imaginary script, just as we sat down, the fireworks began. I rested my sore back against one of the saddles, while Courtney lay, head in my lap, taking my hand. She oohed and aahed, clapping like a child at the county fair seeing fireworks for the first time.

“Isn’t this grand?” Courtney enthused.

And it was. Jon and Gretchen had spared no expense in putting on this impressive display of pyrotechnics. Cheers and applause echoed, wafting up from the lawn half a mile to the east.

“Yes,” I agreed. My mind was far from the dizzying array of colors playing out above our heads. I was anxious to hear what she was going to tell me, but as she lay laughing in my lap, her sweet fragrance enveloped me. Other urges came to mind. I closed my eyes, my fevered imagination returned to the afternoon and earlier that evening—short passionate moments spent together. I grasped her long slender fingers, enclosing them.

After thirty minutes of aerial magnificence, the show ended with a grand finale. The crowd groaned and applauded one last time. Courtney sat up and reached over, pulling a bottle of wine from the saddlebags. She extracted a corkscrew and opened it, offering me a taste.

I hesitated. “You first,” I said, pushing it back toward her.

She smiled. “You have to learn to trust me, McGregor.” She took a long swallow and handed it back to me.

As she did, I heard motion behind me.

“Speaking of trust. I knew you might have difficulty believing what I’m going to tell you, Robbie, so I brought an ally. Someone I
know
you trust.”

I turned, having no idea who her confidant might be. My jaw dropped when the figure of my brother appeared out of the darkness.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“
Michael!
” I jumped up, looking back and forth between them. “What are you doing here?”

Michael clasped my arm. “Courtney has a lot to explain. Some, you suspect. We left clues for you.” He glanced at Courtney, who stood, hands on hips, a reticent smile on her lips. “Actually we did everything but take out an ad in the
Times
. We thought it might help if I was here to tell you she hasn’t gone off her nut.”

“We. You said ‘we’?” I swallowed hard. “Meaning you’re one of
them
. You and she are…” I stopped in mid-sentence. My mouth went dry.

“Yes, Robbie. Everyone except Mrs. Mac and the servants are part of our family,” Courtney said, looking at Michael. “Maybe we need to sit down and have a drink,” she added, looking at me.

Michael nodded.

“Family?” I asked. “I’ve heard you people referred to as a coven.”

“That’s true,” Michael said as he sat down. “But a coven is usually comprised of thirteen members or fewer. We’re much larger. And we find ‘family’ is less intimidating.”

“I see. But Michael. You’re my brother. What the hell’s going on?” They were casual, uninhibited, exposing their true lineage as if it was routine, even something to be proud of. Each took a swallow from the bottle of wine and offered it to me. “If you’re one of them, then…”