His unexpected presence surprised Sarina, though Lady Lily meowed, jumped off her chest and proceeded to investigate the hay.

"I saw you chase Lily and thought you might require help," he said, explaining his presence as he strolled over to the stall where she lay and leaned casually against the door frame.

"Strangely enough," she said with a laugh, "I don't need any help."

"You rested this afternoon?" he asked, making casual conversation and giving him a reason to remain.

Her sojourn into the woods was indeed a rest, so she felt she spoke the truth when she said, "Yes, I had a peaceful afternoon."

He suddenly recalled his reason for being outside, and his curiosity concerning the mysterious, dark clothed stranger returned. "Did you by any chance see a woman dressed in all black?"

"All black?" she asked, hoping to divert his question.

"I know," he said, shaking his head, "a few rare witches wear the sacred color."

She nodded and sat up, folding her legs beneath her. The toes of her sock-covered feet peeked out, a tempting sight to Dagon.

He continued his search for the elusive stranger. "I thought perhaps we had an unexpected visitor."

"Do you know many wise ones?" she asked, plucking at the hay in an attempt to hide her trembling fingers.

"None wise enough to wear the sacred color and none ignorant enough to tempt the fates. Do you know any?"

Her hesitation caught his attention, and the longer she remained silent, the more he realized she was attempting to hide something. He waited patiently for an answer.

She cleared her throat, a diversionary tactic that did not succeed. Dagon simply stood quietly in his relaxed posture waiting for her response. She certainly could not lie to him, and she definitely could not tell him the truth. Somewhere between the two was an answer, but she was having difficulty finding it And the longer her silence grew, the more suspicious he became.

Finally she found words that would suffice. "Wise ones do not always like their presence to be known."

Not a direct answer but one that lead him to believe she was familiar with a wise one, and perhaps it was she who this mysterious stranger had visited with. A thought suddenly struck him and he asked, "Are you acquainted with the Ancient One?"

Her response was quick. "Who does not know of her? Her wisdom exceeds the common knowledge. She is truly remarkable and I would imagine truly lonely."

Her remark surprised him, and he ignored the fact that she had not actually answered his question and asked, "Why do you say that?"

She shrugged and chose her words carefully. "She is said to be born with the dawn of time, therefore, she was born into darkness, a pure void of nothingness. Yet within her was the ability to gain knowledge and with that growing wisdom the power to shed light upon the darkness."

"And bring to the world knowledge, ridding it of darkness."

"No," Sarina corrected. "Controlling the darkness. The Ancient One and wise ones wear the black to signify just that. Darkness is part of every one of us, but it is only in controlling the power of darkness and light that we gain true wisdom. And think of the loneliness the Ancient One must have experienced in her pursuit of the light."

"But once obtained-"

Sarina shook her head, silencing him. "Once obtained she had to teach it, to shed the light on the darkness. Therefore, her knowledge surpa.s.ses all and she unselfishly gives of herself. Do you not think that at times she would be lonely?"

"She could love, mate, share her life with someone?"

A sad smile crossed Sarina's face. "Who would truly understand the depths of her being and who would truly be able to love her?" Dagon walked over to where she sat in the mound of hay. He sat down beside her, a look of concern on his handsome face. "There is a tale that speaks of a lost love."

"Yes, I have heard of it myself."

"What did you hear?"

She shook her head. "Just that she loved and lost."

"No one seems to know the truth," Dagon said, disappointed.

"I hear she guards her privacy well."

Dagon reached out and plucked a piece of hay from her hair. "Can't say I blame her."

The sudden urge to kiss him grabbed hold of her and refused to let go. His lips were inviting, hinting at

pleasures and promises, and she ached for the strength of his arms around her, and the feel of his gentle touch. She shivered.

"Cold?" he asked and looked at her oddly. A quick nod and a cautious glance at his eyes told her that he was no fool and that he knew exactly why she shivered. Whatever was the matter with her? If she were honest with herself, she would admit that her reaction was not at all sudden or unexpected. He had appealed to her senses as soon as he had entered the stable. Maybe it was his walk or saunter since he swayed with sensuality when he walked. Or it could be his hands? His fingers being long and lean, and when in motion they moved with an orchestrated confidence. Then of course there was the color of his eyes, an indescribable blue, mysterious, erotic, and charged with a heated pa.s.sion that betrayed the senses. But then her senses had been betraying her on a regular basis lately.

Betraying?

Or were her senses attempting to tell her the truth?

"Are you cold, Sarina?" he asked again.

She smiled and slowly shook her head. "You know I'm not cold."

"Yes, that I do," he said and leaned over to brush his lips across hers before stealing a much wanted

kiss. His arm slipped around her waist, and he eased them both down together on the thick cushion of

hay. Once there he kissed her senseless. Sarina warned herself to keep her hands at her sides. Scolded herself for even considering touching him and cautioned herself that it would do little good to begin something that was yet to see fruition or may never be culminated. And yet her hands itched to explore him, come to know him, lose herself in him.

She purposely stretched her arms above her head, reaching out above her, far past him. While he in turn did exactly as he wished-he touched her. Slow and steady he explored her as if wanting to acquaint himself with every inch of her. Having no undergarments on made his touch all the more erotic. She could feel the heat of his hand through the soft cotton material, and he made certain that the cotton teased her skin in the most intimate of places. He was persistent and insistent in his endeavors to please and excite.

And he did excite her, to the point where she was totally mindless and completely surrenderable. But still her arms remained above her head. If she dared to intimately touch him, all would be lost, and it was too soon, much too soon, to take such a daring chance. Small chances now were wise choices; major chances were better left for a more opportune time.

Now all that remained for her to do was to keep a minimum of control on her senses.

Dagon had other ideas, and Sarina was unprepared for his ability to seduce with words. "Afraid to touch me, dear heart?"

He prevented her from answering with a sensual kiss that had her curling her toes. "You know you want to."

Good lord, did she ever want to touch him. No, no, she ached to touch him. And yet she remained silent.

He laughed near her ear, and with his teeth gently nipping down along her neck, he said, "I want you, too."

She groaned and he laughed harder.

"I want those sweet, b.u.mbling fingers of yours running all over me creating complete havoc."

Would she be clumsy at that as well? The absurd thought brought a sudden frown to her face.

Dagon quickly kissed her frown lines away and ran his hands slowly up her arms to capture her hands in his. "I think your hands hide magic, and I want you to perform your magic on me."

She shivered at the truth of his words and the sudden realization of her imminent problem. She needed to learn more about him, understand him better before she committed to a situation that could prove either lifesaving or disastrous.

And yet she wanted nothing more than to do as he asked. She wanted to touch him and make magic together.

She was grateful for Lady Lily's intrusion. The little kitten insinuated herself right under Dagon's neck and began licking him and meowing most moanfully.

"I want your tongue there, Sarina."

The man knew how to entice and excite, and she licked her lips in a slow hunger.

With a gentle hand he removed Lady Lily and with tender words and a confident stroke he a.s.sured the kitten that if she waited patiently she would receive a special treat, right after he received his. The kitten curled into a ball to wait. He then looked to Sarina. "Taste me."

She swallowed hard and her body went limp, though her tongue licked eagerly at her top lip.

"Taste me," he ordered sternly.

A taste, a simple taste, what could it hurt?

Dagon pulled back his long dark hair and offered his neck to her. "Let me feel you quench your deep hunger."

His neck was smooth, his veins thick with the heated blood that raced through him, and his scent was strictly male and all pa.s.sion. She licked her lips one last time in appreciation and reached out to taste.

Her tongue touched, first skimming the surface, acquainting herself with his flavor and savoring every delicious taste. Her teeth followed, nipping his flesh, feasting on the now familiar taste of him and feeling even less satisfied than before. She wanted more, so much more from him. Now that she had tasted she was famished, and her outrageous appet.i.te needed satisfying.

She turned on him like a ravenous creature bent on a.s.suaging her l.u.s.ty craving.

He in turn allowed her to feed her need, relishing in her unbridled pa.s.sion for him. His groans filled the stable. His moans echoed deep in his throat, and his own desire soared past reasoning.

He pulled his head back away from her, and her disappointment a.s.saulted him as strongly as the pa.s.sion that raced through him. "You can feed on me as long as you like, but know there will be consequences."

Her breathing was labored, her heartbeat erratic, and her desire insanely out of control. It was obvious she had never experienced such extreme desire, and that realization quickly sobered him.

Dagon brought a swift end to this madness. He moved off her and stood but not before scooping Lady Lily up into his hand. He turned to leave, stopped, turned back around, looked down at her, and shook his head. "Don't dare wear those d.a.m.n white socks again."

With that he left and Sarina broke into a fit of laughter.

Socks.

Socks excited and upset the handsome witch. She would have to remember that.

Twelve.

"Are you certain you feel up to returning to full duty?" Margaret asked Sarina, who sat at the kitchen table with her hands cupping her mug of hot tea. "You look peaked."

"Heavy thoughts," Sarina answered with a sigh before sipping at the mint-flavored brew. It was another hour before the household staff would rise and begin their ch.o.r.es. Sarina, however, had risen before dawn, and unable to sleep any longer, she had dressed and come to the kitchen for a hot cup of tea. She knew she would find Margaret there, her hands already deep in flour preparing the day's pastries.

She attempted to convince herself that it was company she was seeking, not advice. She was wise enough to know what must be done and yet-she longed to share her woes with someone and hear another's opinion.

"Do these thoughts concern Dagon?" Margaret asked, kneading a large lump of dough that hinted of cinnamon and nutmeg.

"You are very perceptive."

Margaret laughed. "I simply have good eyesight."

"Whatever do you mean?" Sarina asked innocently.

Margaret placed the dough in a bowl and dusted the large wooden board in front of her with a generous handful of flour. "I mean that love is hard to hide."

"Love?" Sarina seemed surprised.

Margaret placed the dough on the board and proceeded to roll it out with the flour-dusted rolling pin.

"It shines in your eyes."

Sarina shook her head.

"You deny it, or are you concerned with your newfound emotions?"

"Again perceptive," Sarina said and sipped at her tea, a sense of confusion invading her along with the warm liquid.

"Your feelings trouble you."

"You read me well."

"I see clearly," Margaret insisted. "And your eyes speak of love and confusion."

"I always heard that the two go remarkably well together."

Margaret smiled. "Now you are the perceptive one."

Sarina sighed. "No, and that is my problem. I know nothing of love."

This time Margaret laughed. "No one does."