A mordant glance and tightly pursed lips from Margaret caused her husband to alter his att.i.tude and speak with a less biting tongue. "Perhaps you will find your new duties less difficult."

Sarina was ready for anything. She intended to work hard and be extra careful even if she had to work twice the hours of the other staff members. She would show everyone that she was capable of attending to her a.s.signed duties. She would be diligent and self-reliant even if she had to resort to mortal tactics. Perhaps she was not learning witching skills, but she certainty was learning about mortal abilities more and more each day. Why, she rarely broke a gla.s.s anymore, and she was getting the hang of using a ladder. If she had been extra careful this morning, she would never have lost her balance on the ladder and accidentally kicked it over, leaving herself dangling in thin air.

No, whatever her duties this time, she would pay close attention and make certain she made no mistakes.

"You will be a.s.signed to the laundry staff," Bernard informed her.

She smiled with delight. She could handle the laundry. After all, what damage could she do washing and drying clothes?

Three.

Dagon felt wonderful. After a good, solid night's sleep and a generous helping of Margaret's French toast sprinkled liberally with powdered sugar and a hint of cinnamon and her stubby homemade sausages that tingled the tongue, he felt better than his usual self. He was ready to tackle anything. Which was why he took himself off to his study to make a long-distance phone call.

He was pleased with the peacefulness that pervaded the castle. No loud voices had been raised, the staff quietly went about their work, and Bernard had made no complaints. Which lead Dagon to believe that Sarina was working out quite nicely in the laundry room. Of course it was barely noontime, but still, things did seem as if they were working out well.

Dagon closed the door behind him as he entered the room he felt most comfortable in. Many years ago when t.i.tles were of importance he was called a lord and this his solar, but over the years the room had become a place of solace to him. This room housed the many objects he collected over the years, and while some items were priceless, others held no monetary value at all, though they were priceless to him.

Two tall windows draped in dark green velvet drapes and trimmed in heavy gold cording flanked a large stone fireplace along the back wall. The plush drapes were drawn back with the same thick gold cording leaving a breathtaking view of the mermaid pond-an eye-catching creation of three tiers of mermaids holding up a large sh.e.l.l over their heads with the top lone mermaid sprouting water from the partially closed sh.e.l.l she held in her arms and the surrounding area a carpet of thick green gra.s.s and shade trees.

Floor to ceiling bookcases covered two other walls with a sliding ladder that ran along both for easy access to the far top shelves. An ornate French desk dated somewhere in the seventeenth century was positioned near the windows with a perfect view of the pond. Chairs covered in a beige silk and thin dark green stripes along with a solid beige settee from the same period as the desk sat grouped before the fireplace whose intricate bra.s.s fireguard was a work of art. Two antique Persian rugs whose colors had retained their charm and blended perfectly with the decor covered a good portion of the polished wood floor.

The entrance door was on the fourth wall and was surrounded by paintings of various family members throughout the centuries. One painting in particular caught Dagon's eye, and with a smile he sat down at his desk and reached for the phone.

It would be early morning in the States, but he was certain Sydney Wyrrd would be up. She always greeted the dawn, an old habit of hers and one she never broke. She was a remarkable woman for her six hundred years, and she held a special spot in Dagon's heart. And he remembered when that particular portrait was painted of her in the late sixteenth century when he was but a mere lad. She was as beautiful and charming now as she was then, and she had been a constant in his life of which he was forever grateful. He was certain she would not deny his request. Well, almost certain.

Asking Sydney to introduce him to the Ancient One was actually asking quite a large favor. There wasn't a witch who did not wish to meet her or one who would not be honored to be educated by her. Sydney had been chosen as rare few are by the Ancient One herself to be a pupil of hers. Certain conditions had to be met, and one was that the student would not violate her privacy. Her ident.i.ty and whereabouts would always be held in strict confidence. But Dagon wanted only for Sydney to extend an invitation to the Ancient One for him and her to meet. What harm could there be in that?

"No," Sydney said quickly.

Dagon had chattered for a good thirty minutes before proposing his favor. He had learned that the newlyweds Alisande and Sebastian were having a delightful time on their honeymoon in England and Ireland, and she wouldn't be surprised if they stopped by to see him before returning home.

Sebastian was having some difficulties with his newly acquired skills, though he was thoroughly enjoying his unexpected powers. Alisande thought otherwise since it was she who usually ended up the worst for wear from one of his attempts to demonstrate a spell he thought he had perfected.

Dagon couldn't help but enjoy a brief laugh over that bit of information since he had purposely failed to advise Sebastian of the consequences of the spell he needed to cast to unite Alisande and himself. He could only imagine the look on Sebastian's face when the man learned that he was now a bona fide witch. Sydney did a.s.sure him that Sebastian intended to discuss his unexpected abilities with him when next they met, and Dagon laughed once again having expected nothing less from a man as practical and dynamic as Sebastian Wainwright.

But now with that discussion done and his request presented he found himself facing a response he had not expected, and he asked simply, "Why not?"

Sydney sounded her usual patient self. "Need you really ask? You know full well the Ancient One does not like to be disturbed. She chooses her own friends. And, my dear boy, she would never be interested in you as a mate."

"Why not?" he asked again, though he sounded more like a petulant child who was disappointed he was not getting his own way.

"Dagon, she is far more powerful than you could ever imagine. She was born with the dawn of the earth, and her wisdom is limitless. And besides, she is not looking for a mate."

"You have spoken to her?" he asked anxiously.

"All her students remain in contact with her, and we all respect her privacy."

"I do not wish to intrude on her privacy. I only ask that you mention that I would like to be introduced to her. What harm could that do? Perhaps she would find me to her liking."

"I am sure she would find you a delight to speak with," Sydney said, "but mating with is another matter. And besides she loved once and lost that love and has sworn to never love again."

"Not to sound arrogant, Sydney, but I think I could make her forget him."

Sydney retained her patience. "You know not of what you speak, Dagon, and I suggest you forget this foolish idea."

"If this was nothing but a whim I might, but I am determined to meet the Ancient One. I feel we would be well suited for each other, and once united we could create powerful and beautiful children."

"I have no doubt you would," Sydney agreed. "But I am telling you as a close friend to beware of what you ask for."

"I know exactly-"

A rapid pounding on his door interrupted Dagon. " Excuse me, Sydney." He held the phone away from his face. "I am on an international call."

Bernard's anxious voice penetrated the closed door. "There is a problem in the laundry room."

Dagon shook his head. "Can't you handle it?

"No, sir, it is imperative that you come at once," Bernard insisted to Dagon's surprise.

"Sydney," Dagon said, returning the phone to his ear.

"I heard," Sydney said with a laugh. "I will leave you to solve your dilemma, and, my dear boy, I will

give your request some further thought."

That brightened Dagon's disposition. "Thank you. I knew there was a reason why I loved you so

much."

"And I love you," she echoed, "though give my words thought."

The line went dead and Dagon felt a tingle rush over him. Sydney had a way of teaching without

instructing, and if he was wise he would pay attention, for he had the feeling that she had just given him a lesson.

He replaced the phone on the receiver and called out to Bernard, "I'll be right there."

Bernard was waiting at the top of the stairs for him, and they both hurried down the two flights to the laundry area. No words were necessary. Dagon could tell by their destination and the perturbed look on Bernard's face that the problem could be none other than Sarina.

The two men heard giggling as they turned the corner, and they both stopped dead in their tracks. The corridor was a ma.s.s of suds, and two female servants were standing on the perimeter, their hands digging into the white sudsy ma.s.s and playfully tossing thick puffs into the air.

"Return to your duties at once," Bernard ordered.

The two young woman jumped, startled by his sharp command.

The one young woman spoke for them both. "Our duties are in there." She pointed at the thick

mountain of suds that seemed to grow larger by the minute. "Ellen and I went to gather the remaining laundry and left Sarina to tend the machines." "Sarina is in there?" Dagon asked with concern. Both women nodded and kept steady eyes on him. Bernard shook his head. "Go a.s.sist Margaret in the kitchen." The two women obeyed immediately but not before casting quick admiring glances at Dagon. "Sarina is not capable of the simplest-" Dagon's curt remark stopped his complaint. "Not now." Bernard wisely offered a.s.sistance. "Perhaps I should contact a plumber."

"Yes, I suggest you do that," Dagon agreed and stepped toward the high wall of suds.

"Sir, your clothes," Bernard warned.

Dagon glanced down at his black wool trousers and his white cotton knit long-sleeve sweater that

covered a black turtleneck. He spent a goodly sum on his clothes, his appearance being important to him,

but at the moment Sarina's safety meant more. He did at first attempt to make the suds disappear with a wave of his hand, but just the opposite occurred, the sudsy mountain thickened.

Bernard shook his head and left Dagon to deal with the mess.

Dagon, though concerned for Sarina's safety, was also irritated. She was a witch with limited abilities

and limited sense. She did not seem to belong in either the world of witches or the world of mortals. And he wondered where it was she came from. Wishing to bring this dilemma to a speedy end, Dagon plunged into the wall of suds pushing the lightweight obstruction out of his path and finally reaching the door. He grabbed hold of the bra.s.s k.n.o.b, his hand slipping several times before he grasped it firmly enough to open it. Water and suds. .h.i.t him like a wave rushing to the beach, knocking him down on his backside. The water washed over him, the suds sticking here and there to his soaked clothing and his face. He sputtered and spit the suds away from his mouth and wiped angrily at his face to clear his eyes.

He stood with difficulty, slipping several times before he managed to get to his feet. And no amount of magical powers would help him. He had no choice but to deal with the situation as a mortal would and that irritated him all the more. His temper mounting, his clothes wet and uncomfortable, especially his wool trousers, he shouted for the culprit who caused this disaster.

"Sarina!"

"Help," came the squeaky and fearful reply.

He sensed her confusion and fright, and his heart tumbled in his chest. Without thought to his actions he

plunged into the suds-filled room like a warrior charging into battle.

He called out her name again to determine her whereabouts. "Sarina."

"Here. I'm here," she called back, her voice quivering and sounding as if it came from far back in the

room.

He took careful steps, the stone floor slick with water and suds. "Stay where you are. I'm coming for

you."

"I only used half a box of detergent," she said in way of an explanation.

Dagon chuckled. "Were the clothes that dirty?"

" Her gentle laugh sounded tearful and again tore at his heart. He hurried his steps, slipping several times

but managing to keep himself on his feet.

He found her braced against the back wall, her eyes wide and her slim body trembling.

He mumbled beneath his breath and reached out to wrap her in his arms.

"You're wet," she said, her arms instinctively going around his neck.

"A wave greeted me as I opened the laundry room door," he explained, his arms tightening around her waist and holding her close as if rea.s.suring her safety.

She laid her head on his shoulder. "I could not stop the machine from spewing suds or water. It seemed to possess a will of its own, and I didn't know what to do to stop its strange antics."

"Next time try pulling the plug," he suggested.

"Plug?" she asked curiously.

He shook his head. "Never mind. Let's get you out of here. You're as wet as I am and shivering."

"I am cold," she admitted and pressed herself closer against him.

His wet clothes may have chilled him, but her slim body heated him fast enough and it was best for them both if he got them out of this situation fast. He attempted to use his abilities once again, but nothing happened. All remained the same and his irritation returned.