Sydney gave his hand a comforting pat. "What does your heart tell you, dear boy?"

"I'm not sure."

Sydney spoke softly. "Then you aren't listening."

Dagon grew annoyed and slipped his hand from Sydney to once again rub at his neck.

"Your mind and heart war," she said soothingly.

"Constantly," he confirmed in a heavy sigh. "One minute I convince myself that I am doing the right thing, making the right decision, and then the next moment I'm confused and concerned that my decision is wrong. I have never been this indecisive in my entire life. I always knew what I wanted and went after it. I never questioned myself, my actions, my decisions. I was always firm in my beliefs and abilities, and now . . ." His words drifted off with a shake of his head.

"Now suddenly you are mindless," Sydney said, and Dagon's shaking head turned to a nod. "Then what you are telling me is that you simply cannot listen."

"That's it," Dagon said in relief. "I can't listen, I can't hear, and I feel as if I am blind to the obvious. Presently everything fails me."

"The heart and soul never fail us," Sydney advised. "And it is at those times when we feel the most vulnerable, alone, or lost that they work their magic, but only if we believe."

"So what you're saying is that the answers are there."

"Waiting for you to discover," she said with a smile.

"And drive me crazy."

Sydney's smile remained, as did her patience. " Discovering is half the fun."

"It's frustrating."

"It's fascinating."

"It's senseless," he insisted "It's significant," she a.s.sured.

He smiled this time. "It's laughable."

Sydney's steady smile widened. "It's love."

Dagon stood abruptly. "I know where Sarina is."

"Then go, dear boy."

He did, but not before apologizing for his hasty departure and giving her a grateful kiss on the cheek.

Dagon watched Sarina chase the little ball of fur around the mermaid pond. They romped and played like two children. She wore the brick-red knit jumper she had on the other day in the laundry room, only this time she wore a tan turtleneck beneath it and a heavy tan wool sweater over it. And though the day was chilled by a touch of winter wind, she was barefoot.

His eyes caught on the gentle curve of her slender ankles, and he got the sudden urge to kiss her right there on that curve, to rest his eager lips against her pale skin, to stroke the curve with his tongue, and to slowly work his way up her leg until he could finally taste all of her.

He sensed that she saw him, that her movement had stilled, and that she watched him with the same sensual intensity that he watched her. His glance drifted slowly up her body, and he walked toward her with an arrogant gait that all but announced that he wanted her.

The wind swept at his black overcoat, fanning it out; it wiped through his hair, sweeping several silky strands across his cheek; and it whooshed against the dark gray sweater he wore, flattening it against his hard midsection.

He was a sight to behold, and Sarina's heart skipped several beats, her breath threatened to lock in her throat, and her hormones decided to surge and soar completely out of control. Her only choice of defense against herself was firm action, so she scooped up a startled and protesting Lady Lily and walked directly toward him.

"You wanted me," she said almost breathless. Want could not near describe his desire for her, and he wasn't even certain if desire was an accurate word. He couldn't quite explain his emotions to himself. They raged, roared, and reared near out of control every time he was in close proximity to her. And close proximity was where he wanted her. He worried about her, grew anxious when he could not locate her, and then grew mindless when he did.

And the more he pondered his dilemma, the more he wondered if love had anything to do with his insanity.

"I was looking for you," he finally answered, stopping only a few feet from her.

"You needed something?"

Why did her simple questions sound sensual? He ignored his need and answered her. "I wish to invite you to the dinner party this evening. You were more than helpful to Alisande the other day, and I think it would be only fitting that you join us for the evening festivities."

Sarina began walking toward the castle, Lady Lily quiet in her arms. If he had invited her, simply invited her, because he wished her to be there with him, she would have accepted his invitation immediately. However, his invitation sounded like a gesture of appreciation for a job well done, and she had helped Ali out of basic kindness and because she liked her. It had turned into an enjoyable afternoon, not to mention a memorable one, and she wanted to remember it as such.

"I don't think it would be proper," she said as she continued to walk.

He easily matched her hurried strides. "Why not?"

"I am a servant here at Rasmus Castle, and a servant does not attend an employer's dinner party."

Dagon could not believe that she refused his invitation, and his voice turned firm. "If I wish one of my servants to attend a function in the castle, that is my decision."

"It is unseemingly," Sarina persisted.

"Regardless, you'll come anyway," he ordered.

"I don't think so."

Her refusal stopped him dead in his tracks.

She kept walking.

His groan was one of agitation as he hurried to catch up with her. "I know so. Be in the large parlor by eight this evening dressed and ready for the dinner party."

This time she stopped walking, and he halted right alongside her. "And if I refuse?"

"You do not have the option," he informed her bluntly. "And I will not hear another word on the matter." She stamped her foot like an irate child and immediately regretted her rash actions. She winced, cried out, and stumbled, and he instantly reached out to grab her arm.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, his arm going around her waist to support her tilting body.

"My foot," she said, and before she could explain further, she was swiftly scooped up into his arms.

Bernard shook his head when they entered the kitchen. Margaret smiled with a nod and continued her baking, and two servant girls giggled near the sink where they prepared the fresh vegetables.

"A footbath, antiseptic, and bandages, Bernard," Dagon ordered and proceeded straight through the kitchen without another word.

He took her to his study. She loved it there, the musty smell of the old books, the antiques so familiar to her, his scent so rich and potent in every corner, in every piece of furniture, in every part of the room. His essence resided here, and it was warm, welcoming, and loving.

He placed her on the chair nearest the fire that had dwindled to mere embers. He took a sleeping Lady Lily from her arms and placed her on the soft cushioned stool directly next to the hearth. She meowed once at him and promptly settled back to sleep. He then added a large log to the hearth, and the dying embers quickly caught hold of the dried wood and burst into a bright blazing flame that reached out to heat the drafty room to a toasty warmth.

He removed his overcoat, flinging it across a chair, and relieved her of her bulky wool sweater. He then balanced himself on bended knees to examine her foot.

With a tender touch and a close eye he surveyed the sole of her foot, brushing away debris that had lodged itself to her skin. Her sole was remarkably soft for a woman who did not care for footwear, and her toes were long and slender like her ankle. She actually had beautiful feet.

His eyes spied the culprit, and he wiped the area around the tender spot, announcing, "Splinter."

He placed her foot on the floor, retrieved the wide mahogany leather ottoman that matched the high-back chair near the window, setting it in front of her and lifting both legs to rest upon it. He then went to the desk, browsed through a couple of drawers, and returned with tweezers in hand.

He sat on the wide ottoman and rested her foot in his lap. "I'll try not to hurt you."

"I trust you," she said and she did explicitly. He would never intentionally inflict pain on her or cause her to suffer in any way, of that she was certain.

He probed the inflicted area with the greatest of care, and she felt only the slightest of pressure and a few brief pinpoints of pain, but nothing that was not bearable. And besides, his hand wrapped securely around her ankle got more of her attention than the splinter removal.

His hand was firm, his intentions clear, he would not let her go. He grasped her ankle as if she belonged to him, and no amount of debating, arguing, or discussion would change his intentions. She sighed with the pleasure of his stubbornness.

"I hurt you?" he asked, concerned.

"No," she said, "your touch is tender and painless."

He unconsciously stroked the curve of her ankle. "Relax, I'll have the stubborn sliver out in no time."

She rested her head back and kept a steady eye on him. She recalled the many times she thought of a lifemate, recording list after extensive list of qualities she desired in such a man. Features were not at the top of her list. Handsome was not a quality she searched for in a mate. Trust was important. She wanted to be able to trust her mate with her deepest darkest thoughts. She wanted to share her dreams and nightmares with him, and she wanted the same from him.

Wisdom was another important quality. Life wisdom. She had hoped he would have gained knowledge throughout his many years, enhancing his heritage and powers. And she hoped, prayed, her mate would want many children. She loved children and wanted a castle full.

Bernard entered the study after a brief knock and just as Dagon yanked the sliver of wood from the sole of her foot. She bit on her lower lip to prevent herself from crying out, the wood having been embedded more deeply than she had thought and the extraction a bit more painful than she expected.

He gently stroked the top of her foot. "Are you all right?"

She nodded and attempted a smile.

"Liar," he accused softly.

Bernard placed the requested items beside Dagon on the floor. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

"No, Bernard, thank you," he answered, and with a stiff posture Bernard left the room.

"Why do you go barefoot or shoeless so often?" Dagon asked, moving the ottoman and arranging the

footbath so that Sarina could soak her injured foot.

"I like the feel of Mother Earth; her energy refreshes and revives."

He placed her foot in the square plastic tub, holding firmly to her ankle. "You must have played often in

the woods when you were young."

"I still do," she said with pride.

"You are young, the young favor the woods," he said and reluctantly released her ankle and retrieved

the other items off the floor.

"The woods know no age difference."

"You're right," he agreed, "but the young love to romp and play in the woods. They are forever

entertaining the fairies with their antics. The wiser witches seek solace in the woods. It is there in the silence that they learn and further develop the craft."

She sounded disappointed. "You don't play in the woods anymore?"

"I seek the woods when necessary for growth and direction, for casting particular spells, for ceremonies-"

She interrupted him, "But not to play?"

"I'm all grown up, if you haven't noticed," he teased.

She leaned forward in her seat. "You are never too grown up to play in the woods."

He grinned and brushed his lips over hers. "You're right, and I know a delightful game we could play in the woods."

To his surprise she returned his teasing. "Will you teach me?"

"Any time," he offered and reached down to remove her foot from the tub, returning it to his lap, which was now covered with a thick terry towel. "When I'm finished here with you, you are to go directly to your room and get ready for this evening."

She was about to protest when he raised a hand. "Don't bother, you're attending the dinner party, and that is my final word on the matter."

She attempted to argue. "I still think it would be best if-"

"-you obeyed me in this matter," he finished and placed a bandage across the sole of her foot.

She again attempted to protest. "The other servants-"

"-obey me as they should and as will you." He stood and extended his hand out to her. She took it cautiously. "I appreciate what you did for Ali, and I wish to thank you." He paused and grinned. "Besides, it is safer to have you eating at the table than serving at it."