She felt his body tense and offered a whispered apology. "I'm sorry."

He lifted her in his arms, and she looked at him with sorrowful eyes. Her hair hung in her face, her long wet lashes stuck to one another, and a white sudsy mustache tickled her upper lip. Gobs of suds clung to her cheeks and her hair, and his only thought was to kiss her. To bring his lips to her plump ones and capture them in a senseless, mind-drugging kiss that would heat her chilled skin and cause her to dampen intimately.

He silently cursed his sensuous thoughts and purposely averted his eyes from her face, though where his glance landed did not help the already tense situation. He stared at her hard nipples straining against her wet blouse.

That was it. He had to get her out of his arms, and then if he was smart he would call that stewardess and see to relieving this relenting ache. And again he silently cursed his thoughts when he recalled how well endowed the beautiful blond was and how instead of his desires being focused on her luscious full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, he could think of nothing but Sarina's small b.r.e.a.s.t.s and hard nipples that teased him from beneath her wet blouse.

"Foolish," he admonished himself and started toward the door.

His feet suddenly lost their balance on the slippery stone floor, and he slid toward the open doorway, some of the suds having dissipated, providing him with a clearer view of his destination.

Sarina yelped and buried her face against his chest.

Dagon spewed forth several spells, but none offered help. He and Sarina simply sailed through the door and landed with a solid thud on the wet floor directly outside the laundry room.

Sarina lay on top of Dagon, whose arms remained locked around her waist. Her head remained on his chest and her legs rested between his.

He took a minute to get his breath, having tried yet again a spell to help repair this mess and again nothing happened. His head and backside continued to ache from the sudden fall, and he momentarily lost his breath when he went down, the impact of Sarina's body knocking the wind out of him.

"Are you all right?" he finally asked.

"I am fine," she answered, lifting her head to look at him. "And you?"

Why did she have to feel so good there on top of him? His hands had instinctively ran up and down her sides attempting to determine any injuries until they finally came to rest on her firm backside. d.a.m.ned but if she didn't make his skin itch. His only thought was to slip his fingers beneath her skirt and roam her wet bottom.

"Are you all right, sir?"

The sir part shocked him back to reality as did the fact that he had moved his lips much too close to her face and those tempting full lips of hers. "I'm fine," he a.s.sured her, returning his hands to her waist.

Sarina moved off him to stand and found herself slipping on the wet floor. Dagon got to his feet with less difficulty and grabbed hold of her yet again.

"You're forever saving me," she said with relief and wrapped her arms around his neck once more. "I am grateful."

Those sensuous lips of hers sat much too close to his, and temptation tapped him hard on the shoulder. He in turn attempted to ignore it, a difficult feat to say the least. "Let's get you to safer ground."

He swung her up in his arms and took careful steps both in where he walked and where he looked. He kept steady eyes on his path, and with a strong sense of relief washing over him, he turned the corner and stepped on a dry floor. The feeling so overwhelmed him that he realized it was not only his sense of relief that flooded him but Sarina's as well, and the idea that he could so strongly sense her emotions disturbed him.

He should have immediately deposited her on the floor, but the urge to protect her and make certain she was all right lingered, and he carried her to the kitchen where a stunned Bernard and Margaret greeted him with wide eyes.

"Hot tea and dry clothes, please, Margaret," he said and placed a shivering Sarina on a chair near the table. He kneeled in front of her and rubbed her chilled arms. "You'll be fine."

She nodded, her lips quivering.

Margaret put the kettle on and hurried off to return shortly with a large blue terry-cloth robe. "Out of those wet clothes with you."

Dagon stood in haste and backed away from Sarina, whose wide eyes remained on him. "I am truly sorry for the mess I created."

"Do not worry, the damage is minimal," Dagon a.s.sured her and wanted once again to comfort her in his arms.

"Out with the both of you," Margaret ordered as she hurried to unb.u.t.ton the shivering woman's wet blouse.

Her helplessness stabbed at him and the urge to order Bernard and Margaret from the room and see to her care himself so overwhelmed him that he grew irritated with his irrational feelings. And yet when he watched Margaret begin to unb.u.t.ton Sarina's blouse, he grew annoyed that it was not his hands at work on her clothes.

"Bernard," he snapped and marched out of the kitchen with the startled man on his heels.

Once they reached the foyer, Bernard took over. "I will run a hot bath for you, sir, and see to taking care of those clothes, though I do not know if your wool trousers are salvageable."

Dagon nodded, his thoughts in turmoil, which seemed to be a constant since he met Sarina.

He was out of his wet clothes and into a long black silk robe only minutes after entering his bedroom. Bernard already had a hot bath running and was seeing to selecting dry garments for him. He in turn paced back and forth before the stone fireplace that Bernard had lit upon entering.

This section of the castle he had updated several times throughout the years. A smaller adjoining room had been made into a large bathroom and a dressing area with a closet that boasted ample s.p.a.ce for his generous wardrobe. His own bedroom was tastefully decorated in a style befitting a man of station and wealth. Soft blues, greens, and beiges with a touch of gold blended remarkably well as did the mixture of antique furnishings from various periods. His oversized four-poster bed was draped in pale blue damask drapes with matching bedcovering, and the numerous pillows were touched with a hint of gold. A two-step footstool helped a person of smaller height climb into the high bed, though Dagon did not require its a.s.sistance.

"Sir," Bernard said, holding out a snifter of brandy.

Dagon stopped pacing and accepted the gla.s.s without hesitation. "Tell me, did the MacDougals say who previously employed Sarina?"

Bernard thought a moment. "I don't recall."

" Written records were never kept on any witch; oral records were relied upon. A practice that was started far before Dagon was born and continued to this day. It was meant to protect their kind, and it had saved many a witch's life throughout the centuries.

"I do recall Mrs. MacDougal being adamant about her skills. When I spoke with her, she continually boasted about Sarina's exceptional skills. Of course, I took the woman at her word. I saw no reason not to. References are always exchanged truthfully, I have never known one to intentionally misfeed information. That is why I cannot understand this perplexing dilemma."

Dagon sipped at his brandy. "The one thing that disturbs me is that her wrongs cannot be made right."

"There are a few explanations," Bernard offered.

"Very few," Dagon said, sitting on the beige silkcovered bench seat at the foot of the bed. "Her power

could be so depleted that she is unable to perform the simplest of magic."

Both men shook their heads.

"She would have some power even if minute," Bernard said.

"You're right," Dagon agreed. "Unless she never possessed full power to begin with."

Bernard appeared stunned. "I cannot believe Mrs. MacDougal would intentionally lie about Sarina's

skills. We rely on the truth to protect us-"

Dagon interrupted. "Exactly what skills did she say Sarina possessed?"

Bernard gave his question thought and appeared to have a difficult time finding an answer.

Dagon proposed another question while Bernard continued to ponder the previous one. "What were

Sarina's duties at the MacDougals?"

Bernard didn't hesitate to respond, though his response died before reaching his lips, and it was with a shake of his head he answered, "I don't recall Mrs. MacDougal ever actually mentioning Sarina's duties. She continually spoke of her skills and abilities but never detailed them. She a.s.sured me repeatedly that I would find it an enlightening experience to have Sarina part of the Rasmus staff. Of that I can agree with her."

"How did you learn of Sarina?"

"She simply appeared at the front door one day asking if there were any positions open. Ironically, that morning Josephine had informed me she would be leaving to join her sister in France and that she would stay until a replacement could be found even though her contract did not require her to do so."

Dagon sipped at his brandy before asking, "And naturally she had references."

Bernard grew uneasy.

"I should amend that to one reference?"

Bernard seemed annoyed with himself. "It was my own fault, sir, I was so impressed by Mrs. MacDougal's glowing reference, I did not think to verify a previous employer. Though I do now recall the woman mentioning that all who knew Sarina were pleased with her skills."

"So she did have a previous employer?"

"I would a.s.sume so."

Dagon seemed annoyed himself. "Then why the mystery? Why didn't the woman simply provide a list of references? Why did she give you only one? It is almost as if she is hiding something, and if I didn't know any better I would say so was Mrs. MacDougal."

Bernard appeared to agree. "It does seem strange that the MacDougals left on an extended vacation only two days after Sarina arrived at Rasmus Castle."

Dagon grinned after finishing his brandy. "We have a mystery on our hands, Bernard."

Bernard caught the note of excitement in Dagon's voice and almost cringed. "Yes, sir, a mystery."

Dagon handed his empty brandy gla.s.s to the frowning man. "Cheer up, Bernard, we'll get to the bottom of this in no time. In the meantime I intend to chase this d.a.m.nable chill from my bones in a hot bath."

With that announcement Bernard took his leave, and Dagon took himself to the tub.

Steam rose from the black marble tub, and Dagon slipped with a grateful sigh into the hot water. The black-and-white colors of the room would have been stark if not for the generous amount of gold that softened, blended, and joined together the opposing hues so perfectly.

He rested his head back and allowed the heated water to warm and soothe him. He still had many questions, actually too many questions pertaining to Sarina. The one that especially tormented him was the fact that her wrongs could not be made right by another witch. Even an incompetent witch could have her spells corrected by a more skillful witch.

But was Sarina incompetent or powerless? And if that were the case, then why couldn't another witch see to righting things for her? And if she was powerless, then why?

Was she more mortal than magic?

He sighed, the answers eluding him. He enjoyed solving a good mystery, and this dilemma certainly proved mysterious, so, therefore, he should enjoy the challenge, but one thing disturbed him.

He could not explain his heightened sensitivity toward her. He was well aware and attuned to emotions. It was a skill most witches possessed to one degree or another and one that offered them protection. But his sensitivity to Sarina went beyond the ordinary. And what was even more perplexing was that her senses triggered his own.

If she felt fearful, he felt the need to protect. If she needed comforting, he felt the need to console. If she needed shielding even from her own doubts, he felt the need to offer her his strength. And he had done so without hesitation.

He had literally leaped before looking, something he had never done in his life, and the idea of doing something so out of character alarmed him.

What surprised him all the more was the intensity of his concern for Sarina. He had just met her, and yet he felt an overwhelming desire to protect her, not to mention his l.u.s.ty appet.i.te for her.

He shook his head. How long had it been since he felt such a strong urge to have a particular woman? He had never lacked for female companionship. And he had had many companions through the years, some more favorable than others. But it was a rare woman whom he l.u.s.ted after.

He frowned. "l.u.s.t?"

Did he actually l.u.s.t after Sarina?

He sighed and groaned and wished he could get the b.u.mbling witch who was driving him insane out of his thoughts.

Four.

Sarina woke from her nap still wrapped in the blue terrycloth robe Margaret had tucked her in. After having stuffed her with hot tea, scones, and homemade leek soup, which was so delicious Sarina devoured two bowls, Margaret had ordered her to take a nap, insisting that a short slumber would make her feel better.

Unfortunately, the short nap replenished her body but did little to ease her concerns. Sarina was worried and rightly so. She had been given a chance to prove her worth and had failed miserably. She had always been praised for her intellect, and yet she could not perform the simplest of laundry tasks.

What now would happen to her? And why did she forever seek Dagon's help? She could not understand this uncontrollable desire to reach out to him. Why did she feel so safe and protected in his arms? Why did she feel the need to have him hold her? Why did she ache to be close to him?

A soft knock interrupted her troubled thoughts.

"Sarina, it's Janey. I need to speak with you."

Sarina sat up in her single bed, ran her fingers through her tousled hair, and went to open the door.

"I'm sorry to bother you," the young woman said, slipping past the partially open door to enter the room.