Her willingness to share her past appeared in a generous smile, and she eagerly slipped off her boots with some help from Dagon, and casually draped her legs across his. He in turn ran a tender hand along her leg as she spoke.

"Much of my youth was spent in the forest. It was where the most knowledge could be acquired. There is where the meaning of life is most prevalent. The continuous cycle, never-ending, a constant renewal, and that is where my lessons began."

"You sound as if you enjoyed every moment."

"Enjoyed and cherished. It was an experience I will fondly remember. And when I need rea.s.suring or consoling, I return to the woods and am once again renewed by its energy."

"Who taught you?"

"My sight, my touch, my senses were my teachers and I listened. The silence taught me well."

Dagon wondered if all her time was spent alone and asked, "This was a solitary cla.s.sroom?"

Her laugh was joyous. "How could life in the woods be solitary? There is so much to see and learn and

so many friends to share it with."

He understood. "You are attuned with the animals."

She looked at him oddly. "I am aware of life."

"I guess I just learned a lesson."

"Perhaps relearned," she suggested. "Often we forget the simple knowledge and at times require a

nudge of reminding."

His stroke of her leg turned slow and lazy. "If I had a teacher like you I would have remembered my

lessons well."

"A pity," she said on a sigh. "Then you would never have required extra help."

"You think there is more you can teach me?"

"There is always more to learn."

"Show me," he challenged, his hand creeping up her thigh beneath her long sweater.

She swatted his hand away, and with a smile that promised magic she slid across his legs, coming to nest

with an intentional wiggle of her bottom in his lap. Her arms she draped casually around his neck.

His hands slipped around her waist and down over her hips to cup her backside firmly. "I'm all ready, teacher."

"That you are," she said with a slow stroke of her bottom intimately against him.

"You're playing with fire," he said on a groan.

She gave a low throaty laugh before her teeth descended with playful intent on his lower lip. "Let me

teach you more about fire." And she did, her lips in no hurry in their deliberate torment, her tongue a weapon of sensuality, and her rocking hips an instrument of erotic rhythm. His blood raced like hot lava through his veins, igniting his loins hard and fast. Now. His desire for her rang loudly in his head, and he attempted to vocalize his pa.s.sion, but only a groan escaped his lips that were busy being bruised with her own endless need for him.

Now.

He wanted her and him naked right now, this very moment and then-then she could continue to teach him about fire.

The hot urgency that raced through his blood had him grabbing her around the waist and standing with a sudden swiftness that startled her but not for long. Her own urgent need had her wrapping her legs securely around his waist.

With their blood running hot Dagon mounted the stairs quickly, and after a hurried slam of his door he proceeded to learn just how wicked fire could be.

Twenty-seven.

The week pa.s.sed in a flurry of activities. The castle blazed with decorations for the approaching holidays. Pine swags decorated with an array of pinecones and berries and dusted with gold fairy dust graced the door tops. A large wreath dressed with pinecones and bunches of red berries greeted all who arrived at the front door while smaller wreaths dressed the numerous windows. A drapery of pine sprinkled heavily with gold dust dipped along the mantels. Fat white candles wrapped with small pine wreaths graced tabletops and mantels throughout the castle, and berry wreaths hung above doorways.

A large tree trimmed with the precious gifts of Mother Earth sat in splendor in the foyer. Sarina had painstakingly strung red berries, collected empty bird nests and swigs of dried heather, and made snowflakes from tissue paper to hang on the tall tree that reached to the ceiling. The top of the tree was bare as was the old way, for on the eve of the Winter Solstice she would call on the night sky to send her a special star that would shine its brilliant light on the new dawn.

The tree in the living room was tall and plump and was adorned with stars, angels, moons, and suns; many made from cookies, others made from paper and some fashioned from pines and berries. As was the mortal way a sparkle of white lights and a string of popcorn circled the tree. The top was once again bare, for Sarina intended to request two stars to help guide their way for the new dawn, the new cycle that would greet the new day.

Dagon found her on her hands and knees tending to the fat tree in the living room. She was arranging a thatch of pine needles around its base to keep the balled roots moist and fresh. Her derrie're moved invitingly in his face as he entered the room, and he stopped to enjoy the show.

Thoughts of their joinings filled his head. They simply could not get enough of each other. They made magic often and shared magical moments at every opportunity. He never tired of kissing her, of reaching out to touch her, of stripping her bare and sharing the most intimate of unions with her. They fell asleep in each others arms and woke up wrapped in each others arms with Lady Lily usually snuggled contentedly between them.

He rescued her from tilting and swaying ladders. She baked him cookies and cakes. They laughed, they teased, they loved, and the week drew fast to an end.

More pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into place, and he began to speculate over her lack of powers, and he wondered and considered and hoped he was wrong but he had the strong sense that somehow, some way she was connected to the Ancient One.

And if his a.s.sumptions proved correct, he wondered in the end if he was powerful enough to rescue her when it mattered the most.

He pushed his concerns aside and tilted his head along with her swaying backside. She wore the lavender dress that gave her no shape or form, and he knew she rarely wore any other clothing beneath it except socks. Lord, how he loved her in socks and nothing else. And she had socks on, lavender ones that matched the dress.

d.a.m.n, but if he didn't want to find out what else lay beneath that dress.

He walked over to her.

"First I'll tend to the tree and then I'll tend to you," Sarina told him, her head remaining buried beneath the low hanging branches of the tree.

"Promise," he asked and ran a teasingly slow hand over her backside.

She shivered at his languid touch. "I'm like a child in a candy store with you. I am simply not satisfied with one taste. I constantly want more."

His exploring hand told him what he already knew, she was naked beneath. "That's because I taste so sweet."

Her laugh was brief and hardy. "Your taste is far from sweet, though it is addictive."

"Good, come out from under there and sample me."

She wiggled her way out from beneath the low hanging branches, his hand extended to help her up. She was in his arms in no time, their lips nearly touching when Sydney all but flew into the room.

" She arrives within the hour."

Sarina went rigid in his arms. He himself stiffened briefly and then he kissed her soft and tender, rea.s.suring her of his love, though they had yet to voice their feelings aloud.

"I should change," she said and slipped out of his arms to quietly leave the room.

"You look fine," Sydney told him, casting an approving glance over his dark gray attire, from trousers to sweater to sport jacket. His ensemble bore a striking resemblance to the sky outside, an ominous gray, a portent of the storm that was yet to break. His dark hair, so long and l.u.s.trous, spilled over his shoulders, and his handsome face was a mask of strength and determination. It was obvious he intended to have his way, and Sydney shivered at the possible cost.

"I will make sure that she sees reason," Dagon said and began to pace in front of the large tree that twinkled with a plethora of white lights.

"You called her here for an introduction," she reminded.

Dagon stopped pacing, his look intent and his bearing regal. "A simple introduction."

Sydney glared at him. "When one requests an introduction with the Ancient One it is with intent."

"My intention could be for anything!" he nearly shouted, his nerves dangerously close to the edge.

"Fine," Sydney acknowledged with a wave of her hand. "But I warn you, make certain your intentions are clear from the start." Dagon turned silent with Bernard's entrance. "Excuse me, sir, I heard the news and wondered if you had any specific instructions."

Dagon looked to Sydney. "Does she have any preferences?"

"A good wine and a light fare would be appropriate."

A sudden gust of window and torrential rain pounded the windows, startling the three.

Bernard shook his head before regaining his composure and quickly excused himself.

"She arrives on the wind of a storm," Sydney informed him with a shiver and then rushed to Dagon's side, taking his hand in hers. "Your powers will do you little good. Your strongest weapon is your heart."

Dagon had no chance to respond. The room suddenly filled with a gust of wind, though nothing in the room was disturbed, a swirl of blinding light followed, and then in a flash it disappeared, and there before him stood the most stunningly beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Her long blond hair fell to her waist in reckless waves and was streaked with a red so bright that the startling combination gave the silky strands the appearance of raging flames. And her features were so outstanding that not even an accomplished artist could capture her true beauty. Her skin was a peachy cream color, smooth and, he suspected, silky soft. Her pale green eyes remained steady on him, and he was mesmerized by the depth of aged wisdom they possessed.

Her dress was a unique creation. It was as white as newly fallen snow and looked to be of the softest wool and it draped, wrapped, and hugged every curve and mound of her luscious body. She wore white slippers, really just the barest of covering and her feet were rather small for her height, which he thought to be at least six to seven inches over five feet.

Not even the hint of a smile pa.s.sed across her full, plump lips the color of ripe apricots and she held her head at a high enough angle to announce to all that she was waiting and not patiently.

Sydney stepped forward and with a respectful bow of her head made the introduction. "Tempest, may I introduce Dagon Rasmus."

Dagon stepped forward. He was secure in his ability to charm witch or woman, and while this witch definitely robbed a man of sense and reason, he worried not, his heart would always belong to Sarina.

He gave a brief, old-fashioned bow from the waist down before reaching out to take her hand.

She shocked him and, he hated to admit it, insulted him by intentionally stepping away out of his reach. Her tone was curt and impatient. "Why did you request an introduction?"

He watched her float a few inches above the floor toward the large tree and noticed that her slippers were not soiled. Did she never walk?

Her wide eyes warned, her stern voice cautioned. "It is not for you to question where my feet touch."

Granted she deserved respect for age alone, but rudeness in his own home he would not tolerate. "My thoughts are private."

"Not when they concern me."

Sydney moved forward to interfere, but Dagon prevented her intervention with an outstretched hand. "I repeat, my thoughts are private, and I will not have them invaded. You are aware of our rules, and I ask that you respect them in my home."

He thought he caught a glimpse of admiration in her glowing eyes, though he couldn't be certain, it was so brief, but regardless he intended to stand his ground with this witch who was aptly named.

She did not acknowledge his request, but then again she did not mention his thought of her name suiting her, so he a.s.sumed she would oblige him.

She drifted around the tree, her touch delicate as she examined the decorations and skimmed fingertips over the pine branches. Her fingers were long and graceful in their tender movements, and he could have sworn the tree responded to her every stroke, the branches seeming to stretch out so that the pine needles could whisper gently across her skin.

"A beautifully prepared tree for the Winter Solstice," she commented, taking a bird nest off a branch to rest in the palm of her hand. "You have been generous with your gifts to her and she is pleased." She carefully replaced the nest and ran a light touch over a bunch of berries. "I see you wait to call down a star for the top of the tree." She turned and sent him a direct look. "Is this why you called me here to top your tree for the Winter Solstice?"

She certainly had a sharp tongue, but he had sharp wit. "While I would be honored for you to perform this special feat, I would not dare trouble you to do so."

Bernard quietly entered the room and stood with a silver serving tray in hand waiting for further instructions. A brief nod from Dagon informed him to proceed. He did so with direct and firm strides toward Tempest, honoring her by offering her the first gla.s.s of wine from the tray.

After she accepted a gla.s.s, he bowed his head and said, "It is an honor."

Remarkably, her reply was pleasant. "As is your gracious hospitality."

He then served Sydney and Dagon, placing the tray with its lone gla.s.s of wine on the gla.s.s-top coffee table.

"Someone is joining us?" Tempest asked, her eyes on the single gla.s.s.

"Someone I wish you to meet," Dagon said, determined to keep the conversation flowing until Sarina made her appearance. What he had to say concerned her, and it was she who he wanted most to hear what he had to say.

Astute to his energy Tempest redirected the chatter to Sydney. "How have you been, dear friend?"

Dagon examined her more closely. Where had that soft melodious voice come from? Gone was her curt, sharp tone and demanding manner. It was almost as if she were two people in one. And there was something familiar about her eyes, but he couldn't quite recall what it was.