than he and he'll have his hands full."

"Will he, Dagon?" Sebastian asked. "She keeps telling me I have time."

Dagon was honest. "You have a couple of years before the baby demonstrates his abilities, and by then

you should be possessed of enough power to counter any unfortunate mishaps."

"What do you mean?" Sebastian asked anxiously.

"He doesn't mean anything," Ali said.

"Oh, yes, I do," Dagon disagreed. "Be prepared, Sebastian, if you have a little girl and she takes after

her mother. Ali was forever casting spells and creating complete havoc when she was little."

"Sarina, are we having a girl?" Sebastian asked.

"Don't answer him," Ali said. "I want him to be surprised."

"I have had more than my share of surprises this past year! Now I want some cold hard facts,"

Sebastian insisted firmly.

"Give the poor guy a break, Ali," Dagon said in defense of his friend.

Sarina remained silent, aware that she could supply no information about a person without their

permission, but feeling upset for Sebastian. He was a good friend to her, and she wished she could ease

his worries. Though she could do that. "You will make an excellent daddy," Sarina said with a quiet softness to her voice that caught everyone's attention. "Your child will be very close with you, the child and you will share many similar interests and"-she paused and chuckled softly before continuing-"you will be grateful that the child inherited some of your sensibility."

"It's a girl! I knew it!" Sebastian shouted.

"Sarina said nothing about the child's gender," Ali argued.

"She didn't have to. It's a girl, I know it, I know it and you're not telling me any differently," Sebastian

insisted adamantly.

Sarina laughed and Dagon joined her.

"Watch that finger, witch," they heard Sebastian say. "I've got one of my own that's proving mighty

powerful." Sarina could only imagine the scene so many miles across the ocean. Two witches facing off with pointed fingers.

"I've created a monster," Ali said on a giggle.

They heard kissing and laughter, and then Sebastian and Ali chimed together, "Happy holidays, talk with you soon, and our love and prayers are with you."

Sarina returned the phone to the hook and looked up at Dagon with teary eyes. "They are so much in love and so very happy."

"Then it is only natural that a child should follow, completing the cycle of life," he said, his finger reaching out to wipe a trail of tears from her cheek. A gentle smile spread across Sarina's face, and though her eyes glistened with tears, they also sparkled with delight as if she was seeing something no one else did. "A little girl."

Dagon caught her up in a hug and laughed. "Poor Sebastian, how I envy him."

They stared at each other, silence surrounding them, and their thoughts colliding.

"Make magic with me?" Sarina asked softly.

"Funny, I was about to ask the same of you."

They smiled, kissed, and descended to the carpet to make magic in front of the large tree aglow with white lights and gold fairy dust.

Thirty-one.

"Four days," Dagon said to Sarina as they strolled the castle grounds hand in hand.

The holidays had past, the staff had returned, and so would Tempest. Sarina knew all this, accepted it, and would deal with it, but Dagon was counting the days now, and she could see the worry on his handsome face.

She voiced her sudden thought with a smile. "When we have a son, I hope he looks like you."

Dagon stopped and cast her a reproachful glance. "You're attempting to change the subject."

With a tinkle of laughter she shook her head. "Not really, though I wouldn't mind if we did, and I really, really wouldn't mind having a son that looked like you."

Her smile was much too contagious, and he found his own mouth turning to a generous grin. "And what if I give you three, four, maybe five sons that look like me?"

She bubbled with laughter. "We certainly would have our hands full with the women who chased after them."

"Then I will teach them about b.u.mbling witches and the power of rare love."

She kissed him soft and long and released his mouth on a sigh. "I don't wish to think of my sister's return today. It is much too beautiful a day to waste, the sun is bright, the air is chilled, and I wish to spend a magical, memorable day with you."

"Then let's spend the day in Edinburgh."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"We can be there in an hour, walk around the old town, browse the shops, and have supper out before we return."

"It has been some time since I have been there," she said.

"Some time?"

"A hundred years," she admitted with reluctance.

"It's changed." And with a shake of his head added, "Your sister was right, you didn't get out much. But that's about to change."

He took her hand and tugged her along behind him since she found it hard to keep up with his purposeful strides. Orders were issued to her along with the staff. She was to get dressed, comfortable shoes he insisted she wear, and he shouted for Alastair to ready the Rolls.

They were in the car within the hour, he dressed in black with the exception of the white silk scarf that was draped around his neck and tucked in his black overcoat. It highlighted his good looks and would no doubt draw women's eyes to him.

She had chosen a long gray wool skirt and sweater that draped and curved along with her body lines. Comfortable ankle boots and a matching wool gray swing coat finished her ensemble, and it was with much excitement that she accepted a gla.s.s of champagne from him as they headed toward Edinburgh.

Their talk was conversational, as if they were on a date, and she realized that this actually was their first date, and the thought thrilled her.

They talked, they laughed, and her eyes turned wide when she caught sight of Edinburgh Castle high on the hill. The hill was ravaged by time, but the castle itself sat with bold pride looking down upon the town. It stunned her as did the city itself, so vastly different from when she had last seen it.

The gray, almost black buildings were in the process of being cleaned of the soot that had penetrated the stone from years of mining. It was as if a bleakness were being washed away slowly but surely and the hardiness of its people was once again shining through.

Alastair dropped them off in the old town, where history thrived and where she had once walked its cobblestone streets. They climbed the steep road hand in hand, her eyes darting to the many tourist shops and quaint restaurants.

"It's called the Royal Mile," Dagon explained. "From the castle down to the bottom here at Holyrood, it actually links four streets."

"Castlehill, Lawnmarket, High Street, and Canongate, the heart of the ancient city," Sarina said without thinking.

He grew concerned over her frown. "Do the memories upset you?"

"Some do," she said and forced a smile. "But all this chaotic splendor excites as well. I always loved the narrow lanes that ran between the tall buildings and that Robert Louis Stevenson explained so vividly in his book The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde . He captured the essence of that time period perfectly."

"One of my favorite reads," Dagon agreed, and they walked, stopping every now and then for Sarina to peek down the narrow lanes with wide eyes.

"The smells are more delicious than when I was here last."

"Yes, a great improvement. I know a perfect place to eat later, but if you would like we could stop now for tea and something light."

She shook her head vigorously. "No, I'm not hungry yet, though I imagine these t.i.tillating smells will eventually do me in. Right now I'd like to see everything."

"We could start up at the castle and work our way down."

Her smile was impish. "Could we stop in some of the shops along the way?"

His delight in reintroducing her to the city shined as brightly in his eyes as did the excitement in hers. " Whatever you want, dear heart."

He was toting a small shopping bag by the time they entered Edinburgh Castle. He had indulged her every whim, buying her sliver and onyx earrings in an antique shop, a stuffed bear dressed in a fashionable kilt, a book on Scottish landscapes, and a video of Braveheart after having listened to her explain that Mel Gibson looked nothing like William Wallace. He could only imagine how she would critique the popular movie.

They both opted not to use the guided tours or the headphone tours. They knew the history well, probably better than the written history itself. They walked in quiet reverence, Sarina placing her hand on the gray stones and wiping a tear or two away as memories a.s.saulted her.

"You know most of the kings and queens were advised by witches," she said as they neared the end of their tour. "Many sought my sister's favor."

He had not thought she would mention her sister today, but then perhaps memories had a way of stirring things. "And did she give it?"

"She chose wisely as to who she would advise. She trusted few and those she kept at arm's length. She complained that in their ignorance and greed they failed to learn the truth and in so doing chose their own demise."

"I can only imagine what Tempest must have experienced in her long life."

"She has watched, helped, and prayed for the growth of humanity, and never has she faltered in her hope and love for mankind."

Dagon was beginning to gain a new respect for Tempest. He only hoped she would prove true to her character. He felt Sarina's distress and sought to change it. "Hungry?"

"I thought you would never ask," she said, hooking her arm in his. "I'm starving."

"Good, I know a perfect restaurant, with the perfect atmosphere, and the most delicious menu."

He hurried her along, their laughter ringing in the chilled air, his arm tucked snugly around her until they came to a narrow lane between two tall buildings with a sign that read THE WITCHERY.

She smiled with delight. "How perfect."

Hanging plants and potted plants greeted their entrance as did a slim woman with a pleasant smile. They were led down steps to a table tucked in a corner with plants whose vines grew up the walls. Chamber music played its somber and repet.i.tive melody, and tapestries depicting historical events graced the wall. The atmosphere was wonderful, the waitress cheerful and helpful with selections, and Sarina relaxed with a gla.s.s of chilled chardonnay in hand.

"They chose a good name for this place."

He was about to tell her the reason for the name when he thought better of it and remained silent.

They were much too attuned for her not to sense his silence was on purpose. "The name has significance?"

Dagon was reluctant to repeat the tale, realizing it would probably upset her.

She reached out her hand to cover his. "They named it after the supposed witches that were burned nearby here."

"Many think it a mere tale."

She shook her head sadly. "It was no tale and not what most thought."

"We don't need to speak about it; I don't wish to upset you."

She cast bright eyes around the lovely dining room. "At least this delightful place stands in remembrance of those who were so wrongly accused. At least they will never be forgotten."