His first thought was to direct his finger to the slipping dish, then realizing his magic powers would not work, he hurried over to her side and caught the dish before it hit the carpet.

He placed it on the sofa table.

"I'm sorry," she said, upset that those words were so constant and necessary to her vocabulary.

"Nonsense, my unexpected appearance startled you and caused the dish to slip from your grasp. You have done well here." Sarina gave the room a quick glance and realized that she had done well. Not a speck of dust touched the many pieces she first had been afraid to touch. The room actually sparkled and she smiled. "You are comfortable with this ch.o.r.e?" "Yes," she answered eagerly. "The room welcomes and the pieces are so beautiful. You collected them through the years?" "Some were gifts, others I purchased myself in remembrance of special moments. I placed them in this particular room for, like you, I feel it welcomes." Her eyes had traveled over him with interest as he spoke. He looked quite splendid in dark gray trousers and a light gray sweater. His long hair was pulled back, accenting his gorgeous blue eyes and handsome features, and Sarina couldn't help but admire his fit form and good looks. "Yes, I welcome you," she said without thinking and quickly amended her slip. "It welcomes you. The room welcomes you." He smiled. "I have disturbed you enough. I will leave you to finish your duties." "Yes, yes, I have much to do," she agreed, knowing her thoughts would never settle nor would her nerves if he remained close by.

He was about to walk out the door when he turned. His smile teased. "Do you intend to walk in the gardens tonight?" Was he daring her to? She had no intentions of finding out and creating a worse situation than she was already in. "No, I intend to spend the evening reading in my room." "The gardens no longer hold an interest to you?" His probing held a hint of enticement she found hard to ignore. "The gardens proved very interesting." "I thought so myself," he said and with an intentional sweep of his sensual blue eyes over her body his smile broadened. "Although a feather duster could prove even more interesting." His soft laughter trailed him out of the room. His suggestive words froze Sarina in place, her eyes closing as a shudder racked her body. He certainly could work magic with those t.i.tillating eyes. She could only imagine what he could do with a feather duster.

"Margaret requires help in the kitchen." Bernard's command startled her and the feather duster went flying up in the air. Bernard didn't stay around to see where it landed, he simply shook his head in disgust and walked away. * * * Dagon relaxed in his bed that evening, a book in hand and a gla.s.s of red wine on his nightstand. His mind could not focus on the words he had been attempting to read for the last fifteen minutes, and he closed the book finally giving up.

He had been busy all day with international business calls and working on his computer. He had several deals pending that needed his constant attention, and he saw that his mind remained cleared to handle them. But come suppertime, a rather late one since his business took him past his usual supper hour of eight, his thoughts began to drift toward Sarina. And there his thoughts had remained for the rest of the evening.

He had purposely sought her out during late morning, convincing himself he wanted to make certain she was doing well at her newly a.s.signed ch.o.r.e. It was a poor excuse and he knew it. Bernard always saw to the staff and he had preferred it that way, and while he was familiar with his staff members he rarely, actually he never directly dealt with them. Bernard had all the power where that was concerned, that was, until now and Sarina.

Dagon reached for his winegla.s.s and sipped more than a mouthful. Ever since their kiss in the garden he couldn't get Sarina off his mind. No matter how much he chased her from his thoughts, she would hurry back and torment him.

He recalled in vivid detail how she tasted, a sweetly tart raisin-and-rum mixture, a perfect flavor that had him wanting a second helping. And feel-lord, but her body felt good pressed flat against his. Soft curves, gentle angles, and smooth roundness just aching to be stroked.

He downed another generous swallow of wine before returning the near empty gla.s.s to the nightstand. All those vivid details had come rushing back to haunt him as soon as he laid eyes on Sarina in the small parlor.

The standard black skirt and white blouse for female staff members never caught his eye before, or perhaps it was that the plain garments fit Sarina so well. And her shiny brown hair looked as if it was forever falling from the pins that attempted to keep it in place. Even the low-heeled black pumps she wore on her feet, while plain and nondescript, did wonders for her slender legs.

"d.a.m.n," he mumbled. He tried to convince himself it was that he was simply in need of a woman. He needed to vent his energy, and yet when he thought of several women he could call that would eagerly oblige him, he found himself uninterested, his thoughts returning to the b.u.mbling witch on his staff.

He punched his pillow several times, turned it over, then over again, and plopped his head down on it while slipping his naked body farther under the soft cotton comforter. He would rise early and take himself off to Edinburgh for the day. There was some banking business he needed to attend to and a friend or two he could call on, and a day away from Sarina would do him good. His absence from the castle and her presence would give him a better perspective on the situation.

And who knew, he just might decide to stay overnight if a generous and interesting invitation presented itself.

Sarina stood at the parlor window and watched Alastair close the door of the Rolls-Royce right after Dagon had entered it. Dagon had looked exceptional in a black wool suit, a white-and-black finely striped shirt, and a red tie with the finest of black lines running through the silk material. His black cashmere overcoat served to keep him warm on a cold autumn morning and added to his tasteful attire. His long hair had been pulled back in a pewter clasp that looked to have been an antique, and she wondered over its origin.

She didn't think there was ever a time Dagon did not look good, and she laughed recalling the day gobs of suds covered him from head to toe.

"You have duties to attend to," Bernard said from the doorway. "There's no time to dally when you take longer than most to finish your ch.o.r.es."

Sarina smiled, pleased with the initiative she had taken. She had set her alarm clock for five-thirty and had started her ch.o.r.es at six hoping to be done with her ch.o.r.es at a more reasonable time. That was why she was so pleased to announce, "I'm all finished."

Bernard looked doubtful and made his way around the room, running his hand over every piece of furniture and every item from the lamps to the paperweights. "So you are, and a fine job you did."

Her smile widened. Bernard might be staunch in his demeanor, but he was fair. If a job was well done, he saw that compliments were given, and if one excelled in her duties, rewards were generous.

He came to stand in front of her. "Since you did so well and have free time, there is a ch.o.r.e that requires attention, though I must warn you it is not a pleasant one."

She knew he was testing her-she could read it in the rigid expression on his face-and she had no intentions of failing this one, but first she wisely inquired about the ch.o.r.e.

He explained. "The hearth needs sweeping out. The old ashes must be shoveled and removed to the bin outside and new logs stacked for a fire. Do you think you are capable and willing to do this?"

Sarina did not mind dirt. She had played often in the woods as a child, and she still loved digging her hands in the earth and feeling her energy. A little soot would do her no harm. "I think I can do it."

"Fine," Bernard said, "but if any problems arise, I want to be notified immediately."

"I won't hesitate, sir."

He nodded, pleased with her minor progress, though certain of no miracle.

Sarina didn't waste a minute. She went straight to work. She spent extra time in preparation, spreading canvas cloths around the surrounding area and moving any furniture or items that could be damaged by any accidental spillage of ashes. She obtained several old sheets from Margaret to spread over the chairs and furniture closest to the hearth. She was taking every precaution to a.s.sure the room suffered no damage in case of a mishap.

A tin bucket sat on the canvas cloth and a long handled brush and shovel lay against the stone fireplace. A shorterhandled brush and dustpan waited near the bucket, and she had changed her white blouse to an old gray flannel one. All set to work she reached for the long-handed brush and shovel.

Dagon loved Edinburgh, especially the old town where cobblestones still paved the streets and the slim alleys between buildings gave way to small restaurants with exceptional menus and a variety of shops that attracted tourists. He often toured Edinburgh Castle knowing more about the huge stone edifice than any tour guide or recorded tour ca.s.sette could furnish.

It was the memories that drew him there and to various places throughout Scotland, never failing to strongly touch his emotions. But today he had no time for the castle. He had a meeting at the Bank of Scotland and then lunch with a business a.s.sociate. And if there was time he hoped to get to the National Galleries of Scotland.

He was well acquainted with an a.s.sistant curator there, and he thought he would stop by and pay her a visit, perhaps even see if she was free for supper this evening. There was no rush to return home, and he intended to enjoy himself.

Sarina wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand, not realizing she left a trail of soot on her forehead. But then the streak went well with the soot that dabbed her cheeks and settled in the corner of her mouth. Her appearance did not concern her, her ch.o.r.e did, and a fine job she was doing.

The hearth area was swept clean, the andirons wiped off, and all looked ready for the new stack of wood. At least she thought it was when a small spat of soot fell from within the chimney to dirty one andiron.

She frowned and bent her head slightly as she entered the mouth of the large stone hearth. She then could stand straight and cast a curious eye up the dark chimney. Her hand touched the sides, though it was too dark to see anything, and when she removed her hand she shook her hand. Her palm was completely black.

She stepped out of the hearth and grabbed the longhandled brush. She was determined to do a good job and make certain this hearth was clean. She returned to her position inside the fireplace and began to carefully brush at the soot-covered walls of the chimney. She reached higher and higher as the soot began to fall away, and when she could reach no further, she retrieved an old step stool and continued.

How she managed to work her way up the chimney walls she didn't recall; perhaps it was her determination or her lack of sense, but by the time she realized how far up she had climbed, she was wedged good and tight in the chimney.

Every attempt she made to free herself only managed to wedge her in tighter, and soon her shoulders and arms began to ache from the constriction of the harsh stone walls. All her wiggling and tugging did nothing to help, it only hindered her predicament.

She thought to call out for help and stopped. She felt like a fool. A complete and utter idiot who could do nothing right. How many servants got themselves stuck in the chimney? What was she to do?

A sigh only managed to make her cough from the soot that spilled into her mouth. She could wait and see if anyone came to check on her, or she could swallow her pride and call out for help. The thought of Bernard hearing her pitiful pleas kept her silent, and she prayed fervently for a miracle.

Dagon waited for Linda to finish for the day. All had worked out so perfectly for him that he wore a generous smile of antic.i.p.ation. His business meeting went better than he had expected, lunch proved even more fruitful, and when he entered the National Galleries, Linda-a blond and beautiful mortal-stood right inside the doorway.

Her pleasure at seeing him and his invitation to take her to supper brought him a soft peck on the cheek and whispers of how much she missed his occasional visits. All leading him to believe he just might receive an invitation to spend the night.

To continue to keep his mind as busy as it had been all day and off the witch who persisted in haunting him, he browsed the galleries, enjoying the distinguished works of art. He lingered over the French neocla.s.sical landscape paintings of Francois-Xavier Fabre and then moved on, wanting to view J.M.W. Turner 's work.

Dagon walked into the next viewing room, and Linda approached from the opposite entrance, coat in hand and a wide s.e.xy smile on her pretty face.

It was then his cell phone rang.

Six.

Dagon materialized in the castle foyer and tossed his overcoat to a waiting servant. When first informed of the disastrous situation at the castle, he grew angry. But by the time he made a hasty apology to a petulant Linda and instructed Alastair to drive home alone, Sarina's predicament had settled in his thoughts and his anger had turned to concern and then worry. What if she was hurt? And surely she was frightened being stuck in the tight, dark chimney.

He entered the receiving parlor and stood staring at the chaotic scene. He had hoped that by the time he reached the castle, Bernard would have found a way to extricate Sarina, but that was not the case. Bernard stood instructing two male servants whose only visible parts of their bodies were from their waists down. They stood on small ladders apparently attempting to free Sarina.

Several female servants hovered in front of the hearth, and Margaret calmly stood to the side, but all eyes were steadfast on the fireplace.

"Bernard."

His deep, direct voice had all heads turning.

"I see you have not been successful in freeing her," Dagon said and joined everyone in front of the hearth.

Bernard wiped his perspiring brow with his white handkerchief. This alarmed Dagon, for he never saw the man perspire.

"I have tried everything from spells to potions to simple mortal means, and we cannot dislodge her."

The male servants, hearing Dagon's voice, removed themselves from the ladders and stood to the side along with the other servants presently waiting further instructions.

"Is she all right?" Dagon asked Bernard.

He lowered his voice to answer. "I think she grows tired and she suffers more discomfort than she will admit. She was not found until late afternoon and has been stuck there since early morning. She most certainly must be feeling the effects of her confinement."

Dagon swore silently as he entered the large hearth, bending his head until he could stand straight and lift his head to look up. This time his silent curses became mumbles as a lone lantern cast a harsh glow up the chimney. He had a full view of her slim body wedged a good distance up along the bricks that narrowed with the climb. Her stockings were torn, her legs sc.r.a.ped, and her shoulders and arms were wedged tightly. Angling his head in an odd position, he could see that a good amount of soot covered her face not allowing him to determine any further damage. She looked to be asleep. Her head rested back and her eyes were closed.

Sarina," he said softly and she glanced down as best she could, opening wide eyes to him. The white pupils looked enlarged against her sooty face and made her appear terrified, startling his own emotions all the more.

"Dagon," she said as though relieved by his presence. "I'm so glad you're here."

Her relief washed over him along with her weariness. She was completely exhausted, and he realized he had to free her as fast as possible.

"I'm afraid I became too overzealous in my attempt to complete my ch.o.r.e," she said in way of explaining her strange predicament.

"We can discuss that another time. What is important is that we get you out of here."

She sighed. "That would be nice. I am growing tired."

"Hold on tight, I'll be right back." Dagon reluctantly left her side and joined Bernard, who spoke quietly with Margaret.

"No spells or magic works?" he asked the couple.

"None," Bernard answered. "And I am worried. Without our powers I don't know how we will be able to dislodge her. We already attempted to pull her free but it was quite a ch.o.r.e, and I think our useless efforts cost her to suffer dearly."

Dagon rubbed his forehead in thought. "We must use mortal wit. It is the only way."

"Sir," Bernard said with obvious concern. "We are witches; how are we to ever think as commonly as mortals? It will take us forever to find a solution."

"I think I may have one," Margaret offered.

"Tell me," Dagon said anxiously.

"I have a special solvent I created for various ch.o.r.es. It is thick and greasy and once spread over her body may just be able to slip her out of there."

"It's worth a try," Dagon said, eager to try anything instead of standing there while she continued to grow more weary. "I'll have John and Ben see to it immediately," Bernard said. "No," Dagon said so abruptly that Bernard looked as though he had made a grievous error. Dagon wanted no one touching her. He tried to rationalize it by explaining to Bernard that he felt responsible for her dilemma since he had ordered her duties confined to the receiving parlor. But he was fully aware that the thought of John and Ben spreading grease all over Sarina's body sent his blood boiling. He would have no one, absolutely no one but him touching her.

He finished with "Therefore, I think it best that I see to taking care of this myself."

"As you wish, sir," Bernard said, "though I would suggest a change of clothes."

Dagon agreed and hurried to his quarters, insisting Bernard stay and help Margaret with the solvent. He

hastily changed into jeans, an old gray sweatshirt, and sneakers and rushed back to the parlor, where he

dismissed all the servants.

He entered the hearth to see how Sarina was and noticed tear tracks running through the soot on her face. He swore yet again beneath his breath and used his powers to float up as close as he could to her.

He managed to get near her hips and placed a rea.s.suring hand to her waist.

"You're going to be all right," he told her and gave her slim waist a gentle squeeze. "I'll have you out

of here in no time."

She sniffled. "I am a fool who can do nothing right. I make a mess of everything. I lack simple common sense, which makes me wonder how I survived all these years."

"How old are you-one hundred, perhaps one hundred and twenty-five years old? Why, you are barely grown."

She kept silent, knowing the truth would not at all please him.

"This will all be over soon."

She sighed. "You forever rescue me, Dagon. And how do I repay you? By being even more incompetent than before." A sudden cramp caught at her neck and she cried out.

"What's wrong?" he asked, moving his hand to grasp at her stiff one and growing more concerned