Wickedly Good (Hex Appeal) Read online

  Gemma hadn’t noticed a difference.

  Aston ought to be pleased she thought him skillful enough to be in the same league as a man who lived for brief, torrid affairs. He wasn’t.

  His mother lifted her chin. “This wasn’t what I had in mind when I told you to do something.”

  “It wasn’t what I had in mind either,” he admitted without a trace of the remorse he was feeling. “But it’s done. I won’t apologize for it.”

  He wouldn’t apologize to his mother. To Gemma…to Gemma, he would.

  She speared him with the full force of her tempestuous gaze, a look he suspected he’d gained over the years. “You are a great tactician, Aston,” she began. “I only hope you have this campaign properly planned, otherwise we will find ourselves in a larger bind than that in which we began.”

  With that rousing endorsement, his mother swept past him, leaving Aston bewildered and alone.

  * * * * *

  The bed smelled like spring-fresh cotton sheets. Beyond the cotton was the lingering hint of sex. Gemma’s nose had woken before the rest of her. She soon recognized the feel of an embroidered duvet beneath her bare back. Her coverlet was a soft suede material, far warmer than the silky fabric under her bottom.

  Gemma shot upright, unsure of her surroundings. Sumptuously appointed with heavy drapes that cut the daylight in half, leather chairs and gleaming wood furniture, it could be only one place.

  Drew’s room.

  She checked the rest of the bed. She was alone. When had he left? How long had she slept? Good grief, how was she supposed to sneak out without being caught?

  Last night she’d used Air magic to dampen the sounds of her creeping along the wooden floors. But Air magic had nothing to keep a witch from being seen. There was nothing to be done but dress and attempt to sneak out.

  Gemma found her garment where he’d discarded it on the floor. She stepped into the thin fabric, tugging it up until it covered her. Several wiggles and much twisting saw the zipper fastened. And then she crept into the corridor.

  She called on Air to map the house using magical sonar. Gemma closed her eyes to sharpen the image in her mind. The second floor was empty of all other souls. Carefully, she tiptoed to the stairs, snagging more magic to dampen the sound. Gemma mapped the lower floor midway down.

  She froze when she spotted her mother’s familiar shape feet away in the kitchen, stirring something in a large bowl. Farther in the house, Amanda Haizea perched on the sofa in the sitting room with the phone to her ear. And the imposing figure of Aston Haizea ruled behind his vast desk in the home office.

  Gemma drew in a quick breath, shored up her dampening magic and then ran. She didn’t stop until she reached the servants’ quarters.

  At the door, she stood listening with magically keen ears for any sign she’d been spotted. When seconds passed and she heard no change in the inhabitants across the lawn, Gemma started for the bath.

  Chapter Six

  Aston couldn’t concentrate. He wasn’t sure how much of it was due to the pair of females bickering in front of his desk. They’d been at it for the better part of fifteen minutes. Refereeing quarrels wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for him. Particularly with their complaint.

  They wanted the same man. Curiously, neither had stopped to ponder what the man—Ryan—wanted. Aston was fairly certain the witch in question wanted nothing to do with either female, that in fact Ryan was planning to leave the coven for greener, more tropical pastures in the south.

  It wasn’t Aston’s place to reveal that information. And so he was faced with a dilemma—how to appease two women in danger of tearing out each other’s hair without sacrificing the tea service his mother insisted he keep on the sideboard.

  “You whore! Like Ryan would ever want you!” the blonde with the flat chest shouted from just behind the left guest chair.

  Her rival, a brunette with curves in all the right places, sat calmly in the right chair. The woman’s smug smile might have irritated Aston if he’d been paying either of them an ounce of his attention. “He wanted me fine enough when he had his hand in my panties.”

  “You probably left them on the floor from the loser you tossed away right before you dug your claws into my man.”

  “He’s not your man. It’s not like your name is tattooed on his ass.”

  Aston had a fleeting image of his name tattooed on a certain pale ass—one he’d not seen but couldn’t stop imagining. Sleeping had been impossible when all he could think of was the sexy woman stretched out on his brother’s bed in the adjacent room. He wanted to know what she looked like. More than that, he wanted her to know who she’d been with.

  “You probably drugged him so you could seduce him.”

  A fluttering skirt out the window caught Aston’s attention. His breath quickened when he saw Gemma moving languidly across the lawn. She’d surely picked her dress for the day to torment. And he was tormented. Intensely.

  “That’s ridiculous. I wouldn’t have to drug him. He wants—”

  “Ladies,” Aston put in once he had enough of their squabbling. He rubbed at his forehead with the roughened pad of his thumb.

  This was the portion of being a coven leader he disliked most. Though these days, Aston wasn’t exactly certain which portion, if any, he liked. He’d enjoyed his responsibilities in the beginning. Hadn’t he?

  Both women regarded him, silent but expectant. They’d break into a fresh argument if he didn’t say something soon.

  “You are both operating on assumption,” he informed them in his calmest voice. “Assumptions are dangerous things to bank on. My suggestion to you both is to step back, take some time away from each other as well Ryan and reevaluate the situation in a few weeks. If and when he comes to you, be honest and forthright. Ask him what he sees for your future. But until you have the answer, there’s no point shouting at one another.”

  “But—” the blonde began.

  Aston lifted a single hand to silence her. “This isn’t a coven disagreement. This is personal between the three of you.”

  The blonde continued to push the matter. “But our duties—”

  “Were satisfied with your firstborn children,” he reminded as he got to his feet. “Any additional pureblooded offspring conceived now are wonderful but not strictly necessary.”

  The brunette rose along with him, sending him a come-hither look he’d seen far too often on her pretty face. She’d tried to get into his bed. He’d refused. It looked as though he’d have to set her down at least once more.

  “I know how frustrating it must be to listen to debates like this,” the bombshell purred for him.

  Right now the frustration was not with listening to debates, but rather that he couldn’t get the females out of his house fast enough to catch Gemma. Aston forced a smile. “It’s all part of the job.”

  “A job you do very well.”

  The blonde cut in with, “You are such a whore!”

  Her rival let out a throaty laugh. “I just know what I want. And you’re jealous because I always get it.”

  Not always. Aston gestured for them to precede him. “Let me see you to the door.”

  A none-too-subtle invitation to get the hell out. That they barely heeded. Aston struggled not to holler at the pair during the ten minutes it took them to saunter to the front door, rummage for their keys in their massive designer satchels and finally head for their cars.

  He retreated behind the locked door. And stayed there until their engines faded into the distance. When it was safe at last, he started out into the sun.

  * * * * *

  Gemma knew she was conspicuous, stretched along the warm grass with her book spread before her. Being seen was the point.

  Drew’s car was missing. Or he’d put it in the garage for once. She hoped it was the latter. The thought of him leaving the grounds without seeking her out sent her stomach in an unhappy dive.

  It did a wobbly hop when a dark head of hair appeared out
the side door followed by an equally dark-covered broad body. Aston. Was it too late to disappear inside?

  His light eyes snapped to her. Damn. He’d seen her. Of course he had. She’d practically prostrated herself in front of the house.

  His soft-shoed gait across the grass was far too leisurely. Why couldn’t he go faster? Her insides fluttered upon recalling someone else who hadn’t wanted to go faster.

  Gemma focused on the book, feigning ignorance. He might not realize her music player had been silent for hours.

  “I would have thought you’d have sworn off reading after getting your degree.”

  She forced her lips to relax from their compressed line as she turned toward the deep baritone. It was a long way to go to see his face. And with the sun behind him, she had to squint to see anything at all in the bright light. In silhouette, his shadowed figure gave him the impression of being larger and darker than she could ever recall.

  Gemma attempted a light delivery despite the quivering of her insides. “Not at all.”

  He remained silent, as if he expected an in-depth explanation. She took in the relaxed state of his wardrobe. It wasn’t often she saw Aston Haizea clad in a black V-neck T-shirt and jeans. No doubt he didn’t intend to leave the property.

  After an imperceptible sigh, she gave him his clarification. “Now I get to read for fun.”

  “What is it you’re reading?”

  She hid the cover and hoped he wouldn’t note her embarrassment. Adopting a jaunty smile, she replied, “Little of substance.”

  “You’re reading it. Therefore it has substance.”

  “You wouldn’t say so if you skimmed it.”

  “It is a beautiful day,” Aston remarked, switching to a less touchy subject.

  He turned toward the sky until his profile was limned in golden sunshine. He looked ten years younger—like a man without a care in the world.

  What had he been like at her age? Had he always carried the weight of his family on his broad shoulders? Or had there once been a wild and free Aston Haizea?

  Then she remembered how he’d tried to bribe her. Gemma’s mouth went hard and flat.

  “I need to stretch my legs,” Aston added as if he expected her to offer her company. “There’s a brook not far from here. Care to walk with me?”

  Her brook?

  Gemma bit the inside of her cheek. Had he eavesdropped when she told Drew of her favorite place? Or was it something more sinister? Had the younger brother told the elder things he should have kept to himself?

  Was there a plausible excuse to avoid his invitation? None came to mind that wouldn’t insult the man who employed her mother and gave them both a roof over their heads. Angering him wasn’t an option. At least not when he’d said nothing to deserve it…today.

  Maybe this was a precursor to an apology. Or maybe he’d come up with a worse offer than yesterday’s bribe.

  Gemma reluctantly got to her feet. She darted for the porch, dropping the book on one of the wicker chairs.

  Aston examined her face as she approached him across the grass. She barely caught his gaze sweeping down her form before he locked eyes with her again. He was good at that—at hiding when he was checking out a woman. It was something his brother had never mastered.

  He offered her a wan smile before gesturing for her to go ahead of him. Was he doing a similar sweep down her backside? He would. There was no doubt about that but could she catch him at it if she glanced back? And if she did, what good would it do her?

  He was nearly twice her age. And he was her coven’s priest—the man she’d pledged her fealty to years ago upon the death of the previous priest. She was oath-bound to tell him the truth, among other things. Gemma hoped he asked her nothing of importance.

  “I understand you studied art?”

  Talk of her major could be likened to discussing the weather. It was a safe topic. “That’s right.”

  “I’ve been asked to acquire pieces for the White Mountain Clean Air Fund Charity Art Auction next month. Perhaps you could help me choose?”

  She held her next breath, silently lamenting her stupidity. Had she thought her major was a safe topic?

  If he were anyone other than Aston Haizea, she’d have jumped at the chance. Instead, she hesitated before nodding.

  “Good.”

  The tree line swallowed them in its shadowy embrace, blocking out the signs of civilization behind them. She would have experienced a giddy nervousness had she been with Drew. With Aston, the nervousness was there but it was far from giddy. Voluntarily disappearing into the woods with him might have been the worst idea she’d had in days. While it was true he’d vowed to protect her, few would question his word if anything horrible did happen.

  He was quiet until the Haizea lawn was no longer visible behind them. “I have an appointment at a local gallery this evening and more in Portsmouth tomorrow afternoon. Are you free?”

  “I’m free.”

  “Dinner first?”

  Surprise jolted down her spine. Dinner? With Aston?

  But what if Drew sought her out while she was gone? It was Drew she wanted to dine with, or on.

  “It’s the least I can do in return for making you work during your vacation,” the elder sibling added.

  Gemma released a small relieved sigh. “Dinner isn’t necessary. Your family has done so much for mine. I’d gladly help.”

  “Consider it a favor. I’ve been wanting to try a new restaurant but haven’t found a willing victim.”

  She froze at his latest words. He noticed her lack of movement. Aston swiveled toward her. Briefly, Gemma considered fleeing. Instead, she bravely continued the walk to the brook.

  And pretended the frightening male hadn’t just mentioned needing a victim.

  Aston had winced when the words left his lips. A willing victim? What on earth had prompted him to say that?

  And she’d taken it as badly as he would have expected. He fell into step behind her, giving her the space she most likely needed.

  They were quiet for several minutes, half the distance to the brook he’d loved as a child. Would Gemma accompany him in silence until he finally freed her?

  “I haven’t seen Drew all day,” she said without turning. “Did he go out?”

  Her question was more irritating than her mute behavior had been. His answer was stiff but quick. “He went for a visit with his fiancée.” It wasn’t a lie. Not strictly. Drew was with his fiancée. However, he hadn’t gone willingly. Neither woman needed to know that.

  “Oh,” came the crestfallen response.

  He didn’t regret the words, truthful or no, until she discreetly wiped away tears. Aston felt like a complete ass. Her pain could have been avoided if he’d only fibbed.

  Aston might have behaved differently if he’d considered her point of view instead of his strange need to sabotage his brother’s chances. She must have woken in Drew’s bed this morning, believing he’d slipped out for breakfast after their stormy interlude. No doubt Gemma had expected her lover to search for her when he discovered his bedroom empty.

  Aston had left her within minutes of finishing last night. But he’d heard her every shift as he lay on the bed in the adjacent room. From her slightest adjustment on his brother’s mattress straight through until she’d raced across the lawn to the servants’ quarters just after dawn, Aston had been hyperaware of Gemma’s presence in his house.

  Her lover had found her.

  She traversed the brush with nearly magical agility. But he didn’t sense any draws on the aether. The faint bubbling of the brook caught his attention.

  She’d led him to his favorite spot. With no assistance on his part.

  “You know the brook,” he commented.

  Her face lifted to the canopy of leaves, drawing a fine ray of sunshine to her cheeks. “I’ve lived here my whole life.”

  He didn’t like the reminder. He’d been in his late teens when she was born. It was rumored she was the daughter
of the previous priest. Ellen hadn’t shared the information. Aston had never required it of her. Until this moment, he hadn’t concerned himself with Gemma’s pedigree. Aston didn’t want to consider why that was.

  “Of all the spots on the property, this is my favorite,” he mused aloud.

  There was an almost imperceptible squaring of her shoulders. Her neck straightened along with her back. He replayed his words, looking for the thing that annoyed her.

  Nervousness he hadn’t felt in years had him laughing. “You’d think I was a Water witch based on that. I should enjoy the meadow instead because the breezes flow so well there and the morning dew sparkles like gemstones at sunrise.”

  Aston faced the sun simply to hide the warming of his cheeks. What was he doing? Here he was waxing disgustingly poetic in front of the woman who wanted his brother.

  “The breeze is sweetest here,” she said. “It’s the way the air passes over the purple lilac bushes.”

  Her quiet words tugged a shiver down his spine. She’d gotten to the heart of why the brook was the superior spot. And she smelled so like his favorite place. He’d not realized it last night. But he did now.

  She hovered near the exact bushes she’d mentioned. Framed in delicate lavender buds, coppery auburn hair gently curling about her ivory skin, she looked like a beauty in a painting. He couldn’t resist taking the metaphor a step further by imagining her as Venus, nude and awaiting her Mars amid the lush greenery.

  Gemma’s attention flitted to him and then darted away with a skittish hop. He was well aware of why she’d agreed to accompany him. It wasn’t because she enjoyed his company. Obligation to her priest and her mother had prompted her to swallow her fear and venture into the woods with the monster who had tried to bribe her.

  He softened his voice. “And in the winter it’s the crisp scent of pine trees and frigid water.”

  This time when her gaze snapped to his, it remained for a long beat. He stayed still and held his neutral expression, hoping he looked as unassuming as he possibly could. The ploy must have worked because she nodded.