Love in Flames: Spells, Secrets and Seductions, Book 3 Read online

  Happiness filled her as she realized that they were finally about to start their life together. Surely no woman had ever been as blessed as she. The feasting and celebrating lasted the afternoon and into the evening as everyone was in good spirits.

  The sun was barely set when a scream split the air. Everyone froze in place and Esther’s heart clenched as an unreasonable fear took hold of her. One of the older women pointed to the far end of the village. “Fire!”

  Sure enough, dark plumes of smoke were encircling a cottage. Dropping everything, they all raced toward the growing blaze. Esther pushed herself, running as fast as she could, but she knew she’d be too late. James was in the lead, his long legs outdistancing everyone. As she watched in horror, he threw himself though the smoke-filled doorway.

  Men and women alike formed a bucket line from the village well. Water sloshed as wooden buckets were quickly passed up the line and dumped on the cottage. Empty, they were raced back to the well for refilling. Other men beat at the flames with shovels, trying desperately to extinguish it.

  Esther froze, unable to take her eyes from the doorway. Her nightmare image was becoming reality. Gasping, she fell to her knees as James broke thought the entryway with an elderly woman clutched in his arms. Coughing, he stumbled a few feet and lowered her safely to the ground where several women quickly surrounded her. “Robert is still inside,” the woman cried.

  James nodded and as he raised his head, his soot-stained face met hers. She knew in her heart that he could not leave an elderly man to burn in the flames. He would not be the man that she loved if he could.

  Flames now licked the edges of the doorway. Several men attempted to enter, but pulled back from the intense heat. James pushed them aside and plunged inside. Esther remained on her knees, praying fervently to God to save both James and Robert. Water was tossed on the blaze as the villagers worked tirelessly to contain the fire. If they failed, it might spread to all their homes.

  James appeared in the entrance, practically throwing the elderly man from the grasping clutches of the flames. Before he could step to safety the building groaned and a huge crack rent the eerie silence that seemed to surround her. A wall of flame shot high in the air as the beams of the cottage collapsed. James threw himself forward and for a brief moment she thought that he’d made it. But like some covetous demon, the fiery beams collapsed around him, trapping most of his body within the flames. He screamed as he fell beneath its rage.

  Surging to her feet, she raced toward him, fighting off the men who struggled to pull him from the wreckage. Others continued to toss water onto him, hoping to keep the fire at bay. Ignoring the heat that singed her skin, she knelt by his side and lightly gripped his burned hand. “Hurry,” she pleaded with the men who fought to free him. Her eyes met her father’s and she had to look away, unable to bear the pity in them.

  James was unconscious, but she brushed his now blackened hair from his face. One side was burned, but the other was untouched. Esther didn’t care what he looked like as long as he lived.

  “Stand back, Esther,” her father yelled.

  She reluctantly stepped away and watched as the men lifted the smoldering wood and dragged his body from the wreckage. She bit her lip, drawing blood, as his mangled form was revealed. “Bring him this way.” Determination filled her as she led the way to their tiny one-room cottage. She would save him by whatever means was necessary. The alternative was unthinkable.

  They laid him on the bed and she quickly went to work, trying to peel his clothing from him, but it had fused to his flesh. James cried out, his eyes opening as his hand reached out to her. She grasped it as tightly as she dared.

  “Sorry,” he choked out, licking his dry lips. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  “I love you, James. You’ll get well.” But her words were false and they both knew it. Despair filled her.

  “Baby,” he whispered. Her eyes widened and a whisper of a smile crossed his lips before he coughed and groaned again. “Raise him well.”

  “Not without you, James,” she cried, unable to be strong any longer.

  His hand shifted until he was grasping hers tight. “Nothing can change our love. Not time or distance.” His voice was getting weaker. “I will find you again some day. Promise me…”

  “Promise you what, James? Anything?” She brushed his hair from his eyes.

  “Write it down. Tell the story to each generation. Somewhere, somehow, my soul will find yours again.” The last, desperate burst of energy depleted him, the life force draining from him as he closed his eyes.

  Tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks as she leaned down and kissed him. “I promise, James.” Her words were but a whisper, but she knew he heard them. His lips curved up in a smile and his face relaxed as if all pain had fled him. And while Esther kissed him to seal her promise, James passed from this world to the one beyond.

  Chapter Four

  Esther closed the ancient leather-bound book, blinking hard to clear the tears clouding her vision. Her ancestor had kept her promise, even though it had taken her ten years to learn to write and to be able to afford even the most meager of writing materials. She sniffed and swiped at the tear that trickled down her cheek.

  She knew the story by heart, had read it a thousand times before, had grown up being told the legend like other children were told fairy tales. The tragic tale of love lost was part of her family legacy and one she was determined not to follow.

  Her fingers traced the heavy binding and she took a deep breath. The story was always so real, as if she’d lived it rather than just read about it.

  Esther stared at the bright yellow wall in front of her, trying to make sense of her dreams and her emotions. She’d been restless for days now. She felt as though she was waiting for something or someone. Waiting. Always waiting. But she wasn’t quite sure what she was waiting for. She didn’t believe in reincarnation. Her family story was just that. A story. And she’d certainly given up all hope of finding a lover.

  Esther glanced at the clock on the bedside table and groaned. She’d spent so much time reading that it was time for her to get ready to go to work. So much for her nap. She’d just have to live with being tired and suck it up.

  Carefully, she placed the book on the bedside table, allowing her fingers to caress the faded binding and worn leather. Her gaze once again fell on the red candle she’d brought home from Rhiannon’s. Candle magic. A spell to bring a lover. She looked away, feeling like she was somehow betraying her ancestors’ story by wanting less than they’d shared together.

  She sighed as she threw back the patchwork quilt that covered her and headed to the bathroom. Sleep had eluded her, even though she desperately needed a nap before she went to work. Fortunately, this was her last evening covering the nightshift. After tonight she had three whole days off before she went back on days.

  Padding out of her bedroom and down the short hallway, she raised her arms over her head, stretching them to work out the kinks in her neck and shoulders. She didn’t want to think too hard about the reason she wasn’t sleeping well these past few weeks.

  Dreams. Not just any dreams, but dreams of Esther and James and the life they had lived hundreds of years ago. She’d had dreams in the past, especially around the time of Samhain, but never like this. In the way of nighttime visions, somehow she’d ended up in the role of her ancestor, but it was James’s face that bothered her the most. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Ryan Jamieson.

  She turned on the water and adjusted the temperature before peeling off her nightgown and stepping under the hot spray. The water cascaded down her body and Esther turned her back to it, not able to bare the jet of water touching her breasts. They were uncommonly sensitive these days. In fact, her whole body seemed more alive, as though she were simply waiting for a lover to touch her. Pleasure her.

  Grabbing the soap, she quickly washed and rinsed. As she reached for the shampoo, her thoughts drifted back to the first da
y she’d met Ryan.

  As a dispatcher for the Burnt Cove Police Department, she was responsible for handling all calls to the police and fire departments, as well as the 911 calls. Even though her job could be demanding and stressful, she liked it. More importantly, she enjoyed the people she worked with, the men and women on the front lines who made such a difference to their community, saving lives and property and keeping the peace. But more than that, they were good people, some of them she even considered close friends.

  Lathering her hair, she turned and stuck her head under the flow of water. When the suds were all rinsed away, she flicked off the taps, grabbed a towel and stepped out onto the bathmat. She patted her skin dry and wrapped the towel around her body before picking up her hair dryer. While she brushed and dried her hair, her mind once again wandered back to Ryan.

  She’d been sitting in front of her console, just finishing up a call when Abe King, the Fire Chief, had come up behind her. Esther had known they’d hired a new man at the fire department and had turned with a ready smile only to find it frozen on her face when she caught her first glimpse of him.

  Tall, broad-shouldered and extremely fit, he would catch any woman’s attention. But it was his eyes that held her captive. Golden-brown in color, they stared at her unblinkingly like some predator who’d just sighted prey. It hadn’t taken much imagination on her part to realize that he’d set his sights on her.

  Setting her hair dryer on the counter, Esther swiped her hand over the foggy mirror and stared. She didn’t understand the intensity of his attraction. Yes, she was good-looking in a girl-next-door sort of way, but she was by no means a knockout.

  She was average height, and while she was in good shape, her breasts were a little below average in size. Her skin wasn’t too pale and tanned easily, which accentuated her blue eyes. Her medium brown hair fell straight to her shoulders and she usually clipped it back in a large barrette for work. It tended to get natural blond streaks in the summer, which she loved, but summer was long past and the light streaks were quickly vanishing.

  Shaking her head, she grabbed an intricately designed silver barrette and clasped her hair back from her face. She moisturized her skin and also added a light coating of mascara and lip-gloss, not bothering with anything more. Her summer tan hadn’t completely faded yet and she still had a nice color in her cheeks.

  Hurrying back to her bedroom, she dressed quickly as she glanced at the clock. She was going to be late if she didn’t move it. She’d spent longer than she’d thought absorbed in her musings of Ryan and the journal of her ancestor.

  The book had been rebound and translated many, many times over the years, but it had remained intact with the original writing still within the pages. Every so often she felt compelled to take out the book and read the tragic love story. She had no idea why. The ending never changed. James still died and Esther was still left alone to raise their child.

  In every generation of her family, one girl child was named after the woman who had written those heartbreaking words. It was always the girl who bore the same heart-shaped birthmark as the original Esther. It was this woman’s duty to keep the book safe and add to its pages, and over the generations each woman had dutifully done so.

  Most of the women had lived long and normal lives, but some of them had not been lucky in love. One of the Esthers had her husband killed in the Civil War, while another had lost her fiancé to World War I. Both had died as a result of a fire. And they weren’t the only tragedies. Each woman had added her own heartbreaking story to the mix and the book had grown thicker. Esther felt their pain and sadness right to her very soul.

  Esther bore the name with pride, even if she was determined to avoid her namesake’s fate. She would be one of those women with a safe, unassuming life. Someday she would have to take pen in hand and write her story, adding to the family legacy. But that day had not come. Not yet.

  Striding down the hall, she grabbed her purse and keys from the table that sat beside her front door. Pushing all thoughts of the past and the journal from her mind, she locked the door securely behind her and hastened to her car. If she didn’t encounter any problems, she should just make it to work on time.

  Several hours later, Esther sat back and sipped her green tea, savoring the crisp, fresh flavor. While the men and women around her preferred to guzzle coffee all day, she wanted no part of the bitter brew. She came from a family of tea drinkers.

  Grinning, she remembered the shock and disbelief that had met her the first time she’d turned down coffee when she’d come to work here. Even though she’d worked here for two years now, many of her coworkers still shook their heads in mock dismay when they saw her enjoying her tea.

  It was sometimes hard for her to believe how quickly the past two years had flown by. It seemed like only yesterday that she’d left Baltimore and her family behind, needing to get away from the memories of the past and the protectiveness of her older brothers.

  Her brothers, Ian and Brian, had protested vehemently when she’d told them she was moving. Surprisingly enough, her mother had been the one who had understood Esther’s need to strike out on her own. She’d been sad to see her daughter moving away from the town she’d lived in her entire life, but she’d given her approval and that was all that had mattered to Esther.

  Still, firefighting was in her blood. She’d grown up within the tight-knit community of firefighting, and she understood what they did was brave and necessary, but she needed to remove herself from it. At least a little.

  Working as a dispatcher was a way to stay involved without becoming too involved. She still worried about her brothers, but it wasn’t the same gut-wrenching fear that had hit her every time they had gone out on a call. Now that she was no longer a part of their everyday lives, she was better able to handle the fact they risked their lives on a daily basis.

  Although she’d been certain her decision was the right one for her, it had still been incredibly hard to leave Baltimore behind. She’d cried when it was time to go. She was not only leaving behind her family, but lifelong friends as well. She went home to visit several times a year and her family had all been to Burnt Cove, but it wasn’t the same. Even though she’d made a good life for herself here, she missed them. But she still didn’t regret the move. It had been the right thing for her to do.

  Esther took another sip of her tea before placing her mug aside. Thankfully, it had been slow so far this evening. But, as she well knew, that could change in the blink of an eye.

  She sensed Ryan’s presence before she saw him. It had been like that from the very first time she’d met him. She felt as though her entire body was tuned to his. She knew when he entered a room and when he left, even if she never laid eyes on him.

  Although he’d worked here for several months now, she still felt uneasy around him. It wasn’t that she thought he would hurt her physically, but some deep feminine instinct warned her this man could be a danger to her emotional well being.

  “Still drinking that dishwater?” Ryan smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  She picked up her cup and raised it in a mock salute. “It’s better than that swill you boys drink at the fire hall.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” He sauntered across the room and leaned his hips against the edge of her desk. She couldn’t help but notice how his biceps flexed when he crossed his arms over his massive chest.

  She was extremely aware of his presence. The heat and sheer sensual magnetism of the man was astounding. Her clothing always felt too tight whenever when he was near and, in spite of her best efforts, she always became aroused whenever he was around.

  “I’ll stick to this.” She willed a call to come in. Anything. But the lines were all silent.

  “I was wondering if you’d like to go out tomorrow night? Maybe have some dinner, take a walk on the beach?” His tone was easygoing, almost indifferent, but his eyes practically scorched her with barely banked desire.

  She
’d been expecting it. He’d asked her out before, several times, but she’d always declined. He took her refusal with equanimity and a smile, but always asked again. Taking a deep breath, she did what she knew she had to do. “I told you that I don’t date firefighters. You’ll have to respect my wishes on that.”

  “Maybe I can change your mind. It’s only dinner and a walk. What can it hurt?”

  It sounded so reasonable that she almost changed her mind.

  Almost.

  Rightly or wrongly, she had a deep-seated phobia of losing someone she loved to fire. The fear probably began during her childhood when she’d first been told the stories of Esther and James, and was solidified with the death of her father.

  For a family steeped in the tragedy of fire, they all seemed to be drawn to it, tempted by its horrible beauty and power. Her father had been a firefighter and both her brothers were too. There was no way in hell she was getting romantically involved with one. She had more than enough nightmares now without adding to them.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry.” The words were bitter on her tongue, but she didn’t take them back.

  He nodded and pushed away from her desk. “Maybe next time?”

  It was what he said every time she turned him down.

  He reached out as if to touch her, but dropped his hand back by his side. He turned and strode away. He didn’t look back. She knew because she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him.

  By the time she got home from work the next morning and crawled into bed, she was exhausted. Her thoughts still went immediately to Ryan.

  What would it have felt like to have his hands on her? What would she have done if he’d reached out and touched her? Esther groaned and rolled onto her back, cursing the man. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? That was what she wanted. Wasn’t it?

  Of course it was, she assured herself. She was just exhausted and desperately needed to sleep. That was the only reason she was thinking about Ryan touching her, stroking those large, broad hands over every square inch of her skin. He’d start at her ankles and slide his hands up her calves and thighs, over her belly and torso. Her breasts felt heavy and it was all too easy to imagine his palms covering them, stroking them.