Heart of the Sorcerer Read online

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  The Wild Rose Press

  www.thewildrosepress.com

  Copyright ©2008 by Patsy L. Buker

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Heart of the Sorcerer

  Dedication

  Praise for P.L. Parker

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

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  The tinkling sound of music, perhaps a waltz played on a pianoforte or harpsichord, echoed through her disjointed dreams. She found herself standing alone, watching as a scene unfolded. Couples, dressed in antique apparel whirled by, seemingly unaware of her presence, but so close that she could feel the brush of their elaborate attire. Above, a candlelit chandelier bathed the room in a mellow glow, casting shadows on the unreal tabloid.

  The crush of dancers parted, forming a pathway across the room, leading to a male figure standing near a dais, his face obscured by the shadows.

  "Come to me,” a husky voice whispered demandingly. “Come to me."

  Annalisa drifted across space, coming to rest directly in front of the imposing figure.

  "Come to me,” the voice whispered again, flooding her with warmth.

  "Where?” she asked the mysterious figure.

  He stepped forward, out of the shadows, the man who haunted her fevered dreams.

  "Through the portal,” he said, though his lips did not move. His eyes gleamed with unbridled passion from a face too handsome.

  "Where is the portal?” she whispered. “How do I find it?"

  Strong hands gently cupped her face. “You have the most beautiful eyes, like violets in the spring. A man could drown in your eyes."

  Annalisa's lips trembled, desire and need awakened by his merest touch.

  Dreamily, she arched against him. “I know you,” she breathed. “I have always known you."

  His lips brushed hers, lush with fevered promises.

  Heart of the Sorcerer

  by

  P.L. Parker

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Heart of the Sorcerer

  COPYRIGHT ©

  2009 by Patsy L. Buker

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Nicola Martinez

  The Wild Rose Press

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Vintage Rose Edition, 2009

  Published in the United States of America

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  Dedication

  To my family for their support,

  understanding, and love.

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  Praise for P.L. Parker

  "...a romance to last through eternity, it is absolutely timeless. Impressible, implausible, and elegantly done, this is one story that I don't think I will ever forget!"

  On Fiona, five angels from Fallen Angel Review

  "From the dark, eerie prologue through to the very unexpected ending, “Fiona” by P.L. Parker is an engaging and eventful account of a life, and a timeless love."

  Four books from The Long and The Short of It

  Five Hearts. “This wonderful romantic read is stylish and loaded in historical data that tops the charts."

  On Fiona The Romance Studio

  Four Stars. “This page-turner stays with you long after the last word."

  On Riley's Journey Romantic Times Magazine

  Five Hearts. “This is a smashing good story with excellent writing. When is the movie?"

  On Riley's Journey The Romance Studio

  "I have never read a time travel in which the setting was so far back in time, and so it was with great excitement that I started RILEY'S JOURNEY.

  P.L. Parker did not disappoint!"

  On Riley's Journey Five Cloverleafs from CK2S Kwips and Kritiques

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  Chapter One

  What is it that causes salmon to fight their way upstream, struggling against overwhelming odds, only to spawn and die? Is it simply instinct or part of some master plan devised by some obscure puppeteer intent on pulling strings and laughing as the game plays out? The answer is beyond a mere human's understanding. So why did she return to this place so often, seeking that one incomprehensible element missing from her barren, unhappy life? Perhaps, it was simply that this was home, the only home she'd ever really known. She was returning, inexplicably drawn to this place, engulfed by a force far stronger than her own free will.

  Annalisa pressed her forehead against the window of the rickety old bus. A blanket of fog covered the landscape, turning everything to varying shades of gray. The glass of the window frosted under her breath, briefly blurring vision. Swiping her hand across the moisture, she squinted, focusing on the marshland she knew spread out from the rutty old road.

  Wearily, she yawned. The long flight from New York followed by the long bus ride had taken its toll, and she looked forward to finally arriving. Though it had been several years since she'd visited last, Granny Jean's terse invitation had come as a godsend. With nothing to hold her, Annalisa packed up what few belongings she had and hopped the first available flight.

  Annalisa sniffed. What few belongings was right, she thought. Disgusted, she brushed back a lock of hair, securing it with a pin. Aaron, the last boyfriend, had taken everything while she was at work, leaving nothing but unpaid bills and a pile of garbage he'd been too lazy to cart away. In truth, she was glad he'd left. Their relationship had soured months ago, but he'd refused to admit it was over, hanging on when there was nothing left. Ruefully, she admitted, much of the fault lay at her door. No real man could measure up to her dream of love.

  Wistfully, she sighed, her mind touching on her dream man, a smile twisting her lips as she called forth his memory. For as far back as she could recall, he'd been a part of her dreams; first as a soothing and consoling friend, and, later, as she matured, he became so much more. Tall, dark, and handsome, he existed in another time, when strength of character meant something, and honor and chivalry were commonplace. Too bad he was just a dream, she could see herself with a man like that.

  The bus bounced alarmingly, and then swayed sharply, drawing her back to the present.

  "Sorry, ma'am,” the gruff driver called back. “This old roadway doesn't get much attention."

  The bus lumbered onto the main street, finally coming to a stop at a small rundown station. She stepped out, barely making the sidewalk before the driver unloaded her suitcases, dumped them on the muddy street, and sped away.
Annalisa's lips twitched. He certainly couldn't have gotten rid of her any faster.

  Granny Jean's house was situated near the edge of the moor. With plenty of daylight left, she decided a walk would do her good and ease muscles cramped from the long and tiresome journey. Though the fog had lifted somewhat, the air still felt damp, cooler than she had expected. Awkwardly, she hefted the heavy suitcase and headed down the cobblestone lane. Few people were about, some shopkeepers and late evening workers, but other than a few friendly words of welcome, she was left alone.

  Laughter and good cheer drifted out from a small busy pub, fisher folk back from the sea, boats safely anchored in the small bay. A smile wreathed her lips. A good crowd had gathered to lift a few before heading home. Perhaps another time, she'd stop in and join the merriment. Life had been pretty dull lately, and she could use some fun. Leaving the township behind, she followed the curving, winding, old road towards Granny Jean's cottage.

  It was nearly dark when she first caught sight of the picturesque little house. Set against the unfathomable moor, the cottage still reminded her of something right out of the history books, solid and unbeautiful, but welcoming in its repose. Inexplicably, her pulse sped up, heart flip-flopping with excitement.

  A black cat stepped onto the path, meowing piteously, his huge yellow eyes alternately staring at her and then focusing on the door, demanding to be let in. Annalisa dropped the bag and bent down, petting and scratching behind tufted ears. His long bushy tail waved in ecstasy; and, rolling over, he offered his belly for more of the same.

  "Well, you're just a friendly little guy, aren't you,” she crooned, scratching him all over.

  A chill ran up her spine. She turned, searching the landscape. She felt as though something watched, but other than the wind racing through the tall grasses, nothing stirred. Darkness would soon fall, and she was thankful she had no farther to go. Stepping up to the door, she rapped sharply. A memory surfaced. Years ago, she'd heard the whispered comments naming Granny Jean as a sorceress or a witch, but Annalisa refused to be drawn into those silly and unwarranted suspicions.

  Though not her real grandmother, Granny Jean had raised her father when his own mother had abandoned him at an early age. Granny had loved her father as if he were her own son, and she welcomed Annalisa's visits with open arms. Annalisa had known no other grandparent and had never felt the loss of another. She had spent many summers here, running wildly across the moors, chasing butterflies, carefully watched by Granny who warned her often that the moors could be dangerous to the uneducated and unwary.

  The door opened slightly for an older woman to peer out.

  "Land sakes,” Rose laughed, hugging her warmly, pulling her into the small parlor. “We were beginning to think you weren't coming."

  "The plane to Newcastle was late, and I missed the first bus,” she admitted. “Where's Granny?"

  Granny Jean wheeled into the room. The once robust, buxom woman had been reduced to a mere ghost of the woman she had been, though the sparkling eyes and welcoming smile had not diminished in the slightest. Warmly, she embraced Annalisa, the scent of lilacs wafting from her shriveling body.

  "My goodness,” she exclaimed. “You've grown into quite a beauty. I always knew you would, but you're far more beautiful than I'd even imagined."

  Self-consciously, Annalisa mentally reviewed her attributes and found them wanting. Her best feature was her thick, chestnut-colored hair, accentuating dark-lashed violet eyes, which by now were ringed by purple smudges. Her full lips drooped at the corners, attesting to the strains of the trip.

  "If I'm so beautiful, why aren't I happy? Aren't beautiful people supposed to be happy?” Aimlessly, she wandered around the little parlor, picking up objects and setting them down, happy memories surfacing with each touch.

  "Beauty doesn't make anyone happy. It's what's inside that counts. Didn't anyone ever tell you that?” Granny's eyes shone with quiet amusement. “I was homely as a mud fence when I was a girl, but I had a loving husband who treated me with kindness and respect.” Her eyes twinkled. “He always said it was my spunk that drew him to me."

  Annalisa stopped her restless pacing, drawn to the old painting above the fireplace.

  "I remember this,” she murmured, gazing at the picture. “He haunts my dreams."

  The man in the painting was inhumanly gorgeous; his dark eyes appearing almost lifelike, compelling. Even as a little girl, those eyes seemed to follow her around the room.

  "He was my ancestor,” Granny admitted. “He's beautiful, isn't he?"

  Annalisa plunked down on a velvet settee. “Having looks isn't always a blessing, at least if you're a woman! No one ever seems to appreciate me for my intelligence, and I am intelligent."

  "No one said you weren't,” Granny commiserated. “Sometimes I think you're too smart for your own good. Stupid men are intimidated by an intelligent woman."

  "But that's so unfair,” Annalisa exclaimed. “Men aren't treated that way."

  "No one said life was fair,” Granny reminded her gently.

  No, life wasn't fair, she agreed. If life had been fair, she would've been married by now with 2.5 children and a house in the suburbs. Annalisa tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder, annoyed by the inconvenience of long tresses, but too unconcerned with fashion to consider chopping it off.

  Dark emotions flitted across Annalisa's open heart-shaped face. Her cameo-perfect features required no makeup, and she'd never worn any. Considerably shorter than the currently popular tall, bone-thin models, she nonetheless possessed a womanly figure hinting at lush curves deliciously hidden. Annalisa was an untapped beauty waiting to be awakened by the beast—and the beast was near.

  Rose stepped into the room. “You ladies ready for some tea?"

  "I think tea would be perfect right now, don't you, dear?” Granny's kindly voice broke her reverie.

  Annalisa sighed. “Yes, tea would be good, Rose. Thank you."

  "Nothing like a cup of tea to make everything right, I always say.” Granny wheeled the chair around and headed down the short hallway to the dining area.

  The smell of scones wafted through the air, causing Annalisa's stomach to growl, reminding her that it had been some time since she'd last eaten. She inhaled deeply, the spicy scent filling her with blissful contentment. It felt good to be here.

  The black cat dashed into the room, came to a screeching halt beside his bowl, and meowed.

  "Silly animal,” Granny grumbled fondly. “I don't see him a bit during the day, but come teatime, he's always underfoot."

  Annalisa sat down at the antique hardwood table, scrubbed to a soft patina by years of use. It was a table meant to grace a much larger edifice, but Granny refused to part with it, explaining that it was one of the few pieces she had left from grander times. Over the years, most of the family heirlooms had been sold, and Granny had ultimately moved to the cottage. Age and illness had left her with few other options. Alone since her husband's death, Granny had no one left to inherit, except perhaps Annalisa.

  Teatime at an end, Annalisa drooped with weariness. She felt ready to collapse, but there still remained things to be done.

  "Goodness, child,” Granny said, noting the strain on her face, “you run on upstairs and settle in. Rose and I can clean up, can't we, Rose?"

  "You better believe it,” Rose's round face beamed. “Morning's soon enough for you to start helping out."

  Gratefully, Annalisa pecked them both on the cheek and stumbled up the stairs, barely conscious as she fell across the deep feather bed, asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  As Annalisa left the room, the wind outside took on an almost hurricane force, whipping across the moor and howling around the old cottage.

  Behind her, a brief smile skimmed across Granny's face, her old eyes snapped with mischief. Things were just starting to get interesting, and Alec was chomping at the bit, but he'd have to wait until she was sure.

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  Chapter Two

  Tossing and turning, Annalisa's restless dreams were again haunted by the dark man, beckoning her with whispered promises of untold delight, his fathomless ebony eyes willing her to come to him.

  She woke with a start, dripping with perspiration, her thoughts disjointed and cloudy, no doubt remnants of yesterday's long, frustrating journey and her own discontented yearnings. Irritably, she shook herself, warding off the bizarre dreams. She'd come here to rest and plan a new life course, not dwell on the past.

  Relaxing in the shower, the water cascading over her weary limbs, Annalisa's nerve endings jangled as a cold chill raced up her spine. The feeling of being watched again suffused her. She pulled the curtain aside, but the small bathroom was empty save for the black cat who'd somehow managed to sneak in, regarding her calmly from huge yellow eyes.

  "I hope you're neutered,” she scowled. “Otherwise, I'd be kind of nervous in here."

  Yawning widely as though bored, the cat disappeared through a slight crack in the door.

  "He would have to be all black,” she muttered. “They're always black."

  Braiding her hair into one long tail, she dressed hurriedly, bent on running a few miles and clearing out the mental cobwebs. She blew a quick kiss in Rose's direction as she trotted through the kitchen, her mind already out on the moor and running with the wind.

  The sky was overcast and dreary, but a fresh breeze stirred the landscape, the smell of heather and fall flowers dancing on the air. Stretching into the distance, the moor welcomed her as it had so many times in the past. Exhilarated, Annalisa jogged along a well-worn footpath, inhaling deeply to enervate sluggish blood flow. Suddenly laughing out loud, she whirled and danced in abandon, feeling free for the first time in months. Arms spread wide, she closed her eyes and opened herself to the forces of nature, exalting in just being alive. The breeze enfolded her, soothing and caressing, almost with a lover's touch. A fleeting kiss grazed her parted lips as feathery caresses lightly brushed her breasts. Startled, her eyes flew open, expecting to see someone near. Her mind certainly was fanciful this morning!