An Ill Wind Read online

  Another smile touched his lips. “I kind of like it when you’re being forceful.”

  It might have been dark out here on the patio, but she could still see the sudden warmth in his expression. “You do, huh?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  He bent and kissed her again, his arms going around her this time. Yes, that felt good, to be held close enough to feel the warmth of his body, the casual strength of his embrace.

  “I want to go inside,” she whispered as soon as the kiss ended.

  This time, he didn’t argue, only drew her into the sitting area of their suite and shut the sliding glass door behind them, then closed the shutters. Now that she was back in the relative warmth of the hotel room, Cassandra realized how downright cool it had been outside.

  It was going to feel good to get into bed, to feel the warmth of the covers over her…the warmth of Tony’s body next to hers.

  And as much as she knew she wanted that, she knew she was taking a big step. Her past wasn’t like his. In fact….

  She blurted, “I’m a virgin.”

  His eyes flared with shock. “Oh.”

  An awkward silence fell. She said hurriedly, “I just — I wanted to tell you so it wouldn’t come as a surprise. It doesn’t change anything. I still want to….”

  The words trailed off, mostly because she found she couldn’t quite come out and say she wanted to have sex with him. Of course she did, but to say it out loud sounded so…well, so naked.

  His hand touched her hair, so gentle. “I’m glad you told me.”

  Something in his gentleness worried her. She didn’t want him to treat her like a soap bubble that would break. If telling him that one little fact had changed everything….

  But then he was kissing her again, kissing her with a fierce passion that surprised her with its intensity. She opened her mouth to him, pressed her body against his, and before she knew it, they’d stumbled their way back over to the bed again. This time, they didn’t stop, but fell on top of the spotless white duvet, Tony reaching out with one arm to sweep the accent pillows to the floor, then pull the covers back.

  His hands were on her blouse, pulling it over her head. At the same time, she was working the buttons of his shirt, had to hold back a gasp when she saw his bare torso, the flat stomach, the muscular expanse of his chest. If asked, she supposed she would have said he had a good body, judging by the way he looked in his clothes, but she really hadn’t expected quite this…perfection.

  Yes, he was definitely perfect.

  She didn’t have very long to admire the view, though, because he’d unhooked her bra, had bent so he could kiss her breasts, mouth warm against her flesh. Heat rushed through her again, and she could feel the way she’d started to throb with need, her body feeling hot and alive and not entirely her own.

  Somehow, she was then flat on her back, and he was tugging down her jeans, then her panties. His fingers caressed her, and she gasped aloud.

  “Oh, God, Tony.”

  He was moving deeper, fingers entering her, but carefully, as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t hurt her. Not much chance of that, simply because she’d been active her whole life, hiking and off-road biking and even horseback riding, and so she knew the physical component of her virginity was probably already a thing of the past. He seemed to realize that as well, because his touch became stronger, surer, and she closed her eyes and gasped again, realizing she was going to come, was going to come hard.

  Thank God he’d shut the sliding glass door. She hadn’t really expected to be that loud, but she supposed she shouldn’t have underestimated the power of repressed sexual tension. Holding on to him, she rode the orgasm, breaths coming hard and fast, until she fell back against the pillows.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” she replied. “Better than good.”

  He bent and kissed her again, and almost by instinct her hand moved lower, felt the heavy hardness of his cock through the dark gray boxer briefs he wore. At her touch, he released a harsh breath, and she pulled away from the kiss so she could slide down his underwear, brush her fingers against him.

  “Yes,” he whispered, and she began to slip her hand up and down, feeling the softness of his skin against her fingertips. As soft as that skin was, the flesh underneath it was rock-hard, eager. She didn’t want to push him over the edge, so when she bent down to suckle him, it was only for a minute or two, just enough to show him she wanted to do this, wanted to know every part of him.

  When she lifted her mouth from him, he seemed to take that as the signal he needed. He shifted positions, pushing against her, then stopped.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “No condoms. I didn’t think this was going to be that sort of trip.”

  The chagrin in his voice almost made her want to chuckle. “It’s okay,” she told him.

  “I don’t want to risk — ”

  “It’s okay,” she told him again, voice a little firmer this time. “Did you use a condom all those other times?” …with those civilian girls, she thought, although she didn’t say the words out loud.

  “Always,” he replied…and she believed him.

  “Then it’ll be okay,” she said. “My McAllister cousins taught me a charm. It’s better than being on the pill.”

  “Seriously?”

  She nodded.

  He bent and kissed her. Now she could feel him against her entrance, hard, ready. “I want to, Tony,” she whispered. “Please.”

  No more hesitations. She felt him slip into her, bigger than she’d thought. Maybe there was a faint twinge of discomfort, but it was gone almost as soon as she noticed it, and then she couldn’t think about anything except the sensation of him inside her, their bodies moving together, her legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer.

  Close. That’s what this felt like…the sensation of being closer to him than she’d ever been with anyone else in her life. The wonder of his body, all muscles and heat and strength, so different from her own. His flesh was damp with sweat, and she could smell his perspiration, too, musky and masculine and strangely erotic.

  He began to move faster, and although this was the first time she’d ever done this, somehow Cassandra knew he was about to come, was about to orgasm as spectacularly as she had just a while earlier. She wasn’t sure whether she was going to climax this time but wasn’t too worried; she knew they’d have plenty more opportunity later on. Besides, she’d heard so many horror stories about how the first time could really hurt that she was just glad this felt as good as it did.

  His body tensed, and then he let out a low moan, hips driving into her as he came. She held on to him tightly, let him ride it until she could feel him relax, feel his lips brush against her neck.

  His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I love you, Cassandra.”

  “I love you, too,” she said. And she knew she did, wanted nothing more than him, someone who was probably the opposite of everything she thought she’d wanted in a man, and yet somehow was the perfect person for her.

  As relaxed and sated as she felt, she didn’t forget the words of the charm that her cousin had taught her.

  Blessed Brigid, now is not the time. Bestow your blessings elsewhere.

  Cassandra wasn’t even sure whether she believed in Brigid, but Summer had told her that didn’t matter so much — Brigid believed in all women, and would allow a witch this one special freedom. All you had to do was ask.

  Because while she knew she loved Tony and wanted to make a life with him when this was all over, she knew this definitely wasn’t the time. They would worry about a family and children and all that later on, once they were safely back home.

  The word “if” didn’t enter her mind. They would be successful, she just knew it. Surely the universe wouldn’t have allowed them to find love like this, only to take it away.

  At least, she hoped the universe would be that kind….

  14

  They ordered room servi
ce that morning, and then showered afterward together in the huge marble enclosure the suite provided. Tony already knew that Cassandra’s body was beautiful, but this experience just proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt, the bright light in the bathroom showing off what he hadn’t been able to see as clearly in the shadowy bedroom where they’d made love.

  She was so perfect…too perfect for the likes of him.

  As best he could, he tried to shut down that thought. She’d told him the night before that she loved him. More, she’d told him he would be her first. No one else had ever suckled her beautiful breasts, or touched the hot, sweet center of her womanhood. He knew better than to think of someone so strong and bright and fierce as his own, and yet she’d given something to him that she hadn’t offered to any other man. No matter what he might think of his own failings, clearly, Cassandra didn’t think of him that way.

  Now he’d just have to try his damnedest to make sure he was worthy of her.

  He noticed that she dressed soberly this morning, ignoring the pretty embroidered blouses she’d bought in favor of a plain dark green long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, and boots. The outfit would probably be way too warm for Tijuana’s mild weather, but he thought he could guess at her motivations for wearing it. After all, they would be going to meet with a nun this morning. Probably better not to look too sexy.

  And hope that they wouldn’t show any evidence of the passionate lovemaking they’d shared the night before. Tony had soaped Cassandra’s back and used the flexible shower head to rinse off the suds, so he’d gotten a good look at her. There was a faint reddish mark on the side of her neck, but with any luck, her hair would cover that. Otherwise, he couldn’t see any sign of their activities of the previous evening.

  “What do you want to do about the room?” he asked her as she stood in front of the mirror and brushed out her lustrous autumn-colored hair.

  Her mouth pursed. “Good question. I suppose we might as well check out. If Sister María Consilio has the information we need, we’re going to head on to El Salvador anyway. And if she doesn’t, then we’ll have to go back to Santa Fe. It’s not as if there’s anyone else here in Tijuana who could help us.”

  No, probably not. Tony could hope there might another nun the sister had confided in, but he somehow doubted that was the case. For one thing, María Consilio was a witch; she wouldn’t betray the trust of someone who was witch-kind, not even to a civilian who had taken vows. And, judging by what Olivia had said about her mother’s flight from El Salvador, she definitely hadn’t revealed her secrets to anyone else. If the sister couldn’t remember where the Escobar family had come from, then their mission here would definitely be at an end.

  They packed their things and made sure the room was tidy, then used the electronic checkout on the television to close out their account. Afterward, all they had to do was take their bags down to the Fiat, which looked none the worse for wear after its night in the hotel’s parking lot, pay the parking attendant, and be on their way.

  It was another sunny day, bright and beautiful and mild. Tony looked over at the woman who occupied the passenger seat and couldn’t quite believe that she’d slept in his arms the night before. Now she looked no less beautiful, but there was a sort of ferocity to her this morning, to the lift of her chin as she watched the streets outside pass by. That was the expression of a woman on a mission.

  He hoped it wouldn’t be a vain one.

  Since they’d been leisurely about their breakfast and their shower, it was now almost eleven o’clock, well within the time frame the Mother Superior had suggested as the optimal time for their visit. As they pulled up and parked, this time in a more convenient spot almost in front of the convent door, he noticed the same skinny guy who’d been skulking around the car the day before.

  “Great,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Not a problem,” Cassandra said, obviously noting the object of his disapproval. “I honestly doubt he’ll come close again, but if he does….”

  By that point, they’d exited the vehicle, so all she had to do was stretch out her hand as she’d done previously, letting that flash of warm light move over the car before it disappeared.

  “He’ll get zapped,” Tony finished for her, feeling pleased. In a perverse way, he almost hoped the guy would try something again. Maybe another painful lesson was just what he needed to decide boosting cars wasn’t exactly his best choice of profession.

  They went up to the door and knocked, and the same wide-eyed young novice peered out. Clearly, she was expecting them, because she said, “Ven conmigo. La hermana Maria Consilio te espera.”

  Tony assumed she was saying that the sister was ready to see them, or something along those lines, because Cassandra nodded and smiled, saying, “Gracias,” and then they all went down the hall, past the door to the Mother Superior’s office, and on to another set of doors, one that opened onto a lush courtyard. Even in November, flowers bloomed brightly here, roses and lilies and something bright pink that climbed the fence encircling the property.

  A woman in a nun’s black habit was sitting on one of the stone benches there. She rose as soon as she heard them approach — or maybe she didn’t need to hear them, had felt the tingle of their witchy presence, just as he and Cassandra sensed hers. Or at least, he assumed she’d felt something, since as soon as they were within ten feet, he’d gotten the familiar tingle at the base of his neck that told him he was with someone of witch-kind.

  “¿Eres sor María Consilio?” Cassandra asked.

  The woman nodded. She was quite elderly — probably in her seventies somewhere — and yet Tony could still see that she had probably been very pretty when she was younger, with large dark eyes and a small, straight nose. “You are Cassandra and Anthony,” she said.

  Well, of course she must know who they were. And thank God she could speak good English; Cassandra was a great translator, but this would be a lot easier now that he knew he wouldn’t have to wait for her to pause and translate everything for him.

  “Yes,” Cassandra replied, even though it was clear the sister hadn’t been asking a question. “Do you mind if we speak with you?”

  “Not at all,” María Consilio said. “Please, take a seat.”

  There was another stone bench facing the one where she’d been sitting, so Tony and Cassandra settled themselves on it as requested. The sister sat down as well, then folded her hands in her lap. A gold band shone on the ring finger of her left hand, the symbol of her marriage to Christ.

  “You wish to ask about the witch who sought sanctuary here so many years ago,” the nun said.

  They both nodded, and Cassandra added, “Yes, it’s very important for us to find out where she came from.”

  María Consilio frowned. “Unless things have changed greatly, it is not the sort of place I would recommend that you go.”

  Tony and Cassandra exchanged a glance. He could see the way her lips tightened, as if holding back a quick reply. He smiled at the sister and said, “We know it could be dangerous. But unfortunately, it’s not something we can avoid, either. We need to do this to keep our clans safe.”

  As he’d hoped, this angle seemed to work, because María Consilio nodded. “I understand. I suppose that I can tell you, since the woman who begged me to keep her confidences is long dead.”

  “You knew that?” Tony asked. “How?”

  “I kept in contact with Señor Santiago for a time. I wanted to see how Isabella and her family were faring.”

  You probably didn’t like a lot of what you heard, Tony thought, and noticed the way the nun frowned slightly, as if she was thinking nearly the same thing.

  “Well, then,” Cassandra said. “What can you tell us about where she came from?”

  “It was a place in El Salvador,” María Consilio replied. “A small village called Pico Negro outside the town of San Matías.”

  San Matías. Tony wondered if Joaquin Escobar had named his son after the town, or the saint who wa
s its namesake. Maybe a little of both.

  “Pico Negro is very difficult to get to,” the nun went on. “You will not find this place on any map — it is merely what the local residents called the place. From what Isabella said, it sounded as if the village was deep in the rainforest, shaded by the peaks of one of the local volcanoes. Hence its name.”

  Cassandra nodded knowingly, but of course Tony didn’t know what the nun was talking about. He’d have to ask later on.

  “But if we can get to San Matías, then we should be able to ask one of the locals how to find Pico Negro, right?” Cassandra asked.

  “If they are willing to tell you,” María Consilio said. “Pico Negro is a town only inhabited by Escobars, and the nonmagical people who live in nearby San Matías know better than to give up its secrets. Isabella made it sound as though her husband reigned over the whole area, and the regular folk in the region feared his wrath too much to speak of what they knew.”

  Well, considering what Tony had heard about Joaquin Escobar, he figured that was only prudent. But….

  “Escobar’s been dead for decades,” he pointed out, and although the sister nodded, she still wore a sad little smile.

  “True, but does anyone know who he left behind to watch over his lands, his people, while he was gone? I am sure he would not have abandoned them without making some kind of arrangement.”

  “Maybe,” Cassandra allowed, “but how do we even know he left voluntarily? Some of us have speculated that he was somehow driven out.”

  The nun’s smile never wavered. “If you had heard how Isabella spoke of her husband, you would not think such a thing. He was immensely, frighteningly powerful. She said there was no one in the clan whose powers came close to his, although the clan boasted quite a few very strong witches and warlocks. There is no one who could have ‘driven him out.’ When he came to seek vengeance for what had happened to his son, he did so secure in the knowledge that there would be no one to challenge him when he returned.”