The Phoenix Charm by Helen Scott Taylor Page A

of what she’d see, scared what his reaction might be. He tensed his shoulders, let them relax. He covered her slender hands with one of his. “ ’Tis all right, lass. I’m only asking you do your best.”
    She gazed at his hand silently, the tightly buttoned bodice of her dress rising and falling a little faster than usual. Then she looked up, but not at him, at her cat. The creature stared back with solemn gray eyes very similar to Cordelia’s. The moment stretched. He had the sense she was drawing strength or inspiration from Tamsy. He wondered if the cat were more than a pet.
    Finally, she looked at him. “I’ll try if you promise you’ll stay seated.”
    “Anything you say.” He’d agree to stand on his head if she’d get on with the reading. His heart thundered as she struck a match and lit the three floating candles. The squat white stumps bobbed in the water while she repositioned the dish. When all three candles were producing thick ribbons of smoke, she sketched a symbol in the air and whispered some words. The smoke spread, then appeared to freeze in place, a golden glaze coating the surface. Michael slid his chair to the side, curious to watch, but she shook her head. “Stay opposite me or I won’t continue.”
    With a sigh, he moved his chair back and angled his head to see her around the side of her strange scrying mirror. She had a cute little nose, which she wrinkled up when she concentrated.
    As the minutes ticked by, his attention wandered to the window. Seagulls wheeled over the cliffs at the bottom ofthe garden, screeching to each other. A blackbird landed on the flagstones outside the door and peered at him.
    “See anything?” he asked after what felt like an hour.
    “Shh. I’m concentrating.” She narrowed her eyes. Slowly, she tilted her head to the side. “Oh. Oh my goodness.” Her hand flew to her throat. Her cheeks turned scarlet.
    So she could see his future, after all. Michael was out of his chair and around the table in an instant. He leaned in beside her, searching the mirrored surface, desperate to know what would happen when they arrived in Wales.
    What he saw stunned him. Naked, he lay tangled with an equally naked woman in a very imaginative position. Despite his somber mood, heat flared in his belly. The woman in the mirror threw back her head and moaned, the sound from the image filling Cordelia’s small room. She dragged a hand through her hair, lifting the strands off her face. For a disbelieving moment Michael stared, then he whispered, “Sweet bejesus, Cordelia. That ’s you .”
    Cordelia nearly knocked the table flying when she shot to her feet. She had to put space between herself and Michael now. She tripped on her hem as she stumbled out the French window to the garden.
    The warm swirling feeling in her belly spread, tingling in her thighs, across her ribs, into her breasts.
    “No!”
    She ran down the neatly manicured lawn to the lichencovered wall dividing the garden from the sheer cliffs that dropped to the ocean. She stopped, fists crumpling her skirt, and let the cool wind whipping up off the water dull the sensations. Her allure churned so wildly, she feared it would break out of the containing wards painted on her body and drive Michael to madness.
    “Cordelia?” The question in Michael’s voice sent a chill through her that quelled the flow of sensation more effectively than the coldest wind. She dropped her face into herhands, wishing fervently that he would disappear, that this was all a nightmare. But she sensed him moving closer, the warm beat of his presence strong and fierce in her chest. A constant reminder of her vulnerability to him.
    “Don’t use your glamour on me,” she snapped.
    “I’m not , lass ,” he replied, sounding baffled.
    “Oh rats’ tails.” If she felt like this when he wasn’t using glamour, eventually her allure would grow too strong for the wards to control. Once they’d rescued Fin, she must keep away from