The Hidden Legacy

our tongues met and we tasted each other. His other arm came out and pulled me close.
It had been a long, long time since I’d been held, or kissed so thoroughly by a man. I responded to those kisses without a thought, and part of me rejoiced in discovering that my sexuality wasn’t dormant after all.
Suddenly he released his grip on my waist, and Henry lifted his head. My eyes fluttered open, and the expression on his face had me taking a step backwards. His brows were lowered, his mouth was set—hardly the appearance of a man caught up in the passion of the moment.
Neither of us said a word, but there was something in his eyes that let me know, while I may have enjoyed our kiss, he’d had other motives involved. Yes, he was attracted, but this had been a power play—plain and simple. A way for him to see if I’d crack under pressure and probably a way to take out some of the frustration Rowan’s magick had stirred up.
I searched for my voice, and it took me a moment. “If you’ve quite finished.”
I pulled my head back even though his hand was still in my hair. He opened his hand, and let the strands run through his fingers as I eased further away. I reached blindly for the railing. I eased down the first step, my eyes never leaving his.
He stayed where he was, watching me. “Go ahead and run,” he said softly. “I’ll still figure out what ever it is that you’re hiding.”
“I’m going home,” I said moving down another step. “I’m not running.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Keep telling yourself that, darlin’.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
Some Witch I turned out to be. I’d been out maneuvered by a mundane.
He’d cast those sexual lures out there—and like some breathless neophyte, or inexperienced virgin, I’d fallen under his spell and had never even considered the possibility that he was playing me.
It was galling.
I’d been so caught up in the kiss that I never imagined he’d try and use his sexuality as a weapon against me—in order to get the information he wanted. No magick required.
And here I’d been worrying about crossing a line and being unethical...and that sonofabitch had managed to stir me up, make me feel stupid, and piss me off in record time.
I got through my evening, and even played Pirates with Eli. Tonight he’d been all about hidden treasure, and insisted that we search the apartment and even the gardens for the pieces of eight. By the time I’d put the bathroom back to rights after his bath, I was wiped out.
I tossed a night shirt on. I staggered to bed, plugged my phone in to charge on the nightstand, and lay there staring at the dark ceiling, restless and unable to sleep. I went over the day’s events in my mind again and again. Frustrated, I rolled over to my side and saw a soft green glowing light coming from the nightstand drawer.
“The ring,” I whispered.
I gently pulled the drawer open and patted around for the carved wooden box. I pulled it free and the light seemed to be leaking out from the hinged lid. What had mom said? I tried to recall. That the poesy ring would make its magick known to me? Apparently it was doing so right now.
I lifted the lid and the light seemed to coalesce, as if a little aura of light wrapped around the ring—only to sink into the jewel. The glow faded out as I watched. I took a breath and braced myself, wondering what would happen when I put it on this time.
I slipped the ring on my finger and it lay quietly. Almost disappointed that nothing had happened, I pulled it off and picked up my cell phone and shined its light on the interior of the band to study the engraving.
I’d had time to translate the Gaelic inscription. I knew what it meant now. “Pulse of my heart,” I said.
The ring seemed unimpressed with my translation to English. I clicked off the flashlight app and set the phone aside. “Hmm...the last time I’d held the ring, I’d read the inscription out loud. Could that have been the catalyst?” I wondered. “Cuirle mo croide,” I said, letting it slip back on my third finger.
Then everything changed.
Like the first time the magick of the poesy ring had been activated, I began to experience another vision. While one reality slid over another, I stayed very still and waited to see what I would be shown this time.
The first thing I observed were my own hands as they ran across a broad masculine chest sprinkled with crisp hair. I heard myself sigh in appreciation at the firm muscles beneath my fingertips. I knew this man. He was the same one from the first vision. I watched my own nails rake lightly across his chest, as the jewel on my hand glowed with a bright, green light. The man shuddered in reaction at my explorations, and I was rolled from my side to my back.
My hands slid up his chest and I was nipping at the side of his neck, when he pulled my legs up higher. I gasped as the man slid inside me, his thrusts slow and deep. In response, I wrapped my arms and legs around him and hung on.
The man tangled his hands in my hair. “Damn it, I love you,” he growled in my ear.
His words thrilled me. “I love you too,” I whispered, kissing my way down his neck, and across the tattoo that was on his upper right shoulder. As I sampled that strong shoulder, I saw that the tattoo was all done in black...the design a ragged flag displaying a skull with two crossed swords beneath it.
The Jolly Roger.
Startled, I pulled back—intent on seeing the man’s face—and then crazily I heard my grandmother’s voice in my head. Watch for the Pirate, Hannah.
Like a bucket of ice water, my grandmother’s voice