A Little Bit Bewitched

If Daniel Meyers had known about the sheer number of mind-numbing meetings he would be subjected to, he would have reconsidered his career in academia. He vaguely remembered an eager desire to pass on his love of eighteenth century novels to interested young minds, but that was back in the heady days of his youth. Before he realized professors did nothing but attend meetings, and there were no interested young minds waiting to absorb knowledge. Hugh Sturges, the head of the Humanities department, droned on about budgets at the front of the room. He droned on about budgets every week. The details never changed. The school was broke, the department was broke, they needed to raise more money, all their jobs were at peril. Daniel looked across the conference table and caught Charles Cowling’s eye, and they exchanged a small, understanding smile. If there was any good thing about accepting a position as an associate professor in a tiny university in the middle of f*****g nowhere, it was Charles Cowling. Daniel respected the man as a colleague and a scholar, but he liked him for his dry wit and the fine Scotch he hid in his office. “If there’s no further business…” Daniel sat up, suddenly interested. Was Sturges ending the meeting now? Thirty minutes early? He damn near trembled with hope, eyeing the twelve people surrounding the table and daring them to raise another matter of business. Nobody did. “We’ll adjourn for the week, then.” Daniel jumped to his feet before the other man even finished speaking. He didn’t care if he appeared overeager to get out of there. He was overeager, and he didn’t make a secret of it. What would Sturges do? Fire him? Nobody was knocking down the door to take Daniel’s job. “You look like you could use a drink,” Charles said as Daniel passed. “It’s been a long week.” Charles nodded and turned to the door. Daniel fell in step behind him, careful not to make eye contact with anybody. He liked his other colleagues. He did. But when he couldn’t shake the feeling he was wasting his life and he would be stuck in this odd version of hell for eternity, he didn’t want to chat with them. They all loved their jobs. Or they were really good at faking it. Either way, conversations with them were far too draining. Nothing like the time he spent with Charles. They strolled silently through the warren of halls, Daniel ducking when the ceiling came perilously close to his head. He spent the first month after he accepted the job confused with a permanent bump on his brow. Did he need to take a right after two lefts or a left after two rights? Why was the ceiling so low in some places? Who designed this bloody building? The whole thing was a mystery that he never had the energy to solve. Charles unlocked his door, revealing a cavernous office that always seemed a little too dark for a Shakespeare scholar. The shadows had been intimidating once, but now they were familiar, even welcoming. Daniel followed Charles into the room and collapsed into the oversized leather chair. “We should post a thank you to Mrs. Sturges,” Charles said. He headed straight for his barrister to pull out the bottle of Dalwhinnie he kept hidden behind a time-worn copy of “Measure for Measure.” Daniel had to refrain from chuckling every time he considered the irony. “And drink to dinner engagements even the indomitable Sturges cannot wriggle out of.” “I shall send her a dozen roses tomorrow to show her my gratitude,” Daniel vowed, only half-joking. He accepted the drink from Charles and took a long sip. The rich flavor lingered on his tongue, and the alcohol warmed his stomach and burned away the cobwebs in his mind. “I never thought a half hour would mean so much to me.” “I think Sturges labors under the misconception that time is of little value to anyone preferring the classics.” Charles leaned against the edge of his desk, his long legs angled in front of him. In spite of the strands of gray shooting through the brown hair at his temples and the glasses he was forced to wear more and more often, he gave off an impression of youth that attracted students to Shakespeare who might not necessarily study it. Perhaps the twinkle in his hazel eyes caught their attention, like somewhere along the way, Professor Charles Cowling had corralled his inner child and preserved him for eternal safekeeping. Or playing, as the case may be. “Are you able to escape this weekend?” he was saying. “You were talking of that trip into London, weren’t you?” “No, I’m afraid I’m stuck here. I have too much work to do, though I have promised to treat myself to an extended holiday at the end of the term.” “Fleeing the country with the advent of summer. Always a good plan.” Charles drained the rest of his whiskey, but as he set aside the tumbler, a small knock came at the door. “Oh, bugger,” he muttered. Turning his back to Danny, he began stowing away his not-quite-contraband. “Would you get that, please?” Daniel almost declined. It could have been Sturges, after all. In which case, the more reasonable solution would have been to turn off all the lights and pretend they weren’t there. But Sturges had a master key, so that plan probably wouldn’t have worked. Danny pulled the door open and froze. The girl—woman—standing in front of him was, well, stunning. Long copper hair framed a smiling face. He had an unbelievable urge to touch her cheek, to see if her creamy skin felt as soft as it looked. Danny had never noticed freckles before, but she had the most adorable sprinkling of them across her nose and high cheeks. He wanted to count them. Her eyes were a soft green, almost hazel. Daniel registered all the details and immediately began trying to place her. Was she a student? She looked older than his students, but not by much. “Oh, Lucy. Come in please.” Daniel stepped out of her way, and she smiled at him before slipping inside the room. Lucy. Lucy. Did he know the name? No, but she seemed at ease in Charles’s office. She must be his new assistant. “You are never going to believe what I found.” She moved straight to Charles’s desk, dropping the large bag she’d had over her shoulder onto its surface. The heavy thump it made surprised him almost as much as hearing an American accent come out of her mouth. “I love boot sales. They are so much better than anything we have at home.” “As exciting as I’m sure they are…” Charles’s long hand closed over hers, stopping her from emptying the bag onto his desk. “…I do have a guest, Lucy.” The slightly chiding tone of his voice made her stiffen, her bright eyes flying up to look at Daniel again. Twin spots of color stained her cheeks. It actually made her even more appealing. “I’m sorry,” she rushed to say. “I’m so used to coming and going whenever I want that I forget…” She shook her head, clearly changing her mind about her tactics, and approached Daniel with her hand outstretched. “Lucy Hensen.” “Enchanted,” Daniel blurted, as soon as her fingers touched his. “I mean…I’m Daniel Meyers. One of Charles’s colleagues here.” Of course you are, you i***t. “What do you teach?” Daniel was more concerned with the fact that she was still touching him than he was about answering her question. “Eighteenth and nineteenth British literature, mainly. Not terribly interesting to most people, I’m afraid.” Her smile widened, and though her grip loosened, she leaned closer, as if to whisper a secret. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not most people then.” “Lucy.” Charles’s firm tone even made Daniel jump, and Lucy let him go, retreating back to the desk. Her eyes caught his for a brief moment before turning back to the bag she’d brought in, and she began emptying it, stacking books, aged and worn, onto the blotter. “I’ll come back later when you’re not busy,” she said. “I don’t want to get in the way.” “No,” Daniel said quickly. “That’s not necessary. I was just imposing on Charles’s time. We’re not really that busy.” Though she cast him a shy smile, she turned her full attention to Charles, allowing Daniel the opportunity to regard her with growing curiosity. Why had he not known about Charles having an assistant? And an American, to boot? It wasn’t a vanity position, of that he was certain. One only had to listen to Lucy for a few moments to hear the excitement in her voice as she chattered on about the charity shops she’d ransacked in search of hidden literary treasures. And yet, this was the first time Daniel had seen her on the campus. “If you want…” Her clear eyes were back on him, soft and expectant, and Daniel pulled himself straighter under her scrutiny. “…I can look for books for you, too, the next time I go into the city. Just tell me what kinds of things you like. I’ll bring back at least one treasure for you, I promise.” “She has a remarkable knack for it,” Charles added. “I’m not sure where I’d be without her this term.” “Oh, thank you. Perhaps you could come and have a look at my library some time. To make sure you don’t find something I already own.” Daniel wanted to tell himself he wasn’t trying to pick up on Charles Cowling’s young, charming, American, nubile assistant. But he could at least acknowledge he was eager for another chance to spend time with her. “Be careful what you wish for,” Charles said with a small smile. He settled in the chair behind the desk, resting his ankle on his knee as he regarded them. “Lucy is the only person I’ve ever met to love books more than I do. Invite her in, and you may never get her to leave.” Lucy blushed with embarrassment. “He’s right. But if you’re willing to take the risk, I’d love to come see what you have.” Daniel smiled. If he wasn’t already charmed by this creature, the pink flush of her cheeks and the sheepish light in her eyes would have done the trick. “That’s definitely a risk I’m willing to take, but I don’t want to take you away from Charles. I’ll be in my office all day tomorrow, if you have time to come by.” “Tomorrow?” She glanced back at Charles, who gave her a short nod. “Tomorrow’s good. I’ll see you then.” Scooping up her now-empty backpack, she slipped around him to the door. “It was nice meeting you.” “My pleasure,” Daniel murmured before she shut the door behind her. As soon as she disappeared, he turned to Charles. “Who is that? She’s not a student, is she?” “Only in spirit. She attempted to enroll as a graduate, but the university wanted her to take some preliminary courses they thought were lacking in her American curriculum. Needless to say, she wasn’t pleased about being treated like a child. She’s really a very bright girl.” “Is she employed here, then?” Employment seemed unlikely, given Sturges’s obsession with the budget. “Or do you have a more informal arrangement?” An enigmatic smile curved Charles’s mouth. “You might say that. We’ve worked out a trade, mostly. She works as my assistant, and I give her the education she came here to get. It’s been quite…beneficial, if I do say so.” “I’m surprised I haven’t met her before. We’re not exactly at Oxford, are we?” He buried his hands in his pockets. “Do you think she’d be interested in getting a cup of coffee with me?” “You’d have to ask her. Though really…” He leaned forward, his smile widening. “…I think you’re rather her type. If I’d thought about it, I would have introduced the two of you sooner.” Daniel wasn’t the sort to ask girls to coffee, but he thought he might ask her. She was definitely his type, and if Charles thought he had a chance…well, it seemed she was a girl who was worth any risk. “In that case, I think I will ask her. She seems rather remarkable.” “Yes,” Charles said softly. His smile didn’t fade. “That, she is.” * * * * Lucy glowed in the sunlight. That was the only word Daniel knew to describe her. Her hair glowed, her skin glowed, her smile glowed. Everything. He supposed it was clear to anybody with eyes he was absolutely smitten with her. Especially when he made a reference to Tom Jones that she immediately picked up on and ran with. He wanted to know everything about her. They had agreed to meet at a small shop across the street from the university, and the day had been so beautiful neither wanted to sit indoors. They settled at a bench and table beneath a tall tree, and it might have been the most beautiful day on record, but Daniel barely noticed anything besides her. “How long have you been in England?” he asked, as she picked at a scone. “This time?” Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she looked off to the side while she contemplated her answer. “Six weeks and a day,” she replied. “This time? You’ve visited before, then?” “A couple times. To check out the university, visit with some friends.” She picked up a crumb from the tabletop with her fingertip and promptly sucked it off. “I like it here. It doesn’t feel like somebody drywalled the country together, expecting to tear it down again in a week.” Daniel smiled, noticing a crumb on the corner of her mouth. He gestured at his own lips. “You have something…” Her tongue darted out, and he couldn’t help but stare at the slow progress of the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. “No, it certainly doesn’t. So have you only known Charles for six weeks?” “Oh, no.” A shake of her head accompanied the denial, brushing her hair across her cheeks. The sunshine glinted in the coppery strands, accenting lighter streaks that looked like spun gold. “He’s the whole reason I wanted to come here. He’s so brilliant. I actually met him last year when I came to visit my friends. They introduced us.” Daniel didn’t miss the way her eyes lit up when she mentioned Charles. For the first time, it occurred to him perhaps she had more than a professional interest in the older man. She had been willing to travel halfway across the world and do the work of a graduate student without the credit, after all. “I don’t blame you for wanting to study with him. I’ve been a big fan of his since I’ve arrived here. Sometimes I think our friendship keeps me sane.” “He told me you’re the only one on the whole staff whose brain hasn’t been sucked away by Sturges and all the politics around here.” The surprised lift of his brows made her blush, and she tore into her scone with a fresh vigor. “I kind of asked him about you,” she admitted in a rush. “That afternoon before I showed up at your office.” “I think I’ve been able to resist the brain-sucking because of Charles’s influences. He’s been having a silent, but intense battle of the wills with that man for years now.” Daniel grinned and leaned forward. “Did he have any other flattering comments to make?” He took the swiftness of her reply as further proof that the innocence she projected was genuine; she didn’t even stop to consider the fact he was fishing. “That you were smarter than you give yourself credit for. That you could do better than this place if you wanted to, but you’re too honorable to leave the university in the lurch like that.” Her hand came dangerously close to his where she toyed with her scone. Daniel imagined he felt the heat of her skin more so than the sun overhead. “That if I wanted to, I could trust you with anything.” Lucy lifted her gaze back to his, and her eyes were startlingly clear. “If I wanted to.” Daniel didn’t know what to think at first. He thought Charles might offer vague or meaningless compliments, like he’s a good sort. “Do you want to?” he asked, not daring to look away from her. She shot him a crooked grin. “That’s what the coffee was for.” He frowned. “To find out if you want to trust me, or to demonstrate that you do?” “To find out that Charles was right.” Daniel ducked his gaze now, afraid of what she would see if he kept looking at her. He didn’t want to come across too strong. Especially since he wanted to ask her to spend the rest of the day with him. “Regardless of the motive, I’m happy you agreed to coffee. And emboldened to ask for a dinner date, as well.” When she didn’t respond right away, he had no choice but to look up again. Lucy was chewing on her lower lip, her attention fixed on the loose crumbs scattered across the table. “My nights are actually pretty full,” she said. “Which is totally not an attempt on my part to ditch going out with you. But, um…” Her nose wrinkled up as she struggled with some decision. “What would you say if I told you I was a part of a coven?” Daniel blinked. “A coven? Like a coven of witches?” She pulled back and he said quickly, “I mean, I didn’t know there were witches. Or covens.” “It’s not like you see in the movies. We don’t have any cauldrons or black robes. And see?” She held out her hands, turning them over for his inspection. “No warts.” Her hands were, indeed, pleasantly free of warts. But he took her wrists and made a show of inspecting them anyway. Her skin was so warm against his fingers, and her pulse pounded against his thumb. “No, no warts.” Daniel grudgingly released her. “Do you fly on broomsticks and turn people into newts?” “No, it’s not like that,” she said in all seriousness. Her hand fluttered in dismissal. “Never mind. I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.” Daniel hesitated. She was giving him an out. Witchcraft—even if it didn’t involve cauldrons and broomsticks—was really…weird. But not quite weird enough to walk away from her. “No, please. I didn’t mean to make a joke of it. I’m actually very…curious.” Lucy watched him warily through her lashes. “You’re saying that because you want me to go out with you again.” “Well, yes. I do want you to go out with me again. Because, in case you can’t tell, you fascinate me. I want to know more about you, and about the things important to you.” The answer seemed to satisfy her, and some of the newfound tension eased from her muscles. “Would you like to see it for yourself?” she asked. “I’ll have to ask, but between me and Charles, I don’t think anybody would object if you observed one night.” Charles was a member of her coven? Charles Cowling was a witch? Would he be a witch, or a warlock? Or some other term Daniel wasn’t familiar with? How had he never known this? He knew he was focused on his work, but he never considered himself completely oblivious. If nothing else, he needed to know what all this meant. Did they sit around in a circle and chant? Was it some sort of pagan religion? They didn’t actually believe in magic, did they? Or commune with the devil? “Is that how you met Charles?” Lucy nodded. “My friend Tara first invited me to England to meet the coven, but it was Charles who suggested I be his initiate. Everything just kind of…fell into place after that.” His initiate? The back of Daniel’s neck itched, and a thousand questions sprang to mind. It was the same sort of reaction a new book or unexpected theory had on him. He was far too curious to let it go now. “I would love to have a chance to observe one night. You don’t think Charles…or anybody else…will mind if I do?” “No, they trust me not to leave the coven exposed unnecessarily.” She took him by surprise when she reached across the table and covered his hand with her own. “And I trust you, Daniel.” Daniel warmed immediately, though he couldn’t tell if it was her touch, her words, or her tone. Experimentally, he turned his hand palm up and threaded his fingers through hers. She didn’t seem shocked, and she didn’t pull away from him. “I’m honored that you do. I won’t give you a reason not to.”