Spellbound
Kate Hoffmann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Copyright

Chapter One

“That’s it. That’s her shop. She calls herself a witch, mixes up potions all day long. My wife spends fifty dollars in there every week for oils, and lotions, and teas, and who knows what. It’s your job to put an end to it.”

Will Ross shoved his hands in his pockets as he stared across the street. When he took the job as police chief in the remote village of Barstow Ferry in northern Maine, he’d wanted to find the kind of peaceful existence that wasn’t possible as a vice detective in Boston. He hadn’t expected to deal with a lot of serious crime. But he hadn’t really signed on to run witches out of town, either.

But the president of the village board had handed him a list of priorities upon his arrival, and Kelsey Quinn had been at the top of his list, right above repositioning the moose crossing sign on Main Street and driving 100-year-old Barney Boulet around town on his birthday.

“Have you talked to her?” Will asked the board president. “Maybe you could just ask her not to sell to your wife anymore.”

“Are you crazy?” Ben Murphy asked. “She’ll put a curse on me. She hexed Wibby Phillips and he tripped on the porch steps and knocked out his two front teeth. Used to play the trumpet. Now he can’t blow a note.”

“Are you really sure she was responsible? I mean, I don’t really believe in spells. Maybe this Wibby just slipped on a patch of ice?”

“I don’t care what you believe. The village board voted. You need to close her down. Chase her out of the village. That’s all there is to it.”

Will drew a deep breath. “All right. I’ll see what I can do. But there is the matter of the law here. If she’s not breaking any laws, I really can’t touch her.”

“I wouldn’t even think of touching her,” Ben said, wandering off down the street and waving his hands. “Get it done!”

Will started toward the “witch’s” tiny shop, set between a tavern and the post office. If he had to imagine a shop that a witch might run, this would be it, with its pointy little roof above the door and its leaded glass windows. In fact, it resembled one of those old filling stations from the 1920s, with gingerbread decorating the facade and red tile covering the roof. The building looked completely out of place among the more solid, weather-worthy properties on the street, as if it had been dropped into place during some moment of magic.

“All right,” he murmured to himself. “This is going to be your first official act. Better make it good.”

In truth, Will hadn’t wanted to leave Boston. But several very close encounters between himself and a speeding bullet had convinced him that his number might be coming up faster than normal. The last incident had been so close, the bullet had grazed his ear as it had flown by before it had hit his partner in the arm.

So when Dave Simon, his partner, had taken a job in his hometown in Iowa, Will decided it was time for him to make a change, too. For some reason, fate had marked him and the only way to escape the inevitable was to go somewhere where criminals didn’t exist, or didn’t carry guns. So Will had found a new job on the border between Maine and Canada, in a place called Barstow Ferry, a quaint little village on the St. John River.

When he reached the front door of the shop, he pasted a charming smile on his face and tried to think optimistically. He’d dealt with violent drug dealers and trigger-happy wise guys. He could certainly handle some old lady who thought she was a witch.

Chapter Two

Kelsey Quinn looked up from the herbs she was grinding with her mortar and pestle. A man stood in the doorway and she stared at him for a long moment, wondering what he wanted. Most of her business was with the women in town. When a man stopped by the shop, it was usually to warn her off doing business with his wife.

“Can I help you?”

He paused for a long moment, an odd expression coming over his face. “Are you Kelsey Quinn?”

Kelsey sighed and went back to her task. “If you have a problem, I understand there’s a new police chief in town. Would you like me to call him?”

The man stepped inside and slowly crossed the room to the counter. As he came closer, Kelsey held her breath. He was a stranger—she knew almost everyone in town and she would have remembered meeting this guy. His thick dark hair framed a handsome face with intense blue eyes and a mouth that curled up at the corners in a charming smile.

“You and I need to talk,” he said.

Kelsey picked up the cordless phone and dialed the number for the police station. “Have a look around. The police are usually really slow. If some bloodthirsty ax murderer happened to show up in Barstow Ferry, I’m sure he’d have plenty of time to kill the entire village before the police showed up.”

“Really? That bad?”

Kelsey nodded, listening for the connection. “Yes, this is Kelsey over at the Thistle and Thorn. Could you send someone over right away? I have another disgruntled spouse.”

She hung up the phone and watched as the man picked through a basket of blackberry tea. “Blackberry leaf tea is good for stomach problems. And it can be used as a poultice for sunburns or other skin irritations. I gather those leaves from wild blackberry bushes up on the ridge above the river. The bushes have been there for over a hundred years.”

A shiver skittered through her as she watched him wander around the shop. He really was a beautifully built man, tall and lean. Her gaze dropped down to his hands and her breath caught in her throat as she imagined those hands touching her face, skimming over her shoulders, spanning her waist. She tried to calm her suddenly racing pulse.

A loud squawk split the silence of the shop, jolting Kelsey out of her fantasy. The stranger pulled a small radio out of his jacket pocket. “Ross here,” he said, depressing a button on the side.

“We have a 10-44 in progress,” the woman’s voice said. Kelsey recognized the police department’s dispatcher, Lenore Wilkens, a retired schoolteacher they’d hired last year.

“A 10-44 would be a possible mental subject, Lenore. I think for this call we should say it’s a 10-70 or maybe a 10-94. You need to memorize the codes if you’re going to work dispatch.”

“Why can’t I just tell you what’s going on?” Lenore asked.

“All right,” he said, shaking his head. “Go ahead.”

“Kelsey Quinn over at the Thistle and Thorn says she’s got a disgruntled spouse who’s giving her problems. I think you ought to get over there right away. And tell her I’ll be in for my gout tea later this afternoon. 10-4. Over and out. Bye-bye.”

He looked up at Kelsey and she winced. “So you’re him,” she said. “The new police chief.”

Will nodded and held out his hand. “Will Ross. Yes, I’m the new police chief here in town.”

She placed her fingers in his and felt a current of desire race through her body like an electric shock.

He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

Chapter Three

“So who sent you?” Kelsey asked, her fingers still curled around his.

Will was reluctant to break the contact. His heart was beating so fast he could almost hear it through his shirt and canvas jacket. He wasn’t surprised at his body’s reaction. Once he’d decided to move out of Boston, his on-again off-again girlfriend had turned the switch permanently to off on their relationship. It had been a while since he’d even touched a woman.

“The village board. They think you’re perpetrating a fraud upon some of the citizens of Barstow Ferry.”

“I’m not. What I do here is legitimate. I’m an herbalist and a holistic healer and trained in ayurvedic medicine. I have a degree in psychology and I’m a certified acupuncturist.” She sighed and shook her head. “It’s going to take a lot more than a visit from you to run me out of town.”

Will slowly drew his hand away from hers and caught her gaze. “Can we sit down and talk? Maybe there’s a way to resolve this problem? You seem to be a reasonable person and I’m certainly open to exploring a compromise.”

“I was just going to have some tea,” she said. “Would you like a cup?”

Will really wasn’t a tea kind of guy, but what the hell. If it meant he could spend a few more minutes getting to know the town witch, then he’d drink puddle water and enjoy it. “Yeah, a cup of tea would be nice.”

She led him back to a small alcove at the rear of the store. It might have been the spot that housed the parts counter in the old filling station. Her small tearoom was beautifully decorated with dried flower garlands and pretty fabrics.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, disappearing through another door.

Will picked up a book sitting in the center of the table. It was an antique text on herbology, filled with hand-tinted illustrations. Tucked in between the pages were tiny dried flowers. He picked up a pressed violet and examined it carefully.

She returned carrying a tray with tea and cookies. “Violets,” she said. “They’re used for laxative purposes.”

“Good to know,” he murmured, putting the flower back into the book. “So tell me, how did you get into this line of work?”

“How did I become a witch?” she asked. “That’s what you’re asking, isn’t it?”

“Are you a witch?” Will asked.

She gave him an enigmatic smile that he found endlessly attractive. God, she was all sorts of pretty. Her auburn hair fell around her shoulders in a tumble of thick waves, and long lashes ringed eyes of a strange but fascinating teal color. “That’s what people call me. But most witches in early times were healers. That’s what I am.”

“And how did you get your healing…powers?”

“I inherited them from one of my ancestors, Bridie Quinn. She came here in 1880 with her daughter from a town downstate. Her daughter, Moira, gave birth to my great-grandfather. The powers only pass to the females in the family, though, so my daughters will have the power, but my sons won’t.”

“You have children?”

She shook her head. “No, no, I’m not married.”

“Good,” he said.

She blinked in surprise. “Good?”

His radio squawked again and Will sent her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. The job calls.” He slowly stood. “I should really go. Maybe I could stop by again…or maybe we could grab some dinner? Tonight?”

He could see suspicion in her gaze, the flicker of doubt. Will held his breath. It had been a casual invitation, but now he really hoped she’d say yes. Of all the citizens in Barstow Ferry, Kelsey Quinn was the one he wanted to get to know a lot better.

“All right,” she finally said. “Why don’t you pick me up at about six?”

“Here?”

“My place. Lenore can give you directions.”

Will smiled, then nodded. “All right then. It’s a date.” He paused. “Well, not a date. It’s a…plan.” He headed toward the door, satisfied that his first official call had gone better than expected. Hopefully the evening would follow suit.

Chapter Four

Kelsey smoothed her hands over the front of her vintage dress as she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Which was silly. There was no need to be nervous. It wasn’t as if the dinner was a real date. Will Ross just wanted to talk to her about her business. And if she could charm him, then maybe she could bring him over to her side.

Her breath caught in her throat. Was that what she really wanted? Life in upstate Maine was pleasant enough, yet there were times when she couldn’t bear the loneliness, times when she wanted to just pack up and leave. And yet, she had people who depended upon her, people who believed that she was the only person who could heal them.

She had never really been sure whether her efforts actually helped. Most of her customers had regular doctors and used conventional medicines. But for some reason, they believed that her remedies held the key to their good health, so she was committed to doing what she could.

But if push came to shove, would they really choose her help over traditional medicine? Maybe she ought to start thinking about her own happiness instead of everyone else’s. Maybe she should leave and find a place where she wasn’t known as the town witch.

But Barstow Ferry was the only home she’d really known. It was the source of her power, the place that her ancestors’ spirits lived. The family home she now owned was here, as was the business she’d inherited from her great-aunt. She was the last of her family line, the last female descendant of Bridie Quinn, the powerful Irish witch. If she left, would she lose everything that made her special?

Kelsey hurried out of the bathroom to the kitchen, then checked the bubbling pot on the stove. She’d found the recipe for the persuasion potion in the old leather-bound journal she’d inherited from great-aunt Tizzy. It contained all of Bridie’s magic, carefully written out with recipes and incantations and counter-spells.

Though in theory she should have inherited Bridie’s powers, Kelsey had never considered herself a full-fledged witch. She knew the calming and healing qualities of plants, but she couldn’t affect someone’s behavior by just chanting a few words. She couldn’t blink her eyes and wiggle her nose and change the course of events.

The potion’s recipe was complicated, and Kelsey wasn’t sure it would work, but if she ever needed a little help persuading someone to her cause, now was the time.

She ladled a small measure of the potion into one of the glasses, then added ice and lemonade, before preparing a drink for herself.

None of the herbs were dangerous. In fact, she’d used them all for various remedies. But this combination was supposed to work on a man’s mind, to make him more open to the power of suggestion.

Will Ross was on a mission, determined to put her out of business. And she was just as determined to win him over. This was her livelihood, she had to use any weapon available to her, and if it took a little herbal concoction, then that was fair, wasn’t it?

“Hello? Anyone home?”

“Here we go,” Kelsey murmured as she picked up the glasses. She pasted a smile on her face, but the moment she saw him through the screen door, she realized that she was in a lot deeper than she thought. Everything about him—his eyes, his smile, the way his hair fell across his forehead—made her weak in the knees.

“I—I thought we’d have something to drink,” she said, her voice cracking.

Will opened the door for her and she walked over to the porch swing and sat down, holding his glass out for him. Rather than join her on the swing, Will leaned up against the porch railing and observed her silently for a long moment.

“This is a beautiful house,” he finally said. “How old is it?”

“About a hundred years,” she replied. She felt like a silly girl, all giddy and nervous and breathless. Why did things seem so uncomfortable between them?

He took a sip of his drink. “It’s good,” he said.

“Thanks. I made it myself.” If he could taste the potion, it didn’t show. He took another gulp and she relaxed, hoping the effects would show themselves soon. “How was your day at work?”

Will groaned softly then pushed off the rail and sat down beside her. “I really don’t want to talk about work,” he said. “Why don’t we talk about you?” He stretched his arm across the back of the swing. “Tell me why the entire village board wants to shut you down.”

Kelsey turned to look at him, and the moment her gaze met his, she forgot what she was going to say. She opened her mouth, ready to babble anything at all. She swallowed hard. “The council has its own agenda, but people have always been suspicious about my family. When bad things happen and there’s no one to blame, they blame me. People fear what they can’t control.”

But Will Ross didn’t seem to have any fears at all. A moment later, he leaned forward and his lips covered hers in a sweet and gentle kiss.

It was the last thing she’d expected. She hadn’t brewed a love potion! And yet, it seemed like the most perfect moment she could have wished for. His kiss was definitely persuading her to do a lot more than just…kiss.

His fingers slipped through the hair at her nape and he drew her closer, and all Kelsey could think about was the exquisite taste of him and the sensation of his tongue touching hers. She’d never expected the potion to work, much less create such a strong reaction.

But then, maybe it wasn’t the potion at all…

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