Kiss Me Forever/Love Me Forever. Rosemary Laurey

as she claimed the centerpiece as her prize. The pink begonias matched her face.

      “How was this as an evening of British culture?” Christopher asked Dixie.

      “Come now, Marlowe,” Sebastian said. “Don’t put her on the spot.”

      Sebastian wouldn’t answer for her. “Interesting. Like something out of an Agatha Christie. You know, cards in the village hall and someone found dead on the vicarage lawn in the morning.”

      “Now you’re getting fanciful,” Sebastian said, his mouth tightening.

      “You’re right,” Christopher said, smiling at Dixie. “But for that scenario you need a vast twenties vicarage, not the three bedroom bungalow Reverend James lives in, plus a parlor maid to find the corpse before breakfast.”

      “Stop this, both of you!” Emily fussed. “There aren’t murders in Bringham. Dixie was just joking. Americans do that all the time, I’m told.”

      Dixie wanted to ask who’d told her, but bit it back. All she needed was to get home. Alone. And she fancied Christopher planned to complicate that.

      He leaned back in his chair, causing the thin metal legs to scrape the floor. “We had one recent death at the vicarage.”

      Sebastian hissed, and Emily paled before she flushed and snapped, “Oh, please! Not here!”

      “What?” asked Dixie, looking from Sebastian’s tight mouth to Emily’s red face to Christopher’s smirk.

      “You hadn’t heard?” Christopher asked.

      “Heard what?” What did they all know that he wanted to tell?

      “I thought Caughleigh would have mentioned it.” Christopher smiled at Sebastian. “Your great-aunt, old Miss Faith, died on the front steps of the vicarage. The milkman found her. She’d had a stroke.”

      Something spun inside. No, Sebastian hadn’t told her. Christopher knew that and he’d chosen this moment to tell. Why? She was heartily sick of being used to get at Sebastian.

      “She was an eccentric old lady, given to wandering. Probably felt herself taken ill and went there for help. I think your timing’s disgraceful, Marlowe. You’ve upset Dixie.”

      “I’m fine, Sebastian.” He was halfway around the table and Dixie didn’t want his arm supporting her. Not at any price.

      She offered to help Emma tidy up, glad of the chance to talk with her neighbor, and in the sneaky hope that Emily would convince Sebastian to take her home. She didn’t. Emily and Sebastian stood in a corner talking to Sally, while Christopher stacked folding chairs with Ian. By the time they loaded the last dish in Emma’s Range Rover, all Dixie wanted was her own bed. Alone.

      “Ready?” Sebastian asked as Ian and Emma drove off.

      “Yes, I enjoyed the evening, but I’ll be glad to get home.” She hoped the hint was heavy enough.

      Emily stood beside Sebastian and Sally, looking from one to the other as if wondering what would happen next. “I need a ride. Could you drop me off, Sebby?”

      Dixie grabbed the chance. “Of course. He can drop me off on the way.” She half-hoped Christopher would offer to take her, but he just stood there enjoying the performance.

      They were all halfway to their cars when Sally swore, “Blast! I’ve got a puncture. It would be tonight when Robert’s away.”

      “I’ll give you a hand,” Christopher offered. “No point in everyone hanging about here.” Dixie’s last sight of Christopher was his broad shoulders as he walked towards Sally’s Land Rover.

      Christopher offered a ride home, but Sally insisted on a wheel change. “I need the car tomorrow and who’ll change it on a Sunday?” she wailed.

      So he agreed. He felt sure Dixie was safe tonight. He’d sensed Caughleigh’s irritation but no spite. Besides, he could change the wheel in five minutes and stop by Orchard House on his way home. Sally helped, handing wheel brace and jack as he needed them, but her inane chatter got under his skin. If he heard one more, “I don’t know how this happened, Robert promised me they were new tires,” he’d be tempted to gag her with a wheel brace.

      He hoisted the spare on the axle and felt the weakness in his muscles. He should be resting, not changing spare wheels for the local gentry. “All done,” he said as he tapped the hubcap in place and reached for a rag to wipe his hands.

      “At last,” Sally whispered.

      Christopher turned, something in her tone alerting him, too late. The moonlight showed something pale in her hand. A wrench she was packing away? He knew it wasn’t when he felt the blade against his skin. Slowed by his exertions of the last week, his reactions failed him. Searing pain ripped between his ribs and tore through him like fire. His hands clutched at the air.

      “Got you!” she half-yelled her excitement. Like an echo, the words swirled around the deepening fog in his brain. He tried to speak, but darkness followed the pain. He stumbled against the car, slipped, and the gravel came up to meet him.

      “I wanted to see the house. She’d have asked us in if you hadn’t insisted on leaving.”

      Emily was beginning to get on his nerves. “She had no intention of doing so,” Sebastian said.

      “Where are we going? Your office, Sebby?”

      The woman was a fool. That’s all she thought of. “No, my dear, it’s time for you to do your duty by the coven.”

      Her voice rose. “No more doctored food. It didn’t work. Ida’s didn’t work either. It’s too risky.”

      “Forget your simples and mixtures. We’re using more reliable methods.”

      “Sebby, no magic. None of that stuff. I won’t do it.”

      “You will. Sally’s met her commitment. We need yours. Tonight.” He pulled back into the village hall car park. Emily had her uses. Several of them, in fact, but he had no time for her inane scruples. She’d help. She had no choice. She was in as deep as he was.

      As he pulled up beside the building, Sally’s face appeared at the car window. “I did what you said. It worked, but I need help to lift him. He’s a dead weight.”

      “And soon he’ll be permanently dead,” Sebastian replied, stepping out beside her. He neither spoke nor looked at Emily. He pulled at Marlowe’s shoulder, smiling as his opponent groaned. “The last trick’s mine,” Sebastian said. Getting no response, he ripped off the leather eye patch; Christopher’s neck jerked as the elastic yielded and revealed the whorl of scar tissue that filled the spot that had once been an eye.

      “You k-killed him,” Emily’s shaky voice stammered out.

      “Not yet, my dear. Soon. When the time is propitious.”

      “What d-do you m-mean?”

      “We’ll let him keep until Monday. Let him enjoy a little misery before he goes to hell.”

      “Sebby.” Her hand grasped his shoulder like a claw. “Why Monday?”

      He didn’t waste time looking at her. “May 30. The day he died. The day he’s the weakest. He’s been slowly losing strength the last week or so. Sally’s well-placed blade just helps him along. He’ll get weaker and weaker. By Monday he’ll be unable to move a muscle but he’ll feel and know everything. He won’t enjoy the dawn but I will. And as he fries, we gain his strength. Think what we can do.”

      “This isn’t what we stand for.” Emily’s voice rose in her panic. “Do no harm! That’s what I was taught! We don’t destroy. We use our power. We don’t take others’.”

      “Yes, we do! With his strength, we have a chance of knowing and running everything, just like the old women did.” Sebastian