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His gaze shifted to meet Sunny’s.
Startled, she wondered how on earth his eyes could look that way—as if they were deep hollows of darkness. But then they altered and gleamed like a shiny steel surface before shifting again to something more human looking.
“Try not to make eye contact with him,” Celeste whispered.
Too late, Sunny thought, chilled.
His mouth quirked at one side. He raised his hand, pointed two fingers at his eyes, and then pointed at the three women watching.
“Whatever does that mean?” Sunny asked, fascinated.
“Watching you,” Willow murmured.
Both of her companions were riveted, as if frozen to the spot. In fact when Sunny glanced around, almost everyone in The Witch’s Brew was observing.
“The last thing we need is him taking an interest,” Celeste muttered.
Then he was gone, and the pavements were busy with passers by once more, as if it had never happened.
?”Who was that?” Sunny asked.
Celeste reached for her tea cup again, wrapping both hands around it. “You may have heard mention of Viscount Fox. That was him.”
Sunny nodded. She’d overheard two women discussing the local viscount in the greengrocers. They’d mentioned he lived in an old manor house up on the cliffside, on the opposite side of the bay to her cottage. The Grey House, it was called, and you could see it when you were down in the harbor, on the cobbled streets. “I thought he was abroad.”
“He often is, but he turns up every now and then.” Celeste’s brow was furrowed and she looked concerned and distracted.
“Like a bad penny,” Willow added, scowling.
“Is he a real viscount?”
Celeste nodded. “It’s a hereditary title.”
Willow slipped away without another word and Celeste seemed lost in thought. It was most unlike her, and Sunny couldn’t help probing a little. “So he’s our local nobility?
Celeste rolled her eyes skyward. “There’s nothing noble about him, Sunny, and don’t you forget it.”
CHAPTER THREE
At closing time Celeste and Willow shut up shop and met in the living room at the back of Celeste’s shop.
Wellington, Celeste’s cat, meowed expectantly.
“Patience, please,” Celeste said to the lithe black cat.
“Well?” Willow quizzed. “Has Fox sensed your magic?”
“I haven’t cast the spell fully yet,” Celeste said. “I’ve only been preparing the ground. But tonight’s the night, and I don’t intend to let Fox stop me. Besides, I’ve made plenty of matches by magic and it’s never brought his shadow down over us.”
“It didn’t bode well that the raven’s shadow fell first.”
“I think that’s to do with Sunny. He looked at her. Did you notice?”
Willow nodded.
They talked it over as they mounted the stairs, heading up towards the attic. From the window there they could just about see Fox’s manor house on the hillside. There amongst the boxes of stock and packaging, Celeste had set up a telescope so they could keep an eye on his home. Once the servants started pulling back curtains and tending the grounds, it indicated he was in residence, or due.
Celeste mounted the platform beneath the attic skylight and focused the telescope. “His Mercedes is out the front and the windows are bright.” She sighed and swatted the telescope to one side. “Damn. I haven’t checked for a couple of nights.”
