Loving Lies by Julie Kavanagh

Chapter One
    Some years later, in a small English town.
    His powerful arms closed around her trembling body as he brought his hard lips down onto hers. She sighed, as though the feeling of being loved was too much for her pounding heart. She would die if he didn’t ……
    “Hello? Is anybody there?” Willow brushed her hair from her face and looked up from her romance novel at the chink of the bell over the door. Glancing at the clock, she realised it was late and she should have closed the shop hours ago but this often happened when she picked up one of the books from the shelves. Her friends called her a dreamer, who wanted a world of love and romance that didn’t exist. She didn’t agree, liking the happy-ever -after e ndings. It was just a few days until the most romantic day of the year and with the brightly coloured hearts displayed around the shelves Willow couldn’t resist trying one of the new offerings. “I’m sorry, we’re closed,” she called but no one answered.
    “Hello?” she called again as a large, dark shape paused at the end of the first aisle of books before moving toward her. “Sorry, we’re closed.”
    A very good-looking man stepped out from the shadows of the towering bookcases, his face serious and his eyes darting around. His coat was long and dark, and worn like a cloak thrown carelessly around his shoulders. His dark eyes cast over her pretty face. She didn’t look a day different than the last time he’d seen her and, despite his restraint, his body attuned to hers, their hearts beating to the same rhythm and his hands yearned to touch her skin.
    “We’re closed” Willow said a little louder; he seemed to be hard of hearing. “Come back on Monday, we’re closed now for the weekend.”
    “Willow,” the man’s voice was as deep as his eyes, his tone as cold as though he stood a stranger before her. A shiver travelled down Willow’s spine as she stared up into his chiselled face, feeling she should know this man but knowing she’d never set eyes on him before. “Have you stooped so low to be peddling witch’s wares?”
    “No, the Witch’s Ware is the name of the shop. I thought it was funny at the time because of my surname, which is Wiccan by the way, but there isn’t a real witch here. There never has been, just me, Willow Wiccan. Yes, it’s a silly name but what can I do about it?”
    “You are not a witch.” The man’s eyes narrowed and the line of his mouth tightened. Why did she look at him as though he was a stranger? How could any woman be so cold? The man reached forward. Willow barely saw the movement but felt the pinch of his strong hand on her arm. “Come with me. There is no time to waste.”
    “No, you don’t understand,” Willow cried as he propelled her toward the front door and the night-filled street. “What is your problem? It’s just a gimmick, a name I thought up.”
    The street was deserted, as it should be at that time of night and there was no one to persuade this man to release her. It was just a quiet little town, no violence, no street crime and no need for a vigilant police force. Grabbing hold of the doorjamb, her nails digging into the wood as they passed, Willow held on tightly as the stranger tried to pull her past. He stopped, looking confused as though she was the unreasonable one and he was in the right.
    “You can’t do this, let me go!” she protested loudly, hoping someone would come to her rescue.
    “The Gathering has been called. I must escort you.”
    “What gathering?” Willow held on tighter, digging her nails in deeper. She didn’t know anything about any gathering and just because this man was drop-dead gorgeous it didn’t mean she was dropping everything to go with him although, if he asked nicely, she might make time for a coffee or three.
    “You deny knowledge of the Gathering?” The man dropped his hold, taking a breath of disbelief, failing to see the pale hand flash out, which knocked him to the