The Magic Mirror (Part five)

Parts 1-4 can be found at www.MaryMarvella.com
Parts have been edited to tone down sensuality.

(PART 5)

Jonathan watched from the mirror. How long had he lived to have someone want him to be free? There was a time he could have a different woman in his bed every night. Now no one shared his bed. Scores of years he’d wished he hadn’t been so foolish. Had his women bothered Cassandra or had his words caused her wrath? He’d had no idea how powerful Cassandra’s powers had been. Could she still exist somewhere? Would she even remember him?

Though he’d always wanted women with pale skin, this woman appealed to him. Hell, he was randy and she wasn’t hard on the eye. He wanted to help her run her soapy cloth over her long, strong limbs. What would she say if he called out to her? Hmm. Maybe he should start small.

He moved toward the part of the mirror closest to the place where he could be seen. Until his fall he’d had no idea mirrors had depth. Falling into this one had been like going through an invisible wall into a room. The room wasn’t bad but he couldn’t leave. He’d ranted and railed about his fate but there was no help for it.

He whispered from the mirror. “You are so beautiful.

Watching the soapy water cling to her generous breasts caused him pain, while he admired their beauty. His time as an observer from his prison gave him far more appreciation for beauty than he’d even felt as a free man.

He sighed with the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything about his condition but take himself in hand. While she washed, she leaned her head back, giving him a clear view of her slender neck.

When she dropped the rest of her clothes he stared at her curvy body, with her flat stomach the smooth flare of her hips. If only he could go to her and wash her as she washed herself, slowly working the wet cloth down her stomach and between her thighs. The things he could do for her, if only she would wish him out of the mirror.

By the time she reached for a larger cloth and dried her body, he felt the cold wall of glass against his face. At that moment she turned to the mirror. Her scream made him jump back. She had seen him. Now what would she do?

Sarah whirled around to see the man behind her but there was no one. She grabbed the drying cloth and covered her breasts and breasts and below. Her heart still raced. She could not have seen a man in her mirror! A reflection needed someone or something to reflect.

Grabbing her sleeping dress, she slipped it over her head. Her exhaustion was making her see things. She stepped toward the mirror, seeing her own image clearly. A man’s image stared back at her. Her reflection looked as it should but she glanced away from herself to study the man’s image. “Have I lost my mind?” she asked, her voice so soft she could barely hear it herself.

“No, milady, you have not.” The deep male voice sent shivers through her. “I am here.”

“But you can’t be here.”

The odd looking man laughed. “I thought that for years. But here I am.” Both his hair and his clothing looked out of place in her cabin.

His smile made Sarah hot all over in ways she couldn’t remember feeling before. “How long have you been here?”

“I’ve lost track of time,” he said. “What is the year?”

“I meant,” her throat lost all it’s moisture so she could barely force her words out.
“how long were you watching me?”

“Not long,” he reassured her, but something about his manner made her doubt his words.
His knowing look made her shiver, in spite of the seasonal heat.

Sarah backed away from the mirror. She loved fairy tales, some days she needed them, but she couldn’t deal with a talking reflection in a mirror in her cabin.

“Go away!” she ordered, turning away from her uninvited guest. When she turned back to the mirror, no man stared back at her.

Sarah crawled into her bed and fell into a fitful sleep. Even the sound of her bed covers rubbing woke her. Her body itched and her sheets were rough against exposed skin. Something about that was not right. She had gone to bed wearing her gown but she awoke naked.

Grabbing her gown, she slid it over her head, tossed her covers back. Padding to kitchen she poured water into a glass and drank deeply.

She needed to go back to bed, but instead she wandered out to her porch. The dark had brought cooler air. Wild flowers and blooms on her herbs perfumed the breeze that caressed her skin. Though she usually slept with windows open to cool her house, there was something about outside air that called to her.

Sitting on the top step, she moved her heavy braid aside and let the air cool her neck. Tilting her head she looked at the dark sky, studying the stars. Her daddy had often pointed out several star constellations. He had stressed that she could always use the North Star to find her way home. A lot of good that would do her now.

The stranger in her house had run her out to the moon and stars. Could she be running from the lust she had read about in the Bible, the same sinful feelings preacher railed about when he came through once a month? The singing with neighbors and the company for an afternoon made it worth the efforts to pack food and drive the wagon to wherever the meeting was. He did carry on about lust, though.

Well, she wouldn’t let anyone run her from her own bed. She rose and returned to her room. She punched her pillow to fluff it. She straightened the sheets she had twisted, then crawled into bed. She listened to the silence, smiling. The feeling someone was watching her had gone. She slept until sun lit her room, warming her face.

Feeling almost rested she rose and started her morning ablutions. After pouring water from her pitcher into her washing bowl, she washed her face using a sliver of perfumed soap her daddy had brought back from one of his many trips to capture wanted men for bounty.

Though she was getting a late start, Sarah mixed ingredients for bread, using half of a precious cake of yeast. Rubbing lard on the baking pan served two purposes. It softened her hands. It didn’t smell pretty, but it did the job. She put the dough in the sunny corner by the window where it would stay warm and rise.

Heading outside Sarah grabbed a basket and a knife. Fruit tree blooms fell and she gathered those fragrant blossoms to dry inside.

Sounds of approaching horses sent her scurrying for her shotgun. Grabbing it, she hunkered behind a corner of the barn. Her horses whinnied from the pasture and the approaching animals answered. The way her mares perked up she’d wager one of the approaching horses was a stallion.

After the last few nights she understood her mares, especially the one in season. She slipped into the barn and climbed the latter to the loft where she could watch from the upper window.

(To be continued.)