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but he wasn't going to ignore the opportunity.
    "Good night, ladies," he said, slipping past both women to reach his room. Once inside, he slid the bolt home as quietly as possible. No point insulting Doreen into doing something foolish by letting her hear him lock the door. But he wouldn't rest easy without the lock, especially since she seemed determined to have him.
    He couldn't imagine why. Doreen enjoyed men for what she could get from them, and he didn't have much to offer m terms of providing a woman with material things. Wary of her interest, he'd always found an excuse not to be one of her men — and now it was going to cost him. Even if Shaney and Maeve stood by him, it was still going to cost him sooner or later.
    He walked toward the washstand, intending to rinse a bit of the fatigue and grittiness from his face. But he ended up staring in the mirror above the dresser.
    He was twenty-eight years old. The last twelve years hadn't been easy. He missed his sister Caitlin and his friend Nathan.
    Even missed his Aunt Brighid on occasion. Missed the feeling of having a home and roots, even though he hadn't felt like he'd had either when he lived in Raven's Hill. But his continued presence would have made things harder for his family. Brighid had been a Lady of Light and still commanded respect because of that, but Caitlin Marie was whispered to be odd, strange ... unnatural. A young girl who had found the walled garden hidden somewhere on the hill behind the family's cottage. Caitlin would never be offered the things most young women dreamed of — a home, a husband, children — and his heart ached for her.
    Until people discovered Caitlin's link to the hidden garden, he had been the one the villagers didn't want around because he had a power no one understood. But everyone knew what it did and what the person who wielded that power was.
    A luck-bringer. An ill-wisher.
    A Magician.
    There was nothing wrong with Maeve's hearing. And there would be nothing anyone could do to curb Doreen's spiteful tongue. It wouldn't matter if Maeve tried to soften the gossip. The damage would be done. By the time the next market day ended, everyone in Foggy Downs would know he was a Magician.
    Some would hate him for it, and would blame him for any bit of trouble that came their way. And, in truth, he would deserve some of that blame. But he had heard of Magicians who had been killed in other parts of Elandar because it was so easy to bury them in the blame.
    So he would leave Foggy Downs while the people still thought kindly of him. He needed to get back to Raven's Hill anyway, needed to talk to his aunt as soon as he could.
    Because of the dreams. Because of her.
    That was the real reason he wouldn't have been of any use to Doreen, even if he'd been willing. He didn't want any other woman since he'd begun dreaming about her.
    Long black hair. Green eyes. A beautiful face that he had never seen in the flesh. But he could feel the shape of her in his arms, breathe in the scent of her, taste the warmth of her. Hear the music of her heart.
    That, more than anything, seduced him. He could hear the music of her heart. And it made him yearn for things he couldn't put into words, except one: home.
    Night after night, she filled him with hungers he thought would kill him if he didn't satisfy them soon. And there was always someone or something whispering in his ear, "This is what you've searched for. This is who you've searched for."
    Deny it, defy it, reject it during every waking moment. It didn't matter. Somehow he had fallen in love with the woman who haunted his dreams — a woman he'd never met and wasn't certain even existed.
    His aunt was the only person he knew whose training might provide him with an answer about the nature of these dreams, so he was going back to Raven's Hill.
    Stripping down to his drawers, Michael got into bed and was asleep within minutes. He didn't dream about the woman; he dreamed about his aunt. She stood in