Midsummer's Magic

By Emmie Lou Kates

“Bloody hell! Someone save me from piskies and meddling best friends."

Beth is always running from love, life, and relationships. She doesn't want to be tied down and she always follows the motto “Find ‘em, fuck ‘em, and forget ‘em.” So when Beth finds herself running away again from another man, she chooses the darkest part of Cornwall to start a new life.

But then she meets her neighbor.

Liam is young, handsome, and a bona fide bachelor. He used to take great pleasure in the sun, beautiful waves, and sex life he seemed to easily find living in Cornwall... until tragedy struck and he lost everyone he cared about. Now he devotes his days in keeping his family's farm, and shuts himself away from society and his old life.

If not for some confusing property lines, a car blocking the way, and a tractor in need of a clear path, Beth and Liam would not have met. 

But will serendipity, a couple of pixies, and an age-old prophecy be enough to get these two lost souls together? Or will they need more than just a pinch of Cornish magic?

If you're a fan of the Poldark Saga and you love a little Cornwall romance with a dash of supernatural, then this book is for you!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blvnp Incorporated
• Release date: Nov 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781540192318

Book preview

Prologue

In the far west of England lies the county of Cornwall. With most of its inhabitants descendants of ancient Celts, it is an area abundant with folklore and legends. One of the most famous would have to be King Arthur and his kingdom of Camelot. Many believed this was located around Tintagel Castle on the north coast of Cornwall.

But the legend most people are interested in would have to be about the Cornish piskies (or faeries). They were said to be small in stature, probably the size of a child, but with the face of an older person. They liked to dress in fancy clothes and hats and accessorized with bells, ribbons, and gems. They were always portrayed as mischievous beings, ruled by their queen, Joan the Wad. She is famous for using faerie light to lure people to the bogs and marshes, sometimes even to their deaths. The Cornish countryside is littered with small stone circles, many of which have mythical stories behind them. They were often linked with piskies and magic.

This is the story of one such circle, found outside a small Cornish village, and the Prophecy of Lost Souls.

*   *   *

Jory an Gwyn, step forward and explain yourself.

Joan the Wad, queen of the piskies, sat on her stone throne and glowered at the crowd in front of her. Male and female piskies stood nearby, watching the old crone as she scanned among them. They chattered nervously to each other, not daring to look her in the eye as she searched out her prey.

It didn’t take long for a skinny little man, no taller than three foot, nervously shuffled forward, cleared his throat, and squeezed his hat. The queen then leaned forward and thumped her staff on the floor. As a result, a ball of eerie light glowed at the top. The crowd collectively gasped in surprise.

SILENCE!

Everyone in the room froze at her words. Even Jory couldn’t help but let out a small whimper as he cowered in front of his Queen.

Jory an Gwyn. I gave you the position of potion maker in the court hoping that you would be mature enough to handle it. Your job was to make healing potions and salves for members of this court.

Jory lifted his head and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off before he could utter a word for his defence.

However, you decided that healing potions were not enough for you and decided to dabble in other forms of magic. Your experiments have wreaked havoc in our village. Not a day goes by that I don’t have someone coming to me complaining about your..., she waved her hand around as she searched for a word, ...mishaps.

My...my queen, Jory stuttered, I can assure you that I meant no harm. I just thought my talents could be put to better use.

You may be the son of a master potion maker, but the only talent you have shown so far is to turn half the population purple and make Taryn Fey fall in love with a cow!

Members of the audience started giggling at her words but automatically pretended to cough once Joan shot them a scathing look.

I feel that it is my duty, in order to protect this community, to hereby banish you to exile.

The crowd gasped in shock at her declaration. Jory, meanwhile, stood in silence, stunned by the gravity of his punishment.

My queen, may I make a proposal?

Everyone looked around to see who had spoken. A female piskie, in a bright blue dress and her styled up red hair adorned with jewels, stepped forward.

Kerensa an Gel, why am I not surprised to see you here? the queen scoffed.

Lifting her head proudly, Kerensa looked at her queen straight in the eye.

It is well known that Jory and I are friends, and I think someone should stand up for him. He may be a bit unorthodox in his approach to magic and potions, but I believe in his talents. And I don’t think he should be exiled.

The queen impatiently reclined on her throne with arms crossed.

So, princess, what do you propose I do with him?

Kerensa cringed a little at the mention of her title. She never wanted to be treated any different from the rest of the piskie population. She even took steps to avoid being associated with the royal family. But she brushed it aside as she was, in fact, using that connection at that moment to save her friend.

As you are aware, the Stones have been calling for some time now.

There were murmurs of agreement at her statement.

Yes I’m aware of that fact, and I have plans to address it, the queen replied.

Well, I think this is the ideal situation for Jory to prove what he can do. Let me go with him and help fulfil the Prophecy of Lost Souls.

There was stunned silence for a few seconds followed by a low rumbling that eventually became a roar of laughter from the queen.

"You expect me to trust him, she pointed a gnarled finger at Jory, to bring together two lost souls before Midsummer’s Eve? You do realise that the two people the Stones picked locked their hearts away, don’t you? Both have sworn to never look for love."

Jory scowled at her words because he felt like a fool. But his face lightened slightly as Kerensa stepped towards him, took hold of one of his hands, and squeezed gently.

I believe in him, and I know with my help he can do it.

The queen sat in silence, her eyes moving between the two piskies in front of her. Blowing out a breath, she slammed her hands on her knees.

Fine, why not? What’s the worst that can happen? She paused for a millisecond before adding, No, don’t answer that.

Picking up her staff, she stood up stiffly and thumped it against the floor.

Jory an Gwyn and Kerensa an Gel, it is your duty to fulfil the Prophecy of the Stones and bring together these two lost souls by midnight of Midsummer’s Eve. If you fail, not only will they never find love, but you will both be banished to live above ground forever.

Chapter 1

––––––––

Beth slumped down on a cardboard box full of books, the roaring engine of the removals lorry fading into the background as it disappeared down the lane. She looked around at the chaos filling the living room of the small cottage and sighed.

Here we go again, why do I put myself through this time after time?

She ran a hand through her long red hair, sighed, and decided a cup of tea was in order. She was so set on the task of finding not only the kettle, but also the tea bags that...

Shit! I forgot to pick up any milk.

She resigned to a cup of black tea, possibly without sugar if she couldn’t find the box she’d packed that in, Beth filled the kettle and wandered out the back door while waiting for it to boil.

She looked around at the overgrown garden, felt the warmth of the sun on her shoulders, and watched butterflies flitting around the colourful flowers. She started to feel the stress of the move begin to fade as she sat down on the bench along the small garden wall. She raised her head, closed her eyes, and let her mind drift. She realized that she had to start unpacking, but at least she could make time for that later. In the meantime, she was home. Well at least for the time being, until whatever it was that made her itchy feet pick-up and move again. She never seemed to be able to settle anywhere for too long. Maybe one or two years? Perhaps, this time she could really settle, make a real home in this sleepy Cornish village. Maybe...

The loud roar of a tractor and incessant blowing of a horn abruptly cut her daydreams short. She jumped up and looked over the garden fence to the road below. There was a huge red machine just inches behind her car. Inside the cab sat a large, dark haired man, scowling. She opened the gate and ran down the path. With a smile, she was about to apologize but it died in her throat as he jumped out of the cab and roared at her.

Why the fuck do you think you can park in the middle of the lane?

If he did not provoke her with his foul-mouthed tirade, she might have gotten a good look at him—an attractive guy with a lean, muscular body visible through his open shirt, which was roughly tucked into faded jeans that covered long, athletic legs. She would have admired his square jaw, high cheekbones, and tanned skin from years of working outside. Or she would have been mesmerized by the way he tossed his unruly dark hair away from his deep blue eyes with a flick of his head.

But no, all she could see was some uncouth local bad mouthing her because she had the audacity to park her car outside her cottage.

She glared back at him and replied with ice cool politeness, This is a private lane, and I have every right to park my car outside my property. There! That showed him.

He walked towards her and continued to glare, his six foot two frame towering over her five foot five. If you had bothered to read your property documents thoroughly, you would have read that my farm has a right of way down this lane up to the field at the end. So, you will have to park your car on the grass verge.

She glared back, her temper rising, Well, if you had knocked on my door and asked politely, I might have likely moved it. But since you don’t appear to have a polite bone in your body, you can whistle pal. And with that, she turned on her heel and marched back up the path to her cottage. Slamming the gate shut, she went inside before he could reply.

Liam watched her storm up the path in stunned silence. He could not believe she had just walked away from him. Running a hand through his unruly dark hair, he stood muttering to himself.  He could do without this today of all days. He had so much to get done on the farm, the last thing he needed was to have some tart from upcountry causing more problems. He turned towards his tractor, but as he walked by her car, he caught a glimpse of the keys still in the ignition. He hesitated for just a second, then yanked the door open and sat down (or tried to). His six two frame couldn’t fit easily into the small car and his knees were pinned under the steering wheel. He reached under the seat to pull a lever that moved the seat backward as far as it could go. It gave him just enough movement to be able to drive the car a few yards away. He started it up and quickly put it in gear, hoping to move it before she could come down to see what he’s done. He looked in front of the car to the grass verge and high garden wall. A slow grin came across his face as he edged the car up the verge and eased it up against the wall with only about an inch to spare. He nudged it forward so that its hood was tucked in the Cornish hedge that curved out from the wall. Satisfied that he had made it very difficult to get the car back out again, he switched off the engine. He removed his long legs from under the steering wheel, stood up, and shut the door. He looked up the garden path to see if she had heard him, but there was no sign that she had, so he turned and climbed back inside his tractor.

Content that he had made his point he started the engine and roared on towards the field.

*   *   *   *   *

Beth heard the tractor drive off and assumed he went back down the lane to whatever hole he had crawled out of. She smiled to herself as she sipped the hot black tea, which was already sweetened by the sugar she managed to retrieve from one of the boxes.

Even if she was a newcomer in the village, she’d be damned if she was going to be pushed around by some foul mouthed local. Refreshed by the tea, and invigorated by the adrenalin still pumping in her body from the confrontation, she stepped back into the living room and started opening the piles of boxes. She was hoping to make some headway before her stomach told her it was time to eat.

As shadows started to creep over the cottage, Beth sat back on her heels and looked around. Not bad for one afternoon. At least I can sit on the sofa. I can get to the stairs and the kitchen without having to climb over the boxes. My bed is made and the basics are in the kitchen, now it’s time for a shower and then food.

As she stood, she let the shower stream over her face and body, washing away the sweat and grime. She could have sworn she heard that damn tractor again. But she assumed it must have been in a field behind the cottage somewhere. After washing her hair, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her slim body. Picking up a smaller towel and wrapping it around her hair, she padded barefoot to the bedroom. She plopped down on her big brass bed, which surprisingly fitted in the small cottage bedroom. After towel drying her hair, she pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a body hugging t-shirt. She slid her feet into her white Birkenstocks and stepped carefully down the steep stairs to find her bag. It’s time to go out and meet the natives. She just hoped they were a lot friendlier than the first one she encountered. She grimaced as she remembered the confrontation. A flash of his deep blue eyes and tanned lean body found its way in her mind that she smiled...

Oh get a hold of yourself girl, he was an oaf. She shook her head to get rid of the picture, grabbed her bag, and checked if she had locked the back door. She then stepped out into the cold evening air. She started to walk down the path towards the lane, rummaging in her bag for her car keys as she went. When she looked up, her footsteps stopped abruptly as her car was not where she left it. A cold hand gripped the pit of her stomach, thoughts of joy riders and other unsavoury types flew through her mind. But this wasn’t London, this was a dead end lane on the edge of a sleepy Cornish village. Slowly, she turned and saw her car almost attached to her garden wall, up on the grass verge. As she walked towards it and noticed the keys still in the ignition, a slow dawning of what had happened seeped into her head.

Bastard! That arrogant, rude, son of a bitch! she yelled at the empty lane as she realised what the guy in the tractor had done. She stomped to her car, opened the door, and sat down—well, more like reclined actually. Since the guy did not return the seat to its original position, her feet were at least a foot away from the pedals. She struggled with the lever to move the seat forward again. She muttered under her breath about all the things she would do to the guy when she caught him. Once she was comfortable enough, she started the engine and then contemplated just how long it would take her to get her car away from the wall and back to the road.

Half an hour later, she rushed down the road with all the windows open and Stereophonics blasting on her speakers. She was still enraged over what happened that she barely even noticed her hair was dry and tangled by the cool breeze.  Was it too much to ask for some peace of mind in what she thought was an idyllic part of the country after all the upheaval and mess she left behind in London?

As she drove and the breeze cooled her temper, she gradually started to calm down. Cornish country lanes were not the ideal roads to drive in when angry, especially with its blind bends and high hedges concealing thick stone walls. She pulled up at a junction on the main road and headed into St. Austell. She remembered there was an Asda supermarket there that was open for 24 hours. She could stock up on groceries for the week. If she finished early enough, she would have time to walk down to a local pub afterwards, perhaps even have a meal and relax.

Chapter 2

––––––––

Liam finally stepped into the farmhouse kitchen at 9:00 pm. His two black labradors jumped up to greet him, their tails wagging expectantly. He crouched down and gave them both a good pat and ruffled their fur. He picked up the large bag of dry dog food and filled their bowls. The two dogs immediately buried their heads and proceeded to devour their food. Once they were fed, Liam flicked the switch on the kettle and swilled his mug under the tap, which was still half full with tea from this morning. He plopped a tea bag into his mug, sat down at the kitchen table, and quickly sifted through the mail that had arrived while he was out. Nothing was much of interest, just the usual bills and junk mail. There was also a note from his farm manager, reminding him of some things he needed to pick up in the morning. When the kettle boiled, he made his tea, then wandered into the cosy living room, and slumped into his old, tatty armchair. He took a sip and laid his head against the back of the chair. He was tired, sweaty, and covered in dirt and dust from the day’s toil on the farm. But he always took a few moments with a cuppa to gather his thoughts and unwind before he went for a shower and change of clothes.

As his mind started to drift over the day’s events, he ticked off the jobs done and others that still need to be done tomorrow. As always, it was a never ending list. Even though he was exhausted at the end of each day, he enjoyed farming.

Funny how things worked out really. Being the younger of two sons, he wasn’t expected to take over the farm. His brother, Rhys, was the true farmer and worked alongside his father for many years. Rhys was learning the business and gradually taking over more of