Bewitched by His Kiss (May Day Mischief) Read Free Page A

on her derriere, getting mud on her gown and may blossoms in her hair. She scrambled up. He thundered toward her, murderous rage and a trickle of blood on his darkly handsome face.
    Again her heart twisted at the sight of what she’d done. That urge to tend to him assailed her. An apology tried to force itself to her lips, but she bit it back. Yes, she’d dealt him an intolerable insult, but it served him right. She plunged across the stream, picked up her dripping skirts, and ran for the safety of the house, almost frightened at what he might do if he caught her first.
    He didn’t even follow her. She heard his shout for Alexis and turned, gasping for breath. He didn’t glance toward her, merely wheeled his horse and rode away.
    * * *
    Rape ? Was that how she saw it? She’d fled pell-mell toward the house as if she seriously expected him to pursue her, throw her to the ground and take her against her will.
    Furious and ashamed—which was entirely unjust because whatever she claimed, she did want it as much as he—David Elderwood dabbed the blood from his cheek and headed back to meet Alexis. He didn’t want to want Lucasta Barnes. Wanting her was a damned nuisance. He would far prefer to go back to his old carefree life, where he’d taken his pleasure with actresses and opera dancers and rarely considered marriage. His magical blood had meant women fell in love with him left and right, and he’d been more than happy to take full advantage of that!
    Until Lucasta came along, and his long-dead mother’s warnings at last made sense.
    “You will enjoy it at first,” his mother had told him, and although he’d only been ten years old at the time, he’d had no difficulty believing her. He already liked the look of women. Besides, his mother was always right. Right about the hobs and bogies—no one in the household saw them except her and David—and right that he could see paths where others saw thickets, and knew by instinct where to seek entrance to the fairy mounds. “But it will pall, if there is no love involved,” she’d said. Right again.
    Now he bore with the women patiently and tried to be polite, but he couldn’t stomach them for more than a few minutes at a time. Not that he’d been celibate since that incredible coupling with Lucasta three years ago—of course not—but he’d stuck with one woman, an undemanding mistress who appreciated a comfortable income in exchange for satisfying his needs now and then. It was a boring liaison, but he didn’t have the taste for anything else. Lately, he’d had no taste for anything at all.
    How could he, when he was bound to Lucasta for better or worse? This captivity was far more constraining than marriage, because it was born of magic and fueled by love and would never, ever fade.
    She just didn’t understand. He’d come upon her naked in the dewy grass that morning three years ago, and she’d been as helpless under the spell as he was. Afterward, when it was too late, after they’d gazed, entranced, into one another’s eyes, after they’d given in to their mutually ravenous desire and become inextricably involved, she’d tried to deny the magic.
    Because she didn’t believe in it—as if that made any difference!
    She’d denied intending any such thing as calling her true love to her side. She’d insisted that she’d come out to make certain her maidservants weren’t being assaulted. She’d said a wasp had flown under her skirts and another down her bosom, and she’d ripped off her gown to get rid of them...but there’d been no maidservants in sight, and just like today, she’d been wearing nothing underneath—no shift and stays.
    Rape . How dare she accuse him of anything so vile?
    * * *
    Lucasta hovered outdoors, wringing out her skirts and shivering, until she’d watched Peony safely enter the house. Her vigil over and her cousin safe, she crept up the stairs, fuming. She wanted her gun back. By hook or by crook, she intended to get