Dangerous Magic Read Free Page B

a girl I used it to help me remember what I ought to be thankful for. When I said my prayers at night, I would count off the squares as I went. The animals of the earth, the birds of the air, the grasses and flowers and trees, hearth and home, family, the infinite sky, and the bounteous oceans.” She motioned to each of the squares in their turn. “By the end, sleep came easier.”
    “What’s this square for?” Rafe pointed to a square depicting an antlered man.
    She paused before she spoke. “This square is for Cernunnos—Herne the Hunter—God, the creator of all things as some see him.”
    Wind sighed past the cottage, ruffling the edges of the weaving. The hair at the back of Rafe’s neck rose. “And this one?” He touched the center and final square.
    Gwenyth Killigrew spread her palm across the black section of tapestry. “This one is left open for you to fill. You must listen to your heart. It will whisper what it wishes to the other eight squares and then into the ears of Cernunnos.”
    The night seemed to crouch at the corners of the room, alive and waiting to hear what he whispered to the empty square. Gwenyth’s face glowed in the light from the fire. She smelled of lavender and mint, and Rafe had an urge to catch her in his arms and draw her down beside him, to bury his face in the wild scents of her hair and skin.
    “What did you wish for?” he whispered.
    As if sensing his thoughts, she colored and rose, leaving the tapestry draped across his blanket. “A strong back, nimble fingers and a clear head to keep me from falling under the spell of scoundrels like you, Captain Fleming.” She slipped around the screen, turning back just before she disappeared. Her eyes glittered dangerously. “As you can see, Cernunnos granted me my wish.”

Chapter 3
     
    Gwenyth glanced up just as the sun dipped beneath the western waves. Evening shadows stole over the cottage, the only light coming from the hearth fire. She stood at the table, chopping vegetables, working off her lingering annoyance in the clean, rapid strokes of the knife. Rafe Fleming was a troublemaker and a pirate. She’d no time for the captain’s quicksilver charm and smug assumptions. She should have insisted that Jago take him in. But she hadn’t. She’d let him stay. Made a point of it. And why had she done so? She refused to ponder too long. Afraid of what she might discover about her true reasons for keeping him close.
    She scraped the vegetables from the board to the pot, trying to turn her attention back to her cooking and off the uncomfortable subject of Captain Fleming. Difficult to do as he lay just behind the screen in the corner of the room. He was awake. She felt his watchfulness as a prickling at the back of her mind, a tense frustration that simmered like the stew she prepared. But he’d kept silent most of the day, and she’d ignored him as best she could, only speaking when she had to change his bandages or tend his wound. Childish, yes, but she wasn’t sure she could check her tongue after his presumptuous behavior of last night. And she’d learned long ago that her anger carried consequences.
    She’d just returned her knife to its block when a sudden rap sounded on her door, and Jago slid into the cottage, dropping the bar home behind him. His grim expression and sharp glance he directed toward Fleming’s corner told her everything.
    “The Riding Officer’s come?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.
    Jago nodded. “Aye, he just rode into the village. He knows Fleming came ashore nearby, and he knows he was injured. Enough to seek aid.”
    “That shall lead him to me.” She shot a look to the growing darkness. “Have we time to get the captain to safety?”
    “I’m thinking not. This officer’s a smart one, and not liable to be gulled into a pint or two by the lads at Pilchard’s tavern. He’ll come seeking you as soon as someone lets on you’re the only healer within ten miles of Fleming’s