Free A Kind of Magic by Susan Sizemore Page B

intentions when she marched off to find Rowan.
    “Probably some damned love spell,” he grumbled.
    A hot blush flooded her cheeks as she looked around the transformed chamber.
    Still, she couldn’t help but smile at the notion of a love spell and at the misguided thoughtfulness of the clan women. The room looked very different in candlelight. The warm gold given off by the tiny flames masked the starkness of the stone walls, the Spartan angles of the box bed. Candlelight even softened the hard-set planes of Rowan’s long face.
    He crossed to the table next to his bed and picked up a mixed bundle of bluebells and heather. “Wisewoman herbal rubbish,” he muttered. “Micaela and Rosemary’s doing no doubt.”
    The unexpected aromas of beeswax and flowers permeated the room. That his sister and cousin had thought to make him a wedding bower brought a tender smile to his lips.
    “Foolish women,” he said. “To waste their time so.”
    “It’s sweet.”
    He turned to face his wife. “Are you sweet?” After her glance slid past his to focus on the bed they were to share, he added, “Or just randy and ready to rut?”
    Her gaze flashed angrily up. “Nice alliteration. But you don’t have to be insulting.”
    “It was a simple enough question.”
    Maddie considered the situation for a moment. She considered whether or not she should get into an argument with Rowan Murray. Then she decided that conversation was just a way of putting off the inevitable. It would be better to get on with the dirty deed—to see if she could live with it, him and herself.
    “I think we should get undressed, is what I think.”
    “Aye.” He reached for the buckle of the belt that held his kilt in place. “I ken you’ve the right of it.”
    His movements were casual and self-assured, a faint smirk played around his lips.
    Suddenly she doubted her earlier assumption that Rowan Murray had insecurities. She remembered how he’d accosted her with intent to rape the day before. Maybe he’d had second thoughts when she fought back but the intent had still been there. Maybe it still was.
    Maddie could not make herself watch him get undressed. So she shed her overdress and then after a brief, nervous hesitation, untied the drawstring that fastened her chemise together at the neck. Even though Micaela had loaned her the medieval 49

    Susan Sizemore
    clothing, she’d donned her modern underwear and bra when she dressed. She still had this final, flimsy barrier on when her new clothes were left lying on the floor.
    She shook with nerves as she stepped away from her clothing. It took all her willpower to approach the bed. A brief glance showed her that Rowan was naked.
    Lean, long-limbed and rangy, fair-skinned with a light brown fuzz of hair on his chest and at his groin—she took in the details very quickly but thoroughly. They sent a shiver of warm sensation through her.
    She’d wondered what Toby would look like without any clothes on. Now she knew. Only she didn’t know at all of course. And it wouldn’t be fair to Rowan to try to pretend he was someone else when they made love. She had always prided herself on being a realist, a pragmatist. She’d rely on that pragmatism to get her through this. Still, she felt a pang of sadness knowing it wasn’t Toby who she was about to give herself to.
    She couldn’t help but look again. Yes, he was definitely naked and beginning to be aroused.
    “Well?” he questioned. “What are you waiting for?”
    Fair’s fair , she thought, and took off her bra.
    Rowan watched with growing hunger as Maddie took off her clothes. Yesterday he had touched her, been enflamed as he was given a tantalizing hint of the lushness beneath her clothing. He had weighed the fullness of her breasts in his hands, felt them pressed against his chest. She’d fought him then refused him as well she should have.
    Now, his throat went dry at the sight of flesh bared willingly if reluctantly for his enjoyment. Desire