Free Marked For Magic by Daisy Banks

need to be on our way before the sun is much higher.” His call faded as she dashed out to the stream.
    Despite the cool dawn, she dunked herself in the chilly water and scrubbed at her grubby feet and ankles. Her skin tingled when she dried herself on the blanket. Gleeful, she wriggled into the red gown. She draped the blanket on a branch to dry. There would be no need of it tonight, because the determination filled her that this night, she would share Thabit’s bed. She had no comb, so she ran her fingers through her hair and pushed the weight of it back over her shoulders. The bubble of excitement grew larger with each step she took. She hurried back to the tower.
    * * * *
    Thabit checked his pouch once more while he waited. The tiny, dark bottle of mushroom brew remained sealed tight, but he could almost taste the sour bitterness within. He got up to check around the tidy kitchen.
    The stew pot set on the largest hook was still over half full. The honey jar had not moved from where he had seen it last night. He smiled, for she had kept her word. At a sound from the doorway, he turned, ready to say how pleased he was, but she took all words away.
    How can she be so fair?
    This morning, with his concentration on the scrying to come, the glamour had failed. For the first time in two days, she did not appear old, gray-haired, and warty as she stood in the light spilling in from the clean window. This morning she was the sun-kissed, fair fae who had knocked on his door. Not only did she glow, lovely as a dew shimmered lily, but the new gown clung to her lithe body. The wide skirt spread down from her hips in a sweep to the floor. The bodice, pulled skintight by her lacings, outlined her body in detail. Each rounded breast stood ripe like a summer apple, ready for plucking.
    “I didn’t expect it to look like that, Sparrow.” He rose from the chair, crossed the room in three swift steps, took her hand, and, unable to resist, bowed.
    The pink blush on her cheek beckoned his finger to stroke over the heat. If he didn’t get her out of here now, no question about it, Lord Farel would wait a long time for his arrival at the castle.
    Instead of traveling there, he’d spend the morning in the delightful exploration of the sweet, soft curves outlined by the clinging red wool. His mouth grew dry and he couldn’t swallow. Closer now, she smelled fresh, like the woods after rain, and try as he might, he could not dismiss her appeal to his senses.
    “Do you like it?”
    “Yes, Sparrow, you look like a queen. Lady Cassandra will adore you.” He cast about for any other thought but Nin.
    “I don’t want the lady to adore me. I want—”
    “No. Not another word.” He put a finger to her lips. They were smooth and soft, warm and tender. When she grinned and opened her mouth to take a mischievous nip, he drowned in sensation. Desire flooded his body. “Stop it, now.”
    Smiling, her eyes soft as burnished chestnuts, she stepped closer still.
    Gods help him, he could do nothing else but slide his arms around her and gather her in. Her smile dazzled as she tilted her head back to gaze into his eyes.
    The red wool warmed under his hands. He leaned in as she closed her eyes, bent his head until her breath touched his cheek. On her little sigh, he covered her mouth with his, and her pink lips, sweet and softer than petals, warmed him like wine.
    Her delicious, honeyed mouth opened. He slid his tongue inside to meet hers. She mewed and molded herself to him. The world, like him, breathed deep, as with tiny delicate movements her tongue stroked over his. The room darkened, the only reality her pliant body pressed tight against his.
    His blood pounded in a rising match of her rapid heartbeat, its staccato rhythm thudding through her breasts squashed and flattened against his chest. The silky ripples of her hair slid beneath his palms. He curled his fingers through the thick waves as he cradled her head. Every action combined to create