Read Online Dangerous Magic by Alix Rickloff - Free Book Online Page B

through her good intentions. Left them in ruins. Her blood roared in her veins. She knew now that if he tried to kiss her, she’d gladly step into his arms, gladly take what he offered. And it would have to be enough to last her a lifetime. But he didn’t. So close, yet he held back. And she was left empty and wanting.
    The cottage swam as if signifying the onrush of the Sight, but only Rafe’s face filled her vision, his gray-green eyes like the soft leaves of a violet, watching her, waiting for her answer. In response, she took his hand and led him out of the cottage and into the starlit night.
     
     
    The bonfire shot sparks into the air. They mingled with the stars spread in a carpet of silver across the sky. Behind them, Henry Legg and Roger Trevennon played a lusty tune on a set of worn bagpipes and a harp while Jago kept the beat on his crowdy crawn. Dancers laughed as they swung each other around the edges of the fire, their faces awash with delight in the glow of the flames. The younger men began leaping the flames, their prowess measured by the amount of ale they’d drunk. Each leap brought cheers from the onlookers and screams of delight from the children.
    Gwenyth watched Rafe. He sat close beside her, his outstretched leg almost touching hers, his foot tapping time with the music. The gleam of the fire shot gold into his dark hair while shadows carved lines into his face, accenting his long, prominent cheekbones, his deep-set eyes. Gods, he was beautiful. Every woman here eyed him with lust in their hearts. And her with the sting of jealousy. She’d caught herself enjoying their admiring looks. She was human, after all. And Rafe was hers. For tonight.
    He turned, catching her gaze fixed upon him.
    “Come,” he said as he put out a hand. “Let’s dance.”
    “Your wound.” She glanced at his midsection. Beneath his shirt, his ribs remained tightly wrapped.
    He simply dipped a shoulder in answer as he stood, leading her after him. She rose, knowing Jago watched her with a frown as she joined the ring of dancers. She pulled a face. There was naught her brother could say she hadn’t already told herself a million times. But it was Beltane, and for a night, at least, she’d forget the future and live only for the moment.
    Round and round they whirled, the music seeming to grow louder and wilder with each beat of Jago’s goatskin drum. It matched Gwenyth’s heartbeat as she was passed from partner to partner. Her feet tripped the measure, her joy in the dance growing with each moment. She laughed as she ended back in Rafe’s strong arms. He picked her up, his hands fitting securely around her waist as he swung her around, his eyes alight with pleasure in the dance, strong ale and good food.
    But something burned at the corners of his gaze when he focused on her. Desire? Hunger? She couldn’t be certain, but even without prying, she knew sin when she saw it. She answered his wicked look with one of her own and saw surprise flash across his face.
    The tune died away to be replaced by another almost immediately as Vivyan joined the musical trio.
    “Neath the ribbons at my breast lies a love that ne’er does rest…” Her deep soprano voice held all the tenderness and longing of a young lover. “…Through health and ills. Through wealth or poor. I am yours forevermore…”
    Gwenyth stood listening, aware that Rafe had yet to drop her hand. Instead, as her sister-in-law’s voice rose and fell, the dancers melted into the shadows of the fire’s edge and some disappeared altogether. Rafe stepped back from the crowd gathered to listen. Tugged on Gwenyth’s hand and motioned for her to follow. No one noticed as she allowed herself to be led away, feeling as if she were fifteen again and Wills Hutchens held her trembling hand.
    The headland dropped down into a coombe. Vivyan’s song faded into the night, replaced by the eerie call of the nightjar, a sough of wind across the fields and the roar of the