Read Online Teresa Medeiros by Breath of Magic - Free Book Online

the phrases she did not comprehend. Her resolve grew stronger with each word she read. She had met the conditions of Lennox’s competition. She had proved to him that magic existed. She deserved the prize.
    She hugged the paper to her breast, her heart skipping with excitement. One million dollars would be more than enough to allow her to bid the haughty Mr. Lennox a hasty farewell and book passage to France. She could purchase a cottage like her grandmama’s in the middle of some secluded forest. She sighed with yearning, already picturing the ivy creeping up its weathered stone walls.
    There she would be free to grow her own herbs, compose spells, and test the limits of her God-given gifts without the constant fear of discovery. After a decade of practicing her magic in Marcus’s grimy cellar with only indifferent spiders for company, the cozy vision made her throat tighten with longing.
    Her wistful smile faded as she drew the amulet from her bodice. With wealth of her own, she would never have to rely on the capricious affections of men for food, lodging, or happiness. She would never be coerced into becoming the mistress of some wealthy nobleman, then have to endure being passed to anotherman and another bed when he tired of her. She would never become what her mother had been.
    The emerald sparkled in the sunlight with a clarity uncommon to stones of its ilk. What would happen if she simply wished for wealth? she wondered idly. Given the amulet’s perverse inclination to woo disaster, she feared she would find herself buried beneath a spill of gold doubloons or spitting out francs. When it came to something as mundane as currency, she’d rather take her chances with Lennox than trust her unpredictable talents.
    But how to convince him she was no fraud and coax him into surrendering his prize? Tossing aside the paper, she rose to pace the salon with fresh urgency. The solution to her dilemma was simple enough—perform magic for him. But after her encounter with the Reverend Linnet, she feared putting her faith in any man. Especially a man as dangerous as Tristan Lennox. He claimed to seek magic, yet spoke of witches with icy derision. For all she knew, he might be just another ambitious witch hunter seeking to slip a noose around her slender neck.
    She touched her throat, suppressing an involuntary shudder. There must be some way to learn if witches were still being persecuted in this age. If she could prove Mr. Lennox more enlightened than his ancestors, she would be free to demonstrate her powers, collect her reward, and begin a new life for what she prayed would be the last time. As soon as she could do so without arousing suspicion, she would seek out the library. Her gaze drifted to the soaring ceiling. Surely a mansion this grand had a library.
    As Arian secured the amulet in her bodice, a twinge of discomfort reminded her that she had more pressing needs at the moment than knowledge or money.
    Twenty minutes later, when Sven Nordgard’s shy knock received no reply, he nudged open the bedroom door ofthe suite to find his employer’s guest on hands and knees peering beneath the bed.
    “Got to keep the cursed thing somewhere, doesn’t he?” came her distinctly annoyed mutter. “Or perhaps His Lordship is too superior to need one.”
    Sven flipped up the lenses of his sunglasses to study the intriguing angle of her pert rump, unsure whether he should back out or proceed. He’d always been more comfortable dealing with terrorists than women.
    “Miss?” he said timidly.
    She jerked, striking her head on the enameled footboard with enough force to make him wince.
    “Please, may I be of some assistance, miss?”
    She climbed to her feet, glaring at him and rubbing her head. Even with his limited deductive skills, Sven could not help but notice that she kept shifting restlessly from foot to foot. “You may stop sneaking up on me, sir.”
    He lowered the lenses of his sunglasses and ducked his head. “Mr.