Page 8 of Pure Magic
“In Sussex, I stayed with a family of air witches. They have a twelve-year-old daughter who hasn’t learned control of her magic yet. Each morning, the entire family and I would find ourselves floating like clouds above the floor.” He uses his hand to demonstrate the lofty feel of floating.
I laugh. Actually, I’ve laughed more on this ride than I have in years. “I think you’ve made that up.”
He clutches his chest and pouts. “I’m wounded. I swear it’s the truth. On the first night, I thought I’d died and gone to Goddess. To be honest, I was relieved I had been accepted into her arms.”
My skin prickles. “Have you done something to make you believe she would send you elsewhere?”
“No.” His quick response is followed by the first silence of the ride.
“But,” I prompt.
“But my family has. I hope to not be guilty by association. Though I have not always followed the path of righteousness, I have always lived by Goddess’s laws. I have done no harm, yet I failed to save my parents.” All the joy and fun have gone out of his tone.
I should push him to tell me more about his parents and how they died, but I want the light banter back. “How long did you stay in Sussex with the floating family?”
No man should be as good looking as Adam MacNab. His green eyes spark with joy and mischief, and my heart does a flip it has no business doing. “Two weeks. I spent my days moving from town to town performing tricks as you saw in Windsor, and my nights floating.”
Just because I want to ask him about women doesn’t mean it’s any of my business. Witches don’t adhere to the strict rules of conduct and propriety that nonmagical society does. Still, the thought of him jumping from bed to bed stirs a new emotion within me. Is it jealousy? Surely not. I have no right to feel such a stupid thing. “It must be exciting to travel and meet new people.”
He leans lazily against the backrest. “I was just thinking that it must be nice to have a reliable home where everyone knows and respects you.”
“I suppose it’s normal to be curious about what we don’t have.” The stones are only about a mile away. The horse, Daisy, has made the journey many times and speeds her steps as we roll closer.
Feeling his stare, I turn and meet it. “What?”
“You’re very lovely, Sara Beth.” He says it softly, as if it were a revelation.
I hate that my cheeks heat. “Telling me you think so is not going to sway any decisions I might make.”
Laughter fills the air. He reels his amusement in. “No. I’ve known you less than a day and could have guessed that.”
“Then why mention it?” Slowing Daisy, I direct her left as we make our way through the grassy field.
“Do you have a lover?”
I jerk the cart to a stop.
Knowing I’m delaying her grain, Daisy whinnies.
Still, I pull the brake and turn toward him. My heart races, and I know my cheeks are bright red. “That, and anything else of a personal nature, is none of your business, Mr. MacNab.”
Dropping his gaze, he nods. “No. I know.”
His immediate contrition softens my anger and embarrassment. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
When he looks up, those green eyes of his are magnetic. “Because it’s been on my mind since I first saw you. Maybe even before. The great mother spoke of you often in her letters. Even in her handwriting, you intrigued me.”
Releasing the brake, I snap the reins and we move forward. “Why should my having a lover make any difference? You and I could both have multiple lovers, and no one in our circle would give pause.”
Hidden behind a row of trees, a narrow road leads us into the sacred ground of the standing stones. I stop the cart, jump down, and grab the feed bag from the back.
Adam helps me unhook the cart and leads the horse to a tree, where he ties her, and I attached the feed bag.
We stand there while she eats for a few moments.
“May I be completely honest, Sara Beth?” He runs his knuckles along my arm from shoulder to elbow.
A shiver runs up my spine that is not at all unpleasant. Part of me wishes he wouldn’t say my name so often, and another part loves the sound of it from his full lips. I’m silent on the subject. “Honesty is always welcome.”
