Dangerous Magic Read Online Free

rumored assault upon her religion.
    "How dare you!" she hissed, and pointed a finger at him, her green eyes flashing. "For such a threat I should hex you."
    Colin threw back his head and laughed. "You're forgetting who you're talking to," he laughed, looking down at her. "We both know I mean well, and if you hex me I can counter it. Perhaps my magic is weak, but an unjust hex is easy enough to answer."
    Lark dropped her finger, but her green eyes were still burning with indignation. Her face had colored up, too, from a combination of the wind and her high temper. It occurred to Colin to tell his friend he'd never seen her look more beautiful, but he thought the better of it.
    "Very well," she said, picking up the hem of her cloak. "I shall spare you. This time. But threaten to skelp me again, Colin Magregor, and I shall gladly risk retribution to avenge my affronted spirit."
    She turned and stalked off, leaving Colin looking after her, amused. Lark Willoughby was a fine woman, and the only one in the village who stirred his loins. He'd long been in love with her, and it seemed curious to him that such an astute soul as she had not seemed to detect this fact. As she walked, she hugged the cloak to herself, briefly revealing the outline of her hourglass shape. Yes, he would certainly risk a hex to thrash her pretty bottom again. She needed it. But then he felt a seriousness descend over him. Frivolity aside, the rumors he had heard disturbed him and he suddenly felt a deep frustration at having his warning go unheeded by the woman he cared about. If they were true - and he had no reason to believe they were not - it meant Lark had a great deal to worry about.

    * * *

    "The rudeness of that chit of a girl is unspeakable." Gertrude Hatch paced the floor of the house she shared with her son, her arms crossed in front of her so that her elbows stuck out from her sides like a pair of skinny wings. With her beaklike nose and long neck, her son thought she looked a bit like one of the chickens he'd killed earlier in the day.
    But he did not say this. His mother was mad enough, although she may have felt better if she'd known that the incident in the shop had done what she'd failed to do: pique Lester's interest in Lark Willoughby. Up until that afternoon, he'd thought her pretty but a bit too high spirited and different for him. He also wasn't sure he believed his mother's assertion that Lark was in possession of the rumored gold. But now everything had changed. He'd been rebuffed and within thirty minutes - thanks to Constance Bell - the whole town knew about it. And while Lester may not have been particularly handsome or bright, he was a man of considerable ego. No little red-haired wench was going to make him the laughing stock.
    "She won't be so rude after I bring her to heel," he said, looking at his mother. "And make no mistake. I will do just that. In the end I'll find a way to make her marry me, and on our wedding night the first thing I'll do before I take my pleasure is stripe her backside with a nice thick willow switch so she starts married life learning who's in control."
    Gertrude smiled admiringly at her son. "A fine idea, son, if you ask me. And since I'll be living with the both of you she won't be able to say 'boo' to a goose without my informing on her. A good beating never hurt a woman, but a lack of it has made many a man miserable."
    Lester thought of his own father, nagged to death he believed, but again said nothing. Instead he mindlessly whittled another chunk of wood from the stick he was holding, watching as it jettisoned into the fire and burst into flames.
    "Yes, and when she's sufficiently tame she'll give us babies to play with and I'll finally have some help around this house." Gertrude looked around at the sooty walls and scuffed floor. Even if was one of the nicer homes, it could use a good cleaning. She smiled to herself, imagining her bouncing a smiling grandchild on her knee as a plumper and more