Spellbinder (Moonshadow #2)

That last thought was like a bucket of cold water hitting him in the face.

If there was anyone in the entire world who shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like that, it was him.

As his hands loosened, she gave a little ghost of a laugh. In a shaken whisper, she said, “That escalated fast.”

“Too fast,” he gritted. “I had no business kissing you like that.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly object, did I?” she pointed out. She slid her fingers out of his hair with a slow sensuousness that heated his blood.

Catching one of her hands, he kissed it. “No,” he agreed against her fingers. “You didn’t. And I didn’t want to stop. But this isn’t going to get you through your audience with Isabeau. That’s what we need to focus on right now.”

Straightening on the footstool, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Of course it is,” she agreed in a flat, dull voice.

Had he hurt her feelings? He rubbed his face then decided to let it go, because even if he had, it didn’t matter.

Reaching for the lute, he thrust it into her hands. “Time to find out if that spell will actually work,” he told her.

Cradling the lute against her chest, she asked, “And if it doesn’t?”

If it didn’t, he had no idea what to try next.

Infusing his voice with a confidence he didn’t feel, he said, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”





Chapter Twelve





Sid knew she was still embroiled in a fight to stay out of prison. A fight to save her life. She knew she had no business necking like a teenager with a man she knew so little about.

But kissing him had been the best thing that had happened to her in a long time. The absolute very best thing.

And as she looked back over her work-driven life, she realized she didn’t just mean the very best thing from the time she’d been kidnapped. Kissing him had been the best thing to happen in a really, really long time.

She had dated a total of four men somewhat seriously in her life, and she had shared intimacy with two of them. That wasn’t exactly a memorable dating score, but as she had a difficult time being social anyway, she had never gotten too worked up over it.

She was pretty, and she knew it. She also knew most men who were initially attracted to her because of her looks were put off by the intense laser focus she had on her career. And Magic Man was right—she was stubborn and single-minded.

She was ambitious too, and all that meant she wasn’t exactly good wife or baby-making material. She had never really understood when other women talked about their biological clocks ticking. She wasn’t convinced she had a biological clock.

Neither one of her previous lovers had made her catch fire the way Magic Man did. It didn’t matter what he said, or even what her own mind insisted. Her body trusted him. When he touched her, she relaxed. When he’d stroked down her torso, pleasure had followed in a languid wash of fire.

And she had discovered it didn’t matter what he might look like to the eye. He was handsome to her fingertips, and his body felt strong and powerful when he came flush against her. He was easy to talk to, to confide in, and he had a kind of confidence in his own abilities, both magical and otherwise, that was incredibly sexy. He had a strong, sure touch, while his hands were gentle and sensitive. And he was not only experienced, he was intelligent—possibly even much more intelligent than she.

Other than the fact that Isabeau had a magical hold over him that he didn’t consent to, she didn’t know anything about what he did, or what his job was. She didn’t know his name. She didn’t know what he looked like, or who his friends were, what places he liked to frequent, what his hobbies were… or even if he had any hobbies.

Under normal circumstances, she would have never considered letting him kiss her, or kissing him back. But currently she was embroiled in a situation that was anything but normal. Normal didn’t apply to her life anymore.

Right now all she wanted to do was neck in the dark with a man she didn’t know, and when he put on the brakes—and rightfully so—then all she wanted to do was sulk. She was tired of thinking in crisis mode, tired of living with stress.

Her body craved pleasure and it instinctively knew he could give it to her. Her soul craved comfort, and it was unbelievably comforting to touch him, and to have him touch her. Her mind just wanted to switch off.

But no, they had to focus on keeping her whole and unbroken, and keeping her ass out of prison.

Bah!

Magic Man didn’t pull her back against his chest again, although she really kind of wanted him to.

Maybe more than kind of wanted.

Maybe really, really wanted.

He was probably thinking so clearly about what they should be doing because he… hadn’t been as affected by their kiss as she had been. (BAH!)

Instead of pulling her into his arms, he put one broad hand at the back of her neck, and the other hand at her forehead. Then he began to whisper.

When she tried to focus on his words, they wouldn’t stick in her head. Instead, it felt like they fell against her skin like heated rain… and then the words soaked into her.

Pressure built up, like the sense of an impending storm, or the feeling she got just before she stepped out onto a stage. She felt itchy and restless, like she needed to move.

Unable to sit still, she shifted underneath his hands, muttering, “Is it supposed to be this uncomfortable?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his steady, intense whisper continued until he bit it off at the end. As he finished, he removed his hands, and tapped her forehead firmly with two fingers.

And snap.

She felt the epiphany.

Of course that was how you played the lute. Of course.

Snatching it up, she plucked through the strings, adjusted the frets, and then began to play. She got it. She knew how to play it perfectly well, and the knowledge came easily to her.

She didn’t know any of the songs that he must have known all that long ago. Instead, she played her own music, adapting her songs to the fifteen-stringed lute as she went, humming with happiness that she had an instrument, any instrument to play again, adding riffs, two-plucking with style.

The shadowed music hall turned luminous with harmonic sound. It ran through her like fiery gold, and it didn’t matter what was going on around her or what might come in the future. Everything was right with the world. Everything was more than right….

She lost track of time, and that didn’t matter either until, a formless while later, the epiphany ran out of her, like a tide pulling away from the shore.

Her fingers stumbled on the strings. Tiredness swallowed her whole. Unsteadily, she muttered, “Oh, wow. That was just amazing. If you could bottle that, you’d have addicts waiting in line down the street.”