Must Be Magic by Patricia Rice Page B

rocky dirt, but he supposed the lady wouldn’t be aware of how to measure soil quality. He would have the devil of a time developing a fallow field like this one.
    He could bring in the horse manure pile from behind the stable, he thought as he followed a sheep path around the side of the hill. He halted abruptly at the sight that greeted him.
    The woman in red knelt so still in the moonlight, she didn’t appear to be breathing. Raven curls tumbled down her back and spilled over her slender shoulders, lifting occasionally in a light breeze as she gazed at something on the ground in front of her.
    This woman never behaved in the manner of ordinary women—flying from stiles in thunderstorms, dancing in turnip fields at sunset. What the devil was she doing now? Worshiping the moon?
    Common sense told him to turn around and come back tomorrow. Logic said she had no business being in the lady’s field at night. Instinct warned of the dangers to an unprotected female from thieves and rogues wandering the roads. Torn, Dunstan hesitated a moment too long.
    She turned. Moonlight flashed in her eyes, and enchantment moistened her ruby lips. Holding a finger to her lips, she gestured for him to approach.
    Curiosity won over good sense. Striding as silently as he could across the rocky field, much too aware of his bulk and her slenderness as he approached, he crouched beside her. “Are you insane, woman?” he whispered, not knowing why he whispered.
    â€œShhh. Look there.” She pointed to a clump of wild rose brambles sprawling across one of the many rocks scattered over the field. The branches bore the first green sprigs of spring.
    Dunstan squinted through the moonlit darkness, feeling a fool. “I don’t see anything.”
    â€œBrand-new baby rabbits,” she whispered. “Look, they’re no bigger than mice, and nearly as furless.”
    â€œYou’d better keep your cat away from them, then.” Rabbits! The woman had cotton for brains. He started to stand, but the mother rabbit twitched her nose and perked her ears, and he hesitated, drawn against his will. The newborns wriggled and squirmed, searching for warmth and food, helpless and unprotected against the dangers of the night. His fingers itched to touch them.
    â€œWhy did she make her nest here instead of in a rabbit hole?” she asked. “It’s not safe. Do you think we could move them?”
    â€œThey’re rabbits. They eat crops. And you want to save them?” Clinging to practicality, Dunstan regarded the fool woman with disbelief.
    Hope welled in her eyes. “Could you, please?”
    Her plea devastated his normal thought processes, and he struggled to find the logic behind her request. “You hate Lady Leila that much?”
    She blinked in consternation and shook her head. “Of course not.”
    â€œThose baby rabbits will munch her seedlings to the ground and grow into great big rabbits that will mow down her entire garden,” he pointed out.
    â€œBut they’re babies!” she protested illogically. “It’s not fair to hurt the helpless.”
    Bound by her lack of reason—or her tempting curves—Dunstan surrendered. He tugged at his sleeve to release his arm from his coat. “You want to raise bait for Lord Staines’s hounds?” he suggested.
    She shook her head and watched him with wide eyes that made him feel vastly interesting as he peeled off his coat.
    â€œYou have a fox at home that prefers rabbit stew?”
    She chuckled as she caught on to his warped humor. Shaking her head, she checked the rabbits again, then watched with even greater admiration as Dunstan removed his vest.
    â€œWe could put them in a pen and fatten them for dinner,” he offered, hoping to lessen the impact of her eyes and the spring night and the sweet scent of a woman’s perfume. His gaze fell to her bee-stung lips, and he swallowed,