The Bewitching Twin

The Bewitching Twin by Donna Fletcher Page B

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Authors: Donna Fletcher
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day.
    He had had enough. Now she would listen to him .
    Rogan entered Laurel and Peter’s cottage without knocking. The young couple’s eyes turned wide when without a word he scooped Aliss up and flung her over his shoulder, grabbed her basket and walked out the door.
    “What do you think you are doing?” Aliss asked, pounding on his hard back.
    “Looking after you since you are too stubborn to do it yourself.”
    She forced a laugh. “You call this looking after me?”
    “What would you call it?”
    “Another abduction,” she snapped. “Now put me down!”
    “When we get home,” he snapped in return.
    “This place is not my home.”
    Rogan entered his cottage and turned into his room, where he was certain no one would disturb her, and dropped her on his bed. “For now, this is your home.”
    Aliss scrambled to the edge of the bed.
    “Do not dare set foot out of that bed. You will rest.” He could hear the warning snarl in his voice. It did the trick; she did not move.
    She raised herself on her knees. “I am not tired and there is work—”
    “That can wait.”
    “It cannot.” Her shoulders slumped. “You must let me heal as I see fit.”
    “And what if you get sick? What do I do then?”
    “Why don’t I, or you, or Anna and others not get sick while some do? That is the true question.”
    She plopped down, crossing her legs, and Rogan caught a hint of a firm, slender calf before she tucked her skirt over it. She had beautiful cream-colored, touchable skin and a heart that never stopped caring.
    He joined her on the bed.
    “I intend to find the answer. It is here right in front of me. I know it, ” she said.
    “What is your life like back home? Is there a man who cares for you?”
    “What does that matter?” she asked, annoyed.
    “Healing, healing, healing. That is all you ever talk about. I have wondered if you have anything else in your life.”
    “I love my work.”
    “I understand that,” he said, and reached out to tug gently on a strand of her fiery red hair. “But you are a beautiful woman, surely you have many men chasing after you.”
    “I have no time for a man in my life.”
    He wrapped the red curl around his finger. “No time or no interest?”
    She swatted his hand away. “I do not wish to sit here talking about nonsense when time could be better spent in finding ways to combat this malady.”
    He leaned closer and he could feel her body shiver like a trembling breath washing over him. “Talk of intimacy frightens you.”
    “It does not!”
    A catch in her voice told him otherwise.
    “Do you not want a man to love you?”
    He reached out and grabbed her arm as she scooted to the end of the bed.
    “I need no man.”
    It sounded more a challenge to him than a fact.
    “Why is that?” he asked, tugging her back to the middle of the bed.
    She hesitated.
    An abrupt, “Tell me,” got him his answer.
    “I have no time for a man. Men demand as you do now.” She glanced at his grip on her arm. “You hold me here. You say I must rest and I say no. Is the choice not mine?”
    “I look out for you,” he argued, releasing her.
    “For no other reason but that I am needed to tend your people.”
    He moved his face close to hers. “So say you.”
    She stammered her response. “Wh-what o-other reason—”
    “Could there be?” he finished, and stroked her cheek with his finger. “That you are a good and generous woman whom a man could easily love.”
    “I need no man,” she reiterated sharply and made a dash for the edge of the bed.
    Rogan was quicker and had her on her back in a flash.
    “Sometimes we deny what we want the most,” he said, staring down at her.
    “That is nonsense.”
    He loved the way her eyes fired a blazing green; a passion lay burning in them. A passion he was certain she had yet to discover. He leaned closer. His lips so near to hers that it appeared they kissed, but they did not, though when he spoke his warm breath stroked her pink lips like a

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