conjuring spirits and casting spells. There will be no more such goings-on at Stonehaven. I mean it, Blair. I willna tolerate disobedience.” He backed away. “I bid you good night.”
He marched off without another word. It was just as well. Obviously, he feared her and did not understand her powers. In her experience, people feared things they did not understand, and Graeme was no exception.
What really hurt was the knowledge that Graeme believed she was a witch.
Blair returned to the window, trying to summon the spirits that had fled when Graeme entered her chamber, but it was no use. No matter how hard she concentrated, they would not return. She hoped they hadn’t deserted her, for without them she was lost.
Graeme prowled from one end of his chamber to the other, his mind still dazed by what he had just witnessed. He had been greatly disturbed by Blair’s behavior. He no longer knew what to believe.
Did he want to bed a woman who dabbled in the black arts? His body said aye while his mind said nay. Why had he taken MacArthur’s word that Blair wasn’t a witch?
Because you don’t believe in witches.
Nevertheless, seeing Blair at the window while all those unnatural phenomena were taking place in the chamber had definitely unnerved him. Magic had been in progress. Somehow he had to prevent Blair from summoning forces that could disrupt Stonehaven and its people.
Witchcraft
. Did it really exist? Common sense told him it did not, but his eyes had beheld something indisputably odd. A shudder went through him. What had he done? Whom had he wed? Why did he want a woman he neither understood nor trusted?
Graeme decided he did indeed need a woman. One who neither claimed powers nor spoke to spirits. A woman willing to ease his body without complicating his life. His body hardened at the thought of Glenda’s generous curves and sweet mouth working their magic on him. He had only to climb the stairs and summon her.
He strode toward the portal. His hand was on the latch when the door connecting his chamber to Blair’s flew open. He whirled at the sound, shocked by the intrusion but utterly bewitched by the angry beauty confronting him.
Her hair appeared alive and glowing, her face illuminated by an inner light that made her seem otherworldly. Her figure was perfection, softly rounded and sweetly curved. But her violet eyes held a spark that did not bode well for him.
Witch or nay, he wanted her still.
“You’re like all the others. You believe I am a witch,” Blair charged.
“What would you have me believe?”
“That my powers come from God.”
“I once knew a woman who claimed her powers came from God, and she is dead now because of it. Is that what you want for yourself?”
“Nay, of course not. But I canna refuse to heal because I fear death. I want to help people, Graeme . . . I must.”
He shook his head. “I understand none of this, Blair. I will protect you because I promised and my word is my honor.” He sent her an exasperated look. “In exchange, I expect to be obeyed.” He turned away. “Return to your chamber.”
“Where are you going?”
“To fetch a normal woman to warm my bed.”
Her cheeks flaming with anger, Blair whirled on her heel and stomped off, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled. Graeme dropped his hand from the latch and leaned against the panel, shaking his head. What was a thwarted bridegroom to do?
Blair returned to her chamber in a huff. The man was impossible. What would it take for him to believe in her powers? Nothing she said seemed to get through to him. She glanced toward the closed door. Tears formed in her eyes when she imagined him with another woman.
Why couldn’t Graeme Campbell be the same uncomplicated man who had visited her in her dreams?
That
Graeme accepted her as she was.
That
Graeme never questioned her powers.
Blair’s fists clenched in frustration when she recalled the countless times Graeme had invaded her dreams. Why had
He marched off without another word. It was just as well. Obviously, he feared her and did not understand her powers. In her experience, people feared things they did not understand, and Graeme was no exception.
What really hurt was the knowledge that Graeme believed she was a witch.
Blair returned to the window, trying to summon the spirits that had fled when Graeme entered her chamber, but it was no use. No matter how hard she concentrated, they would not return. She hoped they hadn’t deserted her, for without them she was lost.
Graeme prowled from one end of his chamber to the other, his mind still dazed by what he had just witnessed. He had been greatly disturbed by Blair’s behavior. He no longer knew what to believe.
Did he want to bed a woman who dabbled in the black arts? His body said aye while his mind said nay. Why had he taken MacArthur’s word that Blair wasn’t a witch?
Because you don’t believe in witches.
Nevertheless, seeing Blair at the window while all those unnatural phenomena were taking place in the chamber had definitely unnerved him. Magic had been in progress. Somehow he had to prevent Blair from summoning forces that could disrupt Stonehaven and its people.
Witchcraft
. Did it really exist? Common sense told him it did not, but his eyes had beheld something indisputably odd. A shudder went through him. What had he done? Whom had he wed? Why did he want a woman he neither understood nor trusted?
Graeme decided he did indeed need a woman. One who neither claimed powers nor spoke to spirits. A woman willing to ease his body without complicating his life. His body hardened at the thought of Glenda’s generous curves and sweet mouth working their magic on him. He had only to climb the stairs and summon her.
He strode toward the portal. His hand was on the latch when the door connecting his chamber to Blair’s flew open. He whirled at the sound, shocked by the intrusion but utterly bewitched by the angry beauty confronting him.
Her hair appeared alive and glowing, her face illuminated by an inner light that made her seem otherworldly. Her figure was perfection, softly rounded and sweetly curved. But her violet eyes held a spark that did not bode well for him.
Witch or nay, he wanted her still.
“You’re like all the others. You believe I am a witch,” Blair charged.
“What would you have me believe?”
“That my powers come from God.”
“I once knew a woman who claimed her powers came from God, and she is dead now because of it. Is that what you want for yourself?”
“Nay, of course not. But I canna refuse to heal because I fear death. I want to help people, Graeme . . . I must.”
He shook his head. “I understand none of this, Blair. I will protect you because I promised and my word is my honor.” He sent her an exasperated look. “In exchange, I expect to be obeyed.” He turned away. “Return to your chamber.”
“Where are you going?”
“To fetch a normal woman to warm my bed.”
Her cheeks flaming with anger, Blair whirled on her heel and stomped off, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled. Graeme dropped his hand from the latch and leaned against the panel, shaking his head. What was a thwarted bridegroom to do?
Blair returned to her chamber in a huff. The man was impossible. What would it take for him to believe in her powers? Nothing she said seemed to get through to him. She glanced toward the closed door. Tears formed in her eyes when she imagined him with another woman.
Why couldn’t Graeme Campbell be the same uncomplicated man who had visited her in her dreams?
That
Graeme accepted her as she was.
That
Graeme never questioned her powers.
Blair’s fists clenched in frustration when she recalled the countless times Graeme had invaded her dreams. Why had
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