Page 8 of A Match Made in Coven
“The hilt didn’t heat up. That proves I’m telling the truth,” Lorcan explained as if speaking to a particularly thick-skulled troll.
“All you’ve proven is that this thing doesn’t do squat,” Sarah Michelle retorted. Her quip was sharp. Although standing this close, breathing the same air heavy with the scent of his masculinity, still clearly discernible even underneath the dainty rose-buds perfuming she’d given him earlier, was making it rather difficult to think.
Lorcan’s jaw worked, his gaze drilling into her with an intensity that stole the oxygen from her lungs. Magnetizing. Smoldering. And so very, very close…
A wicked light sparkled in Lorcan’s eyes. “My name is Binky Bananahammock,” he declared, “and I find you wildly unattractive.”
Heat seared through Sarah Michelle’s palm without warning, and her hand started to burn, and burn, and burn…
Chapter Five
Desk Duty
LORCAN
The wince of pain on the beautiful witch’s face made Lorcan release her at once. He let go of the incandescent blade and took a step back from her, also lowering the magical bubble encasing them.
The instant he dropped the shield, he found himself bent over the prosecution desk, his cheek pressed against the cold, polished wood. The chief inquisitor held him in a vice-like grip, wrenching his arm behind his back at an uncomfortable angle. Apparently, the inquisitor didn’t appreciate suspects bubbling up his detectives.
“Sarah Michelle,” Chief King addressed his agent with concern, “are you alright?”
Sarah Michelle. So the beautiful witch had a name. Lorcan rolled the syllables around in his mind, savoring their sound. He decided he liked it.
“I’m fine,” she replied, massaging her hand.
Even when the dagger generated intense heat, it never caused lasting damage. Or he wouldn’t have used it on her. Still, guilt gnawed at him that the blade had burned her.
From his less-than-cozy position, Lorcan surveyed the chaos his stunt had unleashed in the courtroom. Everyone was on their feet, including old Judge Irving, whose face was flushed with anger. Chairs and pews were overturned, and the air still crackled with the tang of residual magic.
“Osric, can’t you keep your client in check?” Judge Irving snapped at the Blacks’ family lawyer.
“Your Honor, I assure you—” Osric began, but the judge cut him off.
“Enough.” He turned to Lorcan directly, spearing him with a glare. “Young man, explain your outrageous behavior.”
Lorcan tried to respond, but with his mouth squashed against the desk, he could only manage a muffled grunt. Tonight was turning out severely undignified. Hopefully, his disarming grin would be effective even at this angle.
He’d caused a ruckus, hadn’t he? But it was worth it to prove his innocence. And to get a glimpse of Sarah Michelle’s warm brown eyes up close. Even narrowed in annoyance, they sparkled like smoky quartz in the candlelight. But if the crystals were known for their grounding properties, Sarah Michelle’s gaze was having the opposite effect on him. It stole the ground from under his feet.
And now she must think him a total troll.
If only he could explain himself, preferably without a desk imprint on his face. Was a simple “sorry, just trying to clear my name” too much to ask?
The judge’s voice cut through Lorcan’s musings. “Chief King, unhandle Mr. Black so he might talk.”
The inquisitor hauled Lorcan upright, maintaining a vise-like grip on his arms. The sensation prickled back into Lorcan’s cheek as he worked his jaw.
Judge Irving pinned him with a severe stare that could’ve wilted a mandrake. “Mr. Black, do I have to have you magically restrained, or do you promise to behave?”
Lorcan flashed his most dazzling smile. “I’ll be a perfect detainee, Your Honor.”
He resisted the urge to wink at Sarah Michelle. Her exasperated eye roll suggested it wouldn’t win him any points. The judge nodded to Chief King, who released Lorcan with palpable reluctance. If looks could hex, Lorcan would’ve already turned into a toad under the chief’s glare.
Lorcan rubbed his wrists, savoring the freedom. “I wanted to prove my innocence with the blade. Detective Callidora can now confirm I’m not the killer.”
He caught Sarah Michelle’s gaze, hoping she’d read the sincerity in his eyes. See that he only strived to clear his name. Convince her he wasn’t the bad guy. Her expression remained inscrutable, a beautiful sphinx guarding secrets he yearned to unravel.
Chief King interjected, “The magic of the blade is not admissible in court.”
