Page 55 of A Match Made in Coven
She peeked at him over her shoulder with a wicked grin. “That’s a good idea.” Before he could blink, a cyclone of magic whirled around them, leaving them both smelling like roses.
He should’ve seen that one coming.
Lorcan’s hair stood up in all directions—hers fared no better. They took one look at each other and burst out laughing.
His idea of a shared shower was a much sexier one, but okay.
As her naked form disappeared through the doorway, Lorcan slipped on a pair of clean boxer briefs and sweatpants and stepped over his two-day-old tuxedo to follow her.
Downstairs, Sarah Michelle was tugging on a cute black pajama set adorned with white cat faces. The adorable sight made him pause. He hadn’t even noticed her clothes when she’d first arrived, too caught up in their passionate reunion. Now, the combination of her fierce detective determination and the cute sleepwear made him fall stupidly in love all over again.
Had she been lounging in these pajamas when she realized her love for him?
The idea that she might have been so overwhelmed by her feelings, so eager to tell him or miserable without him, that she flew to his house without changing, left him grinning from ear to ear.
But he pushed the consideration aside, focusing on their newest quest. They had a centuries-old mystery to unravel.
Approaching Sarah Michelle, Lorcan gestured to the scattered letters. “Check the dates. You should read them in order.”
She nodded, features set as she gathered the letters. Together, they settled on the floor, eager to delve into the secrets of the past and uncover a truth that could change everything.
Once Sarah Michelle had arranged the letters in chronological order, she began to read, her brow furrowed in concentration. As she progressed through the correspondence, her expression opened in surprise and understanding.
“Lorcan,” she breathed, looking up at him with wide eyes. “They were in love. Genuinely, deeply in love. Lysander wouldn’t have killed her.”
Lorcan nodded, a surge of validation coursing through him. “I had the same thought. But how do we prove it?”
Sarah Michelle sighed, running a hand through her sex-tousled hair. “It’ll be hard. Every lead has gone cold centuries ago.”
“Do you think Mary knew her killer?”
“Most probably.” Sarah picked up one of the scattered letters, her fingers tracing the worn edges. “But I’m not sure her ghost could tell us.”
“She was pretty persistent, though, and led me to this.” His finger absently traced a seam in the hardwood floor. “She could help us.”
“But she’s never done anything other than screaming and wailing. She doesn’t talk.”
“Maybe she can’t.”
“How do you mean?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, her throat has been slit. But what if we used a Ouija board and asked her to name the killer?”
“Do you have one?” Sarah Michelle quirked an eyebrow.
“No, but we could buy one.” He stood up. “Let’s go right now.”
A grin spread across Sarah Michelle’s face as she regarded him from her position on the floor. “As much as I’m fond of the view, you might want to cover up a bit more.”
Glancing down at his bare chest, Lorcan chuckled. “Right. What about you? Are you going shopping in your pajamas?”
Sarah Michelle stood up and stretched. “Why not? It’s Salem. People won’t bat an eye at witchy pajamas. They’ll assume I’m still riding the Halloween high.”
Lorcan’s gaze traveled over her adorable cat-printed ensemble. “No, you’re right. You look purr-fect.”
Her eyes widened. “Hex, that was awful.”
“Awfully charming, you mean,” Lorcan quipped, standing up and stretching. “The shop on Main closes at midnight.”
