Page 48 of The Water Witch (Fairwick Chronicles 2)

I sighed. I would get the one fisherman raised on animal-bride tales. “I’m not an owl princess.”

“You are! And I’ve got your feather, which means you gotta come with me and be my wife.”

I punched him in the arm. “That’s the thanks I get for saving your life?”

“Ow!” he said, rubbing his arm and looking hurt. “You don’t want to marry me?”

“Sorry, but no. Not that you’re not a perfectly nice young man…um…”

“MacKenzie Stewart, but my friends call me Mac. I just got my associates degree in ag business from SUNY Cobleskill. I’m a partner in my family’s dairy farm. I’m going to turn the whole thing organic. You should like that, being a bird andall…Oh, gosh, we do raise chickens, though. We could go free-range if that would make it better…and I guess I could become a vegetarian…” His brow creased again, no doubt wondering if I was worth giving up Big Macs. “…or maybe you don’t mind eating meat, you being a carnivorous bird.”

I looked at Mac’s eager face and sighed. Poor guy. He must not meet many girls who wanted to come live on the family farm. He seemed willing to do about anything for me. “Thank you, Mac. I’m flattered, but I’m sure you’ll find a nice human girl…as long as you stay out of these woods!” I added in my Lady-of-the-Lake voice.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, cowed at last.Ma’am?Would he have called Angelina Joliema’am? “But I wish there was something I could do to repay you for saving my life. Can I do some…heroic deed, or something?”

“Yes,” I said, shivering. “You can give me your shirt.”

I walked back toward home in Mac Stewarts’s flannel shirt, which thankfully came down to my knees and only smelled a little of cheap cologne and man-sweat. I followed the stream back, keeping my eyes and ears open for Duncan, sorry I no longer had the vision and hearing of an owl. The woods felt darker and denser, as if the trees had moved a few inches closer to one another and were readying themselves to pounce on me. I called Duncan’s name, my voice frail in comparison to the powerful hoot of the owl.Ifelt frail. As an owl I’d felt as if something had opened up inside of me, but I no longer felt that channel of power. Instead I was depleted, weaker than ever. When I reached my backyard, I didn’t need any special powers to find Duncan Laird. He was sprawled out naked across my back steps, the gash on his chest black against his human flesh.

I let out a cry that could have been the hoot of an owl for her wounded mate and ran to him. His eyes were closed, but when I knelt beside him and touched his arm he stirred and moaned. His eyes flicked open, revealing a slit of glittering blue.

“Cal…” he managed, his voice sounding like the croak of a frog.

“What happened? What did this to you?” I touched the edge of the gash on his chest and he moaned. There were fainter scratches in his skin, which looked like they had been made with claws.

“An undine…” he said. “Not Lorelei…another…one…”

“I knew it couldn’t have been Lorelei, because I was with her.” A loud moan interrupted this thought. I could tell him what had happened to me later. “Should I take you to the hospital?”

“They wouldn’t be able…to treatthis,” he muttered, turning slightly to the side. I gasped at the sight of his back. It was scored with slash marks.

“I’ll get Diana,” I said. “She’ll know what to do…or Liz…”

“No,” he said, grabbing my wrist. His grip was surprisingly strong for a wounded man. “You can do it…You have the power of the Aelvesgold in you. Just…” He looked anxiously toward the edge of the woods. “Just…help me inside.”

I put his arm around my shoulders and got him to his feet, then realized I should have opened the door first. But Duncan held out his hand and the door flew open. “You still have so much power,” I said, ushering him through the door, “even though you’re hurt.”

He stumbled over the threshold and we both nearly crashedto the kitchen floor. “Not so…much,” he croaked with a strangled laugh. “But you…you have all the power I need.”

I tightened my grip on his waist, noticing in spite of myself how firm his muscles were and how warm his bare skin. In the library I settled him on the couch, pulling an afghan over him to spare his modesty…or mine, I supposed. He was probably in too much pain to think about being naked in front of me, but I was going to have to concentrate, and Duncan Laird’s naked body was…distracting, to say the least. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who was distracted. When I knelt beside him on the couch I caught him staring down the opening of my flannel shirt where a button had come loose. “Where did you get this?” he asked, fingering the worn fabric.

“From a fisherman named Mac,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Long story. I’ll tell you all about it after…WhatamI supposed to do, Duncan? Tell me! You’re losing blood!”

He smiled weakly and took my hand. A heat flash moved straight from my hand into the core of my body as if he’d touched me…somewhere intimate.

“The Aelvesgold in your body is reacting to mine,” he said. “You can use it to perform a binding spell on my wounds.” He guided my hand over the deepest gash, the one on his chest, holding it barely an inch above his flesh. “Concentrate on the heat between us.”

I blushed again. Therewasheat between us, and not just of the Aelvesgold variety, but I tried to concentrate on the Aelvesgold right now. I felt the warmth of his torn flesh radiating just below my palm and the pulse in his wrist above mine. As I focused on the heat, it grew and spread. He moved my hand slightly, in a small circular motion, and the heat moved with it. Isawit now: a syrupy red-gold light, like the liquid Aelvesgold Liam had moved across my body whenwe’d made love in Faerie. Only this light was stained red, perhaps because Duncan was wounded.

Duncan slowly guided my hand along the length of the gash in his chest while the viscous light coated the edges of his wound. He winced once and I stopped, but he grimaced and told me to go on, saying it only hurt because I was binding the skin. I nodded, and focused my energy on directing the Aelvesgold into his flesh. As I did, I felt the Aelvesgold building in me as well. Every inch of my skin prickled with energy. The rough couch upholstery was like sandpaper on my thighs; the flannel shirt rubbing against my breasts made my nipples harden.

Duncan took my other hand and, moving the afghan, guided it to a long gash on his thigh. Gold threads sprung from my fingertips and interlaced across his body between my hands, weaving a criss-cross pattern over his skin.

“This is different from when you bound my wounds,” I whispered, looking into his eyes. “It’s…” I faltered when I saw how he was looking at me. His eyes burned with desire. I felt its pull as I’d felt the pull of the gold threads of Aelvesgold in the woods, connecting me to everything. He reached out to stroke my face. As his hand passed across the table he knocked over the glass of scotch I’d left on the table earlier. Its smoky aroma jarred me with a memory of Liam. I pulled away, breaking the connection between Duncan and me. Sparks flew into the air, cascading over the couch, burning holes in the upholstery. One landed on Duncan’s bare skin and he cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry,” I said, leaping up to put out the smoking cinders. “I guess I’m not ready…”

Duncan seized both my hands in his and gazed deeply into my eyes.

“It’s all right, Callie. I didn’t mean to rush you. I didn’t realize you were still attached to the incubus.”

“I’m not!” I objected.

Wordlessly, Duncan turned my hands over and held up my palms. An intricate network of golden spirals was inscribed on my skin. They looked like the Celtic knotwork designs in the margins of the Book of Kells—an ancient script of magic.

“These are wards,” Duncan said. “Internal wards to protect you from unwelcome advances. They mean your heart is spoken for.”

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