Knight of Pentacles (Knights of the Tarot Book 3) by Nina Mason Read Free Book Online

curtaining her forehead, fell in softly layered waves nearly to her waistline. Was the color natural? With a wee bit of luck, he would have the answer well before daybreak.
    Slipping behind the waterfall, he hurriedly pulled on his tunic and boots, saw to his horse, and ran a comb through his hair. Checking his appearance in the looking glass brought from Avalon, he stroked his whiskers. Had he the time, he would have run a razor over his neck and trimmed his beard, but he did not wish to leave the witch cooling her heels overlong. To keep someone waiting was disrespectful, and, if she grew anxious, she might come looking for him—or worse, return to the cottage without him.
    Outside, the night wind blustered. It rattled in the trees and blew mist from the falls into the cave. That was a good thing. The spray would cool his lusts enough to rejoin the captivating Jenna without appearing overanxious.
    He grabbed his pouch of runes before leaving the cave, not wanting to leave them unprotected. Returning to the clearing, he found her looking through the book she had brought with her.
    “What are you reading?”
    She looked up, but hesitated before answering. “My mother’s grimoire.”
    “Please tell me you do not plan to use a love spell on me.” He smiled to make light of the comment, but was only half teasing.
    She looked up from the page she had been reading and scowled at him. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. The whole thing is written in some kind of code. I can’t decipher a single word.”
    “May I have a look?” When he held out his hand, she willingly surrendered her grimoire, increasing his trust in her. If she’d meant to use her powers against him, she would not have so readily turned over her spells. He looked down at the page and, seeing what she had interpreted as an encryption, laughed aloud.
    “Why are you laughing? What’s so amusing?”
    Regaining his seriousness, he said, “Your mother did not encrypt her grimoire, lass. She wrote it in the native tongue of the Highlands.”
    Her brow furrowed beneath her fringe. “Do you mean Gaelic? Are you sure?”
    She made to snatch the grimoire from his hands, but, being quick, he evaded her attempt.
    When she backed off, he flipped through the pages. The foxing, yellowed paper, and faded ink made it clear her mother was not the book’s first owner. It had to be at least a century old.
    He perused the washed-out script covering the brittle pages. Among the entries were invocations to entities both Christian and Pagan, instructions for the use of herbs and magical items, prayers, poems, ballads, and spells to guard against everything from pain in childbirth to death in battle.
    “Mostly, I see rituals, basic spells, old ballads, and sians .”
    “What’s a sian ?”
    “A protective charm.” He met her fervent gaze. The energy flowing between them was both palpable and thrilling. “At one time, women put such enchantments on their husbands and sweethearts before sending them off to do battle.”
    She stared at him in silence for a long while before asking, “Did your woman do that for you before Bannock Burn?”
    The blush that kissed her cheeks told him she was fishing for information. Her interest in his past romances tickled him, though he could not say why.
    “For a sian to work, three conditions must be met,” he told her. “The first is that the woman who casts the charm must love the man she seeks to protect with all of her heart. The second is that the man must have total faith in the power of the charm. And the third is that he must be a good man who believes wholeheartedly in his cause.”
    A bewitching smile stole across her face. “As interesting as that is, it doesn’t answer my question.”
    Now, it was his turn to blush. “I had no such woman at the time. Perhaps if I had, I would not have been taken.”
    As her soft, cool hand touched his face, the kindness in her eyes touched his heart. “Tell me how it happened.”
    He