Wild about the Witch by Cassidy Cayman Read Free Book Online Page A

begrudgingly offering her the dregs.
    “That’s it?” she asked, positive she was stepping over a line, but unable to drop it. “This is all just a sad, abandoned son story?”
    He laughed as if she’d told a hilarious joke. “Oh my dear,” he said, his laughter stopping as abruptly as slamming a door. “I see how you view me.” He waved off her attempt to deny it, his eyes completely void of any recognizable emotion. “But trust me when I say you never want to meet my father.”
    She watched his back as he ducked under some low hanging branches, all desire to taunt him drained from her. Unnerved, she tried to change the subject.
    “So, er, the portals. There’s one around here? Or do we have to go back to London?”
    “There’s one in the village, beyond the river.” He made a long, irritated sound. “I hate that village in this time,” he whined. “But it’s there. I’ll deal with it.”
    He went back to ignoring her and chattering to himself. They took a circuitous route behind the castle, ending up looking down at it from a hill near the forest. There was just a smattering of trees where they stood high above everything, but she could see it quickly became dense, and from their vantage point, it covered the land in a vast, dark green blanket.
    “Look,” he said, pointing.
    Two horsemen entered the woods down the hill. Quinn and Oliver, so close. The wind blew toward her and she knew if she hollered, they’d never hear. She wanted to gallop after them, but instead followed Wodge into the woods.
    She could barely stay in her saddle, they were so close to Quinn, and her eyes darted left and right at the trees and underbrush. Perhaps she had enough left in her to fling herself from the horse and escape into the shadowy forest, scream her lungs out for Quinn. She could bob and weave to avoid getting shot, like they did in movies.
    She leaned over the saddle, as if her body wanted her brain to get it together already and jump, and Wodge pulled up beside her, grabbing her reins away. He held his finger to his lips and pointed. He hadn’t read her mind at all, she realized with a jolt. He just wanted her to stop riding.
    Quinn and Oliver were only a hundred yards away in a clearing. She squinted through the dusk light and couldn’t stop the yearning sound that escaped her lips when she saw Quinn’s tall, strong form wrapped in his dark red plaid. Oliver also wore a kilt and looked like he was doing his best to keep up. So close, but she’d never make it to them.
    “Quiet,” Wodge warned, helping her dismount. The feel of his hands at her sides made her skin crawl. “Mind your feet,” he said, nodding to the twigs that might make a snapping noise if they stepped on them.
    She stood frozen, gripping a tree to keep herself from bolting in a panic. She noticed Wodge had his gun in his hand. Why did he have his gun in his hand? She knew nothing about the modern day weapon Wodge must have stolen on one of his trips through time. Could it reach its target at this distance?
    “I’ve got you, witches,” he hissed, taking her hand and slowly guiding her closer to the clearing.
    Run, she told herself. Scream. Anything to stop this madman from killing two innocent people. And then herself.
    They stopped behind a huge, decaying fallen tree and she turned from Wodge’s satisfied face to the clearing. They were now close enough to see clearly and her arms ached to wrap themselves around Quinn’s broad shoulders. If only things had been different. She had so much regret.
    “Do you believe me now?” he asked, barely a whisper.
    She peeked over the log and to her dismay saw Quinn and Oliver sitting across from one another in a cleared circle. Quinn shook some dried herbs from a vial and crumpled them between his palms, referring to a paper he had next to him, and pointing things out to Oliver as he scattered the herbs on the ground between them. Her eyes widened with shock as they took turns cutting their