Enchanted Warrior. Sharon Ashwood

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СКАЧАТЬ at Tamsin’s apartment building a few hours later. His steps slowed as he approached the front walk, for he did not want to be there—not at all. Not when the reason for the visit was to cast a spell. He would rather have faced an enraged ogre than be in the same room with a witch at work—and yet somehow he had agreed to it. That had to be proof of his desperation.

      Gawain knew well enough that magic could heal as well as harm. If the stakes were high enough, he could and would endure its presence for the greater good. After all, he had allowed Merlin to turn him to stone so he could follow his king into the future. It was just...

      Memories of his childhood crowded in. His mother, Queen Morgause, had been as beautiful as a night-blooming flower—or at least that’s what the poets had said. All the recollections Gawain could dredge up were of nightmares. The nameless, many-legged things she kept in her workroom and called her pets. Her deadly potions. The sight of her strangling his hound so she could use the unborn pups for a curse. And then there was the way she had died—slain by her own son, Agravaine. Gawain’s younger brother’s mind had not survived the twisted evil in their home.

      And Gawain, alone of all his brothers, had inherited the potential to create that darkness anew. That was not a future he was willing to accept. As soon as he was old enough, he’d picked up a sword and ridden off to serve the young king, believing an honorable death would cleanse his soul. He’d survived, but never allowed himself to use the least hint of his inherited magic. Not after—well, he refused to think about certain events.

      Which begged the question of why he was knocking on a witch’s door, about to help her with a spell. If Gawain had thought of any other way to find the Round Table in time to destroy their enemies—anything at all—he’d have leaped on it like a wildcat upon a hare.

      Gawain reached the front door of Tamsin’s building and found it locked. He knew enough about modern times to search the panel beside the door for Tamsin’s name. He pressed the button next to it and waited.

      “Hello?” Her voice crackled out of the speaker, making him jump.

      He cast a glance around, hoping no one had noticed his less-than-manly surprise. “It is Gawain.”

      “Come on up.”

      The door clicked, and he tugged on the handle. This time it opened, and he stepped into the lobby. Fortunately, he’d already learned about elevators and made his way to her floor.

      The door to Tamsin’s suite was open, letting out the scent of herbs and good food. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he was hungry. He lingered on the threshold a moment, savoring the aroma.

      A moment later, Tamsin put her head out of the tiny galley kitchen and gave him a bright smile. “Make yourself comfortable. Dinner’s just about done.”

      “Dinner?” he asked suspiciously. “I did not expect this.”

      “I hope you don’t mind. I can’t perform a ritual on an empty stomach.”

      Gawain approached the tiny table where just last night Tamsin had bound his wound. There were place settings already laid out, and he studied them carefully. He’d been thoroughly trained to take his place at Camelot’s high table, but he was well aware that modes and manners had changed. Gawain felt an unaccustomed flicker of stage fright.

      Tamsin bustled out of the kitchen with a bowl of greens. “It’s just pasta and salad, nothing much. My mother would tell me I’m a terrible homemaker.”

      He almost smiled then, a rueful turn of lips. “You realize, of course, that I have not been invited to dine in someone’s home for nearly a thousand years.”

      Tamsin raised her brows. “In that case, you’ll be excited to learn about this new thing called a fork.”

      Gawain looked away from her pretty, open face. “You’re mocking me.”

      “Are you sure about that?”

      “You assume I have the manners of a mad hermit.”

      “Have you used a fork before?”

      “Why should I?” His tone grew icy.

      “Maybe I should have ordered pizza.” She disappeared back into the kitchen.

      Gawain watched her retreating form, appreciating the sway of her hips. He knew she was just as wary of him as he was of her—and with more cause—but she refused to let it show. Whatever else she was, Tamsin Greene was not a coward. She was taking a risk, inviting him here. He would show her better courtesy tonight.

      “I’m a little behind,” she said. “My sister keeps phoning me about one thing or another. Today it was my mother’s plans.”

      “For what?”

      Tamsin’s shoulders hunched, as if the subject irritated her. “She’s threatening to have the Elders find a husband for me.”

      “Is she?” Gawain’s eyes narrowed. Every level of his being rejected the idea like poison.

      Tamsin gave Gawain a weary look, but there was a touch of anger deep in her eyes. “It’s just my mother. The Elders have better things to do with their time.”

      “What does your sister believe?” The knot in his chest tightened. He had never condoned forcing a maid to marry, whatever the reason.

      “She’s older and thinks she knows best.”

      He could hear the affection in her voice, but also deep exasperation. “I understand. I was the eldest of four brothers.”

      “No wonder you’re bossy.” Tamsin set plates of food on the table. “Sit. Eat. I promise it is entirely magic-free.”

      He flushed slightly at her words, but sat and sniffed at the meal. It wasn’t food he’d tried before, but he had seen it in pictures. There were spirals of pasta drenched in a thick and meaty sauce that made his mouth water. Hesitantly, he picked up a piece of crusty bread and soaked it in the sauce. It was hot and savory, and all at once dinner seemed like an excellent idea.

      They dug in. He watched the way Tamsin handled the food to make sure he got the rituals of the table just right. Although he tried not to admit it, he enjoyed watching her delicate fingers hold the silverware and the way her lips closed around each bite. It made him think of other, more interesting things her lips might do.

      “You realize,” Tamsin began, breaking the silence, “that as a medieval historian, I’m fascinated to actually meet someone from the past.” She cast him a glance that was almost shy.

      “I expect that is true.” Gawain shifted in his seat, feeling uncomfortably ancient. It prompted him to change the subject. “You say you are in search of Merlin’s books at the behest of your coven Elders. Why did you take on this task?”

      She looked down, her face carefully schooled. “To prove myself. Loremasters can travel and conduct business on our own authority in a way other witches can’t. I am the first woman to take this position, even on a temporary basis. I want the job permanently. It’s the best chance I have for a position with so much responsibility.”

      No doubt it also ensured escape from a marriage she didn’t want. Gawain studied her face, now grown slightly flushed, as if she wasn’t СКАЧАТЬ