Page 59 of Enchanted Village

She threw something into one of the drinks that briefly made it light on fire before extinguishing it with the addition of something bright green.

“Now you know why I hate that school,” Margaret said, “even though, yes, it’s rather immature of me. It’s not their fault I’m this way. My mother tried to appeal, but they said their decision was final. Besides, I don’t know what she could’ve argued. I’ve never shown any kind of skill. Liza’s tried. She’s given me her wand, taught me incantations.”

Margaret looked over the glasses, her eyes boring directly into his. Another tear slipped down her cheek. He desperately wanted to wipe it away, but she got to it first.

“In her hands, it makes magic,” she said. “In mine, it’s just a piece of wood.”

Silas hated the hurt in her voice. “I wish there was something I could say.”

She shook her head, then pushed his drink toward him before taking hers and throwing it back. He picked his up and tipped it back, finding it like smooth honey with a dash of something cool and acidic that he couldn’t quite decipher. Either way, the drink made him feel warm in a way that even the fireplace couldn’t. He felt like he was a boy again, opening up a sweater from his uncle at Christmas and finding that the reindeer in the pattern actually leapt across the fabric.

He hadn’t thought about that sweater in years. But something about being with Margaret brought that memory on.

“You are magic, though,” Silas said. “Maybe not in the way you want to be, but to me.”

Margaret let out a bitter laugh. “Read that on a Christmas card, did you?”

“Margaret, I mean it,” Silas said. “I’ve never met anyone like you. You can tell me over and over again that you’re not magical because of what that damn letter says, but I’ll tell you once again that I’ve never been more bewitched by anyone in my life.”

His words hung between them. She was still behind the bar, staring at him in the flickering candlelight, he on the other side, empty glasses cast aside. When he’d come in, he’d only noticed her crying, hadn’t seen the rest of her. Now he saw how her auburn hair was tied back into a low bun at her neck, several pieces having already escaped. Her dress was fitted at her hips and, while not quite as low as the one the other day had been, still revealing a significant portion of her pale collarbone and the top of her chest, scattered with freckles. Her lips were bare, and there was an almost bitten, swollen quality to them—probably because of the way she’d been crying.

It was this detail that made him step back, that made him feel like the world’s greatest jackass for ogling her in her time of despair. He turned around, hand rubbing his neck, to get a handle on himself.

“We can do things to get people back to the pub,” he said, keeping his eyes on the floor because he didn’t trust himself to look back at her. Not until he’d had time to attempt to recite some of the textbook in his mind and get his thinking back on course. “We can—”

There was a tug on his coat, and he turned to find her standing there, staring up at him with pink cheeks and full, parted lips. Breath was tumbling out of her as if she’d run, even though she’d only come from around the bar. She tilted her chin up to his, defiant and stubborn to the end.

“If you don’t kiss me right this second,” she said. “I swear to god I’ll find a way to curse you right here.”

He had never moved faster. In one motion, he lifted her up by her ass so that she could wrap her legs around his stomach, bringing their mouths together in a crash of lips and skin and teeth. She tasted like sweet winter berries and spiced chocolate, and all he knew was that he wanted more, more, more.

She clearly felt the same way, squeezing him with her thighs and burying her hands in his hair. He pressed closer, desperate to erase the space between them as his hands slipped under her dress. She gasped, deepening the kiss—and suddenly, the door banged open, ripping the pair of them apart.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“If you want to kill me, I would understand,” Liza said, still giggling the next morning as she walked with Margaret, arm in arm as the pair of them worked their way through the village. “I would want to kill me, if I were you.”

Margaret was pretty sure that the blush that had bloomed the moment Liza threw open the pub door would remain a permanent fixture on her face for at least seventy-two hours. It would’ve been worse if Bernie hadn’t awoken at that moment and flown toward Liza, distracting her and giving Silas a chance to let Margaret down and step away, turning to face the wall to hide the rather large evidence of what had just occurred. Still, his mussed hair and her kiss-swollen lips could not be hidden as easily, and Liza had known right away what she’d walked in on.

“Why would I want to kill you?” Margaret asked, shaking her head. “You didn’t know. You were just checking on me. And if you’d come ten minutes earlier, you would’ve found me sobbing and alone. Bad timing. Besides, we’re all adults.”

“Ugh, still,” Liza said, pausing at Norma’s shop to inspect a bouquet. “I ruined the moment. If I hadn’t walked in, you could have spent all night with him fucking you senseless.”

“Liza!” Margaret snapped, glancing at Norma, who was staring aghast at the pair of them. “Do you mind?”

“I thought you said we’re all adults,” Liza said, pouting and moving on to another bouquet. “Oh god. Don’t tell me you’re still on that ‘he’s just a friend’ bullshit. I saw his hand all the way up—”

Liza yelped as Margaret dragged her farther away from Norma, who had shifted from aghast to curious. The last thing she needed was for this to become the talk of the village.

“It’s just . . . it’s not the right time,” Margaret said. “For all I know, it was a pity kiss.”

“A what?”

“It was just a very emotionally charged moment,” Margaret said. “I had told him I wasn’t magical, and then he told me I am magical . . . and . . . well, we just got carried away. We weren’t thinking. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Honestly, maybe you should try not thinking more often,” Liza said. “It looked good on you. Very good.”

She winked, and Margaret swatted at her with a flower.