Dragon Maid by Ann Gimpel Page B

his mind. “I feel the same, yet both of us are bound by duty as well as our feelings, one for the other. We are just at the barest beginnings, ye and I.” She kissed him and then followed after Lachlan and Kheladin. Jonathan fished his shirt off the floor, shrugged it on, and followed it with his jacket, which he zipped to his chin. Without Britta’s warmth, he felt chilled.
    “Looks as if the shoes fit,” Maggie observed.
    “Huh?” Lost in thoughts of Britta, Jonathan didn’t follow Maggie’s meaning.
    “Besotted, aren’t you?” She grinned. “Not that I blame you. Lachlan has the same effect on me. If I didn’t make a huge effort, he’d be all I ever thought about. I meant the shoes I loaned Britta seem close enough.”
    He remembered himself. “Thanks for thinking of my…er, mate.” Jonathan laughed self-consciously. “Cripes, I don’t know what to call her. Girlfriend doesn’t do it. She’s not exactly my fiancée. She might be my wife, depending on which set of laws I choose to follow.” He spread his hands before him, feeling flummoxed.
    Maggie skewered him with her gaze, blue eyes alight with humor. “Keep it simple. Focus. We were talking about clothes and shoes fitting.”
    “Yes,” he agreed, grateful to have something manageable to wrap his mind around, “everything fit fine. Um, thanks again.”
    “Much better. It’s how I got through the first few days after I met Lachlan. I kept things simple. Or tried to. Dragon shifters can be…intense. Anyway, I brought sweats, a T-shirt, and a stretchy jacket for Britta. So we had a bit of leeway.” Maggie squared her shoulders. “Maybe you and I should begin with formal introductions.” She extended her hand, and he clasped it. “I’m Margaret Hibbins, but everyone calls me Maggie.”
    “Jonathan Shea.” He opened his senses to her. “You’re a witch—a strong one.”
    “Not so sure about the strong part, but I am a witch. Also a doctor.”
    “Not much difference, really.” He let go of her hand.
    Maggie snorted. “Yeah, it’s what my grandmother always told me. She was annoyed when I went to medical school.”
    He sucked in a surprised breath as puzzle pieces clicked into place. “You can’t be related to that Hibbins. Mary Elma, isn’t it?”
    “’Fraid so. Why am I not surprised you’ve heard of her?” Maggie cleared her throat. “Everyone has, at least in witchdom.”
    “Mauvreen, sort of my aunt but not really, knows her from way back. I think they met when she still lived in the States.” He shrugged. “Perhaps they were girls together, or something, back in the eighteen hundreds, or maybe the seventeen hundreds. It’s hard to get a straight answer out of any of the women about how old they really are.”
    She smirked. “Isn’t it, though?”
    He drew his brows together as memories surfaced, “I’m so sorry about what happened to your parents during the last big coven war.”
    “Yeah, it was pretty awful,” she agreed. “That’s why I had a sort of love-hate relationship with my magic—until Lachlan showed up, that is.”
    “How old were you…?” His voice trailed off. It was hard to get the words when your parents died past his lips.
    “Six. Old enough to understand magic killed them but too young to truly assimilate why.” She shook her head; sadness rolled off her in waves that pricked Jonathan’s heart. “I had to blame something for losing them, so I blamed magic. It was only much later I understood they died fighting for something they believed in.”
    “I wasn’t much older than you, but I remember the witches over here talking about it. Your parents were heroes. They kept a sacred formula out of the wrong hands.”
    Maggie’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile. “Thanks. I’ve never thought of them in quite that light before. It helps.”
    “You’re welcome.” He sent healing energy her way.
    “Want something to eat?” Maggie changed the subject.
    He made a grab for his