Bait N' Witch (Brimstone Inc. #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,6

help Greyson identify her.

“I have a slight ability.”

“What is your gift?”

“I have no particular gift.” True. She possessed many.

Chloe elbowed her sister. “She wouldn’t be a nanny if she was fully gifted,” she hissed.

“I guess.” Lachlyn’s suspicion reflected in her narrow-eyed gaze. “You stopped our spells pretty easily.”

Rowan continued to unpack. “My skills lend toward raising magical children. Not too difficult. I’m surprised Mr. Masters didn’t stop you himself.”

“Using magic against other witches is against the rules,” Chloe said.

“And Dad is all about the rules,” Atleigh tacked on.

“Ah. I guess this is a good time to discuss my rules.”

All three groaned, and Rowan held in a grin as she zipped up her suitcase and stashed it in the large closet.

She turned to the girls, hands on her hips.

“I expect you to call me Rowan. I expect responsible magic use, which I did not see today. I expect you to know that if you need something, you can always ask me.”

Given the wary gazes aimed her way, Rowan felt it a safe bet none of the other nannies had said anything similar.

“We don’t need a nanny,” Atleigh said. “We’re big girls.”

The old souls staring at her from young eyes about broke her heart. These girls needed love. Lots of love. Rowan nodded her head slowly, as if considering that statement. “Fine. Then I’ll be chauffeur, cook, and helper when you need it.”

“A nanny,” Lachlyn grumbled.

Rowan could have spelled them, forcing their compliance or opening their hearts, but she’d much rather earn their trust.

Besides, she needed to reserve her energy for their father. For now.

Chapter Three

Greyson shut the door to his office with a sigh of relief, followed by a flash of guilt. He loved his daughters with every cell in his body, but, even after ten years without his wife, he still had no idea how to deal with three little girls. He had to admit his position as lead hunter for the Covens Syndicate had not remotely prepared him for wrangling with three tiny females. Of course, based on six previous nannies’ performances, the girls were a handful for anyone, a fact which made him feel marginally better.

A mental image of the latest in a long line of nannies popped into his mind—creamy skin, wide dove-gray eyes, red curls everywhere, the most adorable freckles. Unbidden, his body hardened. Because of freckles.

“Damn,” he muttered.

He’d raised his hands, ready to defend his daughters when Rowan had appeared as if conjured and frozen like an ice cube at the north pole. Those wide gray eyes looking at him in wary interest caught his attention first, followed by the freckles across the bridge of her nose, stark against her pale skin. Angel kisses, he remembered his mother saying about her own freckles when he was a boy. If Rowan had stood closer, he might even have reached out and brushed a fingertip against them. Lust had inconveniently roared through his veins, hitting him like a bolt of lightning on a clear day. Out of the fucking blue. He’d never responded so strongly to a woman. Ever. Not even to his sweet wife.

Guilt twisted inside him like a snake writhing in the grasp of a raptor’s talons.

Discovering Rowan was his nanny had been like being dunked in a frigid mountain stream—inappropriate. Wrong on more than one level.

Then she’d opened her mouth, and, rather than the meek and mild woman he expected—like every other nanny sent to him—sass had flowed out from between those pouty lips.

Helpful. He’d had a hard time not laughing at that one, his amusement in the midst of everything else only serving to add to growing frustration with himself. What was wrong with him?

And what was with that strange spark of electricity when he shook her hand? Living in the mountains, he could put it down to static charge, but that bolt felt stronger, sharper. A glance at his palm—which still tingled from the contact, even now—showed no mark. He closed his hand in a fist, then chided himself for being stupid to even look. Of course, that had been static electricity or residual power from the energy balls he’d formed, perhaps—simple.

Greyson reluctantly admitted he’d bolted. He’d had no intention of working today until Rowan McAuliffe had shown up.

The way she’d taken over… I shouldn’t feel so relieved.

But he had. Like suddenly he wasn’t the only one struggling on his own with a whole lot of problems.

A different pang of guilt mixed in with the other emotions like a tossed salad. His…attraction