Wild about the Witch Read Online Free

Scotland?” he asked in an annoying voice that said he knew the answer.
    She didn’t know what to say to that, not wanting him to know that Quinn was trying to get to the future to find his sister, hopefully getting her home in the process. “He’s only trying to help me get back to my own time,” she finally admitted. “But I swear, he’s not a witch.” She didn’t say she suspected they were going to find a witch once they reached their destination, a Highland castle.
    He merely looked at her pityingly and muttered, “A plight on the world, mucking about with time, using their evil enchantments …”
    “You do it,” she said.
    “I use portals,” he said disdainfully.
    “What if the portals are there because of enchantments?” she asked, earning herself a hard whack across the eye.
    She didn’t engage him much in conversation after that, though she was desperate to know when he originally hailed from. She’d asked him outright and he’d just laughed. She really hated him.
    Oh, she wanted to see Quinn again. She knew they were close from Wodge’s obsessive tracking them, but hadn’t glimpsed him. They stayed at different inns and she overheard Wodge arguing with himself about hiding in the woods tonight. She imagined being tied to a tree couldn’t be much worse than being tied to a chair in whatever manky inn he chose, and at least it would smell better.
    If only she could get close enough to yell out a warning. The closer they got, the more worried she became that Wodge would succeed. The more hungry and tired she got, the less she cared about herself, but maybe she could save Quinn.
    “We ought to be there tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder. She made a point not to make eye contact, but nodded. “Lovely weather, yes?”
    It was lovely, she had to admit. Breezy, but not yet too cold, and it had only rained on them once during the journey.
    “I’m a bit hungry,” she tried, since he seemed in one of his solicitous moods.
    She got a drink of water from him the day before when he’d begun spouting Shakespeare. Out of habit, she quoted where he left off, instantly regretting it and fearing a smack, but they actually completed an entire scene from Hamlet, then he gave her a drink.
    “That’s a shame,” he said, kicking his horse further ahead and ignoring her.
    She no longer thought about jumping off her horse and running. Wodge was fast on his skinny legs and it hadn’t worked the first two times she tried it. He always made sure to choose the most worthless nag available for her when they changed horses, so galloping off was never an option.
    She knew they were close, having gone at a relentless pace trying to keep up with Quinn. They’d traveled dangerously late into the nights and pushed the horses to their limits. Whatever was going to happen would happen soon, maybe even tomorrow. She resolved to get some sleep, no matter if it was on the cold, hard ground, and eat roots if she had to, to regain a little strength. She no longer felt confident about surviving this trip to the Highlands, but hoped to punch Wodge one more time.
    She smiled to herself, feeling his nose crack under her fist, and that gruesome memory got her through the rest of the day’s ride. She slid off her horse and lay on the ground while he puttered around setting out a bedroll for himself. She would have to huddle under the horse blanket if she wanted any warmth, but her body was so stiff and sore, she didn’t care at the moment to deal with it.
    A piece of bread bounced off her arm and landed in the dirt and she practically inhaled it, actually looking around for edible roots or berries. Not that she’d recognize them if they were there. He mixed up some oats with water from his jug and offered her a bit, pouring the soggy slop directly into her hand. Once again she scarfed it down.
    “Thanks, Solomon,” she said, not caring if she got slapped.
    The few bites had restored her gumption. Let him get close enough,