The Marriage Spell (22 page)

Chapter
XXI

T
he Alderton chef did as fine a job on a light supper for two as he would a banquet for the Prince Regent. Abby thought it was almost indecent to enjoy such food in her robe rather than in formal dress. If so, she was in favor of indecency.

After a footman removed the empty trays and plates from their sitting room, Abby asked, “Do you think it would be a breach of wizardly ethics if I ensorcelled your sister's chef to work for us?”

“Probably, and Celeste would cut my liver out.” His brows drew together. “I know you're joking, but it makes me realize how compelling temptation can be.”

She made a face. “Every day offers temptations to use magic for personal advantage. It's lucky that protective charms are so common. They reduce the temptation to try to manipulate others.”

“Manipulation.” Jack grimaced. “I said I'd tell you when I was ready to have my mind cleansed. I'm ready now. I want to find out who I am when no one is trying to shape me to his will.”

“Are you sure?” she asked gravely. “To enter someone's mind is very intimate. Don't grant permission unless you trust me fully.”

“I don't like the idea of you seeing all my most shameful thoughts, but there is no one I would trust more, Abby. Go ahead.”

“I'm only going to look for spells,” she said reassuringly. “Minds are complicated. It's not as if I can read your thoughts. Entering a mind is more like walking through a crowded attic looking for candles. Any glimmer of light will attract my attention, but everything else is like piles of boxes and trunks. I'll have no idea what they contain.”

“As long as you don't open any trunks and look inside! What should I do?”

“Get into a comfortable position on the sofa and relax. If you like, I can describe what I find as I go along.”

“That would be good.” Jack moved to the sofa and sat at one end.

Abby doused most of the lights and tossed some coal on the fire to maintain the room's warmth. Then she placed a chair in front of Jack and sat so close their knees were touching. For a moment she was distracted by their closeness, for the sheer broad masculinity of him made her senses sing.

But tonight's work was more important than her discreetly lusting after her husband. “Let me know if you feel something strange or upsetting.” She took his hands in hers. “I can stop at any time.”

His steady hazel gaze met hers unflinchingly. “I would rather we stayed with this until you've done all that needs doing.”

She closed her eyes and centered in her power before reaching out to Jack. As she had told him, entering another person's mind was like visiting a strange attic filled with murky, confusing objects. If she stopped to examine a particular structure, she could get a general sense of what it meant, and with time could interpret it rather well.

But her job was to find what didn't belong—the constraints and compulsions that had been imposed on him by others, not Jack's private thoughts.

She tuned her magic to seek what was alien. Almost immediately she discovered an angry knot of energy. She hated the idea of going near it, so naturally she made herself look more closely.

“Here's something,” she murmured. “Definitely a spell that has been in place for years. Let's see what it's designed for.” She frowned as she analyzed its nature. “Yes! As we speculated, it's a repulsion spell that makes you want to avoid a particular place. In this case, Yorkshire.”

“Can you tell who cast it?”

“Perhaps.” She touched the angry knot with her mind and flooded it with neutralizing energy. After years in place, the spell was rigid but also brittle. As she increased the flow of healing magic, the ugly pattern splintered and dissolved.

Jack swore and squeezed Abby's hands hard.

Her eyes flew open. “You felt that?”

“Yes, and I'm ready to ride to Yorkshire tonight. How could I have stayed away from my home so long?” His voice was anguished. “Underneath that spell, my soul has been hungering for my home for years. I have been like a tree severed from my roots.” He took an unsteady breath. “Did you identify the source of the spell?”

She studied the remnants of energy. “Male and a skilled black magician, but I don't know the name. We probably wouldn't recognize it anyhow—black magicians prefer to avoid notice. As for going to Yorkshire—first there is business to finish here in London. But soon we'll be heading north.”

“I know,” he said grudgingly. “Another few weeks will make no great difference, but it will be hard to wait.” His hands relaxed their grip on hers. “Is there more?”

“I think so.” She closed her eyes and began seeking again. Gradually she became aware of a dark energy that pulsated with surly menace. It was certainly a spell, but not a type she recognized.

She approached the dark energy cautiously, aware that it was possible to create spells that would explode in a blaze of dangerous magic if someone attempted to break them. After careful study she decided this one wasn't a trap, merely an unusual spell. She touched it with her magic and gave a huff of surprise.

“What have you found?”

“This is really strange. I think it's a spell to…to make you reckless,” she said slowly. “The effect would be for you to crave thrills even if the danger is overwhelming. I've never seen anything like it.”

“Good God! You mean it's meant to encourage me into activities where I might die young?” Jack exclaimed. “Like going into the army?”

“Yes, though I don't know if the spell is old enough to be responsible for that.” Abby poked at it mentally. “I think it was created by the same wizard who cast the spell to keep you away from Yorkshire. Scranton must have wanted you not only distant but dead if possible.” She smiled without humor. “After all, few women love their husbands more than their sons, so you were competition for your mother's favor.”

Jack's hands tightened again with painful force. “Could my father have been the object of a similar spell?”

“Impossible to know at this late date. But if Scranton did commission a wizard to cast such a spell on your father, he's not only a villain but a murderer,” Abby said grimly.

“I acquired the nickname Lucky Jack when I charged into a melee of murderous French soldiers and managed to recover the regimental flag when the bearer was killed and the banner was captured. Everyone said I should have died, but I didn't.” Jack's voice was tight. “Was my so-called courage the result of a spell meant to destroy me?”

She shook her head. “There is courage to spare in you—I don't have to look into your mind closely to know that. But the spell probably affected your judgment of the odds for survival, sending you into situations where death would seem almost certain.”

He released his breath roughly. “Why am I still alive, Abby? God knows I've had no shortage of opportunities to die from my recklessness.”

“Perhaps your natural defenses were strong enough to counter the spell. Or…wait a moment.” She had continued to study the pulsing energy. “The spell is surrounded by a subtle net of magic bound so closely that it's almost invisible.”

“Is it more work from the black magician?”

“No, this spell is completely different in nature. It's all patched out of little fragments of power, as if constructed by an amateur.” Abby probed farther before giving a soft whistle of awe. “The net was created by Celeste, and it largely neutralized the recklessness spell. Not entirely, but mostly.”

“My sister did that?” he said incredulously. “She says she has had no training and little power. How could she identify a dangerous spell cast by a master wizard and know enough to counter it?”

Abby touched one of the patchwork strands. It hummed its nature in her mind. “She didn't, not deliberately. The net is composed of prayers. There is magic in prayers, you know, for they invoke the divine. For years she has prayed for your safety, and those prayers were drawn to this ugly, dangerous spell. The power of love neutralized the destructiveness. I believe she has saved your life, probably again and again.”

“I had no idea.” He shook his head in amazement. “I owe her more than I can repay.”

Abby drained and neutralized the sullen energy of the recklessness spell, aided by Celeste's patchwork magic. She was grateful for that extra energy, since her power was flagging. “I'll look around to see if there are more spells lurking. Are there any areas where you feel your behavior has not been in line with your natural inclinations?”

He thought a moment, then shook his head. “I don't believe so. But at this point, I'm not sure what my natural inclinations are.”

“I'll make sure I'm thorough, then.” Abby continued her scanning and found a clumsily made attraction spell. “It looks like a lady in Spain managed to capture your attention with the crudest of aphrodisiac spells.”

Jack blushed. “She was no lady.”

Abby grinned, able to be amused since the spell indicated only the most casual of connections between Jack and the dubious lady. Nonetheless, she obliterated traces of the spell to reduce the likelihood of him cherishing fond memories of the wench.

“I'll do one last scan to see if anything else looks out of place.” She changed her mental focus and moved through the complex patterns of Jack's mind.

Because of the strength of the anti-magic spell he'd carried so many years, there seemed to be none of the minor spell fragments found in most minds. The Spanish attraction spell never would have worked if it hadn't reinforced an action he was already inclined to. There seemed to be nothing else.

She sensed a quiet pulse of energy that wasn't Jack. It didn't seem to be a spell, but there was enough power to influence him. She looked closer and blushed hotly when she saw a ripe, voluptuous image of herself.

When she could bring herself to look more closely, she saw that her image wore only a shift—one that was much too sheer!—and her loose hair tumbled over her shoulders. Her lips were parted slightly in a provocative smile and her eyes were languorous. Good God, were her breasts and hips so lush compared to her waist?

Knowing that he saw her like this was the most embarrassing thing she'd ever seen. And the most gratifying. It wasn't only her face that felt hot.

Her image winked at her! Even more embarrassed, Abby collected herself and withdrew from Jack's mind.

Wondering if that image was merely a sign of her fatigue, she released Jack's hands and flexed her fingers. “Your mind is your own again, Jack. How does it feel?”

After a long moment, he opened his eyes and gave a smile that touched her heart. “It feels good.” He stood and arched his back, stretching his arms like a lion waking from sleep. He made a delicious sight. “Now to find out what it is to have my mind to myself.”

His gaze became unfocused for long moments. Then he snapped back to awareness and said with dangerous fury, “What the hell are you doing to me?”

Chapter
XXII

A
bby shrank back from Jack's anger. “I don't understand what you mean.”

He gestured at the subtle glowing line that connected his solar plexus to Abby's. “This
thing
connecting us. I'll be damned if I'll let you replace the spells of Stark and the black magician with your own.”

She bit her lip. “It's life force energy, not a spell. Look closer. You should be able to tell that it's not magic.”

He focused on the glowing line and tried to analyze it. The energy flow was from her to him, and she was right, it didn't look or feel like a spell. The warm purity made sense for life force. Transferring vital force might require magical ability, but the energy itself was not magic. “You seem to be telling the truth, but why are you doing this?” he asked suspiciously.

“Because you were so weak, I've been sending energy to you since the accident.” She brushed her hair back nervously. “The one time I stopped, you suffered a relapse and I had to rush to you in the middle of the night. It seemed best to continue supplying you vital force until you were fully healed. You've been doing so many things that required a lot of energy. I didn't want you to hurt yourself by going beyond your capacity, so I augmented your strength and stamina.”

He frowned, trying to understand. “So this energy is your personal vitality?”

She nodded. “All living things have life force, even the smallest blade of grass. Healers are particularly good at detecting and using it. The energy is like…like a glowing candle. Before your accident, you blazed like the chandelier in a royal ballroom. After, there was only the barest flicker of life force. Even after the healing circle, your vitality was dangerously low, which is why I've been augmenting it.”

“Surely you need that energy for yourself!”

Her gaze slid away from his. “I gave you no more than I could spare.”

Despite her assurance, he was still doubtful. He studied her, really seeing the signs of deep fatigue that had gradually accumulated. She had lost weight since their marriage. Her cheekbones were more prominent and there were dark circles under her eyes. Worse, the energy glow around her was dull and weak.

“You've been undermining your own health to help mine,” he said, unable to master his anger. “That can't be right.”

She brushed her hair back wearily. “Judith has scolded me about this. But I wanted you well.”

She had been sacrificing her own health for his for weeks. Was that a mark of a healer? Or someone too selfless for her own good? “This cannot be allowed to continue.” He closed his hand over the glowing energy line, at the same time mentally cutting off the flow. His midriff twanged like a severed bowstring.

“You're right,” she said, not resisting his action. “It's time for you to rely on your own resources. You're almost fully healed now.”

Her aura brightened when he severed the connection, but it still seemed weak. As for himself, he felt loss. Abby's energy had provided a warmth that he now missed. Even when he'd been avoiding her at Hill House, on some level he must have known they were connected. Now he felt cold, empty—and angry. He wanted that warmth back, but not by stealing her very life.

He shoved himself up from the sofa and stalked around the sitting room, his cane banging the floor with each step. “Damnation, Abby, I'm tired of being treated as a child! My condition hasn't been critical for weeks. If I foolishly push myself to collapse, I'll deserve it and will recover soon enough. To prevent that, you've been slowly bleeding yourself to death.” He spun around and limped toward her with a glare. “The last thing I want is a wife who's a bloody martyr!”

She met his gaze steadily, her eyes transparent as water. “I didn't intend to martyr myself, but you're right, I kept giving you energy for too long.” She was silent for a long moment, the circles under her eyes stark against her pale skin. “To be honest, I think I liked having that connection with you. I was not of your class and you despised my magical talents, but by quietly giving you some of my essence, I could feel that I was vital to you. It's not an admirable explanation.”

Her painful honesty caught at his heart. He frowned. He hated knowing that he had taken so much from her.

It was time he returned some of her energy. Even her loss of weight and bone-deep fatigue couldn't eliminate her innate sensuality, so he caught her hands and pulled her to her feet. Then he kissed her hard, driven by a volatile mixture of anger and desire. Desire won. He wanted her, and finally, by God, he was going to have her.

After an instant of shock, her mouth opened under his and her arms wrapped around him. The fatigue that had dogged her for weeks vanished in a blaze of desire. Since their marriage, she had done her best to suppress the passion he roused, but that was no longer necessary. He was all blazing male force, and she gloried in him.

Intoxicated by the deepening kiss, she ripped at his sash and opened his robe, then stripped the garment away so that he wore only his nightshirt. His skin was hot under the thin fabric. She kneaded his back and hips, feeling the pulse of his blood in his hard muscles. And that was not the only part of him that was hard and pulsing.

He pulled off her robe so that it pooled around their feet, tangled wantonly with his robe. They pressed body to body with only nightclothes separating them. Wherever he touched, her blood rose up to meet him. Energy flowed around and through them in shimmering rainbows of light.

He pulled at the throat of her nightgown. Buttons popped, baring her throat. He nipped the tender skin, sending dark fire burning through her veins.

The image of herself she'd seen in his mind blazed in her imagination, flooding her with a sense of womanly power. She raised his chin and captured his mouth again, wanting to consume him, to inhale his essence.

He kicked the robes away and walked her back toward her bedroom. They stumbled clumsily, banging into the door frame because neither wanted to end the fierce locking of lips and tongues.

She realized that they'd reached the bed when the back of her legs struck the frame. She yanked the covers down and they tumbled onto the mattress, lying angled across it. His groin pressed into hers as their thrashing bodies tried to mate through their remaining garments.

He tugged her nightgown down another foot, buttons popping as he freed her breasts. “Magnificent,” he breathed. “Your body is as generous as your spirit. Rich and full and tempting, offering all a man could ever desire.” His lips caught and tugged on one nipple. She arched her back with a sharp gasp.

His words were as arousing as his touch. She had dreamed that someday he might want her as much as she wanted him. Now his urgent mouth and taut body and harsh breathing said that he did.

His caressing hand continued down over her belly as he suckled her other breast. When he reached the juncture of her thighs, her toes curled. “You seem to be…well recovered?” she said, desperately hoping they could achieve full union.

“We'll find out just how well,” he said with a hint of wicked laughter.

From the warm pressure against her thigh, his blood supply must be close to normal. Dear lord, she hoped so!

She moaned as his palm skimmed upward under her nightgown. How could she feel so many glorious sensations at once? She thrust against his hand when he found that place of moist, heated need. “Don't stop,” she gasped. “Not even if the sky falls.”

“I'm not stopping till you're limp and sated and your life force energy is restored.” He stroked deeper, his fingers sliding inside to tease and expand the hidden entryway. “Now, let's see….”

He raised himself to balance above her on his knees. For an instant she worried if he was hurting his injured leg, but that was for him to decide. He was a man, her husband, not her patient. Selfishly she craved all he had to give.

He used both hands to rip her nightgown all the way to the hem, exposing her whole body to his avid gaze. Though she knew the night air was cool, she burned from the urgency of his desire.

His own nightshirt came off after a swift, fevered tussle, and finally they could be flesh to flesh. Dear heaven, but he was splendid, his strong bones sheathed in hard, warm muscle! The textures of his body entranced her, and she dug her fingers into his back and buttocks and long limbs.

He raised himself on his knees again, his body limned in light. Then he lowered himself so that their bodies crushed together, his chest flattening her breasts, his powerful legs between hers. His mouth recaptured hers at the same time that his shaft settled along the heated slickness of her cleft. He rocked back and forth, the friction sending cascades of mad pleasure through her.

She was on the verge of culmination when he drew his hips back, then used one hand to guide himself into the secret entry to her body. Exquisitely balanced between excitement and pain, she thrust her hips up against him, ignoring the discomfort of being stretched to the breaking point. Now,
now…

Then suddenly he was inside her, filling her with the intimacy she had longed for. She rocked her hips in astonished delight.

He gasped raggedly. “I…I don't know how long I can last.”

“Long enough.” She thrust her hips up again, stimulated unbearably in unnamed places. Her arms locked around his waist, as if they could merge into one flesh.

Madness erupted, swirling them into wild motion as he plunged ever deeper. Magic, passion, craving and fulfillment, crashed over her like waves of a rainbow ocean. She was falling into him, spinning through the layers of his spirit while sharing the most private sanctuary of her soul. She hadn't known such intimacy of body and soul were possible.

For a timeless instant they fused into one being before the blazing, transforming energy began to ebb. She spun to earth like a leaf, acutely aware of his weight, the rough gulps of her breath, the deeply satisfying ache between her thighs, and the rapturous fact that they were still gently joined.

She would have liked to have him on top of her forever, but there was the question of breathing. Regretfully she shifted from under him and pulled blankets over their exhausted bodies. The air was bitingly cold now that the heat of passion had been consumed in its own flame. She touched herself, soothing away the lingering pain and stopping the minor bleeding created by their joining. Then she cuddled up against him again, draping one arm across his broad chest.

He gave a long, rattling sigh. “I think I've returned all the energy you gave me and then some. I may never move again.”

She laughed with what breath she could spare. “Are you still angry with me?”

His large hand began massaging her bare shoulder. “I haven't the strength for anything so energetic as anger. But if you're wondering if I'm still upset at your endangering yourself on my behalf, the answer is yes. You saved my life, and if you thought that I needed extra vitality at first, you were probably right. But you had no right to endanger my wife's life by giving away more life force than could be spared.”

“Yes, my lord husband,” she said meekly.

His chest rumbled with laughter. “Do you think I'll believe you've suddenly turned obedient?”

“No, but I agree you have a point in this case.” They fell silent, drowsing, his hand slowly caressing her bare skin.

After a lazy interval, he said, “The footman left two glasses and half a bottle of that rather nice claret in case we wanted to finish it. Shall I retrieve them?”

She stretched luxuriously. “Drinking wine in bed. How deliciously decadent that would be. Don't be gone long.”

He swung his feet to the floor while she admired the powerful symmetry of his muscled back. Had she left those scratches? She blushed at the thought.

“Being distracted, I left my cane in the other room.” He stepped gingerly onto his right foot, then halted.

Instantly alert, Abby sat up in the bed. “Is something wrong?”

“Quite the contrary.” He took another step, then walked in a quick, tight circle. “The last of the pain is gone! My leg is completely healed!”

“Good heavens! I wonder how that happened?” She studied his broad figure, which was silhouetted against the light from the sitting room. All traces of red pain energy had vanished and his aura pulsed with vitality. “You're a picture of good health.”

He leaned forward and planted an exuberant kiss on her lips. “Obviously it's a result of our becoming lovers. All the wonderful energy we generated must have finished healing my leg. How do you feel?”

She considered. “Wonderful, now that you mention it. Not merely content, but in blooming good health.” It was the best she'd felt since the healing circle.

“You look well, too.” He scanned her critically. “The darkness under your eyes has faded and you look radiant. Your vital force has increased tremendously.”