Lessons in Enchantment

by Patricia Rice

  “The building fell down—the tenants have to move! I am working on relocating them. I am only one very small part of the consortium that owns those buildings.” He dragged her inside, presumably so they weren’t arguing in the street.

  She had no reason not to believe him, but she was terrified of a step she’d never prepared to take. “I will see about that. Since I am apparently not needed here, I shall slip away and stay with my aunts. Then you will not feel obligated to marry me. We’ve known each other much too short a time and should not act hastily.” She shook off his hand and aimed for the stairs.

  Andrew grabbed her by the waist and yanked her down the hall into his stuffy, dark office, slamming the door behind them. “Thunderation, woman! What do you mean you’re not needed? Do I need to go down on my knees and beg?”

  Phoebe stared at him in astonishment. The wealthy, handsome Mr. Blair stood there in his tailored suit and immaculate linen, looking the very personification of proper gentry—and a fierce Highland warrior at the same time. How did he do that? Overlong dark curls falling on his forehead perhaps. No fancy whiskers concealing his blunt square jaw and cheekbones. And a gaze that pierced her soul and weakened all her defenses.

  “You are being ridiculous,” she said, not as firmly as she would have liked. “We do not even know each other.”

  “We have lived together for almost a fortnight. We have gone to bed together. That is far more than most couples know. How much more is there?”

  She’d spent the better part of the night creating rational arguments against last night’s declaration—not proposal—of marriage. But all logic fled in the face of Andrew’s earnestness. She wanted to share his bed again. She rather enjoyed living here and having a warm room and servants. But she should not be seduced from her purpose by creature comforts.

  “I have a gift,” she announced with more fortitude than a moment ago. “I have to believe I was given that gift for a reason. I know it does not mean much to you that I can understand the minds of mute creatures. But think how you’d feel if you knew a child suffered and you could do nothing? I have been bumbling along, learning the hard way how to find nests, protect eggs, fix wings or bandage paws. I have reached the limits of what I can do on my own. I need the benefit of learning from others.”

  He listened. She could see he tried to understand. She waited, hoping he’d find a solution so she could have it all.

  He scowled and shoved his hands into his pockets. “We both need time to adjust our thinking. You have never considered marriage. I have never considered a wife who spends her time with books and classes and. . . animals. I’m sure we’re both smart enough to work it out.”

  “You mean you think you can seduce me into your way of thinking,” Phoebe replied pragmatically. “I’m not a romantic. I do not expect promises of love and undying devotion.” Although she supposed they might be pleasant to hear, but she’d never expected them. She was odd, after all. She was still amazed that this perfectly normal, respectable man considered her at all. Obviously, he was as seduced by lust as she was. “I do expect a man who keeps his word.”

  “I am working on your tenants, I promise.” Like a prized thoroughbred, all muscles and grace, he paced his study, coat pulled back, hands in pockets. “I will be faithful,” he added. “I will shower you with everything your heart desires.”

  She almost smiled at his earnestness. “I might believe you mean the first two, but not the last. You’ll forget I exist while you’re working on a project. I am being practical. I do not want to tie us together for a lifetime if we cannot tolerate each other’s habits.”

  There, that sounded very logical and well-reasoned, when all she really wanted to do was fling her arms around him and ask if they could go to bed now. And even she knew that impulse was a very bad idea.

  Grimacing, he studied her words and bent his head in acknowledgment, if not acceptance. “I need you here. I want you here. I will be very unhappy if you return to your aunts. So let us spend this day together and work at compromise.”

  Phoebe laughed. “Ever the businessman, ready to negotiate. Life isn’t negotiable. Life just happens. But if we’re not to expect any visitors yet, by all means, let us visit my old neighbors, then find a place to store my mother.”

  Before she left the house, she warned the creatures to watch for strangers. She could not hear them if she traveled too far, but Raven flew long distances. And Wolf was awake and eager.

  A pity the university could not teach her how to help the animals communicate with each other—but even people had difficulty with that.

  Discouraged by the slow progress of moving out the consortium’s tenants, dejected at the lack of decent property anywhere in the old town, Drew examined the next unprepossessing building on their list. He’d hoped to woo the lady with his engineering expertise, but they’d not seen a single building worth repairing, including this one. At least he’d been able to ascertain that no scalawags followed them.

  Unlike him, Phoebe had been encouraged that some of her old neighbors had found new homes. And she seemed excited by this abandoned dump situated on a leafy lane near Georges Square, not far from the university. Georges Square had been developed about the same time as the neighborhood where he lived. But this ugly barn wasn’t one of the elegantly terraced mansions a few streets over.

  “At least it’s not medieval,” he said, not hiding his doubt.

  “It has a roof,” Phoebe added with laughter.

  The last property had pigeons roosting in the attic.

  Phoebe wore one of her old, colorful gowns today, with her new boots and new hat. Drew found the effect both rakish and charming, and he was having difficulty concentrating on matters at hand. “Your solicitor must think I am some sort of miracle worker if he thinks I can restore any of these properties to habitable.”

  “My mother and I have lived our lives in a medieval tenement with no latrines or running water or gas lighting. We can manage. I simply do not believe she should live like that again. Do we go in?” She examined the multitude of dirty mullioned windows. “It will take an army just to clean the glass.”

  Drew juggled through the keys he had been given. “At least the door on this one seems solid. I could have kicked in the others.” He set the key in the lock and felt the strong tumbler action. Someone knew how to make locks.

  He opened the door and allowed Phoebe in first. She laughed again as she entered the front room. “This is perfect for you.”

  “Me?” That didn’t sound promising. He entered, letting his eyes adjust to the gray light. Once cleaned, the windows would illuminate this front room nicely—if one could call it a room.

  “What the devil did they do here?” He examined the thick plaster walls adorned with hooks, the solid timber workbenches, and the enormous stone fireplace.

  “It may have been a kitchen for one of the grand houses.” Phoebe crossed the filthy stone floor to peer through a doorway. “This seems to be a pantry. Lots of lovely shelves and drawers.”

  Drew followed her, scowling at the lack of lighting. Phoebe moved through the next doorway and twirled around in the rear room, scanning the high ceiling and windows.

  “I suppose the cook and her family could have lived back here. These old houses are not always cut up the way the new ones are. Look, there’s a sink. There must be plumbing. Did you see any in the front room? Kitchens require water.”

  “Probably a pump system, maybe a cistern.” Drew studied the seemingly sturdy stairs to the next level. Unable to resist curiosity, he climbed up.

  “Divided up here,” he shouted down. “Most likely servants quarters. That back room you’re in may have been for horse tack or other equipment storage.”

  “Stable in back,” she called up to him. “A good lane for deliveries or leading to the main house, which is apparently no longer there. That appears to be an official building down the lane now, brick and new.”

  Drew poked around this second floor, notici
ng the fine construction someone had put into the place. Ideas stirred. “The windows are deep enough that glazed glass could be fitted to the interior. If the flue works, braziers could be added for better heating.”

  Phoebe climbed up to join him, poking dismissively through the maze of small rooms. “They’re no bigger than wardrobes.”

  Drew studied the walls and the ceiling, then hunted until he found stairs to the attic. “Walls can be removed to make four good solid bedrooms. Or suites with maid rooms in between. Or offices.”

  “You sound interested,” she said in incredulity, following him upward.

  “Georgian construction is far superior to that medieval abomination you lived in.” Entering the attic, he examined the timbered gables and stomped his boots on the thick plank floor. “Gas pipes can be run through here and down to the rooms.”

  At her silence, Drew glanced up and found Phoebe testing a ladder. “Not until I try it first,” he warned. “The roof tiles could be rotted.”

  “The treads are very sturdy.” She stepped away from them anyway, allowing him to go first.

  He hated heights, but if he didn’t look down, he shouldn’t get as dizzy. Drew climbed up, testing the ladder treads. He crowed at the first thing he saw on the roof, a dovecote. “I don’t suppose one of your family might have lived here?” He stepped out to test the roof, which had a walkway and parapet wider than his own. He stayed to the middle so he could look out but not down.

  Phoebe’s head peered around the door. “Oh, my. Oh, yes, it’s very possible. Look at that! Isn’t it cunning?”

  She emerged to crouch in front of the ornamental stack of boxes currently inhabited by pigeons and probably mice. Or rats. And squirrels. Drew watched one scamper toward a ragged pine shading the side.

  “Your rodent might like that tree,” he said tentatively, still working ideas through his mind.

  Phoebe stood up, her willowy figure firm against the wind. Her skirts blew around her. Her hair tumbled in artless curls. But she remained steadfast against the elements, admiring the view. Drew’s heart nearly exploded at the sight. He didn’t know how to make it work, but he knew this was where she belonged.

  Her generous lips spread in a smile as she studied the pine. “Piney would love it! And maybe someday I could find him a mate.” Then the smile dissipated. “But my mother would hate it here. She likes formal parlors and dining rooms and elegant furnishings. And she really shouldn’t be living in the north at all.”

  Drew didn’t want the house for her mother. But they had other matters to settle first. He drew her into his arms and kissed her. “We’re all alone. There is no one to watch. And I am having difficulty keeping my hands off you.”

  He kissed her throat, and she moaned and wrapped her arms around him.

  Not all of his ideas were about construction.

  Twenty-eight

  Feeling wild and free on this magical roof, Phoebe sank into Andrew’s kisses as easily as she accepted the wind and sun. When his big hand covered her breast through her bodice, her nipples ached for more. Evoking the forbidden delights he’d taught her, her hips pressed into his, seeking satisfaction.

  The children were safe. The villains hadn’t returned. There was no one but the two of them. . .

  Still, she tried to protest when Andrew half-carried her back to the attic. He kissed away her fears. A man of many talents, he kept kissing her as he stripped off his coat and flung it to the floor. Her head spun so senselessly, that she was barely aware of being lowered to the fine satin lining. The luxury of hot, hard man leaning over her made the world and all their differences go away. She grabbed the back of his head and tugged him down until he kissed her breasts through the thin fabric, tantalizing her with memories of nakedness.

  She ran her fingers beneath his linen. He unfastened her bodice and untied the ribbons of her chemise. With sensitive flesh finally touching flesh, she arched into his invading hand. He caressed the ache of her nipples, sending liquid rivers of desire shivering to the place between her legs.

  Understanding better what they did, Phoebe tried to be sensible when he tugged at her skirt. But he suckled at her breast, and she wept with desire.

  “We can’t make babies,” she feebly protested as he unfastened his trousers. She avidly watched him release himself from layers of clothing. The attic light was dim, but she could see enough to almost be frightened.

  “I want to,” he growled in her ear. “I want to see you swelling with my pups. But I can wait.”

  His visceral growl trembled her womb, and she insanely wanted babies too.

  He rummaged in his pocket for a square of linen he unfolded. Phoebe watched with interest as he rolled a thin membrane over his male member. In curiosity, she reached out to stroke him, and he groaned and pushed against her hand. Enjoying the power to do to him what he did to her, she helped him with the sheath, then explored more. He grew even larger.

  “How is this even possible?” she whispered.

  He slid his fingers between her legs until the river became a flood. “Like this.” Apparently having studied feminine engineering as thoroughly as mechanical, he pushed more fingers inside and kissed her breast at the same time.

  Phoebe cried out as every nerve ending came undone. Lost in the bliss, she eagerly accepted the push of his male organ. The tension built again, but she knew what to do now. She rocked her hips, dug her fingers into his back, and demanded all he had to give.

  She felt him so far inside her that she feared he’d cleave her in two, and then her world shattered with his, and she really understood what it meant to be as one with a man, why women through the ages had lost their heads and virginity and themselves for the satisfaction of a man’s bed.

  She’d been thoroughly seduced.

  Drew wasn’t particularly proud of himself as he led Phoebe back to his waiting carriage. No gentle lady should be ravished in a dirty attic. But this lady seemed serenely unperturbed by their lovemaking, to the extent that he wanted to make love to her again in the carriage—except he was driving.

  Amazingly, this confusing woman possessed the healthy nature of his peasant ancestors and the civilized veneer—when she wished to apply it—of the genteel society he now cultivated. His need to be proper didn’t have to war with his upbringing when he was with her. He wasn’t about to let this prize go.

  “Registrar’s office,” he said grimly, taking up the reins.

  “We really can not make babies immediately?” she asked, sounding a little less certain than she looked.

  “We can try not to make babies. Nothing is ever a hundred percent certain. Your family can probably teach you more ways than I can.” Relieved that she hadn’t raised instant objection, Drew directed the horse back to the Royal Mile. “Do you wish to visit with your aunts now?”

  Visiting her aunts was the last thing he wanted to do. But marriage wasn’t all about what he wanted, he recognized.

  She was silent for so long that Drew wondered if he should stop the carriage, go down on one knee, and grovel. But he’d like to have a ring in his hand when he did so.

  She studied her hands, avoiding his eyes. “The twins had a book, one of Letitia’s journals.”

  That was not the rejection he’d expected. Drew tried not to levitate like one of Enoch’s victims. “And you didn’t tell me, why?”

  “Because Letitia didn’t wish it,” she whispered. “Malcolm journals are very private. Had I found anything applicable in it, I would have told you, I promise.”

  He clutched the reins, not knowing what to expect from this woman who held his future in her hands. Letitia—a ghost didn’t wish it? “And why are you telling me now?”

  “Because I gave it to my aunts for safety. And I know they are going through it far better than I had time to do. And I suspect their Latin is better.”

  “Latin? The journal is in Latin?” Without thinking, he shook the reins and set the carriage in the direction of her aunts.

  “In
incredibly tiny writing. I only read the pages at the end, where I thought she might have entered dangerous information, but there were only the bits about neighbors telling her she needed to persuade Mr. Simon to sell. I found nothing incriminating. I thought. . . before we go home. . . we should see what progress my aunts have made.”

  He relaxed his shoulders a little. “You thought I’d take the book and not believe about Letitia’s ghost?”

  She nodded. “It does not sound sane to most people. And you did not really seem to believe in her. But if. . . if we’re to learn each other, you need to believe what I believe.”

  “That works both ways, you know,” he said, thinking this through. “If I believe you’re in danger, you need to listen.”

  She wrinkled her nose, unhappy with the concept. “I will listen. But I will keep my own counsel,” she decided.

  And he’d have to accept that from a woman who had survived these filthy streets and who had taken down two sturdy thugs without his aid. “And I thought I wanted a sweet woman who stayed home and let me take care of her,” Drew said with a sigh.

  She flashed him a cautious smile, and he felt better. They were both uncertain about this relationship, but they were learning. He was an excellent student.

  The aunts welcomed them in the front parlor, with the journal prominently displayed on a table as if they had been expecting them.

  “We had our Latin teacher translate,” Lady Agnes said.

  “And your journalist writes in code,” Lady Gertrude added. “One needs to understand the proper declensions and when she strays from them. A very extraordinary lady. I wish we’d known her.”

  “Then there is the matter of the initials. We had to send for information on the neighbors.”

  Drew feared his head would spin off his neck if he tried to follow this conversation. Phoebe seemed resigned, so perhaps he wasn’t the only one.

  “But we think she’s discovered a conspiracy involving a baron, John Wilkes, a Mr. Glengarry, and a Lord John? We’re told they all live in Mr. Blair’s area and have mining interests?”