Magic in the Stars

by Patricia Rice

  If she took that into conjunction with Uranus as an influence . . .

  But Theo still had Catastrophe conjuncting with Commerce—would that be his glass manufactory?

  She almost had all the new lines drawn when she heard a horse thundering from the stable. From the stable? She glanced out to see a large man in an old caped redingote ride a mighty steed down the drive.

  It couldn’t be the marquess. Theo’s uncle then? And he’d left the children here?

  Realizing she ached all over from sitting stiffly on the floor all evening, she debated leaving her final calculations until morning. The instinct Theo had said was more important than her charts said she was on the right track, and her heart was immeasurably lighter with hope.

  If her mathematics were correct, Uranus was an enormous factor in her life. No wonder her chart and her life were in such conflict! Her new chart opened up endless possibilities—not necessarily of the good kind.

  She must have all the information the Astronomical Society possessed before she agreed to any dangerous commitments. What if she was still misreading the charts and there were more planets of doom affecting her or Theo or their families? She needed to know everything.

  But Theo had promised to help her, which relieved a huge part of her burden. Just having knowledge within her grasp, she felt bolder. Instead of crawling between the covers, she wanted to head for the bathing room in the middle of the night. That wasn’t all she wanted, but until she was married . . .

  Her pulse accelerated at just the thought. Married. If she had drawn the lines correctly . . . she might marry. And maybe have children. She was too afraid to consider all the potential interferences just yet.

  One change at a time—did she wish to live here in this foreign territory with madmen? Well, not madmen. Stability simply wasn’t in their charts. Their stars were littered with bravery and valor, individuality, and discord—elements that disrupted stability, if nothing else. She’d need the courage of a pride of lions to survive.

  Deciding to follow her brave new instincts and take advantage of what might be her new home, she gathered up her robe and candles with a vow to make use of the beautiful tub. She deserved a good long soak in warm water.

  She almost retreated the moment she stepped into the corridor.

  Barefoot and in shirtsleeves again, Theo leaned against the wall across from her room. He looked fatigued and worried, but he smiled with such delight at her appearance that she didn’t have the heart to scold. She halted, clutching her clothes to her chest, waiting for explanation.

  “Pascoe just left,” he said, as if that explained everything. When she waited, he sorted for the clarification that didn’t always come easily to him. “He and Duncan have heaped more work on my incredibly limited abilities. I watched the light in your window the whole time we talked and wondered if you were packing and planning on abandoning me come dawn.”

  “I was recalculating our charts,” she whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear. “Your glass manufactory may be in danger in this next week. But studying all of you together has been enlightening. If I am correct, you can defeat all these terrifying knives hanging over you by working together. Your aspects are in perfect alignment for allegiance to lead to accomplishment.”

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Allegiance? With my brothers? You have met them, haven’t you?”

  She sighed, taking his point. “My head is tired and my instincts confused and I thought I should take a break.”

  “And bathe,” he agreed with a wicked grin. “We could save on hot water and do so together.”

  Shocked to her core, she simply stared at him. His words made no sense in her sheltered world, but her instincts clamored to heed him.

  He caught her elbow and steered her around the corner. “I think I shall take advantage while you’re not slapping me. We are both of age. I only need ride to the bishop and obtain a license in the morning. We can be married the day after . . . unless you wish a grand ceremony with all your family around you?”

  “This is a betrothal only,” she said in alarm, attempting to pull from his hold. “I need more time to study—”

  “And dither yourself into old age,” he argued. “Marriage never comes with certainty. You have the rest of your life to study your charts and pinpoint every discovery I hear about and fret over every circumstance. In the meantime, let us have a little pleasure.”

  “Pleasure,” she murmured with a sigh. “A nice bath is a pleasure. Your household . . . not so much.”

  “And me?” he asked in that seductive baritone that turned her thoughts to mush.

  Butterflies swarmed in her middle, and she was certain she walked through a tropical heat. “You . . . You are dangerous,” she acknowledged.

  He chuckled wearily. “That is not what people usually call me. I know you believe I act without thinking, and I fear you never act at all if you can avoid it, and that we have immense differences to overcome . . . But they are interesting differences, aren’t they? It’s not as if we dislike each other. And even your charts say we suit.”

  “I can’t know that until I chart Uranus,” she argued.

  Outside the bathing room door, he wrapped her in his arms and held her tight. She could hear his heart pounding against her ear. “Follow your instincts and marry me, my general.”

  Her heart beat in tandem with his. He had said she would never act at all—she wasn’t like that, was she? She had to decide, to quit her Libra dithering and actually say yes or no so he could go on with his life. She clung to his greater strength, his familiar masculine scent, his seductive voice . . . and wanted to be as selfish as he and marry him without regard to consequences.

  A wedding. Did she dare plan a wedding? It seemed so very impossible that everything could change in a day . . . .

  “I would rather go home for the wedding—if I can prove to myself it is safe,” she acknowledged cautiously. Just saying the words created excitement at the possibility of seeing her siblings and beloved parents again. “Is there a rush?”

  He pulled back to look at her. In the gaslight, his grin was almost diabolical. “You know there is. Besides, we could not ride together to Scotland unless we were married without offending everyone concerned.”

  “Perhaps just a simple ceremony here,” she suggested, still uncertain of such an enormous step, one she had never considered. She could not deny that she longed for a family again. But a family of her own?

  And this particular family of madmen? She took a deep breath and shut out that thought, recognizing a challenge she wasn’t quite ready to face. She had difficulty enough making decisions about herself. Making ones that affected countless others . . . She needed time.

  He wasn’t giving her time. He was telling her she was wasting time. And maybe she was.

  They entered the bathing room, and Theo lit the candles she’d left around the tub. Aster shivered—not with cold but anticipation. His large presence in the lovely little room enhanced the sensuality of the flames, the erotic murals, and the steaming water he turned on.

  “Perhaps I should let you soak first,” she said hesitantly, uncertain if he really intended what he seemed to be doing. Sometimes, with Theo, it was difficult to follow his thoughts.

  He found the scented salts she’d left on the rim and dumped them in, letting the aroma of apple blossoms fill the air. “Now I see why you always smell so good.”

  She was truly out of her element. Before she knew how to respond, Theo removed the bundle of her robe and nightshift and deposited it on a chair. He kissed her hair, turned her around, and started unfastening her gown. “You cannot do this yourself, can you?”

  She’d donned a simple gown after removing her burned one, but it was still easier if someone else unfastened it. “We should not,” she tried to protest, but he kissed her bare shoulder, and a shudder of expectation wracked her. She could . . . if she was prepared to allow herself to care. She swallowed and her heart pounded erratically.r />
  “This is how we know if marriage suits us.” He peeled off her bodice and pushed her skirt to the ground, leaving her clad only in her shift. She hadn’t seen a reason to wear a corset in her own room.

  “By undressing?” she asked uncertainly, wanting clarification in words when he so obviously preferred deed.

  “That’s a good start.” He turned off the water tap, then divested himself of his silk waistcoat.

  Torn between grabbing for a towel to cover herself and the tempting lap of warm water, Aster did nothing. Sometimes, her Libra worked against her. And well, sometimes . . . instinct worked in her favor.

  Seeing her hesitation, Theo pulled her into his arms and reassured her with his blazing kisses. She sank happily into the mindlessness he’d taught her earlier.

  His arms had become a safe haven that she trusted. His kisses promised the world and beyond. She desperately wanted to believe she’d found a home and a man who accepted her as she was, that she could have a normal life like any other woman.

  And she knew all the fallacies such mindless belief concealed, but she didn’t care, not when her hero was kneeling at her feet, peeling off her old stockings as if she were a princess and he, her gallant knight.

  She should have been shocked when he stroked her bare limb, but she wasn’t. She was grateful that he lowered her into the tub without removing her old shift. She wasn’t ready to reveal how ungraceful she truly was. She simply stretched in the welcoming water and admired her betrothed’s broad shoulders and the intensity of his gaze as he leaned over to kiss her again.

  “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, soaking a sponge for her. “I cannot believe I am so fortunate as to find a woman who is beautiful, brave, and wise beyond all measure. When I turn angry and forgetful, I want you to remember I mean this with all my all heart.”

  He boldly applied the soapy sponge to her bare shoulders, untying the ribbons of her shift as he did so.

  “I am none of those things,” she protested dreamily as she held her soaked linen across her breasts. “You should join me so I can stroke away your anger the way you’re easing my weariness.”

  He chuckled, and the intimacy of that warm sound in her ear aroused her as much as his caresses.

  “I don’t want to frighten you into not marrying me,” he said. “Besides, should I join you now, I couldn’t restrain myself. I don’t want there to be any chance of leaving you with my bastard should I fall off my horse on the way to London tomorrow.”

  Oh, that was where mindlessness led . . . She was almost glad that he cared enough to be careful.

  “That is something we really must discuss . . .” she tried to tell him. She wasn’t brave enough to risk children yet. Marriage was terrifying enough.

  The sponge dipped lower, daringly caressing her breast. Aster caught her breath at the piercing sensation shooting straight to her womb.

  She didn’t want to think or talk at all. She wanted to rely on instinct, and instinct said this was a good man who even now meant to take care of her.

  “We’ll share a tub after we’re married?” she asked from her blissful haze.

  “Even if it must be at this hour of dawn to avoid all the demands on our time, we will share this tub as soon as possible after the vows are said,” he promised.

  The sponge floated away, and his bare hand cupped her breast, shoving aside the wet shift. She cried out when he caressed her peaked and aching nipple.

  When Theo leaned over and took her nipple into his mouth and sucked, she shuddered with desire. The scrape of his beard, the delicious scent of maleness, the caress of rough fingers that possessed strength he refrained from using . . .

  She would surely die if she never knew this man’s bed. She knew there were ways of preventing children. She had simply never thought to study them.

  Except he needed an heir . . .

  “Please,” she begged, not knowing what she asked.

  But he knew. He kissed her hungrily, and slid his big hand lower, brushing aside the barrier of her shift to caress her thigh . . . and higher.

  “No matter what the day brings,” he murmured, “if I know I have this waiting for me come night, I will survive.” He touched her between her legs.

  Aster nearly rose out of the tub in shock, but he returned to kissing her into submission again.

  She was ready to agree to anything he said, no matter how inane. How did he do this to her? She was the Prophetess of Doom. She should see all the obstacles ahead of them. And Theo simply erased them with a caress. Was it because he was so large that he made her feel safe? Because the hank of hair falling across his brow tugged at her heart? Because he was so smart and as lonely as she and he never gave up?

  She purposely looked for obstacles. He accepted them and climbed over. That, alone, was worth more than she knew how to give.

  “I know nothing of cows and tenants,” she insisted, without knowing what she was saying. His fingers were stimulating tissues even she’d been afraid to touch, and her body had developed a mind of its own.

  “I’ve decided that’s not important. You’re important. You’re the star I can hold and study and touch, and I want you to pull me into your gravity and hold me. I promise that you’ll be the center of my universe and I’ll never let you go.”

  A vow that impassioned required more from her. From deep within her, Aster recalled the vows of her ancestors. Even as she gasped when he pushed two fingers inside her, she murmured helplessly, “I vow to love, honor, and take thee in equality for so long as we both shall live.”

  Wordlessly, he kissed her, pushed his fingers deep inside her, and shattered her universe, all in one motion.

  Twenty-one

  Torturing himself by behaving like the gentleman Aster deserved, Theo carried her to her bed rather than ravish her while she was ripe, ready, and willing.

  He was looking forward to having a passionate wife in his bed, but that didn’t comfort him now, when he’d been inches away from heaven. Lying in bed recalling Aster’s lush curves—and insane promise to love and honor him—didn’t satisfy his hunger or his roiling thoughts.

  He refused to believe his betrothed’s insistence that her charts spelled doom for their families, but after Duncan’s accident . . . He wanted a more logical explanation of how his brother could have fallen off a horse he’d ridden a hundred times before in far worse weather, while twice as drunk.

  Pascoe’s admonitions of foul play afoot, on top of the farmer’s unusual unrest preyed on Theo’s mind. Bringing a wife into this insane asylum . . .

  Shrieks, laughter, and the patter of little feet woke him much too early. Theo groaned at the dim light, thought to turn over and go back to sleep, then remembered the day’s task—a marriage license.

  He was not a man who gave up or changed his mind easily once he’d decided on a course.

  Pascoe’s warnings, Duncan’s demands, and a household of children took second place to obtaining the piece of paper that would tie the fairy general to him for the rest of their lives. He ought to be terrified at the notion, but after almost losing Duncan, Theo had a dread of mortality and a need to share his life with someone who understood what he was and wasn’t. To hell with the damned estate.

  So, call him self-centered. He’d found a courageous woman who wouldn’t abandon him, and he meant to keep her, even if she was slightly mad. A woman probably had to be mad not to run fleeing from this household.

  He grabbed bread, bacon, and a cold egg in the breakfast room while Aster’s sister and cousin and a maid hustled the brats into seats. He noticed Aster wasn’t down yet, and her family was shooting him suspicious glares, so he left before they could formulate an attack.

  At the stable, he encountered Erran and Jacques looking concerned. Theo ordered a horse saddled and tore into his bread and bacon, refusing to ask for the bad news so obviously on their minds.

  “We think the dogs scared off an intruder at the glass manufactory last night,” Jacques finally
said. “We found footprints in the mud outside the windows.”

  “And a charred stick beside some kindling.” Erran added what Jacques was hesitant to say, reining in his normal fiery temperament to speak neutrally. “It was too wet to burn.”

  Hadn’t Aster warned last night of catastrophe to his manufactory? Theo refused to live with superstition.

  “Hire sharpshooters,” Theo said callously, knowing Pascoe had brought rumors of more Swinger incidents, although his manufactory shouldn’t be of concern to unhappy farmers. “Ask Browne if he can call in any of his old soldier buddies. Leave the hounds to run loose at night. Have the men pack up the most important equipment and finished inventory and take them home at night. Fill pails with water all over the building. I’m going to London.”

  Previously, he would have been horrified at the idea of anyone striking at his livelihood. But money couldn’t buy him sanity. Right now, his focus was on one thing only—obtaining the license that would make Lady Azenor Dougall his and his alone. After that, maybe he’d worry about glass and idiots and sheep—preferably a long time after.

  Maybe they should take a honeymoon to the Outer Hebrides.

  He liked that thought entirely too well. Wondering if Duncan had ever considered running away from his responsibilities, Theo urged his horse to the vicarage to begin the arrangements for a marriage.

  ***

  “You are really considering marriage?” Bree asked in whispered horror over the breakfast table. The children had been whisked away by a maid-in-training who had decided she might like working in the schoolroom.

  Aster added jam to her toast and dreamily contemplated what other women normally spent lifetimes planning. She had never indulged in marriage fantasies—or not for long, leastways.

  “There are planets out there not in my charts,” she answered obliquely, more interested in thinking about what Theo’s hands and kisses could do.