Love’s Magic

by Traci E Hall

  “I win!” she said, her breath coming in quick gasps.

  “No fair, you never told me where the finish line was,” he laughed, shielding his eyes from the sun.

  “We can race back, my lord. Mayhap you’ll have a chance, then.” She slid from Ceffyl’s back. “I’m famished, aren’t you?”

  He didn’t answer, just dismounted and looked around. “'Tis too bad that all this is laid to waste. You could find no place closer to the keep for a picnic?”

  “I liked the apple trees, but the mill beckoned. Besides, this area is pretty, too, don’t you think?”

  “Not especially.” His voice was grim. “The stream has dried up, and the mill is tipped over on its side, rotting in the weeds. No, I don’t think it is ‘pretty.'”

  Determined to change his mind, Celestia twirled around like a little girl. “Pah! The grass is soft and fragrant, the wildflowers are in bloom, and the mill makes for an excellent conversation piece. For certes, if we were to look closely, we might even find the remnants of the stream.”

  “Why must you always argue with me?”

  She tossed out the blanket until it was positioned just so, then put a bag on each corner to guarantee that it stayed. “A difference of opinion is hardly an argument, my lord.” She put her finger against her lower lip, deliberately drawing Nicholas’s eyes to her mouth. “You try being the smallest in a family of giants, and you’d be ‘arguing,’ too.”

  He smiled, relenting a little. “Aye, and would I be as stubborn?”

  She raised her chin, but kept her tone light. “Focused. It’s all in how you see it.”

  Nicholas stepped closer, as if drawn to her energy, which was good—since she was putting all she had into charming him. She held out her hand. “Will you walk with me to find the stream?”

  “And if it isn’t there?”

  “It will be!”

  “But what if it isn’t?”

  “Then I shall owe you a forfeit.”

  He stopped in his tracks. “And if there is?”

  She laughed, low and husky. “Then you shall owe me one, my lord.”

  He looked like a hare caught in a trap, and she reveled in her feminine power, something she’d never realized that she had. She’d believed that her only strength was her ability to heal. Fate. Celestia had learned how to love, which meant that she could now lose her heart, in addition to her healing hands.

  Not to mention the welfare of her brothers.

  She led the way to the tipped-over mill, and Nicholas followed. Reserved at first, it wasn’t long ‘til he was laughing as freely as she’d ever heard. Her spirits rose as they explored the mill and the meadow like children, creating an ease between them that but needed a chance to grow.

  They’d ventured far into the trees when she finally stopped and cupped her hand around the curve of her ear. “Listen,” she said, “over there.”

  “What?”

  She grabbed Nicholas by the hand and pulled him forward. Waiting until she was certain that he heard the trickling sounds of a slow-moving stream, she announced, “I found it!”

  Nicholas groaned aloud, but she could tell that he was glad that she’d won the forfeit. His glance was hot, and her body hummed with anticipation.

  Since the point of the picnic was to get him to relax, she supposed that she could demand a nap. He couldn’t tell her nay.

  But how boring would that be?

  Her toes curled within her half boots at the thought of being encircled within Nicholas’s arms. They could nap together, and that might be more fun.

  “Come, Nicholas, the water tastes sweet.”

  He joined her and they knelt side by side, scooping up the cool water in their hands to sip. Her leg tingled where it brushed against Nicholas’s, and she wished that someday he would come to feel for her what she felt for him.

  She sighed and patted stream water on her cheeks in an effort to cool her desire. Then she scooped up another handful and playfully tossed it down Nicholas’s back.

  His look of surprise warmed her heart, but the look of revenge had her running as if her life depended on it.

  Nicholas chased after her, but even his long-legged stride did not catch her before she fell to her knees on the blanket. She tilted her face up to his and laughed, “I am safe, my lord!”

  “You cheated, wench. I didn’t even know we were playing a game of tag.” He, too, dropped to his knees.

  They faced each other, their chests heaving with exertion and physical awareness. She reached out her hand to touch his cheek. The work he had been doing around the keep, as well as the time spent training with the knights, had chiseled his features. “You take my breath away,” she whispered.

  His ebony brows arched perfectly over his smoldering dark gray eyes. The shadows beneath them worried her, but she would do what she could to fix that. His shoulders had broadened, and his arms were more muscularly defined beneath his tunic. His jaw was stubborn, but she didn’t care.

  She had that same trait.

  Leaning forward, she caressed his smooth chin. He was so honorable, and yes, apprehensive. Gram had said that he lived and breathed fear, and mayhap that was so, a week ago. But now he was coming to terms with his past.

  After getting a glimpse of his life, she was simply grateful that Nicholas was alive—no matter his moodiness.

  He could eat with his toes and she knew that she would find it endearing. When had she turned into a silly female? She didn’t even mind being small with Nicholas at her side; she knew he would protect her. Wouldn’t Galiana love to see her laid so low?

  Nicholas stayed very still as she brought her mouth to his. Celestia placed a tiny kiss at each corner of his sculpted mouth before sliding her lips along his. She closed her eyes and nipped lightly at his full, lower lip.

  She didn’t protest at all when he clasped the back of her head, angling her mouth so that he had better access. He separated her lips and taught her the wonders of his tongue as it dueled with hers. She crawled closer to him, wanting to feel his body flush against her, knees to knees, breasts to chest. If she was being brazen, she didn’t care. Being with Nicholas was all that mattered.

  Sliding her hands up his arms, she marveled in the play of muscle beneath her fingers. She traced his collarbone, and slid her fingers down the open vee of his tunic, following the path her fingers took with light kisses.

  With a groan, he pulled her across his lap so that her bottom brushed his manhood. The feel of rigid male, even through her clothes, was enough to send a pool of heat to the apex of her thighs. She tore her lips from his in frustration. As much as she would like an afternoon of seduction, Nicholas’s health came first.

  She jumped up and giggled like a fool.

  “I forgot to get our basket.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Nicholas sat back, his face an unreadable mask as she dropped a napkin over his lap. She pretended not to notice the bulge; instead, she handed him a plate of meat pie and strawberries. “Eat up, my lord. We have plenty.” Oh, Nicholas would think her a nitwit, no doubt. But it was for his own good. Her heart beat erratically, and her belly burned with longing.

  Nicholas accepted the dish. “Are you trying to fatten me up for a feast that I don’t know about?”

  She giggled again and brought out the wine, filling his goblet to the very top. “I made this spiced wine myself. I do hope you like it.”

  Fluttering her lashes, she hoped he would drain the cup. He did. “Well?”

  “It tasted, uh, spicy?”

  She dropped her shoulders and pinched a thin piece of skin on her arm until water welled in her eyes. “You didn’t care for it?” Sniffing, she hid her face in her hands.

  He quickly held out the empty cup. “Don’t cry, ‘Tia! I thought it was an excellent wine. I doubt you brought enough to satisfy my thirst.”

  She blinked her eyes a few times for good measure. He was so predictably honorable. The wine contained thyme and valerian, a combination that would give
him sleep, with no opiate at all to send him battling demons instead of counting sheep. “I can make you more, if you find that you truly like it, my lord. A glass of wine helps me to sleep.”

  Suspicion dawned in his sharp eyes. “Sleep?”

  She scooted back on her heels, hoping to hide her nervousness. “Aye, sometimes I find I am overexcited after a busy day, and a glass of wine relaxes me.”

  He looked at her goblet, which hadn’t been filled. “Where is your wine?”

  She pleated a napkin in her hands. “The water from the stream refreshed me, my lord.”

  “Have some wine, Celestia.”

  She giggled and waved the napkin in the air like a flag of truce. “If you feel so strongly about it, I will join you in a cup.” She poured herself a small amount.

  “Drink it.”

  His eyes bored into her as she pretended to sip.

  “Come here, Celestia.”

  She knew from past experience that there was no reasoning with him once his jaw was set like that. Walking on her knees across the blanket, she stopped in front of him, determined to hide her fear. The vein at the base of her neck jumped. What would he do to her?

  “Open your mouth.”

  She tightened her lips, then exhaled and did as he said. Would he understand that she had drugged the wine for his own good? Considering his past, probably not.

  He leaned in and sniffed her breath. He cocked his head to the side and took a swallow from his own goblet. Before she could protest, he kissed her, sharing the mouthful of wine between them.

  She pounded her fists on his chest, but he didn’t release her until she swallowed the wine. “Nay!” How could she stand guard while he slept if he drugged her, too?

  Nicholas forced her to lie back, her head pillowed on one of his arms. “Are you trying to kill me, Celestia?”

  His voice was a low whisper, and his eyes were twin orbs of iron.

  “No.” Her voice came out as a squeak. She cleared her throat. “Nay—I was but trying to help you sleep.” Her traitorous fingers traced the hard lines of his face with love instead of anger, pausing over the bruise on his cheek. “You work so hard, and fight your rest. What would happen to me if you were hurt? I thought to help you, as a good wife, and healer, should.”

  “You know my past, and yet you betray me anyway?”

  “It’s not a betrayal,” Celestia argued in self-defense. “You need to sleep before you kill yourself, and I won’t have that, Nicholas—I won’t!”

  Nicholas’s hard gray eyes turned to onyx. “You argue, wife.”

  Celestia pressed her body to his, reveling in the weight of him. “Would that I could be your wife in truth.”

  She lifted her head to meet his mouth in a kiss as hot as fire. His lips ravaged hers, yet she pulled him closer, harder, wanting to be absorbed into his heat. Nicholas wrapped her hair around his hand and tilted her face so that she had no choice but to look into his eyes.

  “You know that I would give you the choice. Why do you make this so difficult?”

  He nipped her upper lip with his white teeth, and then licked the spot with a flick of his tongue. She ran her hands in small circles over the muscles in his back, memorizing the feel of him. She would pay the penalty for this act later, she knew, but for now she had what she wanted. Nicholas in her arms.

  “I warned you not to play your games with me,” he growled into her ear. She shivered, but did not let go.

  “I am not playing a game, Nicholas.” She lowered her eyes. “I love you.”

  Nicholas lifted his head and took her chin in his hand. His voice was controlled and matter-of-fact. “You have forced yourself to think of me with love in order to save your family. I’ll not be used like a stallion for stud.”

  She protested, but he stopped her with another searing lip-lock that she felt all the way to her toes. Stud services? From the hard length against her thigh, she could well imagine what that might entail. Lifting her hips, she struggled against the pull of the sleeping herbs.

  “Mayhap my feelings started that way, but I pledge to you that what I feel for you is true.” She slowly guided his hand to her aching breast. “Do you not feel my heart beating?”

  He molded his hand around the plump curve and exhaled, leaning his forehead down against hers. “'Tia! No matter what else happens between us, I am getting an annulment from the baron. Your brothers will be safe, I promise you that.”

  Her eyes were heavy, as was Nicholas’s voice. The warm sun beat down on them in benediction. “I made my choice, Nicholas.”

  What would he say to that?

  “Nicholas?”

  His body was heavy on hers, his head cradled between her shoulder and neck. The length of his body relaxed against hers. His breathing was steady, his eyelids closed.

  She was too sleepy to laugh.

  The sound of horse’s hooves and shouting roused Nicholas from the deepest sleep he’d had since the last time Celestia had drugged him. He rose to his elbows, reluctant to move from her warmth.

  Her angel eyes fluttered open, and Nicholas wondered what it might be like to look into them every morning of every day.

  He knew that she thought to protect him, and perchance, considering how light-headed he’d been lately, she was right to worry. He wished that she didn’t think she loved him. He knew very well that she wanted to save her brothers. Celestia was a woman who saw something that needed doing, and then took the most direct route there.

  While such forthrightness was a good quality in many ways, it also led to self-sacrifice on her part. A sacrifice that he, in good conscience, could not allow her to make.

  He’d made a pledge to avenge the men his father had killed, and he would do so. Just as he would save Celestia’s family before taking the baron’s heart and going to Spain.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her brilliant eyes filling with tears. “I was going to stand guard while you slept, but you kissed me with wine.”

  “You’re sorry I kissed you?” He stared down at her face, reluctant still to get up, even though the horse was coming closer.

  “Nay,” she flushed. “Sorry that I let you down.”

  She made him want to forget about his previous pledge for vengeance, and that wasn’t at all right. A knight who didn’t stand true to his oath was no man at all.

  She turned her head, finally realizing that someone was approaching. He watched the emotions cross her face. Disappointment, surprise, irritation, and—it stayed at irritation.

  Pulling herself from the cocoon of Nicholas’s arms, she got up and waved to Petyr as she marched across the grass to meet him away from the blanket.

  “My lord Nicholas was sleeping—what could be so bloody important that you interrupt our tryst?”

  Nicholas arose, noticing Petyr’s eyes flicker. “My apologies, my lady. Viola has been laid out by an arrow. It is deep in her side, and she is calling for you.”

  Celestia’s hands flew to her cheeks. “Saints forgive my sharp tongue, Petyr. Get the horses, will you?” She turned to Nicholas. “You’ll have to chastise me later, my lord. Will you ride back now?”

  Nicholas ran to where the horses were tethered. Falcon Keep was one nightmare after another. There’d been no leads as to who had killed Bess, and now Viola?

  If the women were being targeted, then only Celestia was left. The baron’s heart was safe for a while longer. Nicholas would stay and protect his wife.

  Celestia must have come to the same conclusion, that she was the last of the three women in their party, because suddenly fear shadowed the brilliance of her eyes and her stubborn chin quivered.

  Nicholas handed her Ceffyl’s reins, and he knew that Celestia was out of sorts because she accepted his help to mount.

  “I had thought that I would never speak to you again, Celestia, but I find that the extra sleep has calmed my anger. Not that I am thanking you for your treachery, but I will forgive it. You are a healer, and I suppose you couldn’t help you
rself.”

  “Thank you, Nicholas.”

  “If you do it again, I will beat you, as is my right as husband.”

  She kept her eyes lowered. “Yes, Nicholas.”

  “Is the wound life-threatening, Petyr?” Nicholas asked as the three of them flew neck and neck toward the keep.

  “It looks to be, but mayhap our lady will think it not.”

  Nicholas had noticed that all of his knights had accepted Celestia on her own merit. He wished that he could be so free.

  His breath caught in his chest as she rode Ceffyl to the edge of the drawbridge, only to dismount before the mare came to a complete stop. Nicholas followed her, calculating how he could best be of help.

  They ran upstairs to find Beatrice wringing her hands outside Viola’s chamber.

  Celestia panted for breath. “Why are you standing out here? Why aren’t you with her? Is she? Oh, no—”

  Barging past Beatrice like a five-foot-tall Roman soldier, she halted at the edge of the bed. Nicholas would have hired her on the spot for mercenary work.

  Viola’s face was a bloodless mask. The maid’s lank brown hair lay lifeless against the pillow.

  Opening her eyes, Viola said, “My lady, I waited for ye.” She lifted her hand and whispered with a lopsided smile, “I tried to tell them to get your bag, but they didn’t.”

  Nicholas focused on the one thing he could do. “You need a bag? What kind of bag?”

  Holding up a dainty hand, Celestia pulled back the sheet. She said calmly, “You did fine, putting clean cloths to the wound. You’ve learned much from me, but you have a natural talent, too.”

  The maid looked pleased at the compliment, and Nicholas recognized the soothing manner that Celestia used with her patients. She used it on him a lot.

  Dropping the sheet, she turned to him and said concisely, “Nicholas, I need two buckets of hot water. Beatrice, my medicine bag should be in the solar by the window. Forrester, more clean linens please. Petyr, clear everyone out, would you? This is not a show at the fair.”

  Petyr nodded with tight lips, as if annoyed, but then he shooed everyone back. “Everyone to work.”