The Witch's Thief

by Tricia Schneider

  “Oh, Julia,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

  She licked her suddenly dry lips and looked away. There was no denying the truth. Not when he saw it written clearly in her eyes without her ever speaking a word. No, Basil knew her too well. Even after all of this time, he could still read every emotion on her face. Well, all the emotion save the one directed solely at him.

  From the corner of her eyes, she spotted a decanter of brandy. Normally, she rarely partook of it, but perhaps she needed a drink, after all.

  “Julia?” he asked, his hand grasping hers. His thumb caressed the back of her hand. “What happened?”

  ****

  Roger was dead.

  Basil’s hand tightened over her fingers, squeezing gently. He lowered his head, fighting the dizziness that incessantly plagued him as he focused on the questions swirling in his brain.

  That explained her presence here. She had nowhere else to go.

  Roger Grey never possessed a head for business. His wife kept the estate running until she died shortly after Julia’s eighth year. The estate slowly degenerated into poverty. It became well known that Julia, and her younger sister, Marianne, had no dowries. One of the many reasons Basil made assurances that Julia marry well after he’d gone. George Walters’ wealth and head for business, even at the young age of twenty, attracted Basil’s interest for Julia’s benefit. Basil knew they’d make an excellent match.

  But, Julia never married George.

  And Roger was dead.

  “It…it was his heart,” she said, biting her bottom lip. He leaned back to face her. She didn’t look into his eyes. Instead, her gaze darted across the floor. She kept something from him. Perhaps she did not wish to discuss her father’s failing health.

  When she focused on his face, he knew she spoke the truth. “He never got over my mother’s death. He grieved for her. So many years he grieved. I think he was ready to go to her.”

  “But you and your sister…”

  Her bottom lip quivered at the mention of her sister, and she turned her head, blinking away the tears that were suddenly in her eyes. Basil’s chest tightened with dread. He squeezed her hand and leaned forward.

  Oh, no…

  “Julia, where’s Marianne?”

  She bit back a sob. Pain in his chest blossomed. Something happened to her sister. It was his fault. All his fault. He should have made certain George made good on his promises. Basil should have stayed for the wedding, even if it killed him to see the woman he loved married to another man.

  Yes, he loved her. Always loved her. He’d known since a child he was meant to be with her. That’s why he had to help her, protect her, do all he could for her. Even if it meant keeping away from her.

  “Where is she?” he repeated, his voice rising in panic. If something dreadful happened to young Marianne, Basil would never forgive himself. Julia adored her younger sister. After their mother died in childbirth, Julia had taken to caring for the baby just as a mother would care for her child. Julia and Marianne had a very close relationship that went beyond simply being sisters.

  “No, no,” she said, wiping at the sudden tears that fell onto her cheeks. “No, Marianne is…she is… Well, she’s here. With me.”

  Basil sighed, relieved to learn Julia’s little sister was safe.

  “How long has your father been gone?”

  “Two years.” She held herself straight, her shoulders tense.

  He regarded her for a moment, again noting the change in her. She seemed so different from the girl he left behind. Like another woman. The difference reflected in her eyes. The warm gentleness of untried youth had vanished, and in its place resided a serious, worldly gaze. The eyes of a wounded woman. A woman heartsick with grief.

  With her father dead, she had no home. No prospects for a decent future or an advantageous marriage. If his aunt had not rescued her from the streets… Basil shuddered to think what might have become of her.

  His shudder seemed to restart the shivers that for a moment had subsided.

  “Bloody hell!” he muttered as he fought to force his muscles to obey his commands. For a short time in the beginning he managed to delay the shivers, to mask his symptoms and other signs of the disease. But no longer. With each passing year, with the sunset of each day, he grew weaker as the disease grew stronger. And Basil knew what would happen one day, if he didn’t find the cure.

  “Basil, what is this? What’s happened to you?”

  He glanced at her face. Her eyes were wide with worry and concern and a trace of fear. That she held any compassion for him at all amazed him. He never gave her any explanation of why he left. He never even said good-bye. She had every right to refuse to ever speak to him again.

  Yet, here she stood, by his side, worrying over him.

  He sighed. This very situation he had tried to avoid ten years ago. He didn’t want anyone to worry over him.

  “It’s nothing,” he said, fighting to sound blasé as if this were such a trivial thing. “Comes and goes. Nothing to fret over, my dear. A good night’s rest is all the cure I need.”

  Oh, if only that were true!

  “Basil.”

  The doubt in her voice cut through his heart. For a moment, he felt weak enough to tell her the truth. He imagined how relieved his shoulders would feel to tell someone else of his troubles, his fears and grief. To share the pain and heartsickness instead of holding it bottled inside him until he burst.

  He looked into her green eyes. Such a lovely shade of jade. Like the precious gems he collected during his brief stay in China years ago. The moment he had seen those gems, he’d thought of Julia.

  No, he could not burden her with his secrets. She held too much pain already from her father. He would not add to that grief.

  “I just need sleep, Jules.”

  She tilted her head to the side as if to argue.

  “I promise you, I’ll feel better in the morning.”

  Julia sighed, heavily. Releasing his hand, she folded her arms across her chest.

  “Very well,” she said. “And how do you presume to traverse to your room if you cannot walk? I’m not adverse to carrying you, but it might seem awkward if someone should see us.”

  “I’m a bit much for you, aren’t I?” Basil regarded her tiny frame against his larger one. When standing, the top of her head barely touched his chin.

  “We’ll make do.” She placed her hands on her hips with determination. Then her face brightened with an idea. “Unless you know the spell I spoke of? I’ve seen your aunt use it on those days when her knees ached something terrible. She can disappear and reappear in her room. Do you know the spell?”

  He did. It was something he learned years ago. It was also something that took a great deal of strength and concentration. Both, he severely lacked at the moment.

  “I do. But, in my condition, I doubt I could muster the strength to transport to the library door let alone the chamber above us.”

  “Oh,” Julia said, crestfallen. Then she rallied. “Well, we do what we must then, shall we?”

  He smiled at her determination. “I suppose.”

  “Come along,” she said, holding her hands out. “Best get to it.”

  He smiled, grimly.

  Taking her arm, he allowed her to assist in hoisting him up.

  ****

  It took a great deal of strength to help Basil walk to the doors and into the corridor. He began stumbling just as they arrived at the foot of the stairs. When they stopped at the bottom and looked up, the average, everyday stairs loomed above them like a huge mountain.

  “Are you certain about this?” Basil asked, gripping one hand on the banister. His other arm loped around Julia’s rather thin shoulders.

  “No.”

  But, with determination, she rallied together and urged him upward, one weary step at a time.

  About halfway, his dizziness got the better of him and he stumbled. He crashed down on his knees, taking her with him
. Off balance, she slid down two steps before he grasped her hand, keeping her from falling the rest of the way.

  “I don’t think this is wise,” Basil said, admitting he put her in danger with his pride and stubbornness. “Perhaps it’s time to call for Parker.”

  “Absolutely not.” Julia stood, brushing her skirts and straightened. “We’ve made it this far. Why, we’re nearly half way.”

  Basil nodded. If they reached his room, he’d be fine. He didn’t even need to make it to the bed. Even if she just shoved him in and closed the door so no one saw his crumpled form in the morning, he’d be forever grateful. Just so Aunt Petunia remained ignorant of her nephew’s debilitating illness.

  They stumbled the rest of the way up the stairs. Basil did his best to concentrate on lifting one foot in front of the other, of taking each step without falling flat on his face and taking her with him. He did his best not to notice how her breast brushed against his chest while she leaned into him, giving him the full support he needed to stand. He did his best not to feel her womanly curves rubbing against him. And he tried not to inhale too deeply for the air surrounding her was filled with lilacs.

  His mind screamed to concentrate on other things, like survival. His heart screamed that survival wasn’t living.

  He never had the chance to know the feeling of wrapping his hands around her naked waist, pulling her body closer to his, losing himself inside her.

  Basil clenched his eyes shut and shuddered, this time for a reason other than this dreaded disease.

  He really must focus. This current line of thought was highly inappropriate.

  And yet, he couldn’t stop fantasizing about her. The entire journey from the stairs, down the hall and to his room, he kept picturing her naked in his arms.

  Oh, what a beautiful image!

  After an eternity, they finally arrived at his doorstep. He leaned against the frame as she turned the knob and shoved open the door. She took a step forward, about to enter his room when he resisted.

  “This is far enough.”

  Her green gaze looked up, startled.

  “However will you reach your bed? Do you plan to crawl?”

  “Indeed, I may.” As he looked deeply into her eyes, he found sudden difficulty in breathing. She appeared winded, but for a different reason. After dragging his ailing carcass up the bloody stairs, the poor woman was winded. Tendrils of her hair had tumbled free of their restraints and now rested alongside her face, framing her beauty in a way that enchanted him. Tiny beads of sweat formed on her upper lip, and he felt the urge to wipe them away…with his lips. “It isn’t proper for a woman to enter a man’s bedchamber unless they are wed.”

  “Under the circumstances, I believe we may forgo propriety,” she said, tilting her head to the side as she looked up.

  He lifted his hand to curl a soft tendril of her hair around his finger. Her scent drifted over him. He took a deep breath, inhaling the lilac scented soap she used to wash her skin.

  Julia gasped.

  He looked back to her eyes. Recognition registered in her gaze. And hunger. The same hunger that surely mirrored his own.

  Slowly, painfully slowly, his head dipped toward hers. He found he could not convince himself as to why kissing her might be a bad idea. How could it be otherwise? He kissed her when they were younger. What could it hurt to taste her once more?

  His lips found hers.

  A groan slipped from his throat. Or was it hers? Basil couldn’t be certain. All coherent thought left him as she surrendered to his touch. Her hands, which had been on his arm supporting him, now crept along his chest until they wrapped themselves around his neck, drawing him closer.

  Her closed mouth now opened, welcoming his tongue to hers, welcoming him home.

  Yes, he was, at last, home.

  His heart knew, sensed, yearned it.

  Basil kissed her deeply while leaning against the wall with trembling legs. He prayed for the strength to continue kissing her a moment longer before his legs collapsed and he tumbled to the floor.

  Had he forgotten how wonderful her kisses made him feel? How delicious she tasted?

  He found his memory had not served them justice. His heart pounded in a wild rhythm. He pulled her closer so she could feel his heart beating only for her.

  Dizziness followed, and before he knew what happened, he slipped to the floor.

  They tumbled onto the carpet in his room.

  “Oof!” Julia said, as she landed atop him. Basil’s head struck the floor and pain spasmed down his back. But, when Julia squirmed over his body, her legs fumbling to find purchase, his pain was forgotten.

  He clasped his arms around her, holding her prisoner against his body. She froze and looked into his eyes.

  Hunger replaced her surprise, and again she kissed him. This time with her writhing body atop his. Basil barely breathed as she kissed him deeply, hungrily. His hands roamed her womanly terrain, exploring her body from the top of her head, where he gently extracted the pins from her hair, allowing the silky curls to fall covering him like a blanket, then flow along her shoulders and down her back. He found her derriere and pulled her closer, tighter to him, rubbing her along his hardness that she certainly must feel through the thin material of her dress.

  Julia broke slightly away from their kiss.

  “The door,” she whispered, before plunging her tongue back into his mouth.

  Door? What door?

  Oh, yes, the bedroom door was still wide open. No need to allow any wandering servants a chance to witness this. With his eyes still closed, his mouth still hungrily devouring hers, he moved his leg over, found the door and kicked it closed.

  Then his hands were on her bodice. He slid the fabric down low until one breast popped free from its confines. He took her nipple in his mouth.

  “Basil!” she cried, her fingers ravaged his hair, lifting his head to meet her breast.

  He suckled her nipple, licking and nibbling. She cried out. When he finished his attentions on that particular breast, he lifted the other free and concentrated his mouth there.

  Julia whispered his name over and over, stirring his passions higher with each syllable.

  She tossed her head back, her long dark hair whipping in the air above him. His fingers found the fabric of her dress and slowly plucked the fabric upward, exposing her legs. Then he sat up, dragging her legs apart to straddle his waist. She sat on his lap and continued to kiss him. Sometimes her kisses drifted from his mouth to his chin, across his cheek to his ear. Her fingers combed through his hair and down to the remnants of his cravat. Her fingers flickered. She muttered a simple spell to undo the complicated knot, and it was free.

  Then she yanked at the rest of his attire. Buttons undone, snaps freed, her fingers pulling and pushing, stretching the cloth across his chest in search for his skin. He tried to assist her. His mind was fogged with desire. He allowed her the control she needed to undress him. When his arm caught in his shirtsleeves, he struggled to free it. She wiggled her fingers again, whispering another spell, and his shirt dropped to the floor.

  He had no idea those spells would come into such practical use. He chuckled and smiled against her lips.

  And then his smiling vanished as her fingers found the expanse of skin on his chest. She ran her fingers all over him. His turn to groan. Her touch was timid, yet bold. Eager, yet wary. She explored his body for the first time, and he felt as if they had never been apart.

  This was his Julia.

  His and no other.

  Basil’s hands caressed the silkiness of her legs, running his fingers from her knees to her thighs. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders when his hand drifted closer to her womanhood. He slid the fabric of her undergarments away until he found the womanly curls at the juncture of her thighs.

  She moaned, biting his lip when his fingers reached toward her hot dampness. He brushed against her bud.

  She stilled suddenly, her shoulders tightening.

&nb
sp; He froze at her response.

  Basil opened his eyes. She stared, her cheeks charmingly flushed with passion, her lips swollen from his kisses, and her eyes filled with loving desire.

  “I want this,” she said, her voice deep and sultry. “I want you.”

  He needed no further encouragement. He plunged his finger inside of her.

  Her eyelids fluttered closed, and her chin lifted upward. Her long hair hung down her back, and he couldn’t stop his free hand from tangling in that long luxurious hair. He rocked his other hand against her, thrusting his finger in and out, the muscles of her sex tightened against him. He added another digit, filling her further. She moaned in satisfaction.

  He continued, faster and then slow, then fast again until her nails bit into shoulders, and her inner walls grew tight. Her breaths were coming in tiny gasps. When he rubbed his thumb against her swollen bud, she cried out and shuddered. He continued pumping his fingers into her, feeling her muscles clutching, grabbing to keep him inside during her climax.

  And then he felt his own climax. He released inside his trousers, wetting the fabric with his seed.

  How could he hold back after watching her passionate release? He never saw anything so beautiful.

  When she could breathe again, she sagged against him. He gathered her into his arms, leaned back onto the floor and cradled her on his chest. She clung to him, her hands running small delicate circles against his chest.

  “Amazing,” she said, her voice husky from spent passion. “I never knew it could be so…”

  Basil’s heart skipped a beat.

  “You’ve never…?”

  She lifted her head to look at him.

  “Of course not. I’ve never married.”

  “No,” he said. “Of course not.”

  She leaned back to gaze more fully into his face. “Did you think I’ve had previous relations with a man?”

  He shrugged. “For ten years, I’ve imagined you married. For a moment, I forgot you were inexperienced.”