The Marriage Spell

by Mary Jo Putney

  Chapter XXII

  Abby 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.”

  Her brows drew together. “There is an element of magic in the surrender of virginity. Perhaps doing so produced enough energy to bring both of us to the best possible health?”

  “That sounds reasonable, and if it’s not the right explanation, no matter. What matters is how we feel.” He caught her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Let’s get dressed and take a walk. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to walk normally again, so I want to celebrate by walking.”

  “It’s cold out there!”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “Dress warmly.”

  With a laugh, she surrendered and slid out of the bed, making a beeline for the clothespress. She yanked her heaviest flannel shift over her head, then reached for thick knit stockings. “My warm bed is looking very good right now!”

  “It will look even better later.” Jack retreated to his own bedroom to dress, returning in time to fasten the ties on her gown. She wrapped a soft paisley scarf around her throat, liking the silliness of their going out in the middle of a winter night.

  Equally silly and enjoyable was helping each other dress, laughing at their clumsy fingers and stolen kisses. She looped another warm scarf around Jack’s neck, thinking it would have been easy to ring the servants’ hall for help, but this was more fun. At the moment, anything they did together was fun.

  As Jack placed her warmest cloak over her shoulders, she said, “Maybe you ought to take your cane, just in case the cold makes your leg ache again.”

  He laughed. “You do worry, don’t you? Very well, I’ll take the cane even though I don’t need it.”

  He buttoned his greatcoat and donned a hat, then offered Abby his arm. She took it with ridiculously possessive pleasure, feeling truly married.

  A footman sat by the front door, waiting for the duke and duchess to return home from their activities. “We won’t be out long, Williams,” Jack said.

  The footman bowed them out, only the faintest twitch of his cheek showing surprise that the duchess’s brother and his bride wanted to go for a walk on a cold winter’s night.

  “It’s snowing!” Abby said with delight as they walked down the steps.

  “So it is.” Jack gave her a slanting smile. “A magical end for a magical night.”

  She tightened her grip on his arm. Yes, what they had shared was magic, but it was of a profoundly human kind. And thank God for it.

  Chapter XXIII

  Less than an inch of snow had fallen, just enough to glaze the streets to pristine white. Reflected light made it easy to see the way, though Jack found himself glad that he had the cane to balance against occasional slipperiness. A few windows glowed here and there, but they had the night to themselves. That would change later, when carriages began returning the Quality to their homes. Until then, their footprints marked the only trail in the soft whiteness.

  He couldn’t ever remember being happier.

  Nice that Abby wasn’t a chatterer. Like him, she was content to enjoy the silence. Crystalline flakes caught in her lashes like stars and frosted the warm hat she had donned. Though the air was icy cold, their warm garments kept them cozy. It was easy to forget she was a wizard. What mattered was that she was his wife.

>   He linked his fingers through hers and buried their joined hands in the left pocket of his heavy greatcoat. There was a delicious intimacy in their closeness that was unlike anything he’d ever experienced with a woman. He fancied that he was learning a thing or two about what romantic meant.

  “I calculate that with another half hour or so of recovery time, I’ll be ready to make love to you again, so let’s be back at Alderton House by then,” he murmured.

  She gave him a deliciously wicked glance from the corner of her eye. “It’s merely your opinion that you’ll be ready. We shall see.”

  “If my leg is healed, so is my blood,” he said positively. “In fact…”

  He stopped and turned her toward him for another kiss, this one deep and leisurely. They were alone in the heart of London, and he wanted to kiss his wife. She filled his arms, wonderfully satisfying.

  She gave a sigh of pleasure when their lips separated, her breath a pale plume in the night. “If we walk around this block and head back, will that get us to Alderton House at the right time? Or should we just head back now?”

  He chuckled. “Insatiable wench. We’ll walk around the block and then return.”

  They ambled along two sides of the block and had turned to head back when he noticed a stealthy movement from the corner of his right eye. Instantly alert, he glanced to his right for a closer look.

  Someone was behind him. Before he could react to the knowledge, a man slammed into his back, the solid weight accompanied by rank smells.

  Jack staggered, almost falling. Abby’s grip and the cane kept him on his feet. Releasing her hand, he stepped in front of her and spun to confront their assailants.

  Two—no, three—thieves had appeared from a narrow alley and gathered in a half circle just beyond arm’s reach from Jack. “Give us yer money and jewelry and you might walk away,” one of the shadowy figures snarled, raising his hand to reveal the glittering blade of a knife.

  The one in the center said, “’Ware, he’s a big brute! You better—”