Whisper of Magic (37 page)

“I have come wooing,” he said. “How is your voice today?”

“Better,” she said, with only a trace of huskiness. Her eyes
crinkled in the corners, as if she might be laughing at him. “Thank you for
asking.”

Wanting to haul her from her seat and cover her with kisses
and make his demands right here and now, Erran tamped down his impatience and
continued to play his role. “Did you receive the flowers I sent?”

Her lush rose lips parted in a smile of delight. “I did. I
cannot imagine how you found flamenco flowers in chilly England. They almost
made me homesick.”

“I have access to any number of conservatories. I just asked
around a bit. I would not have done so if it makes you long for home,” he said
with concern. “I’d hoped to show you that your new home could have the same
amenities.”

“That is why Lady Aster was concerned that my new house must
have a glass room,” she exclaimed. “I can grow my own flamencos! Will you not
take a seat? I can send for tea,” she said with a trace of awkwardness.

“I know we are not accustomed to being so formal,” he said
to relieve her unease, “but I wanted to show you that I can be a gentleman and
court you as you deserve. Would you care to go for a drive? I have borrowed
Ashford’s open carriage. It will be cool, but respectable. I don’t wish to
worsen your cold though.”

Her entire face lit with pleasure—and mischief. “Court me!
How enterprising. Let us go, please. I shall wrap warmly.”

Within minutes he had her beside him on the carriage seat.
She was wrapped in a wool mantle and bonnet as if it were winter. She let the
bonnet dangle by its strings once the sun broke from behind the clouds. Erran
had difficulty keeping his gaze on the horses and not her shining hair and
laughing eyes.

“Let us see how the repairs to my cottage proceed,” she
demanded happily. “I cannot drive myself yet through these crowded streets, and
I’m most eager to see the progress. Your Cousin Zach has most thoughtfully
helped find the workmen, but I’m so impatient to have my own home!”

Erran had already made this trip several times to make
certain the workmen were on the job. He knew the best routes through the city
now. They were on Westminster Bridge in reasonable time, admiring the crumbling
stone and not minding the heavy traffic.

As anxious as he was to determine his place in her new life,
Erran kept his own hopes bottled and simply enjoyed Celeste’s delight in her
new home. She enthused over the beauty of Battersea’s gardens and the room she
would set up for her sewing. He thought perhaps she might be as nervous as he.

It had been weeks since they’d spent their nights together.
Despite everything that had happened, he’d been able to think of little else since
then. His all-male, mostly unmarried, family were of no help in telling him how
to go about proposing marriage. He’d rather not do it the way Theo had—with
angry families pounding on a locked door.

Although he could certainly see the advantage of locking up
his intended until he had the answer he wanted, he would prefer to respect
Celeste’s newly-acquired independence.

The cottage they approached was one of the newer homes built
after the bridge was finished—Georgian in architecture but well maintained over
the decades. Graceful old trees and hedges lined the drive and gave an
appearance of privacy, but she had neighbors to all sides of her. Property was
less expensive on this side of the Thames, but he couldn’t help noticing the
distance to Parliament wasn’t difficult.

“Have the workmen finished for the day?” he asked, tying up
the horses and glancing around to see no activity.

“They are done entirely,” she said in satisfaction as he
helped her down. “We are to commence moving as soon as Lady Aster sends us her
latest collection of almost-trained servants.”

“Almost-trained,” he said with laughter, escorting her to
the front door. “You do realize you could be receiving reformed prostitutes and
homeless soldiers, don’t you?”

Even as he laughed, he realized what she was saying: no
servants were on the premises. No workmen. They were all alone. His brainpan
might just explode with possibilities.

She sent him an almost impish sidelong glance as she retrieved
a key from her pocket. “I think irregular forces might suit, don’t you?”

He hoped and prayed she included him in that suggestion.
“You do not approve of propriety?” he asked, taking the key.

“I am thinking it is time we start a new propriety, one that
includes all sorts of people. I cannot think I’d be happy sitting about my
parlor, doing nothing for the rest of my life. Why should gentlemen have all
the fun?” She stepped inside after he opened the door and whirled around in
happiness in the sunbeam from the half-circle transom window over the double
set of doors.

“If this is a test, is it dangerous for me to disagree?
Gentlemen can’t bear children, you’ll remember. The thought of a woman heavy
with child climbing ladders puts me in a state of utter horror.” Accepting her
dare to be different, Erran caught her slender waist and led her into the airy
front room.

Airy because there were no draperies as yet. This room
wouldn’t suit.

She laughed and danced away from him. “The thought of men in
high-heeled slippers attempting to wear skirts and petticoats on a ladder
induces images of rolling on the floor in laughter. Women do many impossible
things that men would not dream of doing.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed with equanimity, dragging her back
to the stairs. “Women should have the freedom to explore their abilities. But
you will admit that society creates limitations that must be overcome first?”

“Such as men fainting in horror at female ladder-climbing?
No doubt.” She broke away from his arm, lifted her skirts, and ran up the
stairs.

He easily caught up with her in a corner bedchamber. An
unadorned tester bed and linen-covered mattress were the only furniture as yet.

Erran didn’t think she’d led him up here to show him the
beauty of the bed’s wood. Without asking permission, he lifted his Jamaican
beauty and kissed her.

To his joy, Celeste flung her arms around his neck and
kissed him back, with great enthusiasm. And much warmth. And all the passion
his empty heart could desire.

“I do not ever want to let you go,” he murmured, spreading
his kisses to her jaw and the tender place between ear and throat. “You have no
idea of the torment I’ve suffered these past weeks, not being able to hold you
like this.”

“It is as if we’re bound by magic,” she said breathily. “I
thought I might pine away. Is that normal? I cannot think anything we’ve done
is normal or proper, but I have missed you so!”

“We’re the new propriety,” he said with a smile. “May I have
your permission to unfasten this very pretty bodice?”

“I sewed this one myself.” She released the gauze wrap of
her neckline to expose pretty buttons that appeared to be made of shells. To
Erran’s delight, they pushed easily through delicate holes to reveal the silk
camisole beneath. “My father is not the only inventor in the family,” she said
proudly. “I see no reason why I must have a maid to unfasten all the silly
hooks in back. And buttons are so much easier to undo than hooks!”

“I will attest to the immense intelligence and usefulness of
this bodice,” Erran declared in rapture as he gazed upon the plump curves of
her breasts while unhooking the corset beneath. “Now, if only you could see fit
to rid yourself of this benighted contraption . . .”

“As you would leave off this very pretty vest?” she asked,
slipping her fingers beneath the fabric covering his chest.

“I will, if you like. What need have I of clothes?” He
kissed her breast above her chemise and felt her shiver. “Say this means you’ll
marry me. I don’t believe I can live knowing I can’t have you beside me every
day.”

“You won’t be beside me,” she scoffed, abandoning his chest
to run her hands into his hair. She gasped as he pressed his kisses deeper, but
apparently she had a need to talk rather than give him promises. “I have heard
Ashford say you are to be his minion in the Commons. You will be arguing with
men all day just as he does.”

“I will be gainfully employed,” Erran protested without heat
since she did not object to his pushing the gown off her arms. “And the Commons
isn’t in session all the time. I’m still in Dunc’s employ, but I can stay here
and improve your sewing machine and sell the patent and add to your already
considerable income.”

“Which will diminish if there is an uprising on the island,”
she said sadly. “So if you are marrying me for my money, you will be most
disappointed.”

He kissed her enthusiastically anywhere he could reach,
until she laughed again.

“With you as inspiration, I will provide,” he said
fervently. “And with Ives to teach him, Trevor will find a way to sort out the
plantation when his time comes. Let us talk of more important matters—like
telling me yes, you will marry me. I know very little of love, but if what I
feel for you is that emotion, it’s turning me inside-out. Tell me yes and heal
my confusion.”

“What, you will cease to love me if we marry?” she asked
archly, having succeeded in dragging his shirt tails from his trousers. “Or
perhaps it is just lust you feel and that goes away when I become fat with your
child?”

He groaned as she stroked her slender fingers over his
nakedness. “Your size has no more to do with who you are than the color of your
hair. You are the woman who understands me, who endures my fits and starts, who
loves me with her eyes and makes me feel as if anything is possible. How can
that be simple lust? Lust can be slaked anywhere. What I feel for you is . . .
magic, as you said. A binding that cannot be torn apart.”

“A binding that must be constantly woven and strengthened by
deeds as well as words, my dearest love,” Celeste whispered, pressing her
kisses to his bared throat.

“That, I can do,” he promised, laying her on the bed.

***

Celeste had feared those glorious nights with Erran had
been her imagination or the work of some mystical magic that had been woven in
Wystan. She was happy to learn that her fears were groundless.

Not quite satiated but feeling more complete after their
lovemaking, she basked in the glow of Erran’s admiration—while drinking her
fill of the man beneath the fashionable façade. Sunlight spilled through her
bedroom window, giving her new appreciation of this man she had chosen.

He had wide, square shoulders and a broad chest that rippled
with muscle. A trim waist and hips and powerful thighs gave evidence that he
was not a man who sat behind desks for long. She gathered from his sun-tinted
chest that he spent time outdoors in the heathen environs of his brother’s
estate where shirts were evidently not necessary. He propped himself over her
on powerful arms that could hold her imprisoned—or offer the security she
craved.

She caressed all that lovely man and wiggled her hips where
they’d just been joined. To her satisfaction, he was already rising to the
occasion.

“You have yet to say the words I wish to hear,” he objected,
rolling over and pulling her on top of him. “Are you having second thoughts
about being courted by a mere commoner instead of a duke or earl? Am I
depriving you of the debut you secretly long to make?”

She nibbled his shoulder and when that produced a reaction
she enjoyed, began kissing any skin within reach. “You dare call yourself a
mere commoner?” she scoffed. “A man who has better understanding of my
eccentricities than anyone on earth? A man who exhibits such intelligence that
he supports my beliefs and need for independence, allows me to do as I see fit,
and otherwise suits me in every way, and is more handsome than he deserves to
be? You think I should hold out for a portly duke who thinks women exist for
making heirs? Do you insult
my
intelligence?”

He laughed and nibbled her ear while arousing her nipples
with sensations that truly should not be allowed if this was a sin.

“I would not ask a stupid woman to be my wife. Any woman who
marries me will require more indulgence and understanding than any ordinary
woman. As you may have noticed, our family is noted for our
unconventionalities, not our easiness to get along with.” He lifted his head to
suckle at the nipple he’d aroused.

Moaning, Celeste arched into him. “I find you very easy to
accommodate,” she muttered ambiguously.

He laughed and proceeded to tease her more with his
ministrations. “Then say you’ll be my wife, till death do us part.”

“I think I already have,” she murmured in wonder. “In
Wystan. Do you remember the vow I made? It is an old Malcolm marriage vow. We
have been bound ever since, by magic if not by law.”

“I’ll not explain that to my brothers if we have a six-month
babe,” he argued, stroking delicate tissues until she nearly cried out in
impatience. “I need the legalities. Say yes, and I’ll obtain the license
tomorrow. We are not doing this again until I hear the words, my lady.”

“Unfair,” she laughingly protested, sliding her hand between
them to stroke him as he was her. “That would be a true test of wills. I
concede! Yes, I will marry you with whatever passes for legality in your mind.”

He kissed her swiftly, thoroughly, then said in a voice
hoarse with lust, “We’ll talk to the vicar in the village, say the vows
quickly, and avoid Malcolm insanity. You really do not want to wear a cloak and
rowan twigs.”

While she fuzzily tried to figure out twigs in a wedding
service, he entered her, and there was nothing left to worry about. This man
was her world now, and she would have him forever, in whatever way it could be
done.

“Weddings are not about you, silly,” Lady Aster
proclaimed, pinning a circlet of rowan to Erran’s thick curls. “You really did
not think your bride would want to be married without her family around her?”