The Magic of His Touch (May Day Mischief) (6 page)

She didn’t need him to. “You wouldn’t have done this.”

“No, of course not.” His voice was strained. “It wouldn’t have
been right.” He sat up, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. I should
have known better, but everything will be fine. I’ll make sure of that.” He
pulled up his breeches and buttoned them.

The cold and damp of the meadow seeped into her, and she began
to shiver. What did he mean?

He reached to draw the bodice of her gown over her bosom again,
but she pushed his hand away and did it herself. He stood, putting out a hand to
help her up. She took it reluctantly and withdrew it as soon as she was on her
feet.

“Lucasta and I agreed that we would rupture the engagement
early if either of us chose to do so,” he said. “We’ll make an announcement
tomorrow morning, after which I shall be free to ask your father for your
hand.”

“No,” she said. “No, you mustn’t.” She whirled away from him
toward the pathway into the wood, stumbled, caught up her skirts and headed for
the house.

He grabbed his coat and followed her. “Of course I must.”

“No! You don’t love me. You don’t want to marry me.”

“Yes, I do,” he said.

* * *

Astonishingly, he meant it. Thank God he’d been bored
enough in London to agree to visit the Priory, or he might never have met
her—finally, a woman with whom he wanted to spend his life. Strange, because
he’d always imagined that the woman with the courage of her convictions who
would also depend on him would share his own view of the world, but Peony
certainly didn’t... And yet, it didn’t seem to matter. She was who she was, and
he loved her. “I do want to marry you, Peony.”

“No, you don’t.” She hastened away again. “It’s the magic
talking.” She left the woods, crossed a strip of open land and well-nigh
sprinted into the orchard. “It’s not real.” She tossed the words over her
shoulder at him like noxious little gnats in the night. “I didn’t understand
what would happen. I should have known better than to try such a fool’s trick,
but I won’t let you be trapped by it.” She stumbled again, caught herself and
hurried on. “I won’t get with child, so there’s no harm done.”

“It’s not a matter of harm,” he said. “It’s a matter of doing
what’s right, and that’s marriage.”

She gave an audible shudder. “Oh, this is dreadful. Everything
has gone from bad to worse, and—”

She stopped so abruptly he almost bumped into her. “What—?”

“Shh!” She put up a hand and whispered, “What is Lucasta doing
out at this time of night?”

Sure enough, his temporary fiancée was standing in the herb
garden in the moonlight, muttering to herself. “I don’t know, but I’ll go talk
to her right now.”

“No!” Peony’s fingers dug into his shirtsleeves like desperate
little claws, dragging him behind a pear tree. “Please don’t.
Please
don’t. I shan’t be able to bear it. I can’t
marry you, and don’t you see? If you ask my father, they’ll never forgive me if
I say no.”

“Very well,” he said slowly. “I shan’t speak to your father.”
For
now
.

“And you won’t break off the engagement with Lucasta until
she’s ready.”

“Lucasta is ready whenever I am, and vice versa. That was our
agreement.”

“Perhaps, but if you break it off, it will make life difficult
for her,” Peony hissed. “For no reason at all, because I cannot marry you.”

“Why the devil not?”

Her face puckered with such anguish that he couldn’t press
her—but he damn well intended to find out what was going on. “Very well, I won’t
break it off.”
Yet
.

He watched Peony go into the herb garden. Once the women had
disappeared together around the back of the house, he slipped in by the side
door and quickly navigated the stairs and corridors, which didn’t seem
convoluted to him. Soon he was knocking at the door of Lord Elderwood’s room. If
anyone could sort out the so-called magical aspect of this tangle, it was
he.

Elderwood opened the door in his shirtsleeves, looking at first
surprised and then wary. “What do you want?”

“A few words,” Alexis said. “In private,” he added, when
Elderwood didn’t invite him in. “Christ, David, do you have a woman in there?
Can’t you keep your cock in your breeches for two nights in a row?”

“Only when I choose to.” He looked uncharacteristically
strained. “Alexis, I’m tired. We can talk later.”

“This is important. It won’t take long, and you’re certain to
be
vastly
interested.” He didn’t bother to stifle
his irritation with his old friend. “It’s about magic.”

“You wish to discuss magic?” Elderwood peered at Alexis as if
he suspected he’d gone mad, and opened the door wide at last. “My dear fellow,
what has come over you?”

Alexis stalked into the room and glanced around, thankful to
find no giggling housemaid in the bed. He’d thought that laughter in the wood
had been Elderwood, but perhaps not. “Is there a custom—a folk custom, I suppose
you’d say—where a woman rolls naked in a meadow?”

“Rolling in the dew? Yes, on May Day morning, to call her true
love to her side. Why do you ask?”

Alexis pondered. The only person who had come to Peony’s side
was...him.

Something akin to consternation crossed Elderwood’s face. “Can
it be...that you came upon a woman doing exactly that yesterday morning?”

Alexis had fallen in love with Peony, and she wouldn’t have
succumbed to his advances unless she felt the same way...so what had gone
wrong?

“You did!” Elderwood said, taking his silence for assent. “Do
you mean to tell me who, or should I annoy you by guessing?” He paused, an
uncharacteristic frown crinkling his brow. “Somehow, I can’t see Miss Barnes
indulging in anything remotely connected with magic.”

“Lucasta? No, of course not.”

Elderwood laughed. “Then who was she? You may count on my
discretion. I’m much better at keeping secrets than at controlling my wayward
desires.”

“This isn’t my secret to tell. I merely want to know how the
custom works.”

“Why not ask Miss Barnes?” The bitterness in his suggestion
surprised Alexis; David Elderwood didn’t usually care about the opinions of
others. “No need, however. I know what she’ll say—that it was an attempt to lure
young men into the meadow. If one was caught, he had no choice but to marry the
girl.”

“Caught by whom?”

“By the parents and villagers—the folk round about.”

That didn’t apply, as there was no one to force the issue but
Alexis and Miss Whistleby. “But you disagree.”

“I’m sure in some instances it was exactly as Miss Barnes will
tell you,” Elderwood said. “In other circumstances, though—if the woman truly
believes in the custom, if the man is unknown and unexpected—magic might easily
be at work. One never knows for sure.”

Alexis sighed. “Is there a counter charm of sorts? A method of
undoing the, er, magic?”

“I doubt it,” Elderwood said. “Love is the most powerful magic
in existence. Why would someone who called upon it want to counteract it?”

“Many reasons,” Alexis said. “Disinclination, disappointment,
nobility of character... I daresay there are others.”

Elderwood shook his head. “Disinclination and disappointment
simply wouldn’t arise, if love was at work.”

“But nobility of character might. Or self-sacrifice,” Alexis
said.

“Perhaps,” Elderwood said, “if they are motivated by love. I
suppose love might be able to counteract itself. It’s an interesting
puzzle.”

To hell with puzzles. Alexis strode over to the banked fire and
stood with his back to it, warming his damp breeches. “But not, for example, by
rolling in the meadow while clothed?”

“Dear me,” Elderwood said. “Did she—whoever she was—try that?
No, no, that’s far too crude. She’s probably stuck with whoever came as an
answer to her prayer, particularly if they’ve met and spoken.” He paused, and
his voice fluctuated strangely. “Gazed into one another’s eyes, shared a
kiss—that sort of thing.” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “That kind
of magic, by what I’ve heard, is as powerful as a sacred vow.”

Alexis said nothing.

“Who’s the unfortunate fellow?” asked Elderwood, and his eyes
widened. “Oh, my dear Alexis. No other man was there? I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t look sorry. Alexis thought he seemed almost
pleased—probably something to do with witnessing magic at work.

Alexis didn’t believe it had anything to do with magic,
although it did seem rather like a miracle. He’d never expected to find the
right woman; no one remotely like her had been among the ones foisted on him by
his mother, year after year. “I’m not unfortunate. I couldn’t be happier about
this.” He merely had to figure out how to go about wooing Peony Whistleby. If he
only understood why she was so determined to refuse him...

Elderwood’s mouth twisted. “What about Miss Barnes?”

“That was never a real engagement,” Alexis said. “She wanted to
be left alone to write her tome, and I wasn’t inclined to marry any of the
ninnies my mother kept shoving at me, so it was convenient for both of us... Oh,
damn. That’s what I did wrong.”

* * *

If Lucasta hadn’t suddenly turned their way, staring
into the orchard, Peony would have extracted more promises from Sir Alexis.
“Stay here until Lucasta and I are indoors,” she whispered, “and don’t you dare
discuss me with her.” She hurried out of the orchard, opening the gate and
shutting it again with a clang.

“I thought I heard voices,” Lucasta said. “Who were you talking
to?”

“Myself,” Peony said. “Just as you were doing.”

“I always talk to myself,” Lucasta said. “You never do.”

“How do you know? I do it when I’m alone, which I thought I
was.”

Peony couldn’t see her cousin clearly, even with the moon
lighting up the garden, but she thought Lucasta’s nose curled. Did she smell
of...of what she and Alexis had done? Or just of Alexis? She took a few hasty
steps backward.

Lucasta had already turned away. “Have you been rolling in the
dew again?”

“No, what would be the use of that? It’s the wrong night.”

“And it didn’t even work on the right night.”

Oh, it had worked—but with ghastly results. At first, Peony’d
thought it hadn’t worked, and then that it had only affected her, but now she
realized that wasn’t the case. Alexis was indeed her true love—but she wasn’t
his. What Lucasta had said about naked young women trapping men into marriage
made complete sense now.

“So why were you out here?” Lucasta said.

“I’ve decided I like it outdoors at night,” Peony said. Strange
how an answer had come to her, just like that. “There’s nobody telling me what
to do next or how to behave. It gives me a great sense of freedom.” Not only had
she come up with a quick answer, but it was, unexpectedly, true.

“Hmm,” Lucasta said, as if her mind was elsewhere. She held out
several sprigs of rosemary. “Take these, would you?” She moved along the path
and pinched off some fresh new mint leaves.

Peony trailed behind her. “Why are you gathering herbs at this
time of night?”

“To rid myself of a headache,” Lucasta said. Peony considered
asking why she didn’t use some of the dried herbs in the pantry—not that she
particularly cared. That wasn’t what she really wanted to discuss. She glanced
back and thought she saw Alexis’s still form by the orchard gate.

“Come with me to the kitchen,” Lucasta said. “It would be a
great help.”

Still unsure how to phrase her question for Lucasta, she
followed her willingly indoors and hovered while her cousin boiled water and
prepared not one, but two tisanes.

“What is the other one for?”

“Woman’s troubles,” Lucasta said, unusually curt. “Sorry I’m so
grumpy. I’ll be better once I’ve slept.”

Peony carried the candle and led the way upstairs, opening the
bedchamber door for her. Lucasta set the tray with the tisanes on a table just
inside the door and turned to say good-night.

“Wait,” Peony said. “Lucasta, are you—are you ever going to
marry Sir Alexis?”

After a long moment of silence, her cousin said, “Why do you
ask?”

“I’ve been wondering why you keep postponing it,” Peony said.
“If he’s such a kind and thoughtful man, he wouldn’t prevent you from writing
your folklore book even after you were married...would he?”

“Probably not,” she said. “But you never know what a man will
do once he has the upper hand.” Why did she sound so bitter?

“When I saw you together, I found it hard to believe that you
love him that...that way,” Peony said.

Lucasta gave hard little laugh. “That’s why I’ve never asked
him here. It was easy to remain properly formal in London, but here someone was
sure to realize. He’s a dear friend, but marry him—no. I shall never marry. I’ll
be happier that way.”

Peony wasn’t sure she believed that, either, and come to think
of it, hadn’t Lucasta’s woman’s troubles been only a week ago?

“Are you worried about how he will feel?” said Lucasta. “You
needn’t be. Alexis is just like me; he doesn’t want to marry. Our engagement is
an arrangement for our mutual convenience, to keep matchmaking busybodies at
bay.”

Knowing for sure that she’d done the right thing didn’t make it
any easier for Peony. She escaped to her room and indulged in a hearty bout of
tears.

* * *

Alexis woke with a start. Either the wind had risen
considerably, or one of Miss Whistleby’s ghosts, boggarts or bogeys was having a
restless night.
More
likely
one
of
the
latter
, he thought, listening to the rhythmic
tapping of the ivy outside his window.

He groaned and turned over. Yesterday, such a ridiculous
thought would never have entered his mind.