Read The Christmas Spirit for Free Online Page A

focused his feverish eyes on her, a slight grin tipped the corner of his mouth.
    Trudy gathered courage from his expression. "Then ye ought, at least, to go see that yer money's been put to good use. Can ye even be sure that she did with it what she should?"
    Matthew smiled, and his gaze drifted, as if she were nothing more than his own voice in his ear. Trudy wanted to pinch him to show him how real she was, but she was afraid to get that close. She had seen the strength in his arms beneath his bedclothes and had no doubt he could trap her if he desired.
    "Well?"
    Matthew brought his piercing gaze back to hers. "I have a feeling that Miss Meriwether is indeed the person she pretends to be. There was something quite genuine about her."
    "Oh? You think so?" Trudy asked, holding her breath, surprised by how much his opinion mattered. She was immensely flattered that her trick had been so well received.
    But, then, she had felt almost human. In his library, concerned for his welfare and wishing nothing more than that he would follow her, she had had all the doubts and fears that poor humans were subject to. If he had believed her, then her emotions must have added some truth to her performance.
    "Yes." He answered her question, and fatigue seemed to sweep relentlessly over him. His voice faltered. "I do believe she was genuine, so there is no cause for me to find her."
    "But don't ye want to? Aren't ye tired of being here inside this house, sitting in yer chair?"
    "Yes, I'm tired. But I am ill, too, and I shall not embarrass myself by falling down on my face in the street."
    "Oh, is that all it is?" Trudy felt relief. "Well, I can help ye with that."
    Matthew closed his eyes, and a derisive smile twisted his lips. "Delusion upon delusion," he murmured.
    "Not at all." Trudy drew herself up.
    She could help him. She knew she could, given time. It was not in her power to cure him with one simple tap of a fairy wand or a miraculous potion, but her magic was powerful nonetheless. If he would simply trust her enough to relax with her, then her voice alone would bring him some relief from his aches and pains. And if she could ever get him to promise that he would not try to capture her, her touch could do much more.
    She stood and tiptoed like a leaf in the wind closer to his head, not even leaving a dent in the coverlets. "Just keep yer eyes closed, mannie, while I talk to you," she said soothingly and saw him acquiesce. The muscles in his face seemed to relax.
    "You have a musical voice," he murmured.
    "Aye. I'm glad ye like it," she said. "It'll do ye some good."
    She could feel the pain easing out of his shoulders as she talked.
    "Just relax, mannie," she crooned. "Relax and think about me, or this Faye if ye want. No harm in a little thought."
    Another grin made his brows arch like a wolf's. "You think not?" he said. "Then your thoughts must be more innocent than mine."
    A rush of blood started in her toes and ended in her face, nearly making her choke.
    "Ye think what ye like, mannie, just don't tell me any of the details, mind?"
    "Never fear." A deep, rumbling chuckle stirred his chest, but Matthew kept his eyes closed.
    Which was a very good thing, Trudy decided, for her curiosity had brought her dangerously near his face again. She could reach out and touch his lips if she wanted, or run her fingers through his hair.
    And it was not at all curious that she should want to do these things, for she knew they were designed to give pleasure both ways, and countless elves had pleased themselves with humans thus. The danger lay in giving into this urge before the man could be lured into elfland. Once there, it would be he, and not she, who was trapped.
    "Let me sing to you, mannie," she whispered, "until you fall asleep."
     
    * * * *
     
    The next morning, Matthew was surprised by how well he felt. Sometime during the night, his fever had passed away without leaving him in its usual lake of perspiration, and it had not wrung him out