Read The Magic of His Touch (May Day Mischief) for Free Online Page A

whirled and punched him soundly on the shoulder.
    He caught her hand before she could do it again. “Shh,” he
whispered. “We’re not alone.”
    “I know that. I’m not deaf,” she hissed, trying to free her
hand, to no avail. “Let me go!”
    “Not on your life.” He pulled her close and clamped his arms
around her. “Hush.”
    That laugh drifted up again, a man’s laugh, not far away. Peony
remained absolutely still, staring over Sir Alexis’s shoulder, only her splayed
hands separating her from his chest.
    Who would be out here at this time of night? Everyone should be
in bed by now.
    Meanwhile, Sir Alexis was ruining everything again. She
wriggled in his grip, trying to push away, and he loosened slightly, only to
tighten his arms again, one hand firm on her waist, the other around her back.
Her nipples sprang to aching attention as they brushed his chest.
    Desire crashed over her. A shudder coursed from her breasts to
her belly to her privates, and now her heart’s pounding had nothing to do with
fear. Her fingers crept up his chest of their own accord. It was all she could
do to stop them from making their way up his shoulders and around his neck.
    His heart beat powerfully beneath her fingers. His hot hands
shifted on her back, one squeezing her waist, the other moving downward. His
breathing quickened.
    So did hers, and she found herself moving against him, the
tingling in her breasts becoming an ache, golden fingers of desire moving and
spreading and shimmering...
    A muffled curse brought her to her senses. She froze. Whispers,
faint and unintelligible, floated through the darkness. That curse had surely
been feminine. The whispers slowly faded away.
    She turned her head slightly. “Do you hear them anymore?” Their
lips were mere inches apart.
    “No,” he said, so close his hot breath made her tremble.
    “Thank heavens.” Her heart beat wildly. Her lips yearned for
his.
    “Oh, God,” he said, and kissed her.
    * * *
    She gave a little moan and let him, opening her mouth
shyly beneath his, leaning into him. She put her arms around his neck and
clung.
    And then broke the kiss and shoved away, kicking and clawing
like a barnyard cat. He let her go.
    “You mustn’t!” she said, her voice catching on a sob.
    “I beg your pardon. You’re a lovely, tempting lady. I couldn’t
resist.”
    “What complete nonsense.” She dashed her hands at her eyes.
Dear God, he’d made her cry. Then he remembered something Lucasta had
said—everyone thought Peony unattractive.
    “It’s not nonsense,” he said. “I find you very beautiful.”
    For a long moment, there was silence but for the sounds of the
night. “That’s most kind of you,” she said in a tight, unhappy voice, “but will
you please go away and leave me alone?”
    Not again . “No, I will not leave you. Your lover, if he
has the courage, will have to deal with me.”
    * * *
    “I have no lover!” Peony moaned. Why wouldn’t he believe
her?
    “Miss Whistleby, you deserve better,” he said for the third
time since they’d met. “I cannot leave you alone out here.” His voice, so
protective and kind, made her want to cast herself into his arms again.
    No, that wasn’t the effect of his voice. It was the result of
faulty magic, just as the kiss had been. Oh, no, he’d been affected by the spell, too! There was no other
explanation. Once she reversed it, she wouldn’t like him more than any other
man, and he wouldn’t think her beautiful anymore.
    That made her want to weep, but she firmed her resolve. “You must leave me.”
    He crossed his arms and didn’t budge. “That would be monstrous
of me and utterly unbefitting the conduct of a gentleman.”
    “Kissing me when you are betrothed to another is conduct
unbefitting a gentleman,” she said hotly, and immediately regretted her
outburst. She at least knew she was under the effect of magic, but he didn’t.
“I’m not blaming you. You couldn’t help yourself,