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

but—”
    “Of course I could have, and I apologize.”
    There was no point arguing; he wouldn’t understand. “There is
something I must do out here, right now, and I—and I would rather you weren’t
present.”
    “Why? Does it involve disrobing?”
    A blush soared up her cheeks. Thankful for the darkness, she
said, “No,” but she couldn’t keep the regret from her voice or the images from
her mind...of taking off her clothing in front of Sir Alexis, and...of him
removing his clothes, as well.
    His voice was a caress. “Then why does it matter whether I’m
here?”
    She recalled herself to sanity with a huge shudder. She took a
deep breath and let it out. And another. She didn’t want him there, and yet when
she imagined him leaving, imagined being all alone again in the night, she
couldn’t help but be glad of his presence.
    Maybe it was all for the best. She would be safe, and he would
forget the nonsense about her being beautiful and think of her as nothing but a
superstitious fool.
    “I’m here to undo some magic,” she said.
    * * *
    He couldn’t bring himself to be unkind about it. Whether
or not magic was real didn’t matter as much as how it affected Peony. “What sort
of magic?”
    “To counteract what you saw me doing this morning,” she said, a
tiny tremor in her voice. She was embarrassed, he thought, and more than a
little aroused at the memory. As was he.
    “You were practicing magic this morning?” Naked magic , he was tempted to add, but he stopped
himself.
    “I don’t practice magic,” she said. “I wouldn’t know how.
Often, I don’t even know what’s real and what isn’t. I was just trying out a—a
custom, and I’ve realized that I did something terribly wrong, so now I’m going
to try to undo it.”
    “What sort of custom?” Damn, did that sound a little
derisive?
    “A folk custom, like wishing upon a star or keeping a rabbit’s
foot for luck.”
    “And this custom involves nakedness?” he asked before he could
stop himself.
    “Yes,” she retorted, “which means undoing it involves being
clothed. If you will simply stay here and keep watch, I shall go into the meadow
and take care of it.”
    “Take care of what? What are you undoing?”
    “Does it matter? You wouldn’t believe in it anyway.” She
marched away into the meadow.
    He kept watch with a tenderness of a sort he’d never felt
before, never would have believed himself capable of feeling. What determination
in her slender figure! Such passion in every roll! Such indefatigable
insistence...on a mission which made no sense at all.
    After a while she stopped rolling and lay still. Her chest rose
and fell in the moonlight. God, how he wanted this woman.
    She turned onto her side, curled up and... Dear God, she was
shaking. Was she weeping?
    He strode into the meadow and knelt beside her, laying a gentle
hand on her arm. “My dear Miss Whistleby—”
    She shook her head, shivering, then hiccupped on a sob. “It
didn’t work, and now I don’t know what to do .”
    He sighed long and slowly. He removed his coat, spread it on
the ground and stretched himself beside her. He lifted her off the cold, damp
meadow and into his arms. “Don’t cry. Everything will be all right, I promise
you.”
    She shuddered and shook her head. “I’m not crying.”
    He kissed her hair. “I don’t know what you were trying to undo,
but from my point of view, everything is perfect. I’m lying in a moonlit meadow
with the most beautiful girl in the world.”
    * * *
    She couldn’t bear it. “Please don’t say such things.
Please don’t. It’s not right. It’s not real.”
    “Of course it is.” He dropped a soft kiss on her brow. It felt
so kind and sweet and wonderful, and anguish roiled through her, because this
love didn’t belong to her.
    The next kiss, at the corner of her eye, took her by surprise.
A long quiver echoed down her spine. “Blue eyes, cornflower blue,” he said.
“Since I can’t see their