Read UNDER A CHRISTMAS SPELL for Free Online Page A

loyalty,” she said.
    He shrugged again. “I know enough.” He left.
    She locked the door behind him, threw herself onto the bed and wept her heart out. What a strange expression, she thought, when at last she reached the stage of exhaustion. Her heart still resided in her breast, and it didn’t intend to change its mind about loving Val.
    She should have known better than to bed him; it had only opened old wounds. He despised her. He didn’t even want to understand.
    * * *
    What an idiot he’d been. He’d believed nothing remained between them but animal attraction. He’d thought to share some pleasure with her, nothing more. He should have known better than to think they could indulge their physical passion without emotions elbowing their way in and spoiling it.
    She didn’t love him. He already knew that; had known for years. An incubus shouldn’t be so susceptible, shouldn’t care so much, but the fact remained that he’d fallen in love once and for all, and nothing would change that.
    Once he’d realized the hopelessness of it all, he should have reverted to logic. Considering the agony he’d gone through, first because of the betrayal and then in fear that he would have to kill Lucie, he should have leaped at the chance of an explanation—a cool, rational discussion of what she had done and why. Instead, his bruised heart had taken charge and he’d sneered at her.
    And upset her. Tears had glimmered in her eyes as he’d left. She no doubt deserved it, but that didn’t mean he liked being the one who’d made her cry.
    He’d thought her dead to all tender feelings. After the betrayal, she had shunned him entirely. She’d refused to even look him in the eye—a fool’s move, since it made her as good as a traitor confessed. Could it be...that she’d avoided him from a sense of shame?
    Why would she claim loyalty unless she felt he’d misjudged her? Or was this claim merely another act?
    Oh, hell. How should he know? Maybe he should get it over with and just leave.
    Or maybe he should find out what was really going on. Hope, massive and most likely unjustified, swelled with him. He would stay a little longer—at least until he knew the real reason he’d been sent to Westerly House.
    * * *
    Eventually, Lucille fell asleep. She woke on Christmas morning determined to make headway with her mission, but even a traitor and former spy couldn’t attempt to send dreams in church—even though many people tended to nod off during the sermon. She chuckled at the thought of the mischief one could create. What a pity she couldn’t share the jest with Val, but she had to stay away from him. She dressed and went with the rest of the party in a pious and subdued frame of mind.
    Val didn’t come. He stayed in his bedchamber, citing his wound as an excuse. “Entirely appropriate,” said one of the obnoxious fathers. “Such a man should not be allowed across the threshold of a church.”
    Lucie couldn’t contain her indignation. “Why not? He did his duty. You have no right to judge whether he is beyond redemption.”
    “Everyone should be welcome at church,” Theodora said. “They certainly are in my father’s parish.”
    “As they are here,” Lord Westerly said, silencing everyone.
    The old stone church, all that was left of the abbey from long ago, was decked in greenery, the choir enthusiastic if somewhat off-key, the vicar a gentle sort of man. Lucille found herself pondering the meaning of Christmas. On earth peace , good will toward men . Shouldn’t this be a time for forgiveness? For new beginnings? But there could be no new beginning with Val.
    As they returned home, she thought about sending dreams to Lord Westerly. She didn’t want to. Perhaps in a few days she would manage to drum up the necessary interest, but she doubted it. She might be a succubus by birth or magical talent or whatever it was that gave one such powers, but she was no longer a succubus at heart. Not that that stopped