Lady X

genes.

She knew her daughter, and believed Exerilla would never give in to those dark temptations. She thought she was sure of this, and still a doubt flickered through her mind.

* * *

Exerilla and Anne had found some very fine dark green lengths of discarded fabric in the attic. With every intention of making drapes, Exerilla sprawled out on the floor of the drawing room, with the material spread out around her.

She looked at the fabric and then the needle and grimaced. Who was she kidding…she couldn’t sew!

She growled right out loud and looked around. No one was about. She may not be much with a needle and thread, but she was pretty good with easy magic. She didn’t really need her wand for a simple spell. She twinkled happily at the thought of calling on magic. It was a natural thing, like licking ones lips when one was hungry, or drinking when one was thirsty, and damn, she was thirsty.

She blinked and one panel was done, but as she examined her handiwork and smiled over the simplicity and perfection of her magic, she sighed. Perhaps she should learn how to sew, know the joy of creating with her own hand. The door opened and displayed Anne with three gentlemen at her back. Three very familiar gentlemen.

Anne was flushed, because his lordship MacTorry was flirting outrageously with her, while the other two were jesting back and forth. She had asked them to wait in the central hall. Being who they were, they had followed Anne, unabashed to where the poor plump and older woman attempted to get control of the situation at hand.

Exerilla laughed at the chaos. Sir Jacob said with a grin, “See there, Miss Anne—isn’t it just as we said it would be? Miss Radley is pleased to see us.”

X scrambled to her feet, brushed and smoothed the clinging green material of her gown, and stood to say, “Pleased, is too strong an adjective to express what I feel at this moment.”

Anne replied, eyeing the gentlemen at her back glaringly, though a twinkle lit in her eye and the hint of a smile curved her lips, “Humph…now shoo, shoo.”

“Miss Radley, don’t say you won’t see us,” Sir Jacob called out jovially. “Though I understand if you would like me to show these two out…?” He indicated with a devilish grin directed at both Hunter and Jerry Swit.

“Sir Jacob! How wonderful of you to call,” X said brightly, ignoring the other two gentlemen.

“Uh-oh,” said his lordship. “Sir Jacob gets such a greeting from ye lass, and not even a glance for me?”

“I do heartily apologize, but I couldn’t stop these two from tagging along,” Sir Jacob said on a chuckle. “They are staying with me at the Towers and dog my every move.” He laughed at that for his lordship cast him a withering glance.

Anne cut in at this juncture and hurriedly said, “Well then, seeing as ye know these scamps, oi’ll jest go fetch a tray of coffee and biscuits.” She stopped suddenly and pushed the door open wider and added, “And seeing as Mrs. Horwich is not at home, oi’ll be leaving the door open, oi will.”

Exerilla smiled broadly and tried not to look at Hunter MacTorry. “Thank you, Anne.”

She discovered herself weak-willed and could not help a quick glance his way when she thought he wasn’t looking. Her hasty glance reminded her that his hair was just as long and silky black, as she had remembered, and his eyes, just as blue and twinkling as they had been two days before.

She still found Swit to be quite detestable.

Exerilla indicated with a wave of her fluttering fingers for the gentleman to be seated and took up a place on the brown velvet sofa. She smiled warmly toward Sir Jacob, and asked, “Are you settled in at Cressly Towers?”

“Just about. These two keep me forever larking, but I’ve managed to see my estate agent, and there is a horde of things we’ll have to attend to,” he spread out his hands, “But all in good time. It can’t be done overnight, and it is my fault for allowing the place to go to rack and ruin.” He shook his head. “Nothing that a little blunt and attention can’t set right and tight, see if it won’t.”

Exerilla only half listened to all of this as MacTorry had taken a seat beside her on the sofa and she found she couldn’t concentrate on anything or anyone else. What the heck was wrong with her—because something was definitely off kilter? She just wasn’t a shy little miss.

Hunter MacTorry seemed to use up all the airspace that he inhabited. He simply sucked out all the oxygen in the room, emitting it in waves of stardust that had her enthralled. She was losing her marbles. She was sure of it, because she was finding it hard to breathe.

If that wasn’t bad enough, she could feel his blue eyes taunting her in that style that was all his own. She had this sudden urge to look into those eyes, dive into their inner depths and see just who and what he was.

She shook this fancy off and had to concentrate to stop thinking about him. He seemed so much more than human, but without her wand, she could only rely on her witch’s intuition and that told her he was not a warlock.

She could see his smile and she could see the line of his vision. His gaze flitted over her lips then moved slowly down over her neckline, further still and with a sudden rush of heat; she realized he was looking at her nipples poking at the material of her gown. Her nipples were hard because of him and getting tight and sensitive even though he had already and imperceptibly returned his gaze to her face.

His blue eyes penetrated and demanded she return his attention. Had he been a creature of magic, she would have been suspicious that he was attempting to use some of that magic on her. But that was ridiculous. He was not a man of magic. She was certain she felt none of the residue magic leaves behind emanating from him. His magnetism was a viable entity and seemed to define a presence about him. Oh, she had to stop this. She was letting fantasy take over her mind!

His voice was like a gentle caress as he said, “Jacob tells us you are quite the horsewoman.”

She was surprised that they talked about her. She inclined her head, wondering where he meant to take this. Although he had said it in an idle manner, she knew better. It was headed somewhere, so she was cautious in replying, “I enjoy the sport.”

“Good, then it is settled,” Swit stuck in at once, pulling up a chair to sit close enough that as he leaned onto his bent knee with his elbow, she felt he was invading her space. She wanted to kick the chair out from under him, but controlled the urge to do so.