A Lady and Her Magic (Faerie 1)

“Is something amusing?” he asked, his head tilting to the side as he regarded her.

“Not in the least.”

“I distinctly heard you snort, Miss Thorne.”

“Sophia, Your Grace,” she corrected. She’d get him to say it if it was the last thing she ever did.

“Ashley, Sophia,” he whispered with a large grin. She’d never had such an odd conversation in her life.

“Ashley,” she breathed, drawing his name out, enjoying the sound of it on her lips for as long as she could. “No one has called you that in a long time?”

“A very long time,” he said with a quick nod.

Sophia leaned her forehead against his and stayed there until he began to tickle her waist. “Stop!” she cried over her laughter.

“Stop… don’t stop…” he teased. “You really should make up your mind.”

She stilled within his grasp. She might be at his home to help his daughter, but to do so, she might have to help him as well. What would be the harm in allowing the duke to kiss her? Not nearly as much harm as having him play for her, obviously. She caught both his hands in hers and squeezed gently. “I wish I could tell you why I’m here,” she said softly. Then almost wished she could bite the words back. She could easily erase his memory with her dust. But that would be a travesty.

“I should escort you back to your room,” he said with resignation.

She’d offended him by being candid about her desire to reveal herself to him. B

ut he had no way of knowing that’s what she meant, did he? Now he probably thought she purposefully kept secrets from him. And to tell him more would serve no purpose, aside from easing her own conscience. It would allow her to grow even closer to him. That would not be a good thing. “I imagine I can’t linger here on your lap all night.”

“That would be an impossibility.” He sighed deeply. “You’re not safe in here.”

“Oh, posh.” She chastised him with a gentle slap on his shoulder. “I’m perfectly safe with you.”

“You’re in my lap, dearest, and have been for more than a few minutes.”

It felt like a lifetime. Like it could be a lifetime. “And you haven’t harmed me. You make it sound like you’re some great beast with no self-control.”

“Self-control can only take one so far,” he said with a grunt.

She took a deep breath and then asked the question she knew she shouldn’t ask. “Will you play for me? For just a moment?” Perhaps she would be able to figure out why the music drew her to him, like a moth to a flame. It was absurd that it affected her so much more than other music did. But it was so beautiful. So compelling. So… perfect.

He removed his hand from her hip and laid it upon the keys. She held her breath. Then he hit a key, and the sweetest of music reached her ears. His fingers moved over the keys in the same motion he’d used to tickle her. He stiffened a little beneath her as he leaned forward and played a quick tune. She turned toward the piano, and his free hand caressed the outside of her thigh. His fingernails very gently ruched the fabric of her nightrail. She couldn’t determine which was more powerful, his fingertips playing across her skin or his playing of the piano. One warred with the other.

“I should escort you to your bedchamber,” he said again with a sigh as his fingers slowed and then stopped.

She supposed that he should. His hand fell from her thigh, and he gave her bottom a bump to eject her from his lap. She rose quickly and circled around the bench. “I can find my own way back,” she said. But could she? Not very likely. She didn’t even remember how she’d gotten to his chamber in the first place. Sophia glanced down at her nightrail and immediately felt much too exposed. “Oh, dear,” she muttered.

Ashley crossed to his bed and picked up his robe, then draped it over her shoulders. “You can’t walk back looking like that.” He smiled broadly at her. “If my footmen saw you in your nightrail, I’d never be able to get them back on task.”

How ridiculous. “I highly doubt they’d notice.”

“I can’t do anything but notice,” the duke muttered. She closed the robe around her body. It hung all the way to the floor. Only a complete ninny would journey out without appropriate clothing. She flexed her toes in the rug.

“Would you like for me to carry you?”

Her heart leapt at the very idea.

“That won’t be necessary. But thank you.” It was almost as though she was turning down tea, rather than his actual proposal that he wrap her up in his strong arms and carry her all the way back to her chamber. How scandalous.

He walked to his door and turned the handle slowly. “Shall we?” he asked, as he held out his crooked elbow.

Shall we walk back to your bedchamber and pretend like I’m not in my nightrail, wearing your robe? Why, certainly! She took his arm, relishing the way his muscles contracted as soon as her fingers wrapped around him.