A Lady and Her Magic (Faerie 1)

“Much better,” she sighed as she shook her curls slightly and turned her face up toward the sun.

“Lovely,” he murmured.

“It is a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she asked as she sat down on the bench. He settled beside her. He wasn’t referring to the pretty

day. Not at all.

“You’re not concerned about the sun?”

She suddenly looked startled. “Should I be?” She pointed to her nose. “You don’t like my freckles?” Then she grinned. A grin that nearly split his heart in two.

Impulsively, he learned forward and placed a quick kiss to the tip of her nose. “I think your freckles are lovely.”

“They’re not normal in your society, are they?” she said with a grimace.

“Neither are you, Miss Thorne,” he replied gently. Thank God she wasn’t the stereotypical society lady.

“I regret that I can’t be more socially acceptable.”

He thought she was perfect just the way she was. “I’m a bit of a pariah, myself. So, I certainly can’t judge your acceptability.” He took a deep breath for fortification. Then rushed on. “In fact, your reputation could be torn to shreds just by being in my company.”

Her face softened and she reached for his hand. She couldn’t have surprised him more if she’d grown two heads. He turned his hand over and gripped hers. Probably too tightly. But she didn’t draw back. “I’ll take my chances,” she said. She looked up toward the sun and inhaled deeply. Then she faced him. “Tell me your story, Ashley,” she said.

He tried to draw his hand back, but she squeezed it tightly. He looked deeply into her eyes. Was she real? Was she a figment of his imagination? His dreams? His wants? Was she an apparition? Would she disappear just as soon as he got used to having her around? Probably.

“I don’t want to know the rumors. I want to know about you,” she said. “You’re known for being a recluse.”

“I appreciate my privacy.”

“Your daughter is delightful.”

“You’re the only one who thinks so,” he said with a laugh. “Aside from me, that is.”

“You were never formally accused of killing your wife.” She looked up at him from beneath her heavy lashes.

“No, I wasn’t.” This time he did draw his hand back. He used it to smooth his trousers.

“But you may as well have been.”

“Probably,” he said cryptically. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t you want to ask if I did it?”

“No.” That’s all she said. Just no? He didn’t expound upon it.

She jumped to her feet and started down the garden path. “Where are you going?” he called to her retreating back.

She spun to face him and spun back all in one big breath. “To see how Anne fares on her treasure hunt,” she said mid-spin.

She brought up the subject of his dead wife and wanted to know nothing about it? Everyone wanted to know about it. It was all people talked about. Ashley jumped to his feet and rushed after her. He caught her hand. “Will you come and visit me tonight?” he asked anxiously as he drew her hand up to his mouth. He probably looked like an overeager puppy. But he didn’t care.

“Will you be playing?” she asked, her mouth lifting in a grin that was absolutely adorable.

A smile tugged at his own lips. He’d done without a smile for so many years; it seemed foreign to feel so lighthearted all of a sudden. “Does it matter?” he asked. How did his playing of the pianoforte figure into her decision?

“If you’re playing, I’ll have little choice in the matter,” she said. Then she darted in the direction Anne had gone, and he had to run to keep up with her.

He’d be playing. For damn certain, he’d be playing.

Ten