Moonspun Magic (Magic Trilogy 3)

“Very well, I was picturing myself taking off your clothes very slowly and looking at you very thoroughly.”

His eyes silvered and darkened.

“And unbuttoning your breeches.”

It was some moments before he managed to say, “I did ask you, didn’t I? Let’s go down to dinner before I let you and before I ravish you with but half a day to go.” He offered her his arm.

She said as she slipped her hand through the crook of his arm, “I want you to promise me that you will be careful. I would appreciate your telling me all about your, er, assignment, but I’m patient. Will you be careful?”

“I’m always careful,” he said. And that, Victoria thought, was that.

Before joining Elaine and Damien in the drawing room, Victoria and Rafael visited Damaris.

“Torie.”

“Yes, love, oh how very sweet you smell. Did Nanny Black give you your bath?”

“Yes, and it’s you again, Uncle Rafill.”

“Perhaps you’d best just call me Uncle, Damaris.”

“Uncle,” the child dutifully repeated. She threw her arms round Victoria’s legs, then allowed Rafael to lift her high in his arms and toss her into the air. The squealing brought Nanny Black quickly into the nursery.

“Oh, it’s you, Master Rafael, Miss Victoria. The child was a grubby mess, but she could speak of nothing but all her fun. Time for your bed, little miss. Come along now.”

Damaris didn’t have any intention of docilely following Nanny Black to bed. She set up a tantrum that would have shortly brought every servant to the nursery, believing murder was being committed.

“Enough, young lady.”

Damaris stopped mid-yell. She stared at Rafael. She tried one final cry, only to be cut off. “I said, Damaris Carstairs, that your performance is ended. You will kiss me and Victoria good night. Then you will obey Nanny Black. And that is the end of it, my child.”

To Victoria’s absolute astonishment, Damaris gave Rafael a very brief pouting frown, then grinned at him. She followed his orders to the letter.

“Goodness, that was impressive,” said Victoria as Rafael led her out of the nursery.

“Like sailors, children need to know their limits,” said Captain Carstairs. “What is appropriate on board ship—or in the nursery—and what is not.”

“As reigning adult in the nursery just now, you decided she’d gone beyond the limits.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t quibble about that,” Victoria said, and sighed.

“That also applies to women.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Limits, Victoria, limits. On board ship, in the nursery, in the bedroom, limits are the essence of control.”

“I’m going to hit you with that naked marble statue of Diana.”

Rafael merely smiled, then said abruptly, “I don’t care for ‘Torie.’ I don’t like it. I shall have to come up with something else, something quite original, of course.”

“Oh, dear,” Victoria said, “I dread to hear it. Have you any ideas as yet?”

“Nary a one, but I will contrive.”

Dinner at Drago Hall that evening was enlivened by Rafael’s telling of young Joan Newdowns’ rape by men in a new, revived Hellfire Club. He was doing it on purpose, of course, Victoria thought.