Moonspun Magic (Magic Trilogy 3)

He hadn’t touched her sexually during the past five nights, save for holding her while she slept, and of course she’d worn a full flannel nightgown. But tonight, if he were to make love to her in the blackest pit on earth, he would still feel the dreadful ridged scar along the outside of her left thigh. She also knew that tonight he was impatient with her so-called ugliness and would touch every inch of her.

In an unconscious gesture her fingers went unerringly to the scar and slowly she began to knead the muscles through her gown and petticoats.

When she realized what she was doing, her eyes went to her husband’s face and she said, her voice sounding distressed to Rafael’s ears, “I’m very tired, Rafael.”

He wasn’t certain what kind of game she was playing with him, but he only smiled, refusing to join in. “You may nod off over your blancmange.” He gave an ostentatious look at his watch. “I will give you fifteen minutes, no more.”

She was more than aware of the determination in his voice.

“Stop it!” She jumped to her feet, her chair skidding over and falling with a muffled thud on Mrs. Fooge’s thick wool rug.

Her yell sounded very loud in the small private parlor and neither of them was surprised to hear Mr. Fooge call from outside the closed door, “Is anything wrong, Master Rafael?”

“Everything is fine, Mr. Fooge. My wife merely slipped, but she is unhurt.”

They heard a grunt, a flurry of low voices, then Mr. Fooge’s retreating footsteps.

Rafael regarded her from beneath lowered eyelashes. She was excessively upset, as if she’d just recalled something that bothered her immensely. What could it be? Before, she’d been excessively desirous of bedding him. Impossible for him to be mistaken about that.

“What has changed, Victoria?” He started, surprised that he’d spoken aloud.

“Changed?” she repeated in a wary voice, keeping her distance. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you quite clearly wanted me earlier, but now you seem . . . well, terrified of bedding me. I am just a man, my dear, and am feeling justly confused.”

Victoria looked him straight in his beautiful eyes. “I don’t want you. Now, that is. I’m tired. Truly. I’m going to bed.”

He said nothing for many moments, merely looked at her. “Very well,” he said at last, stretching his arms above his head and leaning his head back. “Good night, my dear Victoria. Sleep well. I’ll wake you early. Mr. Rinsey will be meeting us at the Demoreton property at eleven o’clock in the morning.”

She stood there staring at him, feeling like a reefed sail on calm water. She wasn’t quite certain what she’d expected him to say or do after her announcement, but utter disinterest wasn’t on her list.

“Must I give you a good-night kiss?”

She fled from the private parlor, his voice echoing in her mind.

Victoria didn’t fall asleep for a very long time. It seemed to her at least a fortnight, but as she had no watch, she had no way of knowing.

Rafael looked down at her outline, clear in the moonlight from the window. She was sleeping soundly on her left side. Her hair was loose and fanned about her head on the pillow. Her right leg was drawn up, and that made him grin. It seemed that even in her sleep, Victoria’s body wanted to yield to him, to give him an unmistakable, quite splendid invitation.

He was quickly naked, his clothing folded neatly over the back of the single chair. As quietly as he could, he slipped under the covers beside her. The bed was thankfully firm and didn’t form a trough in the middle as he eased over next to her. She remained asleep, still on her left side. Slowly he began to inch up her nightgown.

“Silly little wench,” he whispered. She muttered something in her sleep and obligingly shifted her weight when he eased her nightgown over her thighs.

He gazed down at her long slender legs and her quite delicious hips. Round and soft, so inviting that he couldn’t keep his hands off her. He touched her as lightly as a moth’s wings, and when he couldn’t bear it any longer, he pressed his middle finger gently between her parted thighs, searching and probing and entering her finally. She was incredibly hot, small and tender, and he closed his eyes and groaned.

He eased down beside her and slowly guided himself into her. He couldn’t believe the feelings that slashed through him as she took more and more of him. Her smallness, the unconscious squeezing of her muscles that held him firmly, then drew him deep into her, made him nearly wild with lust. He wanted her awake now, and began to knead her soft belly with his right hand as he slipped his left arm beneath her.

“Victoria,” he said between light, nipping kisses on her right earlobe, her throat, her cheek. “Come on, love, wake up for me, feel me, yell for me.”

Victoria woke up. She was stunned. She didn’t move, but it was just for an instant. He was inside her and his fingers were now roving down her belly to touch her She was flooded with the

most wonderful feelings imaginable. “Oh,” she whispered.

Rafael pressed his palm against her, pushing her hips back against him, driving his member deeper. When his fingers found her, her breath exploded in gasps from her throat and she tried to twist around so he could kiss her.

“I can’t, Victoria. Shove back with your hips. That’s right. Now, just enjoy. You like this, don’t you?” His fingers deepened their rhythmic pressure and she quivered.

“Don’t you?”