Moonspun Magic (Magic Trilogy 3)

“. . . I do like. . .“

“And this?” She felt his finger press inward, coming inside her with his sex, and she cried out, an eager, frustrated, wanting cry that made him feel like the lord and master of all the world.

Rafael increased his speed, his thrusts as powerful and deep as he could make them, all the while driving her distracted with his caressing and probing fingers. He felt her near her climax and concentrated on her movements, her reactions. When she broke, arching madly against him, crying softly, he thought he would yell himself from the wonder of it. Slowly he eased and soothed her; then, just when she was calming, he increased the pressure again.

To his immense pleasure, he felt her quicken and respond fully and naturally. And again he brought her to pleasure, only this time he joined her.

“You’re delightfully sweaty.”

Victoria heard his soft, drawling comment just outside her right ear. She wondered if she could speak. She could barely think. She was aware that her breasts were still heaving, as if she were starved for air. “Am I really?”

Well, three words that did make some sense wasn’t a bad beginning.

“Yes, you are.” He kissed her cheek and her throat. He was still deep inside her. “And you’re wonderful. You enjoyed yourself, Victoria.”

“Perhaps.”

“Twice, actually, and very loudly. I fear the walls of our room are rather thin. If we have neighbors, I do wonder what they are now doing. Or thinking.”

“Be quiet. I still don’t like you at all.”

“No liking, truly? And here I am still a part of you, a very deep part.”

She quivered, squeezing him inadvertently, and he moaned, his lips pressed against her shoulder. “Lovely,” he said, and wrapped himself tightly around her. “You’ve worn me to a bone, my dear. I believe I will nod off now. I’ve done my husbandly duty.”

Victoria found herself grinning in the darkness. Then she remembered her leg. Her breath caught in her throat. It was some moments before she realized that she was lying on her left side, that she’d been on her left side the entire time. He hadn’t touched her there, he hadn’t been able to. She’d been safe yet another time.

“I prefer to think of it as a wifely duty,” she said, and pushed her buttocks against his groin. She felt him tense and said, “Forgive me, I’m simply getting more comfortable.”

He laughed, kissed the back of her ear, cuddled closer, and was soon deeply asleep.

Victoria wasn’t. She felt him leaving her, slowly, but still he held her very close. She felt the thick hair of his chest against her smooth back. It felt good. Everything about him felt good. And exciting. And tantalizing. His legs were curved into the hollows of hers. She sighed.

“But I can’t be on my left side all my life,” she said in a small, very tired whisper to the now-silent bedchamber.

“Hmmm? Go back to sleep, Victoria,” came Rafael’s voice. “It’s still dark. We don’t have to get up yet.”

They reached the town of St. Agnes in good time the following morning. As Flash negotiated the narrow cobbled streets with more enthusiasm than skill, Victoria was leaning halfway out the carriage window, interested in everything.

Rafael pulled Gadfly alongside the carriage. “Look yon, Victoria. This is called the Stippy-Stappy—those long-stepped terraces of tin miners’ cottages. The men set off to work their shifts in West Kitty, Wheal Kitty, Blue Hills, just to name a few of the larger tin mines.”

“How do you know so much about these mines? Stippy-Stappy and the names?”

“I’m a manly man and thus automatically know these things,” he said.

“And that book I see in your pocket?”

The cobbled street narrowed and Rafael was forced to pull Gadfly ahead of the carriage. They turned onto High Street and Victoria marveled at the row after row of slate and granite cottages.

It was but a short distance to St. Agnes Head and the Demoreton property. Flash turned the carriage off the narrow country road some ten minutes later and they bowled down a narrow weed-infested drive to a Queen Anne manor house that was so entangled with ivy that Victoria felt a flood of depression. However would the interior look? she wondered, sinking fast in gloom.

Mr. Rinsey was just as Rafael had described him, and the manor house was a dismal place, to be sure, the Demoreton family having moved out some three months before, when another party had offered for the house, then met an untimely end before the sale could be finalized.

“So, unfortunately, the house has been empty,” said Mr. Rinsey apologetically. He was sweating profusely, Victoria noted, feeling quite sorry for him.

She said to Rafael, “It has possibilities if one hires a good dozen gardeners with shears to clear away all the ivy.”

“I agree. A baker’s dozen. Come inside and let’s see what’s in store for us there.”