Moonspun Magic (Magic Trilogy 3)

“Why?” she asked helplessly.

Damien opened his eyes at that moment to see his wife staring down at him. “Hello,” he said. “Where is Rafael?”

“I’m here. All is taken care of. All of it.”

“Good,” said Damien. “We succeeded.” He closed his eyes, but his fingers tightened on his wife’s hand. “I’ll be all right,” he said, then fell into a stupor.

Victoria tugged at Rafael’s sleeve. “Tell me,” she said.

“Elaine, would you like to remain with him?”

“Yes,” she said. She gave Rafael one long look, then turned to speak to Dr. Ludcott.

Rafael and Victoria walked silently, side by side, down the corridor. “Why did you do it?”

“To protect you,” he said simply, hearing the anger in her voice, understanding the awful fear she must have experienced, and sorry for it. “I had to make you believe I was here and not away. I knew you would do everything, move heaven and hell, to help me, otherwise. I wasn’t about to take a chance with your safety, Victoria.”

“And that is that?”

“Yes, it is. The Ram—you will never guess who he is.”

“No, since I wasn’t allowed to help draw the curtain down on this intrigue, I couldn’t possibly guess.”

“Squire Esterbridge.”

That silenced her. She stared up at him, incredulous. “And David?”

“No part of the filthy little group. His father evidently wouldn’t let him join. He knew David would recognize him sooner or later.”

“You and Damien planned this, then?”

“Yes.”

Victoria stopped suddenly, grabbed his arm, and pulled him about to face her. “I have never been so frightened in my entire life. The bullet . . . it slammed you—rather, Damien—against the wall. I was useless. I screamed and cried. You’re probably right to have kept me from your plans. I would have ruined everything.”

He grinned, that heart-pounding, white-toothed grin that made her want to kiss his face again and again. “You love me,” he said. “You proved that you can’t live without me.”

She gave him a look of acute dislike. “You, or Damien, as it turns out, made an awful mess. That was probably what scared me so much. All that ghastly blood."’

He frowned at that. “Hmmm.”

She poked him hard in the stomach. “What did you do with the squire?”

“Nothing. It’s his choice. If he isn’t too batty, he will leave England immediately, but he’s floundering mentally.”

“Poor David.”

“Poor David, ha. That callous little bully doesn’t deserve any kind words from you, love. But I do. Just look at me, Victoria. A weary but triumphant warrior returned to you from the wars. I need succoring at your soft breast, and you could—”

“Make you a cup of tea, perhaps?”

“That’s all you’re offering to a hero?” he said, and that damned smile of his was hovering, ready to burst forth in full force and do her in.

“I can put brandy in your tea.”

“Is that so? You know what I was just thinking, Victoria? We have brought the Ram to a kind of justice. Now, about this fellow who’s called the Bishop, you know, that smuggler. What do you say we journ

ey to Axmouth again, and use you for bait, and try to find out . . . Hey, where are you going?”