Moonspun Magic (Magic Trilogy 3)

“I believe Victoria and I will excuse ourselves now, gentlemen.” With those few words Elaine rose and looked pointedly at Victoria. Victoria wanted to tell her that she was still hungry, but she dutifully followed her cousin from the dining room.

In the huge entryway, beside a rusted suit of Flemish armor, Victoria said lightly, “Ligger will be upset that you didn’t wait for him to pull back your chair, Elaine. Remember how he gave you those looks when we first came to Drago Hall?”

“I didn’t wish to wait any longer.” She gave Victoria a look that could only be described as contemptuous and said, “It appeared that your husband was ready to toss up your skirts right there. I didn’t wish to be witness to any further improper behavior. On second thought, I think you would have unfastened his breeches without a by-your-leave.”

Victoria stared at her, stunned.

“Oh, yes, I can imagine what you do with him. I imagine he uses you in unnatural and—”

“You will be quiet. You are a silly prig.” Victoria felt washed clean as the words left her mouth. Finally she’d said exactly what she wanted to. She held her head high and marched into the drawing room, her heels clicking loudly on the black marble tile. If she thought she’d done her cousin in, she was soon to be shown her mistake.

“Don’t think you can return here and try to seduce my husband again.”

Victoria closed her eyes a moment. She’d never heard Elaine speak in such a low, dangerous tone. So she had guessed. Thus the reason for her attacks. Why not tell Elaine the truth of the matter? She shook her head. She’d always heard that pregnant women should be spared unpleasantness. It could cause miscarriages and other dire results. To relieve her own spleen simply wasn’t worth the possible consequences.

“Elaine,” she said instead as she slowly turned to face her cousin, “I don’t even like Damien, at least as nothing more than a brother-in-law. Why do you say that?’

“Of course you like him. You married a man who is his very image. You couldn’t have Damien, so you settled for his twin. It is all very obvious to me, Victoria.”

“I married Rafael despite the fact that he and Damien are mirror images. You are being ridiculous, Elaine. I’m not lying, you know. Oh, no more, please. Won’t you play the pianoforte for me? I haven’t heard anyone who plays as well as you since I left.”

“Even you must realize that Rafael married you only for your money. And we know well why you married him. God, I wish you hadn’t come back.” When Victoria said nothing, Elaine gave her white shoulders a petulant shrug and strode like a small ship with a heavy cargo to the pianoforte in the corner of the drawing room.

She was playing Mozart’s C Major sonata when the gentlemen came in. Rafael paused, clearly startled. He had expected Elaine to be inept in all things, accomplished primarily in gossip and pettiness. She played beautifully. That would teach him, he thought, to make snap judgments about people. He sat beside his wife and took her hand in his and laid it on his thigh.

He whispered in her ear, “How many more nights am I to be celibate?”

He sighed, raised his left hand, and began to count off on his fingers.

Elaine executed a brilliant arpeggio and crashed down on a final chord.

“Two,” Rafael said, and clapped with great enthusiasm.

“That was beautiful, Elaine,” Victoria called out. “Please, play one of your French ballads.”

Elaine sang too, and Rafael found himself again surprised. Her voice was clear and strong. He watched his brother stroll to the piano and join his wife, his own tenor voice as melodious as hers.

“Are you also talented?” Victoria asked her husband.

“No, I sound like a rusty wheel.”

“So, you get ill riding in a closed carriage and you have no musical talent. I’m beginning to wonder about the wisdom of my bargain, Rafael.”

“Unfortunately I’m constrained to wait to prove to you that your decision to wed me is the wisest one you will ever make.”

“They are really quite good together,” Victoria said, ignoring him. Bitterness crept into her voice. “If Damien would but realize it.”

“I don’t care, but he will realize soon enough that he can’t have you.”

Victoria believed him. “He must realize that he will have to leave me alone now. Besides,” she added, her voice hardening, “I’m no longer a young virgin to be victimized. Surely he can’t still be interested.”

“I would be,” Rafael said, his voice as serious as she’d ever heard. “What the devil does virginity have to do with anything? Actually, discovering you were a virgin was frightening. I was concerned about hurting you. No, very little fun at all.”

“Bosh. I don’t believe you. Had I not been a virgin, you would have berated me until I was deaf, then sent me to a moldering estate in Northumberland.”

“Along with some chicken blood,” he said.

“It’s not amusing, Rafael.”