Destiny's Magic by Martha Hix Page B

her there. She gasped at the feeling, her fingers curling into satin. Her woman place became moist, and begged for notice.
    She had another desire. She thirsted to taste him as she had seen him tasted. She wiggled away from his lips, shoved his shoulders to the mattress, and lowered her mouth to his chest.
    He tensed for a moment as her tongue darted out, her taste buds connecting to the damp, crinkled hair that swirled about his flat breast. Her lingua was not displeased. Neither were her hands. There was nothing soft about him, especially the erection that throbbed against her ribs as she worshiped his chest. His groan of surprise and delight thrilled her as she circled her tongue, encountering the prominent bumps that stood up and guarded his nipple. In her foray she hummed in her throat, loving the sensations. She took him into her mouth.
    â€œSorceress,” he uttered, and combed fingers into her hair. “Ye gods, what are you doing to me?”
    She didn’t answer. But her diligence took him to a higher quest for relief. He rolled her to a supine position, put his knee between hers, and damned the britches that impeded his entry. She wanted it. Oh, she did. It was then that a clock chimed at bedside.
    Her eyes went to the sound. The light may have been muted, but she recognized the apparatus. Her father had designed the mazelike device of silver balls and trick glides. In the matter of men , you have no more sense than God gave George III.
    It was wrong to trifle with a madman’s affection and expectations. She didn’t want Burke. She wanted England.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” he whispered as she wiggled away.
    â€œEverything.” Somehow she managed not to brush a tousled lock of hair from his brow.
    â€œYou said Paget was impotent. Does that mean he never had his way with you? That you’re a virgin?”
    â€œI’ve been touched.” She pulled her nightgown together.
    â€œWhy didn’t he marry you?”
    Glad to have the sensual mood broken, she had no trouble answering. “He already had a wife.”
    â€œI’ve never been married, ask anyone. As you said the other night, I’m well known.” Burke put his hand at her waist. “If you want marriage first, I’ll respect that.”
    â€œI do not want marriage. I thought I made myself quite clear on that issue.” She threw her legs over the side of the bed, shoved the netting aside, and surged to her feet. “You don’t want it either. Best you go to your aunt and get the lamp. Make your wish to be free of the first one.”
    â€œI thought I made myself quite clear on that issue,” he parroted. “You’ll waste your efforts if you fight the spell.”
    She charged for the hatch. It looked as though she needed to get a few wishes on that lamp for herself.
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    Burke knew better than to run after her. She would fight. A pitched battle didn’t suit him. It wouldn’t be easy, getting her to a preacher. But they would go. He’d become somewhat inured to the idea. Marriage. Forever. Marriage by magic.
    It set his teeth to honor Tessa O’Brien. He’d take great joy in repaying her for this. A devious thought wormed into his mind. Did the marriage have to last? Nothing said he and Susan need be wed forever. In this regard he had the helm. You’d better study on that one, O’Brien. No snap decisions.
    He lay back on the bed that held the faint scent of Susan, vanilla, and a hint of her heliotrope dusting powder. Ah, Susie Black-Eyes. She was magic. It almost wasn’t wretched to think of magic as it pertained to the unwilling bride. What she needed was a heavy case of seduction. That would get her mind right for magic-marriage.
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    Susan grew exasperated at her quest for magic. No matter her pleas, Phoebe O’Brien held on to the lamp. She may have offered her nephew a go at it, but no one else. Even after Susan explained no