Magic in the Stars by Patricia Rice Page A

assumed from this angle that it
formed a giant U or perhaps a square. Not a single rose bush adorned the walls.
No pretty shutters or ivy lightened the heavy stone. The portico was slate and
marble without a single potted tree or flower to welcome guests.
    A groom came running. At least they had not misplaced all their servants.
    “Send for a physician,” his lordship snapped. “Jack is hurt.
We’ll need horses to haul the carriage out of the ditch and a blacksmith for
the wheel. I’ll send whichever of the layabouts I can find to help push it.”
    “Aye, milord.” The groom tugged his forelock. “The team just
ran in. I have fresh cattle saddled and ready.”
    Aster struggled to free herself, but the ground was a long
way down.
    Lord Theo effortlessly swung off, holding her in the saddle
until his boots were on the stairs. He lifted her down as if she were a sack of
flour and carried her up to the door.
She was being helplessly hauled about in a man’s arms! He might not be the size
of an ox like some of his family, but surely he had the strength of two men. His
hand was on her knee! Her heart pounded surely more than was good for it.
    “Stop it!” she cried, beating at his shoulders. “Put me
down! I am not one of your lightskirts.”
    He ignored her, shouldering open the front door as if he
were a battering ram. “Jacques! Will! Anyone in the sound of my voice—get your
posteriors down here now or I’ll toss
you out the windows.”
    A dog howled from the depths of the house. The billiard
table still adorned the foyer, apparently serving as a convenient receptacle
for outer garments, books, and assorted paraphernalia.
    “Honestly, this is how you order your household?” she asked
in amazement, almost forgetting that she was riding in his arms. “Do they
actually listen?”
    “Only when they’re bored and not up to mischief,” he
admitted. Carrying her up the stairs, he bellowed in her ear, “There are ladies
in dire need of help down the lane.” The cacophony of barking dogs obliterated
most of his command.
    Aster covered her ears. Two spaniels and a beagle puppy
raced up the stairs after them, yapping happily.
    “I am perfectly capable of walking,” she insisted, wriggling
as they reached the stop of the stairs. “I will start screaming if you don’t
put me down.”
    “I might actually enjoy that,” he retorted, “so don’t tempt
me.”
    But he let her feet drop while continuing to hold her waist.
Aster winced at the pressure on her twisted ankle but straightened and marched
out of his hold. She glanced around at this heretofore unseen part of the
house. She’d not put a great deal of thought into where they’d actually be
staying in this monstrous mansion.
    The first floor corridor was long and wide, the carpet as
threadbare as the ones she’d seen downstairs. Gas sconces sputtered on the dark
paneled walls, illuminating marble statues decorated in various forms of male
outerwear apparently tossed at them in passing. She limped past the long line
of carved, oak-paneled doors, admiring what she could see of the paintings hung
on the wall.
    “Are any of these rooms prepared for my family and our companions?”
she asked, not daring to open any of the doors.
    “I asked our housekeeper to open a few in the wing we don’t
use. You can station an army battalion in between to prevent forays by my
family into your territory, but I make no guarantees. The place is riddled with
staircases and bolt holes.” He offered his arm.
    Reluctantly, she took it. “I need to be placed in the attic
or somewhere as far from my family as possible,” she said. “I cannot risk more
accidents.”
    “That’s preposterous. We need a physician to look at your
injuries, and you’re not stomping up any stairs until he does. Mrs. Smith
doesn’t have time to clean up any more chambers for you.” He steered her down a
side corridor.
    “I must insist—”
    A shout and loud crash, followed by a litany of