The Marriage Spell by Mary Jo Putney

permission for Abby to work on him. Obviously the duke had known about the brand. Did he and Ransom and Winslow carry the same mark on their shoulders?
    Mouth tight, she said to the valet, “I’ve taken care of the fever, but he’s still very weak. He hasn’t yet recovered from losing so much blood after the accident. It was a mistake to let him go outside today.”
    â€œMaybe so,” Morris said softly. “But being happy helps a man heal, and he sure was happy to see that horse.”
    â€œMaybe I should have had the horse brought in to him,” she said wryly as she turned back to her patient. Though he had certainly enjoyed his expedition, she would attempt to persuade him not to attempt another one until he was stronger.
    And to make him stronger, she must give him some of her life force again. She rested her hand on his solar plexus. Though it wasn’t necessary, she liked touching his warm, masculine body. First she visualized a thread connecting them. Then she imagined life force flowing through it.
    Her vitality dimmed, but the positive effect on Jack was immediately obvious. His face smoothed out, peaceful in normal sleep. It was not a classically handsome face, but it was…very dear.
    When she was sure he had been stabilized, she wearily returned to her room. By morning, he should be cool and on his way to recovery.
    As for Abby—she would sleep late. She needed it.

Chapter
VIII
    A s Abby had expected, the next morning Jack was free of fever and more energetic. His improvement came at the cost of tired circles under her eyes, but she could spare some vital force until his recovery was less tenuous.
    Ashby and Winslow made a habit of stopping by to visit Jack after the day’s hunting. The first time it happened, Abby escorted them to his room and rang for refreshments. When she started to withdraw after ordering food, the men invited her to stay, and asked her to invite Judith as well.
    The three men and two women made a convivial company. Jack was at his happiest with his friends around him. Judith also enjoyed the tea parties, laughing with a lightness Abby had seldom seen in her friend, who had been widowed too young.
    On the second day, Abby let Jack sit in the wheelchair in his bedroom when his friends came. On the third day, he was strong enough to wheel the chair into the library without help, so his friends joined him there. The Barton Grange cook, pleased to have hungry young gentlemen who appreciated her craft, happily made tempting arrays of sweets and savories and fresh bread with local cheese and relishes. Ashby and Winslow, famished from the day’s hunting, fell on the platters like wolves.
    The first rush of hunger was fading when Ransom entered the library, his boots and breeches spattered with mud and his expression weary. “Miss Barton, Mrs. Wayne, my greetings. I do hope you greedy fellows have spared some food for me.”
    â€œMake yourself comfortable, Mr. Ransom,” Abby said as she rose to greet him. “You’re just returned from London?”
    â€œAye.” Ransom paused in his piling of delicacies on a plate to reach into his coat and retrieve a folded paper. “Here’s the special license you requested, Jack. Shall I hunt down a vicar so you can be married today, or will tomorrow be soon enough?”
    Jack accepted the license, his expression unreadable. “That is up to Miss Barton. I bow to her wishes.”
    Abby froze, too shocked to respond. A special license. Dear God, he really did intend to marry her!
    Judith’s eyes narrowed as she studied Abby’s face. “How exciting! I should think Abby would like to wait for her father to come home, which he will be within the next few days.” She stood. “Abby, let’s withdraw and leave the gentlemen to catch up on their news. We can decide which of your gowns to wear at the ceremony.”
    Judith grasped Abby’s arm as she said under