Page 5 of Magic Touch
I shall never admit this out loud, but I have been smitten with him from the moment I read his story in the paper. When I saw his solemn portrait hanging in the Royal Museum, I stared for an hour. I couldn't look away.
In person, his eyes are more passionate than sorrowful. While he said he didn't believe in witchcraft, he must have had an idea he was coming to a witch for help. The apothecary knows what I am. That showed both desperation and open-mindedness. Never has my magic made someone glow as it did William. Perhaps I gave him too much, too fast, but the fragment had woven its way into muscle near the bone. Removing it took more out of me than expected.
The last thing I wanted was to hurt him, but I felt desperate to take away his pain.
I've thought of nothing but him since. I spent my workday in a fog of memories. Touching him and knowing my touch aroused him was a constant distraction. Of course, many men would grow hard from a woman touching their leg so intimately. It's foolish for me to believe there is anything special in my touch.
Nearly time to close, the bell over the door rings and Mrs. Bates enters. "Miss O'Dwyer, I'm in need of more of that cream for my face if you have any."
Smiling, I hand her the cream in an envelope of waxed paper and say, "I keep it just for you, madam. I'm glad it's been working well."
Mrs. Bates puts her coin on the counter. "You have never failed in keeping my skin soft."
"How is your son's rash?" I ask. The babe was suffering from a terrible diaper rash last time she was in.
"Right as rain." She smiles. "Do you think that salve will keep for the next time?"
"You've put it in the cool larder?" I wrap up her purchase.
She nods.
"It should keep for three months without any problem." I thank her for her business, and she bustles out, checking the street to make sure no one sees her leave.
Many of the neighborhood people frequent my shop, but few admit it. I'm a witch, a fact of common knowledge, and yet still a secret. I clarified it with William, more to remind myself that he is not for me. Any childish notions I might have about the knighted landowner are silly at best.
As I take Mrs. Bates' money to the back room, the bell tinkles again.
Planning to lock the door as this will be my last customer, I turn back to the shop.
Cloaked in black, William stands in the middle of the shop, hands on his hips. He peers out from under a hood, and surrounding his sky-blue eyes is a blue glow, which is my magic, no doubt.
"Oh, dear." I rush around him and lock the door. "You had better follow me to the back, Sir William."
My heart pounds. I'm thrilled to see him but terrified I have caused him harm. He follows, and I search my mind for some bit of knowledge that could explain the glow.
As soon as we're behind the backroom door, he whips off the cloak. His blond hair is shorter than is the style among grand society, and it, too, glows with shimmering blue magic. "What have you done to me?"
His hands glow as well, in the same color that accompanies my magic. Though, perhaps a shade or two darker.
"Nothing like this has ever happened before, Sir William. I have no explanation. Magic is not transferable, at least I have never heard of any such spells." I rush the words, not sure how to help him. Taking his hands, I ease him to the table. "Will you sit? Maybe I can help you release some magic and stop the glowing."
He takes a long breath that expands his already broad chest, making my heart flutter. I'm worse than a child with her first crush.
Finally, his blue eyes meet mine, and he sits. "It came back when I was...excited earlier today. I've tried everything I know to wipe away the thoughts that brought it on, but still, the glowing persists."
Sitting across from him, I take his hands and will the magic back into me. The power creeps close, like a cat sniffing at something new and interesting, but then pulls back, unwilling to come. It doesn't feel quite like my own magic. There is something unrefined and unfamiliar about it.
Rather than toy with things I don't understand, I let go of the desire to pull this power from him and open my eyes. Keeping his hands in mine, I take another path. Maybe I can get to the root of the problem and work it out from there. "What brought on the excitement?"
He stares at me as if he might set me on fire. "It's of a personal nature."
Swallowing down my embarrassment does nothing to keep my cheeks from flaming. He is a man. Men take lovers all the time. There is nothing to be jealous about. "You were aroused? Were you with a woman?"
Head shaking, he pulls his hands from mine and laughs long and hard. "No, Miss O'Dwyer. I did not take a woman to my bed in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday. I try to keep my baser instincts in check until at least Friday."
"You are teasing?" It's almost a relief.
"I am. I was, however, thinking of a woman." Again, those stunning eyes lock with mine.
