Page 65 of No One's Bride
Mother of all saints!
It had to be witchcraft.
“Brandy it is.” As he pulled the stopper from the decanter, his hand shook like a callow youth’s. They were minutes away from banishing the spell. The hunger would fade. The pleasurable waves sweeping through him would dissipate with the charred paper in the wind.
He crossed the room and handed her the glass. Their fingers brushed in a deliberate caress that confirmed she feared the haunting emptiness, too.
“Do you have your note, Ailsa?” Saying her given name did strange things to his insides. He meant to wring every drop of pleasure from these final moments. “When we left Mangold, we agreed to keep them on our person, to cast them into the flames at the first opportunity.”
She swallowed a sip of brandy, inhaling to cool the burn. “I know what we agreed but I havenae had a moment to myself all day.”
Relief raced through him.
“I’ve not written my retraction either.”
Her brow quirked in silent challenge. “Ye could have written it last night while drinking with Mr Chance.”
“You could have written yours while Delphine rummaged through her armoire. It’s only two lines.”
“And pray where would I have kept it?”
He used the opportunity to stare at her breasts. “Have you never tucked a secret love note into your bodice?”
“As a spinster, I’ve never had cause to entertain the notion. Only a cad would draw attention to my failings.”
He found himself smiling. “Would you like to?”
“Like to what?”
“Slip a secret love note into your bodice.”
“And who would write it?” she mocked.
“Your betrothed.”
She looked heavenward and tutted. “What do ye know of love?”
He knew losing someone close hurt like the devil.
He knew a wounded heart took forever to heal.
He knew real love could not be conjured by a spell, but he’d still mourn the loss of this fantasy long after it ended.
“Perhaps I’d write something crude to make you pant.” He tossed back his brandy. “Something to turn your blood molten.”
He might distract her for a few days so they missed the waning moon. That would give them another month to indulge their whims.
“Verra well. Ye can write me a note while we’re scribbling our recantations.” She scanned the room. “Do ye have paper and ink?”
“In the side table drawer.”
They both looked at the drawer, though neither moved.
“Make use of it while I visit my study.” He left the room, entered the study and snatched paper from the desk, slicing the leaf in half with a letter opener.
A grin formed as he imagined putting his lewd thoughts to paper.
I want to be inside you when you come.
