Fascinated Read online

  It took a tidy few minutes, but at last Carstairs felt he’d created an acceptable missive. As he melted the wax and pressed his ring into the seal, he glanced again at Alicia. She had evidently found her theme, and now wrote steadily, her manner composed and her frown replaced by an air of quiet concentration. The sight struck him. It was so everyday, and yet at the same time so perfect. Seeing her sleeping beside him had been just the same. It moved him, not to physical desire, but to the desire to preserve this simple moment of harmony with another person. No, not just another person. With this woman. With Alicia.

  The intensity of that feeling jerked Carstairs to his feet.

  “I’ll go find a porter,” he said as Alicia twisted around to stare at him. “When my people return, we can send the footman with the other letters.”

  He took himself from the library without looking back. Once the door closed behind him, Edward paused, and laid his hand against the wall.

  This was not right. He had never felt so much for a woman so suddenly. No. He had never felt so much for any woman, ever. It was beyond ridiculous. He knew nothing about her true mind or character, had shared no genuine intimacy with her. They had danced at their engagement ball. They had walked and talked, only a little. They had enjoyed some erotic play, but none of that was enough to cause so much feeling at so small a sight. Was it possible, after all these years, after all the hardening of his heart to duty, that he was falling in love with Alicia Hartwell?

  But even as he thought this, Captain Smith’s soft, cool question came back to him with the force of a thunderclap.

  What else needs to be considered, Edward?

  Edward cursed. Then he gritted his teeth and stretched out his Catalyst’s senses. If enchantment had somehow slipped past his wards, he would be able to feel it. There would be a change in the tide of power around his house. But there was nothing. He felt the wards standing their quiet watch. He felt the undisturbed flow of energy within the house as calm and even as a sleeper’s breathing.

  It should have reassured him, but Carstairs found himself more troubled than ever.

  Get over it, man, he instructed himself. It was a fancy. It’s natural in a man your age left alone with a lovely woman in his house to think on family life. It will pass.

  Because his union with Alicia could not be permanent. Once she learned of her duties and opportunities, she would not want a conventional marriage. And even if she did, she would not want it to be a loveless one to a man who had his duty to consider above all else. The course of his life had been set all those years ago, when he’d dropped to his knees beside his mortally wounded brother with the lilt of Fae laughter ringing in his ears. He would continue his role of protector and husband for appearance’s sake, obey his orders to begin training her in the use of her magics, but after that…

  Edward tried to consider what would come after that, and his thoughts showed him only darkness. He frowned. There had been many times in his life when the future was unclear to him. Occasionally, he had not known whether there would be any future for him at all. None of those moments had unsettled him like this one did. Because then he had known the source of his disquiet—a musket ball, an assassin’s knife or Fae malice. This uncertainty came from inside him.

  I will master this. He pushed himself away from the wall. I must.

  Above all, he must keep his heart at a distance from Alicia. He must teach her and pleasure her. He would keep her close, sated and calm until her nature and future could be clearly determined. He had played the charming rogue before in the Service. He must give himself to that role now, but there could be no more to it than that. Not now, and not ever.

  Fourteen

  By the time Edward returned to the library, Alicia had finished her letter to Verity and sealed it with one of the wafers he’d left out for her. The letter now lay on the desk and she sat on the sofa leafing through a volume of Keats’s poetry.

  “And now we wait for my people.” Edward dropped casually into the armchair by the fire. “How shall we occupy ourselves in the meantime?” His voice was heavy with meaning, but Alicia decided this once, she would not let herself be distracted by the sensations those meanings conjured within her.

  She closed the book and laid it aside. “You can tell me about magic.”

  Edward’s sigh was as heavy as it was openly theatrical. “Very well. First you should know that what is said about magic being of the Devil, or mere superstition, is untrue. Magic is a part of the natural world, as much as the motion of the tides or the light of the sun. Unlike those forces, however, the power of magic can be harnessed by some human beings.”

  “Catalysts and Sorcerers?” Alicia prompted him.

  “Just so. There is also a third type, the Seer, but they are extremely rare. Not more than one in a hundred humans is a born magic worker, and not more than one in a hundred magic workers are born with a genuine ability to see the future.”

  “Is it always a matter of birth?”

  “Yes. Either one has the talent or one does not. Like hair or eye color, it does seem to run in families. It is not, however, any respecter of rank, class or nation. A magic worker may be born anywhere and is as likely to be female as male.”

  “How shockingly democratic.”

  “So it has been remarked,” Edward said so seriously that if Alicia had not seen the sparkle in his eyes, she would not have known he understood her to be joking. “The strength and the ability of the magic worker does vary from person to person, and from partnership to partnership. A strong Catalyst can make a great difference to a weak Sorcerer, whereas a strong Sorcerer can form spells with even a trickle of power from a weak Catalyst.”

  “And you are a Catalyst?”

  “Yes. It is my gift to draw magic from the natural world and channel it toward a Sorcerer.”

  “So, what does the Sorcerer do?”

  “They shape the magic to their purpose and return it to the world.”

  “But how?”

  “It is a matter of will and concentration. Would you like to try?”

  “Can we?”

  “Certainly. Although, perhaps we should go outside.”

  Discomfort rippled through Alicia. “Is there danger?”

  “Not real danger.” Edward stood. “I can shield us both from that. But until you understand how to fully control your abilities, there is some risk to the furniture.”

  “That is not entirely reassuring.” Alicia accepted the hand he held out and let him raise her to her feet.

  “No, I suppose not.” He chuckled as he unlatched one of the French doors that led to his walled garden. “After you, my dear.”

  It felt delightful and daring to be outside without a bonnet on. The sun shone down from an unusually clear blue sky to warm Alicia’s face and hair. The summer air was hot and heavy, and filled with the heady perfume of blooming roses. Uncle Gavin would have turned positively green with envy at the profusion and variety in Edward’s formal beds. They even climbed up the brick walls that surrounded the garden to tangle with the green ivy tendrils.

  “Someone takes great care over these.” Alicia she bent to inhale the rich scent of a cluster of pure white blossoms.

  “They were my mother’s passion,” said Edward.

  “Where is she?” It felt odd, almost rude, that she knew nothing of Edward’s family.

  “She’s gone,” he said flatly. “My father as well, of course.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have known that.”

  Edward shook his head. “It was a long time ago. Now, shall we begin?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Very well. I will hold your hand. As you become more experienced, if your talent is strong enough, you will not necessarily need physical contact to draw upon a Catalyst, but the amount of power you can absorb will diminish with distance.” He folded his fingers around hers, and even this simple touch rivaled the sun for warmth. Alicia felt her heart lurch uncomfortably and she had to work to focus on w
hat he was saying to her. “Do you see the angel statue?”

  “Yes.” With its little girl’s face tipped up to the sky and marble tears running down its white cheeks, it was a surprisingly mournful creation for such a cheerful garden.

  “Good. I will open the channel between us, and send you some magic. When you feel it, I want you to picture in your mind that statue rising into the air. Do you understand?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  But Edward only smiled. “Neither did I when I was first given instruction. Never mind. It is easier to experience than to understand. Close your eyes.”

  Alicia did as she was told.

  Do you hear me, Alicia? Edward’s voice, warm, kind and comfortable, settled into her thoughts.

  Yes.

  Good. Now.

  Slowly, a golden warmth threaded into her veins. At first she thought it was a recurrence of her inner desires, rising to the touch of Edward’s hand and his thoughts. But this was something different. If light had weight and force, it would feel like this as the sun rose in the morning. As it filled her, she had a sensation of buoyancy, and yet she felt strong as well. If she had been at all weary or disturbed before, those feelings were pushed away before this current of new power as sediment was washed away by fresh water.

  Water, said Edward’s voice in her mind. That is a good way to think of it. Cup your thoughts around it, as you would cup your hands to fill them with water.

  Alicia tried. She pictured the light forming into a golden ball, a plaything for a fairy-tale princess to hold in her hands.

  That’s it. Open your eyes, Alicia. See the statue.

  She did, and the dirty marble thing seemed to her even more pathetic than it had before.

  Reach out your hand. Let the power flow from your fingers, and raise it up.

  She stretched her arm out in front of her. In her mind’s eye she saw her golden sphere twist into a rope to thread down her arm to her fingers, and from there across the empty air between herself and the statue. Alicia gasped. She could feel the warm marble as if she held it in her hand. Her senses told her of its curves and angles. She was aware of its weight, the pitting worn into it by wind and weather, and something else. Annoyance. The sculptor had not enjoyed his labor in making this thing. It was part of a large lot, one of a hundred to be sent to London fools for their gardens, but a job was a job and a man had to eat…

  Very good, Alicia. Very good indeed. Edward’s surprise touched her, and pride as well. Now, raise it up.

  Alicia lifted her arm. The stone was heavy and unbalanced. It wobbled. She frowned, trying to steady her ethereal hold on the statue. So deep was her concentration, so sure was her sense of touching the statue, that she was not at all surprised to see the marble angel rise unsteadily into the air and hang there, suspended by nothing at all. The feel of the stone in her mind fascinated her. It was so complex, and nowhere as solid as it should be. There were flaws in it, and a few of the cracks ran deep. She could feel them with this touch of her mind. She could even reach into them.

  Alicia, stop!

  The angel shattered. Edward grabbed her and lunged sideways, bearing them both to the ground. His weight pressed her to the grass as shards of stone rattled down around them.

  “Are you all right?” he asked as he finally rolled aside to release her.

  “Yes. I think so.” Alicia gasped and sneezed and pushed herself up from the grass. The power was gone. She shuddered from surprise and sudden cold as much as from the abrupt absence of Edward’s warm weight. She looked up at him, and to her chagrin saw a scarlet thread trickling down his temple. “But you’re cut!”

  Edward dabbed at the place with absolute unconcern. “Nothing serious. However, you now understand why I wanted us to try this outside.”

  “I don’t even know what happened. I wasn’t trying to break it.”

  “Of course not,” he said. “But your mind wandered from the task. When you’re working with magic, that is almost the most dangerous thing that can happen. Concentration is vital. Otherwise, you will do too much, or not enough. Come.” He got to his feet and held out his hand. “We will try again.”

  And they did. But after shattering the angel, Alicia found her confidence had also fragmented. Edward was in no mood to make allowances, however, and insisted she make another attempt. After she rolled several edging stones pathetically across the tidy lawn, they tried again, and again after that, until Alicia’s head began to ache and her throat felt quite parched. Edward took her back into the cool of the library. He ordered her to sit still while he fetched lemonade, bread and butter from the pantry. Despite her professed queasiness, he urged Alicia to eat and drink deeply.

  “The shaping of magic is an exertion, as much as if you had been truly lifting those stones in your hands. You need to refresh yourself.” He poured himself some sherry from the decanter on the table. “You’ve made an excellent beginning. Soon, you’ll be ready to use your power to sense more of the world around you, and inside you. You’ll be able to affect transference and transformation.”

  “As well as destruction,” added Alicia.

  “Exactly.” Edward paused and took another sip of sherry. “There is perhaps one other thing I should tell you.”

  “What is that?” Alicia swallowed the last of the lemonade and held out her glass for him to refill. He was right—it did taste wonderful, and she felt much steadier for it.

  “One of the most powerful ways for a Catalyst to transfer power to his Sorceress is through the sexual act.”

  Alicia’s hand trembled and she took a larger gulp of lemonade than she intended. Edward smiled at her, his eyes alive with mischief to see her so discomposed.

  “Like you did with me when I first removed my brooch?” she inquired, pleased that her voice stayed steadier than her hand.

  “That was one way, yes. There are others.”

  “I find this does not surprise me.”

  Edward’s eyebrows lifted. “Why, Alicia, you are becoming positively worldly.”

  “I hope that does not spoil my charms for you, my lord.”

  “Quite the contrary, I assure you.” Edward sipped his wine. “I find it fascinates me, because I think this spirited woman is the real you.”

  Alicia looked into the depths of her own glass. Was he right? Could this pert creature be the real Alicia Hartwell? If that was true, then Alicia Hartwell was most unladylike. But then, she knew that already. Ladies did not feel as she did when they looked at a man. They certainly did not enjoy the acts she apparently did.

  Thinking about this was a mistake, however. It only recalled the details of her time in Edward’s arms more strongly to her mind. Her headache was quite gone now, but it was replaced by a restlessness that the memory of her strange “wedding” night only intensified. It also brought back several questions she had not yet found the opportunity, or the words, to ask.

  “Was it…normal?” Alicia Hartwell also seemed to be a shockingly blunt sort of person.

  Edward’s eyebrows lifted, his confusion clear as he tried to understand where this question had come from. “Was what normal, Alicia?”

  “What we did. Before. This morning. Was that…a normal variation of the marital act?”

  Edward seemed to take a strangely long time setting his glass down. His mouth quivered. “Did you enjoy it?”

  There was no point in even attempting to evade that direct question. “Yes.”

  “Was there anything we did that you did not wish to?”

  “No.”

  “I am glad to hear that.” He crossed the space between them. Alicia saw afresh the strength and grace inherent in each of his movements. She had never thought a man could be so graceful. “Because if ever you are afraid, or hurting, or even if you simply do not wish to do a thing, you must tell me at once.” He cupped her cheek and lifted her face so she had to meet his eyes. “Will you promise?”

  “I promise, Edward,” she whispered.

  “And
I promise in return that I will stop at your word. You must never at any time feel you are forced to perform against your will. I would have you trust me, Alicia. We have a long journey together, you and I, and much to learn.”

  “Of magic and its uses?” she asked innocently.

  Edward made a strange, strangled noise deep in his throat. “Of magic and its uses, yes. But also of physical love.”

  “I should not think you have much to learn.” She felt a small smile forming. “You seemed most expert.”

  “Flattering wench.” Edward’s own smile showed up the moonlight in his eyes, mysterious, dangerous and strangely thrilling. He moved his hand slowly along the line of her jaw, letting his fingertips linger against her chin. Alicia’s skin began to tingle, and although he lifted his hand away, the sensation not only persisted; it stretched down her throat to her breasts. “I like to think I am not without some skill. But as with all other things between men and women, making love is a matter of knowing your chosen partner, of understanding who they are, and what best suits their desires, and this takes time.”

  “You have not answered my question. Was what we did normal?”

  “It was not unique,” he replied calmly. “If all parties freely consent, and all enjoy, there are many forms and combinations of pleasure to be shared.”

  Alicia fell silent for a time, drawing into herself despite the warmth that threatened to bring out fresh blushes.

  “What is it, Alicia?”

  “I…I hardly know.”

  He cocked his head toward her, studying her closely. She found she could not return his gaze, and watched as her fingers knotted themselves in her skirts. “Did something that happened between us disturb you?”

  “No,” she said. “At least, I don’t think so.”

  “Perhaps there was something you enjoyed too much?”

  Alicia raised her eyes mutely. Carstairs almost smiled, but not quite. Instead, he leaned forward and gently kissed her furrowed brow. “Tell me.”