Simply Magic

Good Lord, he thought, before sensation engulfed him, she was riding him. He let her ride for a while, awash in pleasure and desire, and then his hands pressed more firmly on her hips, and he rode with her for a few minutes until they both broke rhythm, she to press downward, he to thrust upward, both to shatter into fulfillment at the same moment.

It was beyond extraordinary.

It was beyond bliss.

And it was not sex, he thought as she came downward to lie on top of him and he covered them both with the bedcovers. Not just sex.

It was love.

He had never before seen much co

He held her for several minutes, not sleeping, knowing that she did not sleep either, knowing that she was telling herself that this was the end.

It was not the end. If someone cared to bring on a whole regiment of dragons, all of them armed to the fangs with fire and brimstone and other assorted deadly weapons, he would take on the lot of them bare-handed.

This was not the end.

This was the end, Susa

But really today was the end. The end of an affair of the heart that could have no future. Now was the end.

It was also the begi

Her grandparents.

She still felt partly numbed at the unfamiliar thought.

Today she was going to meet three people who were closely co

But they were strangers.

Would they even like her?

Would they hold it against her that she was the product of a marriage that ought never to have been?

But they were coming here, were they not?

Would she like them?

How would she even greet them?

“It looks,” Peter said, “as if the visitors have arrived.”

And sure enough, there was a large old carriage standing outside the stable block. Her heart sank.

“Afraid?” he asked, turning his head to look down at her.

“Very.” She drew her cloak more tightly about her.

“Is it not strange,” he said, “how life can plod along placidly for years and then, for no clear reason, can be suddenly filled with one turmoil after another? And it has happened for us both in differing ways-and began for both of us at the same moment, when we arrived together at the fork in a narrow lane in the quiet Somerset countryside one summer afternoon. Such a seemingly i

“Please do,” she said as he drew the curricle to a halt before the doors into the house and jumped down to assist her.

She thought as she entered the house a few moments later that perhaps she ought to have said no. Perhaps her grandparents would recognize the name Whitleaf as she had during the summer. But it was too late now. Besides, she could not bear to say good-bye to him and then have to go upstairs to the drawing room alone.

The newly arrived visitors were there and expecting her, the butler informed her as he took her cloak and bo

She did not take Peter’s arm. If she did, she might cling. This was something she must do herself, even if she had chosen to have him accompany her for moral support.

Lady Markham, Edith, Mr. Morley, Theodore-they were all in the drawing room, Susa

“Susa

The lady was slender almost to the point of thi

Her grandparents, Susa

She dipped into a curtsy.

And then the lady came hurrying toward her, both hands outstretched, and Susa

“Susa

Her chin wobbled and her eyes filled with tears.

“Please do not cry, ma’am,” Susa

“Grandmama,” the lady said. “Call me Grandmama. Please do.”

“Grandmama,” Susa

And then of course, there was no way of stopping the tears of either of them from flowing-and somehow they had their arms about each other, Susa

Peter was clearing his throat, though not in an attention-seeking way. So was the Reverend Clapton, who was leaning on his cane with both hands. Lady Markham and Edith were smiling with happiness. Mr. Morley looked as if he were in raptures. Theodore was beaming genially.

The colonel withdrew a large white handkerchief from a pocket of his coat, blessing his soul rather fiercely as he did so, held the handkerchief to his nose, and blew into it loudly enough to wake the dead.

24

“This is very pleasant, Peter,” his mother said, sinking into the best chair, which he had drawn near the fire in the library. “Just the two of us together for a cozy chat. It does not happen often enough.”

He seated himself across from her. He had asked her to join him in the library after almost everyone else had retired for the night and only a few of the younger people were still amusing themselves in the music room.

“You are warm enough, Mama?” he asked her.

“I am,” she said. “My love, it was very naughty of you to leave the house this morning to deliver one of your invitations and not return until late in the afternoon. However, you were very attentive to Miss Fly

“Very,” he agreed. “And doubtless she will make some man a wonderful wife someday soon. But she will not be mine.”

She looked a little surprised at such a categorical statement. But she smiled as she relaxed back against the cushions.

“You may well change your mind during the coming days,” she said.

“I will not change my mind,” he told her. “I have already chosen the woman I wish to marry.”

He watched her eyes light up with interest.

“Peter?” She clasped her hands to her bosom and sat up straighter.

“I am just not sure she will have me,” he said.

“Oh, but of course she will have you, whoever she is,” she cried. “You know you are one of the greatest matrimonial prizes-”