Her coachman turned and shook his head. She had hoped this Mister Pann would meet her in the carriage. She should have known better. Rose gathered up her skirts and went to the door herself.
“I wish to see Mister Drake Pann,” she said, sweeping past the servant with all the dignity her rank and title gave her.
The doorman quickly stepped back, his wrinkled face twisting with indignation. “I told yer man, m’lady. Master wilna’ want to see ye.”
Rose glanced around her, surprised at the elegance of the interior. Evidently thieves made a good living, or a skillful glamour had been put over the place. “Oh, but I am sure he will.”
“And what makes you think so?” demanded a deep voice from the top of the gleaming walnut staircase.
Rose looked up at the shadowy form, gathering her magic and her will into a love spell that would hopefully overcome his hatred of her aristocratic blood. She flushed in shame but uncurled her fingers, releasing the enchantment with a sigh. It was the easiest way she could think of to get him to help her.
She smiled determinedly at the man who slowly trod down the stairs. “Are you Mister Pann? Manda--from the bookshop in Trickside--told me you could provide me assistance with a rather delicate matter…” Rose’s voice trailed off as Mister Drake Pann’s booted feet reached the landing.
Manda had not exaggerated about the man’s appearance. She had never met a more handsome man. He quite took her breath away. Thick, curly black hair framed an angular yet somehow rather boyish face; clear green eyes seemed to mesmerize her so she could scarcely blink.
He grinned and each cheek dimpled and Rose thought she might faint. Putting a love spell on a man this dangerously handsome might have been a mistake. His gaze raked her from head to toe, telling her louder than words that he found her attractive, and Rose felt too vulnerable to resist the pull of such chemistry.
It is not real, she firmly told herself. It is only my spell.
He closed the distance between them.
“Ah, then. How can I resist a beautiful damsel in distress?” he murmured, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. The shock of that brief contact made Rose tremble with an emotion she had never felt before. Dear heaven, the spell had been cast upon him, not her. She must stop reacting to this ridiculous attraction.
Perhaps she should have considered the effects of a love spell a bit more thoroughly before casting it. But how could she have expected her instant desire for this man? Even her husband at his very best had never made her heart flutter, made heat pool between her legs from a mere touch.
Mr. Pann glanced up at his servant and her coachman. “Get out.”
Neither of them hesitated in obeying, even her own loyal servant. When Mister Pann led her into the drawing room, Rose allowed it, despite the absence of any proper chaperone. She had never felt this…yearning for the company of any other man in her life. If she had not known better, she would suspect that her love spell had enchanted her as well.
He closed the doors behind them and she found herself backed up against a silk-papered wall, his arms trapping her body in front of him. He smelled like spice and a clear, country night. She took a deep breath of the scent of him, savoring it like a fine wine.
Then felt her face flush in embarrassment when she realized he had noticed, gracing her with a cocky grin. Blast. When had she ever inhaled a man?
Rose tried to gather up some indignation. “What do you think you are doing?”
Black curls tumbled over his forehead as he lowered his face. “You said you needed my assistance, did you not?”
Rose wanted to rake her fingers through those curls. Her hands trembled in their gloves. “Why, uh…yes, but you have no idea what I even want.”
He shifted his body closer and instead of feeling threatened, which she thought she most certainly should have, Rose felt her skin tingle from his heat.
“Ah, but it hardly matters, my dear lady. I shall do anything for you as long as I get what I want first.”
Rose swallowed. She had not expected her love spell to affect him so strongly. She had only wanted to get past his hatred of the aristocracy enough to help her. Magic was crafted mainly by will--what had lain in her heart to put so much force behind her spell?
Well, she would have to analyze it later. The memory of horns and a tail compelled her to carry on. “And you want…?”
His head dipped. Warm, strong lips met her own and her arms lifted of their own accord, curling around his neck. Her fingers sank into the silky waves at the back of his head and she sighed into his mouth, all the worry and heartache of the last few weeks fading under the overwhelming feeling of his kiss.
How could a mere kiss convey such desire? For Rose felt his hunger, his need to possess her. And something else. Something that made her feel cherished beyond all reason.
The shopkeeper had completely underestimated the man’s charisma. Rose felt utterly captivated.
Mister Pann broke the kiss, those emerald eyes staring deeply into her own for so long that she felt a flush crawl across her face yet again. She could stop this now, if she wanted to. His gaze held the question and he waited for her answer.
The image of her demon husband flashed within her mind. He had earned those horns. He had bragged to her of the many women he had been with during their marriage. And that was the least of what he had told her. He obviously was an unprincipled bounder and had fooled her with his outer layer of civility.
The man who stood before her bore no such gentlemanly demeanor. He wore his character like a badge of honor. A common thief and seducer of women. Yet he exuded his own code of morality that she could not help but admire.
And for once in her life, Rose felt a man’s equal. The rake was a victim of her love spell. She harbored no illusions with this man. What was wrong with allowing herself to accept a bit of true love for once, even if she had manufactured it?
Rose smiled, running her tongue across her lips.
His pupils slowly dilated, his next words low and husky. “Egad, woman. Who are you?”
“Rose,” she breathed, quite forgetting the proper etiquette of introducing oneself to a stranger.
His nostrils flared. “Of course you are. Sweet and heady, soft as satin….” His mouth moved to trace a line of heat across her cheek.
“Rose,” he growled. His lips moved to her ear, kissing her lobe and making her shiver. “Rose,” he whispered.
He made her name sound like an endearment.
Then he claimed her lips again and every pertinent thought fled from her mind. She could only feel. Only melt into the confident seduction of this gorgeous man.
Skillful hands untied the bow under her chin and slid her bonnet from her head, undid the buttons of her bodice and loosened the ties of her corset until her breasts sprang free. Rose’s head began to spin.
His mouth trailed kisses down her chin to her neck, and when his warm lips reached her breasts she groaned aloud. Good grief! Everywhere he touched made her skin tingle, made her burn to have him inside of her. Was this how making love was supposed to be?
Oh, her demon husband had fooled her in more ways than one.
Mister Pann lifted her skirts and bunched them around her waist, his deft fingers fondling her in ways that made her tremble and squirm in delighted surprise. Oh, this wonderful feeling had happened occasionally with her husband, but only by accident. Mister Pann seemed to be bringing her pleasure on purpose, those beautiful emerald eyes of his watching her with calculated intent.
When Rose reached that threshold that had evaded her so many times before, the man shifted and she nearly cried out in dismay. And then she gasped in shock when she felt the tip of his shaft against her wet opening, and he resumed his ministrations until she felt her body explode and the urge to pull him inside her overwhelmed her.
But she need not have worried that she would not be fulfilled. The moment her lips parted and her hands clenched at his shoulders he plunged inside her, pushing her
back against the wall again and again until another pleasurable feeling, this time deep inside of her womb, made her cry out his name.
The world slowly came back into focus and his mouth quirked in a grin. “I think you can call me Drake.”
Rose blinked at him. What had she called out? Mr. Pann? “What just happened?”
He frowned, his eyes smoky with confusion. “I have no idea. I have never felt this…whatever it is, before.”
Rose flushed. He probably had never been a victim of a love spell. But she felt remarkably better and their brief encounter certainly would not harm the infamous Mister Pann. Despite the misgivings of her conscience, she did not regret it for an instant.
* * *
He sat across from her in the coach, that half-grin of his still on those full lips, his eyes hooded while he watched her. Rose looked everywhere but at Mister Drake Pann, suddenly feeling quite shy. How foolish.
She lifted her chin. “Do you truly think you can get the charm off of my--that demon?”
He held up his strong, slender fingers. “I am a thief, m’lady. Even a pick-pocket when times are lean. Keep him distracted and it will only take me seconds to remove his protection.”
Rose eyed his hands. She did not doubt his skill with them, especially after…she blushed and he laughed, sensing where her thoughts had led her. Rose tried to focus on her problem. “As soon as you remove the protective charm, I can cast a spell that will send him back to where he belongs. I suppose I was a fool to try and bring him back.”
Mister Pann shrugged. “And I suppose that is why there are magical laws, to protect innocents like you. Do not ever blame yourself for loving someone enough to do something foolish, though. We have all done it.”
“Including you?”
He cocked his head at her, black curls falling across his forehead and cheeks. “I do not know, lady. You tell me.”
She flushed again and turned her attention to the scenery outside the window. They had reached the West End, and the gentry had come out in full regalia, their carriages spelled to look like golden chariots, their mounts crafted into unicorns and enormous songbirds.
Rose sighed.
After they had made love Mister Pann--err, Drake--had used those clever hands to put her clothing back together. He sat her on a velvet chair and had redone her hair, the bun at the back of her neck even neater than when she had arrived at his house. He carefully twisted her side curls back into the proper shape, his warm fingertips caressing her skin occasionally as he did so.
He treated her like a precious thing, a rare feeling for her. Her heart had warmed toward him as easily as her body had.
Rose turned from the window and gazed into his brilliant green eyes. How quickly they pierced her, as if he saw into her very soul. She felt as if she had known him for years…and yet, she truly knew nothing about him at all. “Do you, um, enjoy being a thief?”
He stretched out his long legs, his body seeming to take up every inch of space in the carriage. “Not particularly. I am, in many ways, what society and birth have made me. As are you.”
Rose leaned forward. “So if you had another occupation…I mean, if you had an opportunity to do something else, would you take it?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Depends on what it is. And who offered.”
Rose clenched her hands. What had gotten into her? She knew perfectly well that she would have to remove the love spell after they accomplished their task. She could not in good conscience leave it on him, despite an overwhelming desire to do so. And then he would look at her in confusion, wondering what had possessed him to be so enchanted by her, and then go back to his old life. There certainly could be no future for the two of them.
Rose knew her physical attributes well enough: reddish brown hair, eyes that could not decide whether to be gray or blue, a trim figure and heart-shaped face. Apparently, her looks had been attractive enough to catch the attention of her late husband. Although he had told her within a day of their marriage that the freckles she tried so hard to fade naturally with lemon-water, marred her face. He had overlooked them for the magic and dowry she brought to the marriage. Rose immediately used an illusion spell to hide the brown spots, and only removed it when he died. Why tire herself holding that spell, when she no longer cared what she looked like?
Until today. Until she had met the man seated across from her. She resisted the sudden impulse to renew that old illusion. She had put all the will she possessed into the love spell, and would need to recover her magical abilities for the task ahead. Besides, after she witnessed the true nature of her deceased husband, she vowed she would never change herself for another man again. Not even one single spot.
Drake would continue to ignore the freckles anyway. When the spell faded however…well, it would not matter. She would never see him again.
Rose raked her gaze across his athletic figure, and squirmed when heat gathered with the memory of his skin flush against hers, his mouth sweeping across her own. It had been the most thrilling moment of her life, but had happened all too fast. She could only imagine the pleasure she would feel during a prolonged bout of lovemaking with this man.
She sternly told her body to stop wanting him again. It would have to be satisfied with that one moment of delirious madness.
The coach rocked to a stop in front of her mansion, making Rose’s stomach turn over. Drake helped her out of the carriage, his hand warm and strong in hers. She took a deep breath and said, “George should be in the study. He likes to pretend that nothing has changed; that I’m still the ignorant girl he married and that our life has resumed the same peaceful routine.”
Drake said nothing as they entered the house, but his eyes took in everything. She noticed that he paid particular attention to the location of doors and windows, as if looking for possible exits.
Or entrances.
“Most of the servants have left,” whispered Rose. “Despite his attempt at disguising the changes to his body, George terrifies them.”
Drake nodded, a warm solid presence at her side as she quietly opened the door to the study. She watched his clear green eyes as he studied her husband, looking for a spark of fear but finding none. For George had dispensed with his illusion spell in the privacy of his library, and he looked ghastly with those horns and blood-red skin, his pointed tail popping up behind him, swaying back and forth as the man concentrated on the papers he held in his talon-fingered hands. Rose shuddered, admiring Drake for his calm demeanor.
She tried to keep her own shaking hidden as she approached her husband’s desk. “George, dear, I have brought a visitor.”
He looked up from his papers with a scowl, his yellow eyes narrowing at her. Rose fought the urge to watch the swish of his horned tail like a snake charming its victim.
Then George swung his attention to Drake as Rose quickly introduced him. Her husband stood and held out his hand, still acting the part of the gentleman, as she had hoped. “What a delightful surprise,” he said; revealing his newly jagged and pointed teeth. “It seems like we have not had a visitor in ages.”
Drake gave the outstretched hand a hearty shake, despite the fact that George’s outline shimmered when he did so, blinking briefly from red demon to flesh-rotting skeleton.
Rose’s admiration for Mister Drake Pann elevated another several degrees.
Then George’s attention centered on her and she found herself frozen in horror. He came around his desk, his face split into that toothy grin. “Rose dear, I have missed you today.”
He bent and kissed her cheek while Rose held her breath against the stench. George carelessly threw an arm around her waist, pulling her against his side. Rose gritted her teeth. How she hated this charade of his, acting as if nothing had changed between them. She had been a naïve, young girl when they married. His return as a demon had altered her perceptions forever. She did not want to touch him, much less snuggle up to his side, and she trembled in disgust despite her best efforts to appear u
naffected.
With a low chuckle, George dipped his head, displaying his cheek for her to kiss.
For a moment, Rose thought she might be sick. He had removed the illusion that disguised his appearance on purpose, she supposed. Or did he truly think she wanted him? Did George treat her like a common doxy in front of a stranger just to torture her? But when she looked at Drake’s face, he nodded confidently at her, and she braved herself to do her part. She must distract the demon so Drake could act.
Rose lifted to her toes, squeezed her eyes shut, and put her mouth on George’s cheek. He growled a laugh, twisting his mouth toward hers, as if he knew she could not resist his virile manhood. With all the inner strength she possessed, Rose threw her arms around his cold body and pretended that he was right.
She never felt Drake move, not even a slight displacement of the air. But after a moment she distinctly heard him say, “Do it now, Rose.”
She stepped away from her husband and waved her hands, every ounce of her will behind the banishment spell she threw at him. But he did not fade. The look in his yellow eyes changed from amusement to absolute rage.
Rose glanced over her shoulder. Drake stood behind them, George’s warding of spirit-grass held tightly in his hands.
“You witch,” snarled George. “Did you really think I would be unprepared for your betrayal? Our marriage has been nothing but a game, with you pretending innocence and me pretending to be the devoted husband. But I have always known the truth about you, lady.”
“But I…I never pretended anything,” protested Rose in astonishment, backing away from him. “I always thought you were kind and honorable….”
Rose noticed that the demon’s body began to waver, the edges of his features starting to blur. With renewed hope she fought George’s attempt to distract her with his unfounded accusations. She centered her will again, praying that her spell would be strong enough to send him back this time. But despite everything, she must still have some sort of affection for him, because he stayed firmly rooted to her world.
Moon Dancer (Beneath the Thirteen Moons) Page 5
