The Marriage Spell

by Mary Jo Putney

  “We’re on our honeymoon, so rising virtuously with the dawn can wait.” He chuckled, the vibration transmitted pleasantly from his rib cage to Abby. “I’ve spent most of my life getting up at dawn, first as a student and then as a soldier, but I’ve never learned to enjoy it. And that was even without a warm, touchable woman in my bed.”

  She blushed, feeling good about herself and him and marriage and the world. “Then by all means, let us linger.”

  As his hand slid to her breast, she gave a sigh of pleasure. How quickly one could become accustomed to physical intimacy!

  After rising late and happy, Abby and her husband dressed separately but went downstairs together. Jack proved that traversing the steps on his backside worked as well going down as going up.

  The morning was gray and a dusting of snow had fallen during the night, but the dining room was warm and welcoming. The food was so good that Abby wondered if the duke had lent his personal cook for the honeymooners.

  As they finished their meal, Jack asked, “What are your plans for the house?”

  “I’ve scarcely had time to think about it.” Her gaze roamed the dining room, which was drab despite the cheery fire. “Brighter fabric and paint and wallpaper will make a huge difference. Many of the furniture pieces aren’t bad, but they need refinishing and new upholstery. Do you know if the attic has any interesting old items?”

  He grinned at her. “I haven’t the remotest idea. Shall we explore there?”

  “Perhaps when you no longer need the crutches,” she said, thinking how steep most attic staircases were. “Today I’ll start by exploring the lower floors. I’ve seen only a few of the rooms.”

  A footman entered the dining room. “Lady Frayne, a young person is here to see you. He says it’s urgent.”

  Before Abby could say she would see him, the “young person” entered the dining room after the servant. She recognized Jimmy Hinton, from a farm family near Barton Grange. “Miss Abby, I’m sorry to bother you when you’re just wed, but my pa is right poorly. Could you come see him now?”

  Jimmy’s father was the stoic sort, so if he was “right poorly,” his condition must be grave. She rose, glad she’d finished her breakfast, sorry she couldn’t stay with Jack. “I’ll come right now. Jack, may we take your carriage to the Hinton household?”

  “Of course. It’s your carriage, too.” Looking less than happy, he gestured to the footman to order the vehicle.

  She wondered how long it would take before she thought of herself as Lady Frayne, mistress of Jack’s household. “We didn’t get a marriage settlement drawn up,” she said aloud. “I completely forgot.”

  “So did I.” Jack stood, using the chair frame to lever himself up. “We probably should have one for the sake of future offspring.”

  She blushed in a very bridelike way. “I’m sorry to leave you, but I should be gone for only a few hours.”

  “It will always be like this, won’t it?” he said seriously. “Emergencies that you can’t ignore.”

  She met his gaze. “I’m afraid so. I have a gift, and with that comes a responsibility to help others.”

  “Having benefited by your gifts, I shouldn’t complain. But I wish you didn’t have to rush off.” He lifted himself onto the crutches that leaned against the table and circled round to give her a light kiss on the cheek. “Until later, lass.”

  Glad Jack accepted her need to see her patient even though he didn’t like it, she left the dining room with Jimmy Hinton. Her husband would like it even less when she was called away in the middle of the night, but at least he accepted the general principle that she had obligations beyond her own household.

  Her steps quickened. The sooner she helped Mr. Hinton, the sooner she could get back to Jack. And she was glad that he was sorry to see her leave.

  Jack had another cup of tea. He hated that Abby was gone, but since she was, he would use this time to test himself. He rang for Morris to bring his coat and hat. The weather was damp and devilish cold and he didn’t want to freeze outdoors.

  As Morris helped him into the coat, the valet said, “Shall I accompany my lordship on his walk?”

  Jack laughed. “Such formality! You think I’m going to get into trouble, don’t you? Perhaps I should leave you here.”

  “I’m sure my lady would prefer I accompany you,” the valet said, poker-faced.

  “Good God, are you two already plotting against me?” Jack collected his crutches and headed to the door. Abby was right that putting his weight on the crosspieces was less painful. “When have you had the time to confer? She arrived only last night.”

  “Lady Frayne and I have not discussed the matter,” Morris said repressively. “But I assume that she wishes me to look out for your welfare.”

  “In other words, you’ve just been handed another excuse to fuss like an old hen,” Jack said. “Very well, come along. I want to visit Dancer.”

  Morris didn’t dignify that with a reply. Though he’d grown up in a London slum, he could put on a haughty manner that would suit a duke.

  Jack managed to descend the outside steps without incident. This time he used the crutches to go down standing upright rather than thumping along on his backside, which would be uncomfortable on the cold stone. But he was glad to have Morris standing watchful below, just in case.

  Given the bite of the wind, he was also glad the walk to the stables was short. As soon as Jack entered, Dancer thrust his head from his stall and neighed a greeting. Jack propped the crutches against the wall so he could embrace the horse properly. “How are you feeling today, boy? Are you pining for a good gallop?”

  He’d always got on with horses so well that he’d been accused of reading equine minds. Though he always laughed off such suggestions, he did have a knack for working with the beasts. Dancer seemed downright ecstatic to see him. “Did you fear the worst, old boy?” Jack murmured. “I almost got us both killed. We both owe our lives to a talented lady, so always treat her well.”

  He had the odd notion that Dancer understood and had agreed to obey Abby as he would Jack. Or maybe the horse already had a relationship with Abby because he’d been the beneficiary of one of her healing circles. Noting the leather brace on Dancer’s leg, Jack said, “I suppose he’s not ready to ride yet.”

  “Dancer’s leg is healing well, but it will be some time before he is himself again,” Morris said. “He seems unhurt by yesterday’s journey from Barton Grange. The Barton groom walked him over, taking his time.”

  “Something else I owe the Bartons.” Jack gave Dancer’s ears a last scratch. “Very well, saddle Wesley. He’s a better choice for getting back into the saddle.”

  “My lord! Surely you don’t intend to ride today!” Morris said, horrified. “Quite aside from the risk to you, how can you control a horse when you have a broken leg?”

  “Nothing wrong with my right thigh and knee, so I should be able to manage a placid old fellow like Wesley.”

  Morris looked stubborn, obviously calculating how far he could go in resisting a direct order. “Lady Frayne won’t like it.”

  “Very likely not.” Jack hardened his voice to command mode. “I appreciate your concern, but I will do this. Will you saddle Wesley or must I?”

  If Morris were a horse, his ears would be flattened back. Before he could reply, Ransom’s familiar voice said, “Don’t worry, Morris. I’ll do the saddling and accompany Frayne on his ride so you won’t have his likely demise on your conscience.”

  Jack laughed as his friend ambled into the stables. “You’re in a hurry to see me break my neck again.”

  “I covet Dancer,” Ransom said. “Morris, will you bear witness that Frayne says I could have the horse if he kills himself riding?”

  “Do you think I’d let a ham-handed clunch like you have Dancer?” Jack scoffed. “He goes to Ashby.”

  “You’re a cruel man, Jack.” Ransom effortlessly saddled Wesley, a calm chestnut with white socks. Though getting on in years, Wesl
ey was still one of Jack’s favorite mounts. “If I’m not to benefit by your demise, are you sure you want to do this?” Though his tone was light, his eyes were concerned as he led the horse from the stable.

  “I’m sure.” Jack followed on his crutches, wondering why he felt compelled to try to ride again so soon.

  He recognized the answer when he moved to Wesley’s side. For the first time in his life, he was afraid to get on a horse. The mere thought made him sweat as he remembered his disastrous accident. His helpless, uncontrolled fall. The crunch of bones, agony followed by cessation of feeling….

  Which meant that the sooner he got back on a horse, the better, for being afraid to ride would be another form of crippling. Steeling his face to blankness, he dropped the left crutch behind him and prepared to mount. Left foot into the stirrup while most of his weight was taken by his right crutch. Damn, this was tricky, especially with his strength so reduced. But with Morris holding Wesley steady, Jack was able to scramble gracelessly into the saddle. Ransom tucked his right foot into the stirrup.

  While Dancer radiated eagerness, Wesley was pure calm. Jack had the strange but comforting notion that the chestnut sensed his fear and would take care of him.

  “Are you ready, my lord?” Morris asked.

  When Jack nodded, the valet released the reins. Jack’s leg hurt—a lot—but with his knees and weight, he was able to signal his mount out of the stable yard and onto a bridle trail that followed the ridge. Gradually his tension faded as the riding memories of a lifetime began to obliterate the horror of his lethal accident.

  He urged Wesley forward in a smooth canter, following a trail that led along the the ridge between two fields. The wind was sharp, but as he relaxed, he began to enjoy the freedom he’d always found on horseback. Though Wesley wasn’t as fast as Dancer, his gaits were as smooth as silk.

  A stride behind him, Ransom called, “You look ready to go hunting.”

  Jack laughed. “Not yet, and when I do, I suspect I won’t be such a neck-or-nothing rider as I used to be.”

  “Good to know that you’re capable of learning from your errors!”

  Grinning, Jack urged Wesley to go faster. To hell with his aching leg. The wind in his face was worth some pain.

  Danger exploded between one heartbeat and the next when a bird burst from a clump of dried grass beside the trail. The gelding reared in a panic.

  No! Unable to grip his mount’s barrel with both legs, Jack lost his seat and pitched to the left, the right stirrup falling away because of his injured leg. For a dizzy moment the ice-hard ground tilted below him, waiting to smash his bones. He knew he would break his neck again, this time beyond repair.

  Fear dissolved into a rush of energy that melded Jack and Wesley together as if they were one. He was himself, but also the frantic horse, panicked, yet wanting to serve his master. He had four legs, was incoherent with fear, and was also a two-legged creature equally frightened. Master your fear. Steady, you’re safe, don’t worry.

  Before Jack could sort out the chaos in his mind, Wesley was suddenly solid beneath him again. Amazingly the horse had leaped sideways to catch his weight. Though still off balance, Jack was able to recover and maintain his seat.

  Heart pounding, he reined in hard. Where the hell had that come from?

  That mad rush of energy that had briefly made him one with his horse had enabled him to overcome Wesley’s fear and persuade the beast to make the one move that would save Jack from falling. But what was the source of that wild power? It had been…almost like magic.

  The thought that he might have controlled the horse with magic was more terrifying than his fear of falling. Damn it, he might have had a little magic once, but he was no wizard. Nor did he want to be.

  “Jesus, Jack, what happened?” Ransom pounded up beside him and pulled his mount to a wild halt. “I’ve never seen a horse do anything like that!”

  “Neither have I.” Jack used his hand to slide his right foot back into the stirrup, unsure whether he or the horse was more upset. “Wesley must have recognized that I was in trouble and did something about it. Extra oats for you today, old boy.”

  “What startled him?”

  “A partridge took off right under his nose. It was my fault for not paying enough attention.” Even the steadiest of horses would startle at the unexpected. “If my leg was sound, I could have kept my balance and controlled Wesley, but I couldn’t manage that today.” And he’d nearly had another disaster.

  “Speaking of your leg, did you injure it again?”

  “It hurts like the devil,” Jack admitted. “But I don’t think the bone was damaged. I’m not made of glass, Ransom.”

  “I know.” Ransom pulled his mount around, and they started back to the stables at a walk. “But it will be a long time before I get over the sight of watching you die.”

  Jack felt a stab of emotion so powerful that at first he didn’t realize that it came not from him, but from Ransom. Jack’s tough, controlled friend had been devastated when he thought Jack was dying.

  Deeply unnerved to be feeling his friend’s emotions, Jack drew a deep breath before speaking. “I’m sorry that my recklessness cost you so dearly.”

  Ransom shrugged, his face calmer than his emotions. “We’re soldiers. Death is an accepted risk. We’ve both danced with it many times.”

  Yes, but it was one thing to die serving one’s country. Quite another to die a meaningless death in the hunting field simply because Jack was pushing himself and his mount to the limit. An adult accepted that his actions had consequences not only for himself, but for his family and friends. Life was too precious to waste. By galloping his horse when he wasn’t yet fully fit, he had once again risked a meaningless death. “I’ll keep to a more sober pace until I’m fully healed.”

  He’d always been in tune with his horses and with his friends. What he’d just experienced was merely an extension of that, probably a result of his heightened sensitivity while recuperating. It wasn’t magic. Nothing to worry about.

  He fell into step beside his friend. “Let’s not tell Abby.”

  Before Ransom could answer, they came in sight of the stables. The Frayne carriage was pulling up. Abby swung to the ground before the vehicle stopped moving. As her gaze went unerringly to Jack, Ransom murmured, “You’re in trouble now.”

  Ransom was right: Abby’s expression had the control of Wellington at his most coolly terrifying. But as the two men pulled up in front of her, she said only, “It would of course be foolish to suggest that you aren’t ready to ride yet. I should have realized that you looked too innocent by half when I left.”

  He was glad her sense of humor had triumphed over her worry. “You’ll be happy to know that today’s ride has made me more careful than mere words could.”

  As he spoke, Ransom dismounted and tethered his horse, then moved to stand at Wesley’s head, holding the chestnut’s bridle. With his mount steadied, Jack used both hands to lift his throbbing right leg over the horse, then slid clumsily to the ground, grabbing the saddle to keep his balance. Given how he ached in every muscle, he was grateful not to end in an untidy pile on the cobbles.

  “I’ll see to the horses.” Ransom handed over the crutches, which had been left leaning against the wall, then prudently withdrew into the stables with both mounts.

  As Jack adjusted the crutches, Abby’s gaze moved down him. Her expression changed as she looked at his right leg. “Should I reduce the pain?”

  The prospect was tempting, but Jack shook his head. “No, I think it best that I suffer the consequences of my folly, as you had to endure your broken ankle when you failed to fly successfully.”

  She smiled and fell into step beside him as they headed toward the house. “Pain can be educational. Let me know if it becomes unendurable.”

  “Speaking of which, how is your Mr. Hinton? You weren’t gone long.”

  “He was resting comfortably when I left. He has been a patient of mine for years, so
I know how to treat him. An energy healing treatment and one of my herbal compounds relieved his lungs.” She shook her head regretfully. “He’ll make it through this winter, I think, but every winter grows more difficult for him.”

  “We all must live one day at a time.” He glanced at her sideways. “Why don’t you just go ahead and scold me? You’ll feel better if you do.”

  She smiled a little, but shook her head. “I know I promised to curb my managing ways, but when I was leaving the Hintons, for an instant I felt that you were in grave danger. I told your coachman to spring the horses on the ride home. It was a great relief to see you safe and sound and riding at a sedate pace.”

  She had sensed that near disaster? Then he had better confess. “You are a most alarming wife. I was riding much too fast when a partridge frightened my horse. He reared and I almost fell. The incident made me appreciate that I should ride with great care until I’m fully fit.”

  “Horses can be amazingly clever. As a child, I had a fat little pony that saved me from many falls.” Her eyes glinted mischievously. “If you have truly learned caution, I’ll skip the scolding. Unless you really want one?”

  He laughed, thinking that he was lucky to find a woman like this. Maybe breaking one’s neck wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

  Chapter XIV

  Once they were inside and warm, Abby studied her husband with narrowed eyes. His right leg raged with red energy.

  Her scan confirmed what had happened outside. She could see auras. No longer did she have to concentrate to imagine the energy patterns. Now when she looked at Jack she saw a visible shimmer of color, elusive but definitely there.

  And it wasn’t just Jack’s aura that she had seen. Ransom’s had been predominantly a cool, clear yellow, very mental. Jack’s was greener, with a tinge of gray from fatigue. Even the horses had radiated ever-shifting energy fields.