Magic in the Stars (24 page)

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Allegiance? With my
brothers? You
have
met them, haven’t
you?”

She sighed, taking his point. “My head is tired and my
instincts confused and I thought I should take a break.”

“And bathe,” he agreed with a wicked grin. “We could save on
hot water and do so together.”

Shocked to her core, she simply stared at him. His words
made no sense in her sheltered world, but her
instincts
clamored to heed him.

He caught her elbow and steered her around the corner. “I
think I shall take advantage while you’re not slapping me. We are both of age.
I only need ride to the bishop and obtain a license in the morning. We can be
married the day after . . . unless you wish a grand ceremony with all your family
around you?”

“This is a betrothal only,” she said in alarm, attempting to
pull from his hold. “I need more time to study—”

“And dither yourself into old age,” he argued. “Marriage never
comes with certainty. You have the rest of your life to study your charts and
pinpoint every discovery I hear about and fret over every circumstance. In the
meantime, let us have a little pleasure.”

“Pleasure
,” she
murmured with a sigh. “A nice bath is a pleasure. Your household . . .
not so much.”

“And me?” he asked in that seductive baritone that turned
her thoughts to mush.

Butterflies swarmed in her middle, and she was certain she
walked through a tropical heat. “You . . . You are dangerous,”
she acknowledged.

He chuckled wearily. “That is not what people usually call
me. I know you believe I act without thinking, and I fear you never act at all
if you can avoid it, and that we have immense differences to overcome . . .
But they are
interesting
differences,
aren’t they? It’s not as if we dislike each other. And even your charts say we
suit.”

“I can’t know that until I chart Uranus,” she argued.

Outside the bathing room door, he wrapped her in his arms
and held her tight. She could hear his heart pounding against her ear. “Follow
your instincts and marry me, my general.”

Her heart beat in tandem with his. He had said she would
never act at all—she wasn’t like that, was she? She had to decide, to quit her
Libra dithering and actually say yes or no so he could go on with his life. She
clung to his greater strength, his familiar masculine scent, his seductive
voice . . . and wanted to be as selfish as he and marry him
without regard to consequences.

A wedding. Did she dare plan a wedding? It seemed so very
impossible that everything could change in a day . . . .

“I would rather go home for the wedding—if I can prove to
myself it is safe,” she acknowledged cautiously. Just saying the words created excitement
at the possibility of seeing her siblings and beloved parents again. “Is there
a rush?”

He pulled back to look at her. In the gaslight, his grin was
almost diabolical. “You know there is. Besides, we could not ride together to
Scotland unless we were married without offending everyone concerned.”

“Perhaps just a simple ceremony here,” she suggested, still
uncertain of such an enormous step, one she had never considered. She could not
deny that she longed for a family again. But a family of her
own
?

And this particular family of madmen? She took a deep breath
and shut out that thought, recognizing a challenge she wasn’t quite ready to
face. She had difficulty enough making decisions about herself. Making ones
that affected countless others . . . She needed time.

He wasn’t giving her time. He was telling her she was
wasting time. And maybe she was.

They entered the bathing room, and Theo lit the candles she’d
left around the tub. Aster shivered—not with cold but anticipation. His large presence
in the lovely little room enhanced the sensuality of the flames, the erotic
murals, and the steaming water he turned on.

“Perhaps I should let you soak first,” she said hesitantly,
uncertain if he really intended what he seemed to be doing. Sometimes, with
Theo, it was difficult to follow his thoughts.

He found the scented salts she’d left on the rim and dumped
them in, letting the aroma of apple blossoms fill the air. “Now I see why you
always smell so good.”

She was truly out of her element. Before she knew how to
respond, Theo removed the bundle of her robe and nightshift and deposited it on
a chair. He kissed her hair, turned her around, and started unfastening her
gown. “You cannot do this yourself, can you?”

She’d donned a simple gown after removing her burned one,
but it was still easier if someone else unfastened it. “We should not,” she
tried to protest, but he kissed her bare shoulder, and a shudder of expectation
wracked her. She
could
 . . .
if she was prepared to allow herself to care. She swallowed and her heart pounded
erratically.

“
This
is how we
know if marriage suits us.” He peeled off her bodice and pushed her skirt to
the ground, leaving her clad only in her shift. She hadn’t seen a reason to
wear a corset in her own room.

“By undressing?” she asked uncertainly, wanting
clarification in words when he so obviously preferred deed.

“That’s a good start.” He turned off the water tap, then divested
himself of his silk waistcoat.

Torn between grabbing for a towel to cover herself and the
tempting lap of warm water, Aster did nothing. Sometimes, her Libra worked
against her. And well, sometimes . . . instinct worked in her favor.

Seeing her hesitation, Theo pulled her into his arms and
reassured her with his blazing kisses. She sank happily into the mindlessness
he’d taught her earlier.

His arms had become a safe haven that she trusted. His
kisses promised the world and beyond. She desperately wanted to believe she’d
found a home and a man who accepted her as she was, that she could have a
normal life like any other woman.

And she knew all the fallacies such mindless belief
concealed, but she didn’t care, not when her hero was kneeling at her feet,
peeling off her old stockings as if she were a princess and he, her gallant
knight.

She should have been shocked when he stroked her bare limb,
but she wasn’t. She was grateful that he lowered her into the tub without
removing her old shift. She wasn’t ready to reveal how ungraceful she truly
was. She simply stretched in the welcoming water and admired her betrothed’s
broad shoulders and the intensity of his gaze as he leaned over to kiss her
again.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, soaking a sponge for
her. “I cannot believe I am so fortunate as to find a woman who is beautiful,
brave, and wise beyond all measure. When I turn angry and forgetful, I want you
to remember I mean this with all my all heart.”

He boldly applied the soapy sponge to her bare shoulders,
untying the ribbons of her shift as he did so.

“I am none of those things,” she protested dreamily as she
held her soaked linen across her breasts. “You should join me so I can stroke
away your anger the way you’re easing my weariness.”

He chuckled, and the intimacy of that warm sound in her ear
aroused her as much as his caresses.

“I don’t want to frighten you into not marrying me,” he said.
“Besides, should I join you now, I couldn’t restrain myself. I don’t want there
to be any chance of leaving you with my bastard should I fall off my horse on
the way to London tomorrow.”

Oh, that was where mindlessness led . . . She
was
almost
glad that he cared enough
to be careful.

“That is something we really must discuss . . .”
she tried to tell him. She wasn’t brave enough to risk children yet. Marriage
was terrifying enough.

The sponge dipped lower, daringly caressing her breast.
Aster caught her breath at the piercing sensation shooting straight to her
womb.

She didn’t want to think or talk at all. She wanted to rely
on instinct, and instinct said this was a good man who even now meant to take
care of her.

“We’ll share a tub after we’re married?” she asked from her
blissful haze.

“Even if it must be at this hour of dawn to avoid all the
demands on our time, we will share this tub as soon as possible after the vows
are said,” he promised.

The sponge floated away, and his bare hand cupped her
breast, shoving aside the wet shift. She cried out when he caressed her peaked
and aching nipple.

When Theo leaned over and took her nipple into his mouth and
sucked, she shuddered with desire. The scrape of his beard, the delicious scent
of maleness, the caress of rough fingers that possessed strength he refrained
from using . . .

She would surely die if she never knew this man’s bed. She
knew there were ways of preventing children. She had simply never thought to
study them.

Except he needed an heir . . .

“Please,” she begged, not knowing what she asked.

But he knew. He kissed her hungrily, and slid his big hand
lower, brushing aside the barrier of her shift to caress her thigh . . .
and higher.

“No matter what the day brings,” he murmured, “if I know I
have this waiting for me come night, I will survive.” He touched her between
her legs.

Aster nearly rose out of the tub in shock, but he returned
to kissing her into submission again.

She was ready to agree to anything he said, no matter how
inane. How did he do this to her? She was the Prophetess of Doom. She should
see all the obstacles ahead of them. And Theo simply erased them with a caress.
Was it because he was so large that he made her feel safe? Because the hank of
hair falling across his brow tugged at her heart? Because he was so smart and
as lonely as she and he never gave up?

She purposely looked for obstacles. He accepted them and
climbed over. That, alone, was worth more than she knew how to give.

“I know nothing of cows and tenants,” she insisted, without
knowing what she was saying. His fingers were stimulating tissues even she’d
been afraid to touch, and her body had developed a mind of its own.

“I’ve decided that’s not important.
You’re
important. You’re the star I can hold and study and touch,
and I want you to pull me into your gravity and hold me. I promise that you’ll
be the center of my universe and I’ll never let you go.”

A vow that impassioned required more from her. From deep
within her, Aster recalled the vows of her ancestors. Even as she gasped when
he pushed two fingers inside her, she murmured helplessly, “I vow to love, honor, and
take thee in equality for so long as we both shall live.”

Wordlessly,
he kissed her, pushed his fingers deep inside her, and shattered her universe,
all in one motion.

Torturing himself by behaving like the gentleman Aster
deserved, Theo carried her to her bed rather than ravish her while she was
ripe, ready, and willing.

He was looking forward to having a passionate wife in his
bed, but that didn’t comfort him now, when he’d been inches away from heaven.
Lying in bed recalling Aster’s lush curves—and insane promise to love and honor
him—didn’t satisfy his hunger or his roiling thoughts.

He refused to believe his betrothed’s insistence that her
charts spelled doom for their families, but after Duncan’s accident . . .
He wanted a more logical explanation of how his brother could have fallen off a
horse he’d ridden a hundred times before in far worse weather, while twice as
drunk.

Pascoe’s admonitions of foul play afoot, on top of the
farmer’s unusual unrest preyed on Theo’s mind. Bringing a wife into this insane
asylum . . .

Shrieks, laughter, and the patter of little feet woke him
much too early. Theo groaned at the dim light, thought to turn over and go back
to sleep, then remembered the day’s task—a marriage license.

He was not a man who gave up or changed his mind easily once
he’d decided on a course.

Pascoe’s warnings, Duncan’s demands, and a household of
children took second place to obtaining the piece of paper that would tie the fairy
general to him for the rest of their lives. He ought to be terrified at the
notion, but after almost losing Duncan, Theo had a dread of mortality and a
need to share his life with someone who understood what he was and wasn’t. To
hell with the damned estate.

So, call him self-centered. He’d found a courageous woman
who wouldn’t abandon him, and he meant to keep her, even if she was slightly
mad. A woman probably had to be mad not to run fleeing from this household.

He grabbed bread, bacon, and a cold egg in the breakfast
room while Aster’s sister and cousin and a maid hustled the brats into seats.
He noticed Aster wasn’t down yet, and her family was shooting him suspicious
glares, so he left before they could formulate an attack.

At the stable, he encountered Erran and Jacques looking
concerned. Theo ordered a horse saddled and tore into his bread and bacon,
refusing to ask for the bad news so obviously on their minds.

“We think the dogs scared off an intruder at the glass
manufactory last night,” Jacques finally said. “We found footprints in the mud
outside the windows.”

“And a charred stick beside some kindling.” Erran added what
Jacques was hesitant to say, reining in his normal fiery temperament to speak
neutrally. “It was too wet to burn.”

Hadn’t Aster warned last night of catastrophe to his
manufactory? Theo refused to live with superstition.

“Hire sharpshooters,” Theo said callously, knowing Pascoe
had brought rumors of more Swinger incidents, although his manufactory
shouldn’t be of concern to unhappy farmers. “Ask Browne if he can call in any
of his old soldier buddies. Leave the hounds to run loose at night. Have the
men pack up the most important equipment and finished inventory and take them
home at night. Fill pails with water all over the building. I’m going to
London.”