Magic Touch: Witches of Windsor – Book 1 Page 2

  She shakes her head. "There is no one. If you would be kind enough to pour me some of that wine, I will be fine."

  On a table at the far side of the room is a decanter and two small crystal glasses. Rushing to help however I can, I do as she asks and bring her the wine. It smells of something I don't recognize, and I suspect it is more than just wine. Some witches brew, perhaps.

  As she sips, the color returns to her heart-shaped face. "How is your leg, sir?"

  My concern for her is so all-encompassing, I didn't even notice that I carried her up a steep flight of stairs without pain. But in her cozy little sitting room, I flex my muscles, and only an echo of pain remains.

  Elation floods me, and a blue light surrounds me. I'm glowing the same color as her hands when she had them on my leg. Inside my chest, something familiar rises like a bird trying to escape its cage.

  Esme's eyes widen as she stares. Her voice is breathy and perhaps fearful. "William, please sit."

  Not wishing to be the object of her trepidation, I sit in one of the two gold-and-brown striped chairs and examine my glowing hands. Not possible. I close my eyes and know it will be gone when I open them. "What is happening?"

  "I'm not certain. I've healed many people but never has the magic remained after the healing. Perhaps I overextended, and this effect will fade." She sounds doubtful.

  I force myself to look again, and the glowing fades. I should excuse myself and leave her. Instead, I pull up my stocking and button my breeches at the knee. My leg offers no resistance to movement. I stand and sit several times, and still there is no pain beyond stiffness and a very dull ache. It's as if I was never wounded. "Do your healing activities often leave you so drained?"

  "No." Already looking stronger, she sips her wine.

  "How was this different?" I should ask how any of this is possible. I should deny everything I have seen, but I'm not a man to lie to myself. She healed me with her hands, and there is no doubt about it. Somehow, with some power I can't possibly fathom, she coaxed a bit of metal out of my leg, and healed the wound. My suffering is a shadow of what it has been. Even now, the remaining discomfort continues to wane.

  She shakes her head. "I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps it was moving the object from flesh and bone. Perhaps it is my own fault for wishing to help you more than was objective."

  My pulse quickens. Could my desire be shared? Don't be a fool. I lean forward to bridge the distance between us. "I don't think I understand."

  Those eyes I so admire shine with passion and ferocity. "I am attracted to you, William. I know you and I are not part of the same circle, and I have no designs or desire to quit my sphere, but attraction is part of being alive, and I'll not be shamed over it."

  "Shamed?" It’s impossible for my heart to beat any faster, or for that organ to withstand the joy flooding it. "I certainly would not wish you to feel shame."

  Her chest rises and falls faster, and her cheeks pinken. "You should go now, Sir William. I'm sorry to have been a burden, and I'm pleased I was able to help you."

  Obviously dismissed, I stand. "What is the fee for your services, madam?"

  "A healing is one sixpence."

  "May I ask how you did it, or is it some mystical secret?"

  She tilts her perfect face and those green eyes smile up at me. "It's not, but it is very hard to explain to someone who has no frame of reference."

  "Will you try?" I'm stalling, but also curious.

  "As a healer, I can see the broken parts in a person or animal. I can use my magic to reach them, and will the body to heal."

  I am mesmerized by her lips as she speaks and can't look away as they close on her last word. If anyone can wield magic, it must be Esme. She has me completely under her spell.

  I don't want to leave her. There is no expression of thanks that will do justice to what she has done for me, and her admitting her attraction is a balm to my soul. I dig two shillings out of my purse and place them on the table near the door. She will likely be angry to find I paid four times her fee, but I'll be long gone. "Thanking you hardly seems enough, madam. You have done for me what I was told could not be done. I am in your debt. If you are ever in need, you should come to me, and I will do all I can to help you."

  "I'm glad you are well again, sir." Her voice is tight, but her gaze is direct.

  How I would love to have those eyes on me while bringing her pleasure. She is a dream. Nodding, I open the door. "Esme?"

  "Yes, William?"

  "I'm attracted to you as well."

  She nods. "Yes, I know."

  Smiling, I plod down the steps. I collect the shrapnel from the table and put it in my pocket before walking through the shop to the door. The bolt is thrown, and I realize it won't be possible to lock it from the outside without a key. I exit through the kitchen and secure the door behind me.

  As I exit the alley, Samuel jumps down from my waiting carriage and opens the door.

  Taking one last look at the shop, I climb up and think of moss-green eyes and the most kissable lips I've ever seen.

  Chapter

  Two

  ESME

  The moment Sir William Meriwether walked into my shop last evening, my heart soared. It was some kind of strange dream come true. Except, he came for help, and I nearly drained myself to give him what he needed. It was a foolish mistake. If he'd not been so kind, I might have lost consciousness in my kitchen and lain there for hours with who knows what consequences.

  Luckily for me, he is a good and kind man, and I had an elixir recently brewed in my rooms. He paid too much for the healing. I will send a note around to his home with the overage.

  I shall never admit this out loud, but I have been smitten with him from the moment I read his story in the paper. When I saw his solemn portrait hanging in the Royal Museum, I stared for an hour. I couldn't look away.

  In person, his eyes are more passionate than sorrowful. While he said he didn't believe in witchcraft, he must have had an idea he was coming to a witch for help. The apothecary knows what I am. That showed both desperation and open-mindedness. Never has my magic made someone glow as it did William. Perhaps I gave him too much, too fast, but the fragment had woven its way into muscle near the bone. Removing it took more out of me than expected.

  The last thing I wanted was to hurt him, but I felt desperate to take away his pain.

  I've thought of nothing but him since. I spent my workday in a fog of memories. Touching him and knowing my touch aroused him was a constant distraction. Of course, many men would grow hard from a woman touching their leg so intimately. It's foolish for me to believe there is anything special in my touch.

  Nearly time to close, the bell over the door rings and Mrs. Bates enters. "Miss O'Dwyer, I'm in need of more of that cream for my face if you have any."

  Smiling, I hand her the cream in an envelope of waxed paper and say, "I keep it just for you, madam. I'm glad it's been working well."

  Mrs. Bates puts her coin on the counter. "You have never failed in keeping my skin soft."

  "How is your son's rash?" I ask. The babe was suffering from a terrible diaper rash last time she was in.

  "Right as rain." She smiles. "Do you think that salve will keep for the next time?"

  "You've put it in the cool larder?" I wrap up her purchase.

  She nods.

  "It should keep for three months without any problem." I thank her for her business, and she bustles out, checking the street to make sure no one sees her leave.

  Many of the neighborhood people frequent my shop, but few admit it. I'm a witch, a fact of common knowledge, and yet still a secret. I clarified it with William, more to remind myself that he is not for me. Any childish notions I might have about the knighted landowner are silly at best.

  As I take Mrs. Bates' money to the back room, the bell tinkles again.

  Planning to lock the door as this will be my last customer, I turn back to the shop.

  Cloaked in black, William stan
ds in the middle of the shop, hands on his hips. He peers out from under a hood, and surrounding his sky-blue eyes is a blue glow, which is my magic, no doubt.

  "Oh, dear." I rush around him and lock the door. "You had better follow me to the back, Sir William."

  My heart pounds. I'm thrilled to see him but terrified I have caused him harm. He follows, and I search my mind for some bit of knowledge that could explain the glow.

  As soon as we're behind the backroom door, he whips off the cloak. His blond hair is shorter than is the style among grand society, and it, too, glows with shimmering blue magic. "What have you done to me?"

  His hands glow as well, in the same color that accompanies my magic. Though, perhaps a shade or two darker.

  "Nothing like this has ever happened before, Sir William. I have no explanation. Magic is not transferable, at least I have never heard of any such spells." I rush the words, not sure how to help him. Taking his hands, I ease him to the table. "Will you sit? Maybe I can help you release some magic and stop the glowing."

  He takes a long breath that expands his already broad chest, making my heart flutter. I'm worse than a child with her first crush.

  Finally, his blue eyes meet mine, and he sits. "It came back when I was...excited earlier today. I've tried everything I know to wipe away the thoughts that brought it on, but still, the glowing persists."

  Sitting across from him, I take his hands and will the magic back into me. The power creeps close, like a cat sniffing at something new and interesting, but then pulls back, unwilling to come. It doesn't feel quite like my own magic. There is something unrefined and unfamiliar about it.

  Rather than toy with things I don't understand, I let go of the desire to pull this power from him and open my eyes. Keeping his hands in mine, I take another path. Maybe I can get to the root of the problem and work it out from there. "What brought on the excitement?"

  He stares at me as if he might set me on fire. "It's of a personal nature."

  Swallowing down my embarrassment does nothing to keep my cheeks from flaming. He is a man. Men take lovers all the time. There is nothing to be jealous about. "You were aroused? Were you with a woman?"

  Head shaking, he pulls his hands from mine and laughs long and hard. "No, Miss O'Dwyer. I did not take a woman to my bed in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday. I try to keep my baser instincts in check until at least Friday."

  "You are teasing?" It's almost a relief.

  "I am. I was, however, thinking of a woman." Again, those stunning eyes lock with mine.

  I can't look away. Desire can be a very powerful tool in magic. If somehow, I had transferred some of my magic to him, perhaps the absence, or relief of that need, would deplete the magic. "And the woman is not available, or in a position to relieve this need."

  The right side of his mouth pulls up in the most wicked smile. "I don't know the answer to that question, but perhaps you do."

  "Me. How can I know what the woman you desire wants? I know I said I'm a witch, but premonitions and mind-reading are not my strongest talents." Perhaps if he brought the woman here. Oh lord, I've lost my mind entirely. Of course, he can't bring a woman who knows nothing of his affections to a witch for divination.

  William shakes his head and laughs again. "Are you telling me that lovemaking will cure me of this glowing?"

  Hearing lovemaking from his lips sends a thrill down my body, and it transforms into an ache between my legs. I have discussed sex with clients before. It is common for women, and occasionally men, to come to me with their bedroom problems. Surely, I can get through this conversation without melting into a puddle on my kitchen floor. "I don't know for sure. However, desire is very powerful. If you alleviated that desire, it might remove the problem."

  Fire flares in his gaze, warming my skin. He adjusts his seat and the glowing increases. "Then, I am to glow like some star in the sky every time I desire a woman for the rest of my life? I'm certain my future wife will be thrilled to know exactly when I'm in need of her." He stands and throws his hands in the air.

  I rise as well and touch his shoulder. "Please calm down, Sir William. I'm sure this is temporary. Magic is not transferred from person to person. I have healed hundreds of people with my hands, and this has never happened before. Perhaps you might go to the country for a few days or a week and wait for it to subside."

  "It was you," he whispers in a rough voice.

  "What was?" I remain close to him but drop my hand as he turns to face me.

  "I was aroused by you. The way you touched me, the way you look, how fragile you were, lying on your couch, needing my help. I thought of all of that as I was dressing for the evening. That was when the glowing resumed." Light pours from his face, neck, and under his collar. "Do you still want the lady in question to alleviate my needs?"

  "Oh, dear." I don't know what to say. I want him too, but I'm not the kind of woman who beds men I barely know. "I am not a woman of loose morals, sir."

  He touches my cheek with the back of his hand in a whisper of a touch. "I suspected not."

  "I'm sorry if I gave you the impression I was that type of woman, or that I need a man to keep me." Swallowing down my desire and keeping my voice even is a miracle of an achievement.

  He sits and cradles his head in his hands. "You did no such thing. My want of you is only natural. You are very beautiful and kind."

  "And beneath you." It pops out of my mouth before I can stop it.

  Looking at me, he smiles again. "What do we do, Esme? I cannot go around glowing. I can go to the country, but my mother is there with a house full of servants who will be surprised their employer shines blue like a star in the heavens. It was all I could do to hide it from my valet and butler before I ran out of the house today."

  I have no idea how to solve this. "There is a coven here in Windsor. I can inquire with them and see if they have any experience with this. It will have to wait until morning. They gather, at least they used to gather, in the mornings to hear coven business."

  "You are not a part of this coven?" No judgment, just curiosity.

  "No. I am a lone witch, as my mother was before me." A knot tugs deep in my soul at the thought of my mother.

  "Is that common?"

  "Most witches belong to a coven for safety and community."

  His stomach grumbles. "I was supposed to go to my club for dinner."

  "Well, you can't go like this. If I invite you to eat here and stay the night, will you think I'm a loose woman?" I'm sure to regret allowing the object of my affections to spend the night in my home, but I have done this to him, and he can't be out and about in his current state.

  "I would think you’re a very kind woman and thank you for your hospitality," he says formally.

  Turning from him, I close my eyes for a moment and will my good sense to override my burning desire for him. "I have stewed lamb. I'll add some potatoes and carrots and it will be ready in no time."

  Even with my back to the table, I feel his presence filling the space. I try to ignore the want of him coursing through me, as bright as his glowing skin, if not so obvious, but it won't leave.

  "May I help you in some way?" He's standing directly behind me.

  I'd not heard him move, or even sensed him. The stupid infatuation must be dulling my senses. "Do you cook, Sir William?"

  He peers over my shoulder as I chop carrots. "I can feed myself in a pinch, but no. I have a cook in my employ."

  "How did you learn to feed yourself?"

  Moving so that his hip is leaning against my counter, he faces me. "When I was on the continent, I had several occasions where I needed to forage for food. I would harvest a rabbit or some other woodland animal, build a fire and cook it. My first few attempts ended rather badly, but I got better with practice."

  I drop the carrots in the pot and set to work on the potatoes. "I suppose we all do what we must to survive."

  Darkness shadows his eyes and the blue glow dims. "Yes." He spots his
hands and his gaze shoots to me. "The effects dimmed. Did you see?"

  "I did. What were you thinking about?" As he looks at me, the glow increases again.

  He studies his hands. "I was thinking about the war. Nothing specific, just the horror of it all."

  Heart in my throat, I don't want him to think of terrible times. Yet his gaze is too much. I focus on the potatoes and add them to the pot, then place the heavy iron on the hook in the hearth. "We've been so occupied that I didn't ask you how your leg feels?"

  Gaze distant, he rakes his hand through his hair. "I barely have any pain. It's an echo of what was."

  It is a very good sign for the healing process. "Sometimes the magic begins the healing, and then the body takes over the work. What you feel is the final stage of your recovery. I'm pleased I could help at least with that."

  Having taken a vow to do no harm, it grates at me that I have somehow broken that oath. I wanted so badly to help him. Maybe my personal feelings took over, but my intentions had been good and pure.

  If Mother were alive, she'd know what to do. "I'm sure the coven will give us some directions about this phenomenon." I take out two bowls and spoons, and set them with napkins on the table.

  William places them carefully in front of each chair. He even folds the napkins neatly. "I believe you had no ill intentions."

  The knot in my gut eases slightly.

  When the potatoes are tender, I spoon stew into the bowls, then place the pot on a stone near the hearth, where it will stay warm but not cook any further.

  We eat in silence while the idea of asking the Windsor witches for help gnaws at me. It isn't that I have anything against the coven, well, not directly. My mother and the witch who previously headed the coven were adversaries.

  "What are you thinking that causes you to scowl so?" William takes the last bite of his stew.

  "Do you want more?" I change the subject.

  "No, thank you. This was very good. It reminds me of a stew the cook of my youth made long ago." As he gets lost in his memory, the lines around his mouth ease.