Bewitched by His Kiss (May Day Mischief) Read Online Free PDF

her on the bed and had his way with her?
    The vision deprived her of thought, of strength. She slumped against one of the bedposts. Over the past three years, she’d imagined just such a scene whilst safely alone in her bed. Sure no harm could come of it, she had given in to the pleasure her hands and mind had wrought.
    With Elderwood here in the solid, powerful, flesh, she wanted more. No, she positively yearned for it. Too bad; she would satisfy herself tonight in bed. But no, she knew with utter certainty that it would only make the yearning worse.
    Despair assailed her. What was wrong with her? It was dangerous folly to encourage something she so badly didn’t want.
    Who was she fooling? She did want it. Not the magic, not the marriage he proposed—God forbid—but she desperately wanted to slake her lust.
    Just once more , a breathy little voice inside her said. There is only one way to get rid of this itch — to scratch it .
    Would that really get rid of anything? She’d been scratching it on her own for three years, and it hadn’t gone away. Oh, but that was different. That was fantasy, whereas this was real. She didn’t trust that voice, but there might be an element of wisdom in its urgings. If she gave in to him, he might realize that his ideas about eternal bonds, et cetera, were sheer nonsense. If he bedded her and then lost interest, she might hurt a little, but it would be worth it. She would get him out of her system once and for all.
    No, she would hurt quite a lot—she had her pride—but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t do it. She returned to her own chamber and hid the gun at the back of her bookshelf, still battling desire with common sense. Perhaps she should leave it to fate.
    That sounded far too much like magic. She gave up and went downstairs.
    Below, Aunt Edna chattered like a girl about Lord Elderwood’s looks and charm, whilst at the same time scolding Peony for her complete lack of attributes that would attract such a man and berating her for not trying harder. Wooden-faced, Peony sorted the embroidery silks. Meanwhile the men, judging by the shouts of laughter from the dining room, told salacious stories over their port.
    How would it feel to share warm stories with Lord Elderwood? To be entirely open about their mutual lust? To revel in it?
    She turned hurriedly away before Aunt Edna commented on her burning face.
    Just once .
    * * *
    She’d taken the gun. A hint of her essence lingered in David’s bedchamber. He breathed it in, suffused with longing. He’d botched it this morning and hoped the return of her gun showed that he had no intention of coercing her. That whatever they did, it must be with her consent.
    He had set about finding ways to gain it. He’d tried his best at dinner. He’d done as she’d asked, via Alexis—paid as little attention to Peony as possible, although he wouldn’t have minded drawing the girl out more, as it was a pleasure to find someone else who believed in magic. He’d been thankful for the opportunity to emphasize his fascination with folklore. He’d hoped it would show Lucasta that they had more in common than lust.
    And yet she’d clearly resented his interest. She seemed to take his compliments as insults and his questions as mockery, as if he wished to prove her wrong. He didn’t, at least not about most of it. If only she would acknowledge that magic might be real... A little agnosticism would go a long way toward...
    Toward what? She was engaged to marry another man. He shucked his shoes and pondered ways and means.
    Why was she so determined to refuse him, in spite of the intensity of their attraction? The only reasonable explanation was that she loved Alexis very deeply. Not for the first time, he considered telling Alexis that his prospective bride was no virgin. That deny it though she might, she had a wanton streak that made her respond to David’s advances even while engaged to Alexis.
    He didn’t want to. She wasn’t a wanton