Page 69 of My Faire Lady

Her magic braids through my ribs and settles in my core, coating my insides like warm honey.

She shrugs. “It’s only this strong when I’m with you.”

My pulse trips, and my mind screams to pull away and sever whatever spell she has me under. But it’s intoxicating—her magic dripping over my hips and down the length of my thighs. She drops her gaze to my lips, then lower, down the arch of my neck.

I force myself to swallow. “What does this particular spell do?”

“This sort of rune requires a lot of magic,” she says, wetting her bottom lip. “But once it floods your entire body, I have complete control over you. You become a voodoo doll, of sorts. If I wanted to kill you, all I’d have to do is will it into your palm.”

My heart gallops, breaths coming in heavy pulls of air, like the oxygen has turned to clotted syrup.

“But it has other benefits, too. Ones that might be considered…enjoyable.”

Her fingers change course on my palm, and a sensation drags down the length of my arm. I inhale a sharp breath and glance at my shoulder, but there’s nothing there except for a path of goosebumps. Scarlet watches me as she skims a nail to the vein on the inside of my wrist.

At the touch, an invisible finger trails down my back, all the way to the base of my spine. Scarlet shifts her touch, and the single, invisible finger turns to hands, palming my waist. The touch is so warm, so solid, that if I closed my eyes, it’s almost like it’s her hands on me.

“What are you doing?” I whisper as invisible fingertips drag across my collarbones and trace up the column of my throat.

Her voice lowers, gravelly. “Cursing you.” She leans forward, her lips brushing against the skin below my ear. “Be careful what you wish for from a witch, my lady.”

My breath leaves in a ragged burst, and she pulls back far enough for our eyes to meet. I lift my free hand to her face, cupping her jaw in my palm. Her eyes flutter shut.

She jerks herself back, severing the rune and yanking the magic clean from my body.

“I—I’m sorry,” she whispers, wiping her hands across her thighs.

I avert my gaze, and a chill snakes down my body. I ache to lean forward and hook a finger under her chin, force her to look at me while I ask her to do it again and again, maybe with her own hands.

But we made an agreement.

She slides the spell book back toward her and flips open to where she left off, her eyes scanning the page far too fast to actually be reading.

“Well?” I say, as I shift my weight back on the stool, widening the distance between us. “Did the break clear your mind?”

“No.” An unamused laugh. “It only muddied it more.”

I stand from the table and turn away. I can’t look at her, not when my face might betray the ache climbing the back of my throat. It’s one thing to keep myself from kissing her. That’s not the hardest part of all of this.

It’s that, try as I might to keep myself closed off from her, I want nothing more than the chance to hold her. For her to hold me. I want to study all the things that make her lips tilt, just so I can make her smile every day.

I lean against the door frame leading into the shoppe, basking in the cool breeze that flits through the doorway. The clothes hanging from the rails flutter, tapping the hangers against each other.

I suck in a cheek. Isn’t this what I always wanted? To create and have others enjoy my art? Even in the off-season, I could continue making the clothes and sell them at another storefront. Maybe online.

It’s not Scotland, but I’d have Scarlet. If she’d have me.

I shake my head. This is temporary.

Boden’s frame fills the doorway, and he smiles as he turns the knob, letting himself in. His eyes linger on mine, and he swallows, giving me a weak nod. It must be frustrating for Scarlet to know he can piece through her thoughts, and I’m sure it gets old, but right now it eases some of the weight from my shoulders, knowing I don’t have the voice these thoughts aloud for someone to understand.

“How’s the sewing coming along?” he asks, picking a piece of lint from a pair of folded breeches. “Will you have it done by this weekend?”

I nod. “At this rate, I’ll be able to turn it in before the due date. As long as the bodice doesn’t give me any trouble.”

He pulls a box from his pocket and holds it out. “I found these, and thought you’d be able to put them to good use.”

I flip open the lid and pinch one of the stones between my fingers, holding it up to the light. My eyes burst wide, and I shake my head, setting the diamond back into the box of at least four dozen more. “I can’t accept these.”