Heart's Magic (9 page)

He'd invited them all
beforehand, of course. Win or lose, they would want to gather, but
Harry had been supremely confident of victory.

"Shouldn't I visit the
guild hall?" Elinor asked him quietly. "To claim it as well?
Perhaps locate the cauldron?" Not that she really wanted to, but
she wondered if she ought.

"The register is the
important bit," he said as the hallway began to clear. "You might
ask for Briganti to go an' make sure no one's carryin' things off
as shouldn't be carried, though."

"Brilliant idea.
Grey?"

"Already in train." The
elegant conjurer tipped his head toward the omnipresent Norwood.
"Simmons left shortly after the counting of votes, laid low by his
gout, but his very efficient executive officer is managing
everything magnificently."

Norwood flushed a dull red
under the praise, but maintained his stone-like Guardsman's
expression. He stepped out of the office into the just-cleared
corridor and gestured for those still in the office to follow
suit.

Elinor was almost the last
one out, only Harry behind her. As she entered the hallway filled
with laughter and happy chatter, Edgar Dodd stepped forward to
block her way.

"Elinor Tavis," he said in
a voice harsh and growling with anger, "you are not fit to be
magister of the wizard's guild. I challenge you for the title of
magister."

Dodd raised his hand and
people gasped, obviously fearing he would strike her as she had
slapped Cranshaw when she challenged him. He didn't. He threw his
glove in her face. It fell to her bosom, then her wide skirt, then
to the floor as he backed away. Elinor was too surprised to try to
catch it. She shouldn't have been.

"Witnessed," Sir William
said wearily.

"Witnessed." Thomas Norwood
didn't sound any happier, but he was evidently a man who knew his
duty and did it.

"Challenge to take place
one week from today," Sir William pronounced.

Dodd nodded in acceptance,
turned on his heel, and walked away.

Dr. Rosato cleared his
throat. "I will, of course, be in delight to serve again as
your
secondo, signorina
."

"Thank you,
Dottore
." Elinor managed
to smile. Why had she thought the challenge with Cranshaw would be
the end of it?

"Don't fret." Harry tucked
her hand in his elbow. "Cranshaw was the best of 'em, and look 'ow
easy you beat 'im. Course you'll be able to trounce Dodd. 'E ain't
'alf the wizard you are. Come on. We still got somethin' to
celebrate."

The celebration was loud,
long, and merry, with much laughter and many toasts, beginning with
toasts to Elinor, running through the queen and her late consort,
to the lovely wands Elinor had used in her victory. That was
Pearl's rather tipsy contribution to the festivities. They ate
lobster patties and tiny beef Wellingtons and hothouse strawberries
and
crème fraiche
until Elinor thought she would burst. That did not include the
lemon cakes, chocolate biscuits, and buttery scones brought out as
teatime stretched toward supper.

Dr. Rosato opened the piano
and played off-key music for impromptu dancing. Off-key due to the
piano, not his playing. Elinor thought it was the first time the
piano had been played since Harry bought it with the house ten or
so years ago. It obviously had not been tuned in all that time, but
the sour chords didn't dampen the merriment.

Elinor didn't want to
dance, though with only three ladies present she knew it wasn't
fair to keep refusing. But dancing implied flirting, flirting
implied interest, and she wasn't interested. She wouldn't be. Her
life's path was set.

Harry, of course, paid no
attention whatsoever to her preferences or refusals, sweeping her
into a rollicking polka without bothering to ask. He simply seized
her and took off. He swung her around, making faces at her until
she succumbed to laughter and the whirling, bouncing energy of the
dance.

After that, there was no
hope of backing into her corner again. She danced with Grey and Jax
and Nikos Archaios. She danced with the American conjurer who had
come as part of a diplomatic mission from one side or the other of
their warring country and stayed to study the dead zones. She even
danced with Dr. Rosato when he convinced Pearl to play the three
songs she knew, only one of which was suitable for dancing. They
danced to all of them anyway.

After Pearl's turn at the
piano, the party broke up. Elinor had Freeman send for her pelisse
and shawl when the other coats were brought, but when a footman
returned with the items, Harry took them away from him.

"Stay a bit," he said
quietly. "We've a thing or two to discuss, 'aven't we?"

Elinor was tired, but she
knew if she went back to her flat in the mews behind Harry's
garden, she wouldn't rest. And the magisters did have matters to
discuss. When to wall up the second London dead zone on the south
bank of the river in Bermondsey, for instance. Then there was
Dodd's new challenge to consider, though she didn't want to discuss
that.

"All right." She might as
well use up her restless energy and calm her whirling mind at
Harry's as at her own flat.

Now that she was no longer
Harry's apprentice, she probably ought to find another place to
live. Except she hadn't begun to earn anything from her magic. She
didn't think she could afford anything as nice as the place she had
now.

Nor would it be so
convenient to the other magisters, since Grey and Pearl lived
across the street and down a few houses, and Amanusa and Jax still
resided in Brown's Hotel, up the other way from Harry's, while they
looked for a house. Perhaps she could use her expectations as
magister to secure a little house to rent.

"Bright an' early then?"
Harry was saying.

"Not too early," Grey said
at the door. "You know how Pearl is, laying about asleep all
hours."

Pearl poked him in the arm.
"You're the one all chatty with your spirits at three in the
morning. We'll be here by ten," she said to Harry.

"Ten? Is the sun even up by
that hour?" Grey protested. "It is January, you know."

"Good night." Harry
chuckled, closing the door on them.

"They're leaving?" Elinor
belatedly realized the house seemed very empty. Even the servants
had vanished to wherever servants stayed. "Amanusa and Jax
too?"

"They've already gone."
Harry gave her a puzzled look as he walked toward her.
"Why?"

"I thought we were going to
talk. About the school. Strategy." She waved a hand. "Magister
things."

"We can do that in the
morning when they come back." He stood very close. Close enough she
could feel his warmth. Close enough that his legs pressed into her
skirts, causing them to billow around him.

She'd gone without hoops
today, using layers of petticoats to fill out her skirts, fearing
the bone cage might trip her up during the challenge. Now, she
didn't know if the missing hoops made her feel safer or more
vulnerable. Her skirts didn't tip up in the back as he stood so
close, the way hoops would, but she could
feel
his legs through the layers of
cloth and netting.

"Wh-what are you doing?"
Why did she ask that? She didn't want to know. Elinor's hands
trembled. Her head felt lighter than air.

Harry cupped her face as if
it were a delicate blossom in his rough-textured hand, his
expression intent. On her. "This."

And he kissed
her.

This wasn't like that other
kiss, the first one Harry had given her. That one had been a
question.
Do you want this?

This kiss was the
answer.
You know you do.

His perfect mouth opened on
Elinor's, demanding she respond in kind, and she did. She opened,
accepted the sweep of his tongue inside, and when he retreated she
felt so bereft, her tongue had to go questing forth. Timidly, she
touched his lips before scuttling back inside her own
mouth.

Harry groaned, an arm
whipping around her waist to pull her close, crush her breasts
against his powerful chest. And she liked it. She adored being held
so tight, captive in a man's embrace. It wasn't frightening at all.
Because it was Harry who was kissing her. And she was kissing him
back.

That wasn't right. She
shouldn't--

"Elinor," he whispered.
"
God
, Elinor." His
hands began roving, across her back, around her waist, up her ribs
until the heels of his hands pushed into the sides of her
breasts.

Sensation flooded her,
overwhelmed coherent thought, turning her mind into a jumbled mess
where she could only grab snatches of this and bits of that. Harry
was
kissing
her.

His arm was behind her
again, holding her up, his other hand at her waist, while he
alternated between the deep open-mouthed kisses and tiny, damp,
dragging kisses along her jawline, down her neck, up her cheeks and
gently across her eyelids and the bridge of her nose. She could
only clutch his shoulders and shiver.

His hand at her waist began
to creep up her side, bit by incremental bit while he kissed her.
He stroked over her tongue with his as if trying to lure her out
once more and when she succumbed to the lure--helpless to do
otherwise--he sucked on her tongue, making her shiver. His hand had
risen high enough to frame her breast with thumb and forefinger,
his thumb pressing lightly from beneath. That made her shiver too,
made her knees shake, made her nipples pucker and tighten. But she
wasn't cold. She was flushed with heat, light-headed with
it.

Harry stroked his thumb up
and over her breast, teasing her hard-puckered nipple, the
sensation tingling through her. He groaned and the sound penetrated
her lust-fogged mind.

She struggled to grasp
sense, to escape from the tangle of her senses. Harry pressed a
kiss to her neck, just under her jaw where the skin was so
sensitive. His perfect lips sent shudders rippling through her. His
hand beneath her breast caught the shuddering and sent it
skittering deeper. Her arms were around him, her head tipping back
to give him the access he wanted. His thumb slid up and over the
peak of her breast again and her entire body flushed with the feel
of it.

Somewhere in the distance,
a door closed. Harry lifted his head, alert and wary, though his
thumb still made its teasing journey over her sensitized nipple.
Elinor shivered.

What was she doing? This
wasn't who she was, wasn't what she wanted. Was it?

No. She was magister of the
wizard's guild. She had to be brighter, better,
smarter
than this. She had duties and
responsibilities. Ambitions. And yet, here she stood wrapped up in
a man's embrace. What had come over her?

"Come on, Ellie. Let's be
private." Harry held her close against him as he swept her from the
entrance hall into his front parlor. Elinor made herself pull from
his arms as he reached to tug the pocket door closed.

"No, don't." She looked
around for her pelisse and hat, still far too fuzzy-brained for her
comfort. Her mind, her refuge, had abandoned her. "I have to
go."

"What for?" Harry caught
her round the waist again, flush against him. His head dipped for
another kiss and Elinor turned her face away.

"No, Harry. Stop it." She
pushed at him, her traitorous fingers curling in to feel that
broad, male chest.

He let her go. "What's
goin' on, Elinor?" He cupped her cheek, stroked his thumb to the
corner of her mouth and back. The gentle, almost cherishing touch
was harder to turn away from than the passion. But she had
to.

"I have to go." She reached
for the door and Harry caught her hand, stopped her.

He pressed a kiss to her
palm with those soft, perfect lips. "Why?"

She snatched her hand from
him. Why did this have to be so hard? She'd never had this problem
before, never been so tempted. But it wouldn't be sacrifice if it
were easy. "I told you. We can't do this. I thought you
understood."

"I did. I do. But the
challenge is over. You won. No more need to fret over
distractions." Somehow, he had her other hand and was kissing her
fingers curled around his.

"
Harry.
" She took back that hand and
spun away from him, walking a few steps to put herself out of his
reach. "Obviously, you did
not
understand. I didn't mean no more kissing until
after the challenge. I meant no more kissing again, ever. Besides,
I still have a challenge."

"Dodd." Harry flipped a
hand, dismissing the wizard as he stalked toward her. "'E's no
challenge for you. Not now I've seen wot you can do."

Elinor backed away.
"Harry,
no.
" She
wasn't afraid of him physically, though he was larger than she and
powerfully built, a tawny bull of a man. She feared what he could
make her feel. "We cannot."