Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(13)

“Do you know how to create a laboratory?” he asked, only raising his eyebrows slightly at her expensive list of demands.

“I’ve read Antoine Lavoisier’s articles, and pamphlets written by other scientists since then. They are mostly chemistry related,” she said, scowling again at his apparent doubt of her knowledge. “I’ve made lists of what I’ll need.”

“Is your grandfather’s house large enough for this or will you be using your. . . cousin, didn’t you say? Her grounds?”

“Lady Pascoe-Ives is a distant cousin who recently acted as midwife for two of my close cousins. She’s an herbalist and female physician as well, so we’ve been corresponding. She claims there is adequate room for a laboratory once she raises funds to rebuild the original infirmary.” Emilia finished her pie. After her nap, she felt rejuvenated, but glancing at her husband, she could tell he was half-asleep. He looked much like a satisfied male cat sprawled across the covers.

“I should leave you to rest. Thank you for thinking of my dinner.” She rose.

He held out his hand. “If we are to live under the same roof, we should learn some physical means of expressing regard for each other. It’s a good way of defusing arguments.”

She felt that odd thrill again, the one that wanted to bend over and kiss his cheek, as a wife was entitled to do. “I am not an affectionate person,” she argued.

But he looked so tired and drawn that she risked the painful prickles of skin against skin, and took his hand. Then daringly, she leaned over to brush his cheek with her lips. She noticed his fever more than the tingling up her arm. When he attempted to pull her closer, she held a hand to his brow. “I will bring you some willow bark tea.”

“I do not want a nurse,” he said between clenched teeth.

“You want a money tree,” she said pragmatically, patting his hand and letting it go. “You can drink the tea or not. It’s no matter to me.”

“I would like a wife,” he stated unequivocally.

Emilia froze in her tracks. “A wife?”

“I am still a man,” he growled, holding her gaze.

She could hear her pulse pounding in her ears. “There is no question about that,” she whispered.

“We will start work on marriage tomorrow, shall we?”

The devil was definitely in his eyes. She’d thought them gray earlier, but in this light, they were a seductively pale green. His lips bent in a sensual curve that drew her gaze, and she swallowed. “Tea,” she said senselessly, before fleeing in utter terror.





Chapter 4





Dare damned his cough, his weak chest, and his disease as he waited for his lady wife to emerge from her chamber the next morning. They’d breakfasted in their separate rooms, but he’d hoped she might need help with her fastenings, and that he could make his first overtures then. But while he cast up his accounts again, she emerged fully clothed, carrying her valise, and already wearing her frivolous hat. This time, the hat was adorned with purple flowers to match her purple gown, he noted, hastily rinsing his mouth and pretending to straighten his neckcloth as he stepped away from the dressing screen.

The physician had warned the medicine might be as bad as the disease, but it lengthened his life just a little, he’d have to live with it.

Dare supposed his wife’s gown was purple. His sisters would have insisted that it was violet or mauve or lavender. All he knew was that his bride looked stunning in it. It was made of a fabric sturdier than the muslin she’d worn yesterday, so he assumed it was some sort of travel gown. But it clung to her slender waist and narrow hips. Embellished with ruffles and a short cape, it created hourglass curves where he was fairly certain there were none. He enjoyed the effect. She’d even tilted the hat back enough that he could see the color rising in her fair cheeks as he continued to stare.

“Did I miss a button?” she inquired with hesitation.

“I would like it if you missed a button or three,” he admitted salaciously. “You could miss the whole cape, and I would be a happy man. How did your former suitors keep their tongues in their heads around you?”

He offered his arm before he said anything else ridiculous. Perhaps the disease ate at his brain. He took her heavy valise, and it almost wrenched his arm from his socket. Books, she’d said. She’d brought books to bed.

Her cheeks brightened to rose, but she slipped her gloved fingers into the crook of his elbow. “I am sure I do not know,” she said with just a touch of acid. “I would think loose tongues would lead to unpleasant drooling. I should be forced to consider rabies.”

He couldn’t stop a chuckle. “Only my brilliant wife would call me rabid. I think I like it.”

“I am still new to this. . . intimacy of saying what I like, as you do,” she said, not as stiffly as before. “No one has ever insulted me in quite such a manner before.”

Dare laughed. Feeling in charity with the world again, he almost clattered down the narrow stairs as was his usual wont, but he was aware that she had to lift her skirts and go slowly. He wouldn’t have her breaking her neck, so he walked sedately and caught her arm again once they reached the common room.

“I’ll have you know that wasn’t an insult, my lady,” he said in mocking offense. “I normally do not pant over ladies and wish their clothes to the devil. But you, my lovely wife, are a confection beyond any man’s wildest dreams. I still cannot fathom why someone with more to offer hasn’t snatched you up before me, although I am eternally grateful that they did not.”