Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(50)

“I could wish he was closer to the steam,” she said worriedly to the valet and footman. The efficacy of herbs had been her foundation all these years, but sometimes—they were just not enough. She feared this was one of those times.

“Shall we call a physician, m’lady?” the valet asked anxiously.

“I’m right here,” Dare grumbled. “And I don’t want any more bloody quacks.”

“I’ll ask Lady Pascoe whom she recommends,” Emilia murmured to the servant. “For now, let’s see if the steam works.”

“Just let me rest. I’ll be fine,” Dare said testily as the servants departed.

“No you won’t,” she retorted, hiding her worry. “Your lungs are weak. You’ve poisoned your gut. And even physicians can’t tell you how to get better.”

But he was in pain and his coughing was tearing his lungs apart. How could she do nothing when she knew she could help? His agony was ripping her in two.

The better, stupider half won. Swallowing her fear, she finally admitted, “I can ease the pain.”

She waited for him to question. She had tried to tell him what she could do, but he hadn’t listened. It was time to show him, although killing herself to prove a point seemed the very definition of insanity. And then there was the problem of what he would do if she proved she was what the world called a “witch.” Best to find that out now.

“No opium,” he said through another cough.

“Not yet, no,” she agreed. Bracing herself for the pain, she sat on the edge of the bed. She slid her hands beneath his linen and placed them on Dare’s still powerful chest. He burned with heat. His lungs barely pumped. She had no idea what tubercles felt like, so she could not sense them. When she actually concentrated on her healing gift and not lust, she felt his pain sting like electrical shocks radiating up through her fingers. The healing energy responded to the shock , almost melding her to him.

“What are you doing?” he asked crossly. “Leaning on me won’t stop the coughing.”

His voice distracted her from the pain, but also from the healing. “You’d be surprised,” she said crossly. “Just be quiet for a change and let me experiment. It’s dangerous, so I’ve not dared to do this much.”

She didn’t have the words to make him understand, so she spoke as she would to her sisters. “I almost died healing Lydia’s asthmatic pneumonia, and that was only a partial healing. She still has asthma, but she recovered from the congestion. If you’ve contracted a pleurisy on top of the consumption, I might help that.”

He tried to object, but he couldn’t talk around the cough.

Closing her eyes, Emilia concentrated. She could not see inside him, but through her fingertips she received sensations similar to running her hand over a surface to determine its shape and texture. Some of the places she sensed seemed almost ragged. She reached through the muscular hardness of his chest, seeking the inner weaknesses that needed strengthening.

Conquering the cough enough to speak, Dare struggled for an upright position. “What the devil are you talking about?”

“Shut up or I will use opium on you,” she said, irritated at being interrupted just as she thought she’d found a flaw. “If you won’t listen, you can at least be quiet and let me work. But if I go catatonic, push me off.”

“Catatonic!” He grabbed her wrists and pushed her away. Even in his weakened state, he was stronger than she was. “Have you lost your wits?”

“No, but I’m losing my patience.” Now that she’d made up her mind to do this, she refused to give up. She placed her hands on her hips and glared down at the beautiful tousled visage that concealed so much damage. “Could you simply be quiet and trust me for a few minutes? I won’t attempt more than that, if I can. Just lie there and pretend I’m trying to seduce you.”

He glared at her through eyes almost gray with pain. Emilia waited. She had no more words that would convince him. Her stomach tightened, realizing she was asking him to trust a woman he’d only known a few weeks. But she’d thought. . . she’d hoped they’d reached an understanding.

He chose to mock himself by laying back against the pillows and saying, “I doubt a siren could seduce me right now. Do your worst.”



Dare figured he couldn’t be any more humiliated than he already was. Why not let his lovely quack of a wife pretend she was performing magic by caressing his chest? He rather liked the soothing coolness of her hands against his over-heated skin. He wasn’t as fond of the stink her herbal steam was sending up, but he wasn’t in any position to argue with her knowledge.

If he lay here and conjured images of Emilia naked and on top of him, he could almost enjoy the massage. Had he planted his seed yet? He wanted to live to see her growing ripe and round with his heir. Or his daughter. He was used to having women around him and liked the idea of a daughter, but he really wanted to shove his cousin’s nose in dirt by creating an heir.

Soothing heat seemed to wrap around his lungs where Emilia rested against him. The urge to cough lessened. Maybe she would move her marvelous hands further down as she had this morning, and he’d be aroused and ready for her. He could probably manage a good rutting if she stayed on top.

Lost in erotic daydreams, he didn’t know how much time had passed. Only when her hands stopped moving did he recall her strange warning about catatonic. He forced his eyes open to watch Emilia swaying above him, looking strangely pale and unfocused.