Free Potent Charms by Peggy Waide

friends and her own parents, had thrown herself off a balcony into the path of a passing carriage.
    Phoebe didn't think herself so weak-willed, nor was she
foolish enough to believe that Badrick had her best interests in mind. Consequences of some sort were always the
result of one's actions. She pushed herself from the settee,
circled to the other corner and placed her unfinished drink
on the table. "Your so-called alternative leaves you in control of my future and me at your beck and call. It is an
alternative that allows you to discard me whenever you
weary of my company, one that eliminates any possibility
of my claiming my only birthright."
    "As a man saddled with such a destiny, I can honestly
say you might be better off without the responsibilities you
also inherit. But, if and I say if --I tire of your company,
you could return to America with a healthy income even
without Marsden Manor."
    "What about Aunt Hildegard? I owe her more than a
scandal amongst her friends."
    "Do you really care about your aunt's friends' morality?
You don't even know them."
    Armed with logic and calculation, he was obviously prepared to deal with every possible argument she might present. She briefly wondered if all his past mistresses had
been hired so matter-of-factly. Likely so. His manner was
the epitome of composure. She doubted many people, if
any, ever saw him in a vulnerable position. Why in the name of Saint Mary did she like him so? "If you are so
interested in me, why not ask for my hand?" Hesitantly,
she asked, "Would marriage to me be so horrible?"

    Since she stared at her slippers, she heard but never saw
him approach. Standing only inches away, he did not touch
her. "Not you, Phoebe. Never you, but marriage itself.
Wedlock is not for me. I would not give you false hope."
    Although his voice hinted at wry amusement, she sensed
regret and even sadness. "You make marriage sound like a
death sentence."
    "For some, it is."
    "Why? Certainly you must have a reason."
    He pinched the bridge of his nose as though the thoughts
crowding his mind required too much concentration. "Forgive my morosity. Suffice it to say, I am doing you a
greater service by offering you the position as my mistress
rather than that of my wife."
    Scolding herself for the disappointment tugging at her
heart, she added a false bravado to her words. "It doesn't
matter anyway. I'm not quite ready to sell myself. I still
have four weeks left."
    "At a task you dread. Let me help. I wish to take care of
you."
    "Pardon me for saying so, but you've a wish to bed me."
    "There is that, but something else draws me."
    "Perhaps you want me simply because I injured your
pride when I refused your proposition the first time."
    "I am many things, but not a fool. I would never shackle
myself to a female I disliked simply to soothe my wounded
masculinity. I assure you, my reasons are far less noble.
Shall I prove my point?"
    She knew he intended to kiss her. And no tree blocked
her escape this time. Truth be told, wanton or not, she'd
been waiting, even hoping, for this very moment. She
watched his fingers, long and elegant, slide about her waist, and she trembled. His other hand gripped her chin.
As his lips descended, she met him halfway. The kiss,
more sensual than she remembered, planted a seed of
desire deep in her belly, one she sensed would grow and
flourish with a few caresses. Even more compelling was
the sense of rightness, the way her curves molded with his
muscles. Lands alive, she had to admit she liked kissing
this man, and when he used his tongue like that, she liked it
even more. She pressed her body closer.

    A soft, insistent tapping permeated the heady sensation.
Startled, she jumped back. Her one hand nudged the table,
which set the various glasses and tumblers rattling
moments before Winston peeked around the door. Her
other hand remained trapped within Badrick's, who
refused to loosen his grip.
    "Ahem,"