Read Online Jo Beverley by Forbidden Magic - Free Book Online Page A

say it. And perhaps he had.
    He’d stopped in front of a small painting of a simple, white-capped woman cutting a yellow cheese. “Dammit, it’s that Dutch artist.” He snapped his fingers. “Vermeer. Lovely, isn’t it?”
    Owain could never tell if Sax was joking about art or not. He himself liked the quiet simplicity of the picture, but could it really appeal to his friend, who seemed to have different tastes? Sax had purchased quite a number of works by Fuseli, who was inclined to put fruit and animal faces on his subjects, and Turner, who reduced everything to a wash of color.
    Sax touched the plain frame. “I wondered where this went after I bought it. I’ll have it in my own room. Stephen—”
    Before the footman could move, Owain said, “Better not.”
    Sax’s brows rose. “Do you think I’ll smash it? I am, like Hamlet, only mad north-northwest. When the wind is southerly, I know a Vermeer from a gloomy monk.”
    â€œIt’ll give you a reason to visit your wife.”
    Sax put his hands on his hips. “You’re in a damn funny mood.”
    â€œThis is a damn funny business.” With a jerk of his head, Owain sent Stephen on his way.
    â€œAm I about to suffer a lecture?” Sax opened empty drawers and cupboards. “I won’t mistreat her, you know.”
    â€œI know. But you’re a lusty man.”
    â€œIsn’t that what a wife is for?”
    â€œYou don’t know how she’ll feel about it. She’ll do her duty, I’m sure.”
    â€œDuty.” Sax curled his lip. “It’s time you found the joy in it, my friend.”
    â€œI’m not without experience. I’m just more . . .”
    â€œDiscriminating? My dear fellow, I’m excessively discriminating. Only the best.”
    Owain just said what he needed to say. “You can’t keep bringing your women here.”
    Sax closed the door of a walnut armoire with a sharp click, and turned. “You know what you’re telling me, don’t you?”
    â€œDo I?”
    â€œThat the Daingerfield Dragon has won. She’s finally managed to steal some of my freedom.”
    â€œMake a happy marriage of it and you can thwart her.”
    â€œNow there’s a thought! We’ll just have to hope that my bride has as brisk an appetite for sex as I do. In fact, I suppose it’s my husbandly duty to stimulate it. Could be fun. Children,” he said abruptly. “Rooms for.”
    â€œNot for a while.”
    â€œAh-ha!” Sax’s grin flashed charmingly brilliant. “I have you flustered, my efficient friend. You’ve forgotten my bride’s siblings.”
    â€œDamnation.”
    â€œHow many?” Sax swept up a candelabra and headed for the next floor.
    Owain hurried after. “I’m not sure.”
    â€œAges?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    Sax turned at the head of the stairs to laugh, a magical chiaroscuro in the candlelight. “Poor Owain, caught out again. Never mind.” He walked on to fling open a door. “I don’t suppose there are babies.”
    â€œThis is the nursery?” Owain had never had reason to come up here, but his efficient soul was pleased to see that the room was clean and cared for. It also appeared unchanged since last use. When? “Were you a baby here?”
    â€œMy father didn’t come into the title until I was eight, and even then we didn’t come to London much. But I remember this.” Sax ran a hand along the iron rail around a small bed. “My sister was using it.”
    He broke off. “Our nurse was Nanny Bullock. She died when I was twelve.” His hand lingered on the cold metal a moment longer, and then he walked briskly into the corridor to open the next door.
    â€œThis was my bedroom.”
    Brak set off on an interested sniffing exploration of the icy room. Owain was beginning to