Read Online The Trouble with Magic (Loveswept) by Mary Kay McComas - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Kay McComas
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lessen the pain.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea. I should have thought of it.” She started to leave and turned back. “Can you think of anything else that might help?”
“Not at the moment, no,” he uttered wearily. But he’d work on it.
He had a good solid list of demands by the time she returned, but she nursed him so gently and sympathetically that he simply couldn’t bring himself to use any of them. In truth, her diligent pampering was something new to him. It made him a little uncomfortable. Not to the extent that he couldn’t tolerate it, but certainly to the point where he could appreciate it—had he really been in need.
She left him warm and cool respectively, and wondering how long it would be before she called for help.
Payton’s sick headache was unfortunate, but nothing some rest and food wouldn’t cure, she was sure. Actually, it was a stroke of luck, she decided, tucking the sheets in at the foot of her parents’ bed.
She had no idea how he’d found out about her having been in prison, but discussing her conviction and incarceration wasn’t something she relished. It was behind her, and she wanted to forget it.
But no one seemed to want to let her forget. Potential employers wouldn’t hire her. Old friends couldn’t look her in the eye. Acquaintances stopped calling. Close companions asked about it constantly, thinking it best for her to vent her emotions, when forgetting would have been more therapeutic. Every time she turned around it was there, haunting her. It was as if she had a scarlet letter stitched on everything she wore.
And now Mr. Dunsmore—Payton—knew about it. The fact that he had the information wasn’t as disturbing as the thought that the knowledge would work at cross-purposes with the magic. Who could fall in love with a convicted felon?
It was a stiff blow to her scheme, no doubt about it. He was bound to ask about it again eventually, and she was bound to tell him the truth, because it was her nature. The optimist in her was beaten and threadbare, but she wanted to believe that there was still some way for her to overcome the black mark in his eyes.
She whipped her braid back over her shoulder with a shake of her head. It wasn’t her intention to spend the rest of her life defending herself against a crime she hadn’t committed in the first place. If Payton Dunsmore were any other man on earth, she wouldn’t even attempt an explanation. But she wanted her island. And she needed his help to keep it. Therefore, she would have to win his approval.
Between the last step into the foyer and the door of the library, she mustered a cheerful smile.
“Payton?” she called softly, thinking him asleep. He grunted. “Are you feeling any better?” A groan. “Your room is ready. Do you think you’d like to try and go upstairs? I think you’d be more comfortable there, but you can stay where you are if you’d like.”
“I think I can make it,” he whimpered, anxious to begin round two. “Would you ... Could I impose on you to help me a bit?”
“Of course,” she said graciously, hastening to his aid.
Lord, the man was big, and heavier than he appeared, she ruminated, staggering under his weight, saved from a good crushing when he righted himself and pulled her up closer to his body.
“I feel so weak,” he professed apologetically. “I can’t remember ever feeling worse.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, panting, taking another stair step. “I feel awful about this.”
“Not your fault,” he said, an accusing undertone in his voice. “How could you have known it would affect me like this?”
“I’m sure you’ll feel better soon.” She was too encouraging, and he smirked, his head above hers as she stooped to her task.
It was wonderful. He’d been wanting to touch her again, and he’d created the perfect happenstance to indulge his whims. When he wanted to discover if her hair was as smooth and soft as it looked, he brushed his hand across
“Oh, that’s a good idea. I should have thought of it.” She started to leave and turned back. “Can you think of anything else that might help?”
“Not at the moment, no,” he uttered wearily. But he’d work on it.
He had a good solid list of demands by the time she returned, but she nursed him so gently and sympathetically that he simply couldn’t bring himself to use any of them. In truth, her diligent pampering was something new to him. It made him a little uncomfortable. Not to the extent that he couldn’t tolerate it, but certainly to the point where he could appreciate it—had he really been in need.
She left him warm and cool respectively, and wondering how long it would be before she called for help.
Payton’s sick headache was unfortunate, but nothing some rest and food wouldn’t cure, she was sure. Actually, it was a stroke of luck, she decided, tucking the sheets in at the foot of her parents’ bed.
She had no idea how he’d found out about her having been in prison, but discussing her conviction and incarceration wasn’t something she relished. It was behind her, and she wanted to forget it.
But no one seemed to want to let her forget. Potential employers wouldn’t hire her. Old friends couldn’t look her in the eye. Acquaintances stopped calling. Close companions asked about it constantly, thinking it best for her to vent her emotions, when forgetting would have been more therapeutic. Every time she turned around it was there, haunting her. It was as if she had a scarlet letter stitched on everything she wore.
And now Mr. Dunsmore—Payton—knew about it. The fact that he had the information wasn’t as disturbing as the thought that the knowledge would work at cross-purposes with the magic. Who could fall in love with a convicted felon?
It was a stiff blow to her scheme, no doubt about it. He was bound to ask about it again eventually, and she was bound to tell him the truth, because it was her nature. The optimist in her was beaten and threadbare, but she wanted to believe that there was still some way for her to overcome the black mark in his eyes.
She whipped her braid back over her shoulder with a shake of her head. It wasn’t her intention to spend the rest of her life defending herself against a crime she hadn’t committed in the first place. If Payton Dunsmore were any other man on earth, she wouldn’t even attempt an explanation. But she wanted her island. And she needed his help to keep it. Therefore, she would have to win his approval.
Between the last step into the foyer and the door of the library, she mustered a cheerful smile.
“Payton?” she called softly, thinking him asleep. He grunted. “Are you feeling any better?” A groan. “Your room is ready. Do you think you’d like to try and go upstairs? I think you’d be more comfortable there, but you can stay where you are if you’d like.”
“I think I can make it,” he whimpered, anxious to begin round two. “Would you ... Could I impose on you to help me a bit?”
“Of course,” she said graciously, hastening to his aid.
Lord, the man was big, and heavier than he appeared, she ruminated, staggering under his weight, saved from a good crushing when he righted himself and pulled her up closer to his body.
“I feel so weak,” he professed apologetically. “I can’t remember ever feeling worse.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, panting, taking another stair step. “I feel awful about this.”
“Not your fault,” he said, an accusing undertone in his voice. “How could you have known it would affect me like this?”
“I’m sure you’ll feel better soon.” She was too encouraging, and he smirked, his head above hers as she stooped to her task.
It was wonderful. He’d been wanting to touch her again, and he’d created the perfect happenstance to indulge his whims. When he wanted to discover if her hair was as smooth and soft as it looked, he brushed his hand across
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