Heart's Magic (31 page)

"Is that necessary, sir?
Magister Carteret handles Investigations Branch as well as
conjurer's guild."

Harry paused to shake
another hand. "Yeah, but he's the commander. You're not. Now, if we
could ease Simmons out, maybe we could make it stick--and I think
maybe we can eventually, given 'is gout actin' up like it is, but
it could take time. We need somebody to take over the tower right
away."

He frowned, thinking.
"Maybe we can make that a separate post. Probably should. Split the
tower and its operations out into a separate branch like
Investigations. I-Branch, Prisons, and Enforcement." He ticked off
three fingers. "Maybe you could work up a proposal on that?" He
raised an eyebrow at the young alchemist.

Norwood swallowed and
nodded. "Yes, sir. I believe I could."

Harry clapped him on the
back. "Good. An' call me Harry. You're the magister now. One of
us."

"Yes, sir. Harry." Norwood
was young, but Harry thought he was older than both the lady
magisters. He looked even younger when he grinned, as he was
now.

Age might have had
something to do with why they'd picked Harry as the new council
head, he thought now. Grey was 32. Harry was at least five years
older. He didn't know exactly how old he was, but he figured he
could get within a year or so. His birthday was Sept. 29,
Michaelmas. His mother had remembered that, just not the year. The
ladies were both still in their twenties, which made him the old
man of the bunch. Around ten years older than Elinor.

That thought made him hide
a grimace, but then she didn't seem to mind so far. Of course, so
far, he hadn't been able to get her to agree to either marriage or
familiarity, or whatever the state of being a familiar was called.
Age might not matter so much for a mere lover. Not that he'd
proposed again. Elinor balked if you pushed her too
hard.

"Did you get the
announcements sent to the newspapers?" Sir William
asked.

"Yes, sir." Harry put the
gavel in its box. It was his responsibility now but it weighed a
lot less than the
Reginshammer.
Wasn't nearly as old either. Nor did the gavel
carry any magic. "I 'anded the notices to runners just before the
doors shut for the meeting. Formal announcements to the queen and
Parliament were sent first thing this morning."

"Yes, yes." Sir William
grinned bigger than Harry'd ever seen him. "You'll be hearing from
them soon. Better be getting your speeches ready and your court
dress. The queen won't be holding court, of course, but she'll want
to meet you privately. And you'll be presented at court to the
Prince and Princess, you and your magisters."

Harry groaned.
Him,
a street urchin from
Seven Dials, presented to the queen? Sure, a cat could look at a
king--or a queen--but this wasn't looking. It was
meeting.

And Parliament--would they
listen? Granted, he was head of Magician's Council now, but when
you came down to it, he was still a boy from the Dials. That
mattered to folk, folk outside the council. And inside,
too.

He'd never had to face any
physical bullying from other magicians, since he didn't start at
the academy till he was 16 or so and bigger than most of those who
might've tried. Better at magic than most, too, or quickly so. But
he'd endured plenty of insults and ostracism. Too bad Grey was so
much younger than Harry and later to arrive at the academy, not
till he was 18. He'd been the first who truly didn't care about
Harry's background. By then, Harry was almost through the academy
and working as laboratory assistant and housemaster.

"Ready?" That was
Elinor.

"Right." Harry tucked the
box with the gavel under his arm and offered her his other. The
ladies had arranged a celebratory reception in the academy's dining
hall.

It was late. The party had
moved from the academy to Harry's house. Young Norwood and the
Greek alchemist Archaios had just departed, talking non-stop magic,
doubtless on their way to talk more at club or guild hall. The
Carterets had already left. Pearl was fading earlier and earlier
these days.

"
Stay.
" Harry stood behind Elinor,
speaking for her ears alone.

The Greysons were gathering
their wraps and a footman had brought Elinor's cloak and jacket as
well. Harry was supposed to be helping her on with it.

"Or I could come with you."
He offered her the choice, always better to do with
Elinor.

"Good night, Amanusa."
Elinor stepped away from him and pressed her cheek to the taller
woman's in a genteel embrace, ignoring Harry entirely.

"Good night, Elinor, dear."
Amanusa's eyes twinkled as they flicked to Harry and back again.
"Sleep well."

She embraced Harry. Jax
shook their hands and they were gone.

Harry was alone in his
house with Elinor. And all the servants, who wouldn't say anything,
even if too many of them knew him from the old days and weren't
cheeky above half. According to Freeman, who wouldn't let Harry
call him Alf any more, the servants all approved of Elinor as their
mistress. Now if he could just figure out a way to convince
Elinor.

"
Stay,
" he said again, but he shook out
her cloak and held it for her, making it clear that the choice was
hers.

She stood motionless, her
back to him, though she kept her head turned to one side as if she
couldn't make herself turn away completely. He wished he could work
sorcery, so he could see what was going on inside that clever head
of hers. He waited as long as he dared. She was still here, but
would she stay? If she didn't, he would follow her home.

With a sigh, he wrapped her
cloak around her, leaving his arms around her as well. He kissed
the exposed side of her neck. "Stay. Please."

Now, finally, Elinor broke
her frozen silence with a sigh. "I shouldn't." She put her hand out
from the folds of her cloak and caught Harry's hand. "Why is it I
can't resist you?"

"Dunno." He unwound her
from his embrace, keeping the hold she'd initiated on her hand.
"Whatever it is, if you figure it out, tell me so I can keep doin'
it."

Harry had studied his
mouth, since she'd said what she said about it. Looked at it every
angle in the mirror, and he couldn't see it. It was just a mouth.
Same one he saw every day shaving. But if she liked it, if she
thought it was "perfect," who was he to complain?

He led her toward the
stairs. He wanted her in his bed and not just once or twice. The
rest of his life might do.

"You don't need any more
power over me, you brute." She gave his arm a feeble punch with her
free hand and had to grab for her cloak as it began to slip. "You
are already quite irresistible enough."

"Good." He winked at her,
determined to keep things light. Elinor was so skittish, but maybe
she wouldn't run if he shared a few home truths with her, lightly.
"Evens us up a bit, then, since you know you got me twisted right
round your finger."

"I know no such thing!" But
she laughed, so it was all right.

"An' who was it said I
should be 'ead of council?" Harry kept them moving, right past the
landing and on up the curve of the stairs.

"Greyson Carteret said
it."

He gave her a look and she
laughed again. "He said it after you did. You said I should do it
an' look where I am now."

"As if you didn't want it.
You know you did." Elinor poked him in the side where he was
ticklish.

He dodged out of her reach.
"Well, yeah, I did. But if you said somebody else--if
you
wanted it, I'd've
stood aside." He kissed her hand as they reached the top, making a
tease of it. He wasn't the hand-kissing sort, so teasing was
natural. "I'd do anything for you, Elinor."

That stopped her cold,
right there at the top of the stairs, and she stared at him. Maybe
he hadn't kept it as light as he should have. But he meant it. He
wouldn't back away, now he'd said it.

"I believe you," she said
after a long moment of staring. "I must be mad for believing it,
but I do."

"Good." He nodded once,
setting seal to the matter, then tugged on her hand, urging her
down the hall to his room.

Her faith in him aroused
him more than he thought possible, and it was all he could do to
wait long enough to get her someplace private. The instant his
bedroom door closed, he had her pinned against it, kissing her. He
could not get enough of her, never would. He had become an addict,
like one of those creatures in the opium dens who shook and
screamed when deprived of their drug. He craved her presence, but
instead of stealing his sense and strength, she made him stronger,
better.

He spun her around and
blinked at the absence of buttons. She laughed, a merry little
chortle, and turned to face him again. "This dress buttons down the
front."

She shoved at his jacket
and he tore it off, tossed it across the room, following it with
his necktie. Elinor started to work on his shirt buttons. "Race
you."

"No fair." Harry got busy
on the thousands of buttons closing her dress. "You have more."
Maybe only hundreds.

"Yes, but you have a
waistcoat. And trousers." The twinkle in her eyes as she looked up
had him fumbling buttons.

"Not fair," he growled
again. Particularly since what he uncovered was so distracting. He
flicked a finger across a nipple and her fingers
stumbled.

"Do we really want to play
that game?" Elinor raised an eyebrow as one hand trailed lower,
toward the cockstand straining his trouser buttons.

He never would get her
buttons undone if she touched him there, and he wanted her naked.
Wanted them both naked. He caught her hand and set it back on his
half buttoned shirt with a wordless growl. She laughed again, and
they each concentrated on the task at hand.

They--oh, all right,
he
kept having to stop and
caress and explore what he uncovered. Elinor did too, but he was
always the one who cracked first. She could be very single-minded
in pursuit of her goals. And she wore more layers to get through,
which meant he was starkers while still stripping corset,
pantalettes, shimmy, and stockings off her. Not that he
particularly minded.

It also meant that he was
stupid with lust by the time he did get her peeled bare, given the
way Elinor kept touching and stroking and squeezing. Even
there.
Especially
there. He tried to hold back. Truly. He knew women liked it
slow, liked to be coaxed and kissed into frenzy. Elinor certainly
did. But tonight, when he tried to slow down and ply her with
kisses--they'd somehow made it into the bed by then--he discovered
that Elinor was already in a bit of a frenzy.

What else would you call it
when she hauled him up by his hair from kissing his way down the
sweet softness of her stomach toward her nest and wrapped her legs
around his hips? Then insisted, "In,
now.
"

He obeyed. Hadn't he
already said he'd do anything for her?

They strove together,
thrust and rolled and caught at each other with hands and even
teeth. If the bed hadn't weighed as much as a locomotive, it would
have banged against the wall. As it was, they nearly wrestled the
mattress to the floor.

A long while after, they
lay boneless and brainless, panting for breath. And a longer while,
once Harry rolled to the side for fear of crushing her.

"
Ow,
" Elinor said eventually. She
turned to her side and raised up to look down her back.

"Ow?" Harry forced himself
back from the edge of sleep. "Are you hurt?" He was getting cold.
The blankets and coverlets had hit the floor, if the mattress had
not. One of them would have to get up to retrieve them.

"I think I got a
splinter--or something--in my bottom." She twisted herself, trying
to get a look. "I can't see it. You look."

Gladly.
He grinned and ran his hand over her round cheeks. "O'
course."

"Ow! Stop that. You're
driving it in deeper." She swatted at him and rolled to lay flat on
her stomach. "Get the lamp."

Harry looked round for it.
The only light came from the fire across the room. The lamp on the
side table was nowhere to be seen. "I think we broke the lamp in
all our bumping round. It wasn't lit, so that's all right, but it
ain't there. Hold on."

He grabbed his dressing
gown and went off the other side of the bed from where the lamp
should have been to go fetch the candle kept burning in the hall.
The broken glass and tipped-over base glittered in the candlelight
when he returned, confirming his guess. The base was on the floor,
but some of the glass was on the table, which meant some could have
gotten into the bed. He wouldn't have noticed. He didn't think he'd
have noticed anything less than losing a finger or toe. If Elinor
had been as swept away as he was...