Magic Touch: Witches of Windsor – Book 1 by A.S. Fenichel

Author:A.S. Fenichel
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter

Fourteen

ESME

I'll not lie, even to myself. Taking a step back from William's embrace is hard. If it is the nature of his magic to gain what he wants, then he still wants me.

When I look for it, I sense no magic beyond normal desire binding us. I have much time to think on the subject as I trek each day to see Mrs. Kyle. I knock on the Kyle’s door, and she calls, "Come in."

Standing by the kitchen door, Clair grins. "I'm feeling almost myself today. What was in that tea the gentleman made me? Never mind, I don't want to know. I'm happy to feel better and see my grandson for a few more days."

"I don't know myself. He has some skills." Despite the fact that we're speaking of tea making and healing, I find my cheeks warm at the thought of William and his talents.

"Indeed, does he?" Clair's smile widens. "Do you have a tender for the man?"

I rush into the kitchen and start boiling some water. "He's not in my sphere, so it's of no consequence."

A little round table has been newly placed in the corner of the kitchen with two chairs. She fondles the table. "Mr. Waller made me this table and brought it to me as a gift. Imagine a woman my age getting a gift from a man. I think if that's possible after being on death's door just ten days ago, then you loving Sir William is nothing to scoff at. Besides, Pauline told me he looks very tenderly at you whenever she's seen you together. Perhaps the fondness is mutual."

I drop herbs in the teapot and clear my mind of all but healing. Once I add the water, I turn toward Clair. "It will not change that he is a gentleman, and I am what I am."

Clair huffs out a breath. "You look fine enough to me, and lovely besides."

I bring the tea to the table with a cup and saucer, and sit. "William is a good man. I'll leave the rest to the fates to decide. I shall continue to be his friend."

While the tea steeps, Clair traces the grain of her little table. "Why do you think a man like Mr. Waller would make me a table?"

"I have only met the man once, when he brought his son to me with a slightly worrisome cut on his hand. It's a fine table, though. Sturdy and good looking, too. Perhaps he heard you were feeling better. I don't know. Did the two of you grow up together?" I pour the tea and slide it closer to her.

She takes a sip. "I married my Patrick when I was just fifteen. He was a fine man, but neither one of us knew anything about life. He kept food on the table and was kind. Died four winters past, and I miss him. Left me enough to live on, which is more than most women around here get. I'm lucky. When I got sick, I thought, well, at least I'll see my Patrick again.

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