“Peter,” she said, and he realized with a start that it was now she who was out of breath. “I—I need to stop.”
How many spells had he made her cast? He’d lost track, but it had to be at least three dozen. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as she leaned against the brewing table.
“I’m the one who needs to apologize.” She winced. “How do you feel?”
Useless.He couldn’t bring himself to say it, though. He led her to the armchairs they’d brought over from otherwise empty bedrooms and said, “Let’s think about how to help Mr. Freelow.”
“What about the anti-arthritic brew?”
He shook his head as he sat next to her. “Contraindicated, the book says.”
“Well, there’s what we were just doing, but …” She trailed off. The disadvantage was too obvious to need saying. They’d both have to lay their hands on Mr. Freelow, and it would seem so odd that the man wouldn’t be able to help talking about it afterward.
“We shouldn’t be casting anyway,” he said. “People would wonder why I’m making an exception for him but not for anyone else who needs a spell.”
“We could work on a new brew.”
“I’ve never done medicinal R&D—my experience is strictly on the spell-and-rune side. And even if I had, how on earth would we test it?”
She sighed. “Good point. I’m not sure how to determine the effectiveness of a bursitis remedy on a mouse.” She got out of her chair and curled up on his lap. “But a brew to prevent conception—now that would be easy to test.”
Almost despite himself, he smiled. “Rabbits. Lots of rabbits.”
“Exactly.”
“If only we had any idea what we were doing. Not to mention money to spare for side projects.”
She sighed again, more deeply this time. He sat in silence with her for a moment, an arm around her waist, trailing his fingers idly along the rippled fabric of her skirt, the inviting softness of the thigh it hid doing things to him. He kissed the curve of her neck. She hummed appreciatively.
“What makes you suggest this particular innovation, wife mine?” Not wanting to be impregnated while mostly asleep occurred to him as the answer, but the catch in her throat and the way she pressed against him pointed a different direction.
“Well—oh,” she said as he slipped a hand under her skirt. “I’ve wanted to work on it since I became friends with Sue, but …”
She trailed off as he ran the pads of his fingers up her leg.
“Yes?” he prompted, stopping at her upper thigh.
“I admit I now have thoroughly selfish and carnal reasons,” she whispered.
He slid off her underwear. Blood roared in his ears as he made her writhe on his lap. There was so much he could not do, but this—this was remarkably easy.
CHAPTER 21
March 31, 2021
‘Outpouring of kindness’ helps strapped ‘Romeo & Juliet’
By J.T. Moore
The Associated Media
ELLICOTT MILLS, Md. — The donations began as a trickle last week. By Saturday, the mailman needed three oversize bags to haul the letters, nearly all of which came with a check enclosed.
No one could be more astonished about this than the recipients, Peter and Beatrix Blackwell.
The modern-day Romeo and Juliet — he’s a wizard, she’s a typic-rights activist who drew him to her cause — were facing ruinous hospital bills after surviving an attack. Then the news got out. Across the country, people rushed to help.
At 4:35 p.m. yesterday, the entire $1.5 million debt was paid off.
