Mia slipped on satin slippers. “Pish-posh, I’m perfectly fine.”

She looked them over carefully. Both men had suffered bruises and scrapes but otherwise appeared relatively unharmed. She had to do something before one of them hurt the other, badly. “Hear him out, Exeter.” She opened her bedroom door, and was surprised to see it didn’t fall off its hinges. Mia tightened her wrapper. “Come along, gentlemen, I would like a cup of sweet spicy tea—and you both could use a relaxer.”

The Outremer wizard raised both hands in surrender.

Exeter’s glared softened. “No more games,” he warned.

They picked up his medical kit on the way to the kitchen. Prospero sat quietly while Exeter examined him. “You need not worry about me. This”—Prospero pinched the torn flesh on his forearm—“is my double—a virtual copy.”

“Do you self-repair? Or will you need someone over there to attend to your wounds?”

“Someone is already taking care of me. They scrutinize my every move; for the past hour they’ve been observing the original equipment get flung around the cell I’m locked in. They’ve already sent a team over to find out what I’m up to. We’ll only have a few minutes to talk.” Exeter removed his shirt and Mia dabbed tincture and bandaged cuts without too many hisses and yelps.

Prospero talked fast, starting with the story of an ancient struggle between two powerful families—vying tribes of a sort—and then a devastating loss of aether: enough to begin the unraveling of their world. Someone had to be blamed—and since Prospero was in possession of the remaining aether, he was forced to defend it.

“The Moonstone has restored equilibrium because it is the right thing to do, but the stone will not bend to either side’s will. Oakley is trying to find a way to coerce me, bring us into some kind of false accord—but he fools no one, particularly the stone. Ask Phaeton. If you don’t trust me, I believe you will trust his instincts.”

Exeter’s jaw muscle twitched as it always did when he was vexed or undecided on a matter. “You are correct about one thing. I don’t trust you.” He tossed back his whiskey. “But I will look into your story.”

Mr. Tandi descended into the pantry. “There are three gentlemen in the foyer, looking for a—” He turned to Prospero and bowed. “This man.”

The wizard pushed off his stool. “Please stay. Have your tea and drink your whiskey.” He nodded to the black-skinned manservant. “With your escort, Mr. Tandi.”

The Outremer wizard started up the stairs and turned back. “ ‘As I foretold you, were all spirits, melted into air, into thin air—yea all which it inherit, shall dissolve. And like this insubstantial pageant fade’ ”—Prospero’s gaze traveled from Exeter to Mia. “ ‘We are such stuff as dreams are made on . . .’ ”


Exeter poured himself another whiskey. “A shot of this might help us both get some sleep tonight.”

“Pour me a glass, then.” Mia set down her teacup. “You must be exhausted—that was quite the battle of wizard wills, Doctor Exeter.”

“Don’t give too much credence to Prospero’s assertions—I am just a practitioner of the manipulation of powerful elements. The superstitious call them dark arts and attach names like sorcerer or wizard to those who apply them.” Exeter finished the last of his whiskey. “The quote from Shakespeare was apt—most of it is theater.”

Mia shot him a wary glance. “Those cuts and bruises are no such illusion. You’re just being modest—or evasive.” Swallowing half a dram, she hiccupped.

“Come—let’s find you a place to sleep.” Exeter reached for her hand and intertwined fingers. As they neared his bedchamber, he turned to her. “You can’t sleep in your room—you’ll catch a chill—then a cold.” He opened his bedroom door. “Sleep in here tonight.”

A good amount of heat radiated from the hearth, and his bed had been turned down. She untied her dressing gown and slipped under the covers. He caught a glimpse of long limbs as she tucked herself between the sheets. The moment her head touched the pillow there was a sensuous exhale. Exeter removed his waistcoat and shirt.

She cracked an eye open. “Where will you sleep?”

“Here, beside you.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, bare-chested. “Here, Mia—beside you. Do you mind?”

She lifted the covers. “Come to bed and let me show you how much I have missed you, for I am more than ready.” She stretched like a sleepy cat and curled up in his arms.

“Wet, are we?” His voice was soft and deep.

“Sopping.” She rubbed his ruff of stubble with the palm of her hand. “How long until dawn?”

He inched the covers below her breasts and nibbled. “A few hours.”

She moaned as he tongued a nipple. “Then we must make the most of this night together.”

Exeter gently pulled the sheet past her belly, and let his hand travel farther, sliding down into her labia. He massaged gently, the kind of circling only he knew how to administer. He understood her subtle signals, what kind of rubbing she wanted, the rhythms and pressure to apply to the secret places that made her shudder and moan.

“I wish to reach my paroxysm with you inside me. Can we try?” Mia pushed the covers off and opened her legs wide—enough for him to view her pink folds of glistening flesh. Thoroughly aroused, Exeter dipped between her legs and gently licked as she squirmed with pleasure. Climbing over her, he held her arms at her sides while his tongue delved inside—in and out, laving broad strokes. He tickled her clitoris with his tongue and felt her shudder in response, as her sex grew swollen and her vagina flooded in readiness. Hovering above her for just a moment, he enjoyed the look of pure desire in her gaze. Firmly, he pushed inside the wet, warm sex of her, slippery with excitement.

“Slowly.” She whispered.

This was only her third time. “Is it painful? I can stop if you wish.” His voice was husky with desire.

“Don’t stop. I want you to love me so that I will remember it for days and days,” she ordered softly. She wrapped her legs up around his body and moaned; her breathing became harsh and rapid. With firm, deliberate strokes, he concentrated on her pleasure while building his own fervor a little at a time.

Exeter pushed his knees between her legs and without missing a single thrust, his hands reached under the small of her back and lifted her upright onto the tops of his thighs. Leaning back on his haunches, he impaled her on his penis and showed her how to rock her hips. He took a mouthful of breast and let their pleasure build to the next level.

“Good God, Mia.” He kept it slow, and with each withdrawal, he pulled out enough to rub her swollen nub with the tip of his cock. He pressed his fingers into the flesh of her buttocks and brought himself deeper inside. His thrusts became rapid and violent as her trembling grew stronger until she responded with her blissful cry and shudder of release. “Oh . . . Asa.” All she had to do was whisper his birth name, and his seed exploded into the depths of her body.

Exeter did not speak as he gasped for breath and chastised himself. He had become so highly aroused that he had not curtailed his behavior. He held her, clung to her, for he feared he had hurt her. She was not ready, yet, for such rough sex. Finally he managed an apology. “I’m so sorry. Are you well enough, Mia?”

“You must not treat me as though I am a piece of Royal Doulton china—brittle and easily broken,” she chided.

He swept a few locks of hair over her shoulders and held her face in the palms of his hands. “No, you are brave and strong, and might I say so very delicious?”

“I came to pleasure with you inside me.” Her chest rose and fell in soft slow intervals. Her nipples were relaxed, opalescent rose in color, and her skin glistened with the sheen of lumière de l’amour. He sometimes felt like he could drown himself in her body. He lifted a finger to the tip of her breast and watched it ruche in response to his circling.

There had been a kind of savage intimacy to their mating that felt as if their very souls had participated in a deep and profound intercourse. As it was, this night was to last in both their memories for a very long time, perhaps forever.

Epilogue

Pier 10, Southampton

MIA SWAYED as the hansom made a sharp turn onto the quay. Finally. She was to be away from England—and Exeter. She’d left London by train yesterday, accompanied by Mr. Tandi and a mountain of luggage. Their train had arrived in Southampton in time for a late supper. She hadn’t slept particularly well; in fact, she’d tossed and turned most of the night. Troubling dreams had plagued her—Exeter chasing her through misty passageways. A hint of warm breath on her neck as she hid in the dark. Fear shuddered through her body as she turned to find Prospero standing behind her wearing that enigmatic half smile.

Twice she had been jolted awake, gasping for air, icy cold and trembling.

Shortly after breakfast, Mr. Tandi had informed her of a delay in departure. She’d spent most of the day pacing in her room. Finally, by late afternoon, word came the SS Teutonic was ready to board guests.

She’d left a rather hasty note for Exeter, who had attended a lecture at the Royal Society of Medicine and was expected to dine out with a colleague. It was better this way. No awkward good-byes, and no tears. Mia dipped her head for a better look at the sleek ocean liner. The cross-Atlantic voyage would take four days. They would arrive in New York, where she would have a brief visit, and then it was on to Boston, to start her new life.