The Magic of His Touch (May Day Mischief) by Barbara Monajem

better at keeping secrets than at controlling my wayward
desires.”
    “This isn’t my secret to tell. I merely want to know how the
custom works.”
    “Why not ask Miss Barnes?” The bitterness in his suggestion
surprised Alexis; David Elderwood didn’t usually care about the opinions of
others. “No need, however. I know what she’ll say—that it was an attempt to lure
young men into the meadow. If one was caught, he had no choice but to marry the
girl.”
    “Caught by whom?”
    “By the parents and villagers—the folk round about.”
    That didn’t apply, as there was no one to force the issue but
Alexis and Miss Whistleby. “But you disagree.”
    “I’m sure in some instances it was exactly as Miss Barnes will
tell you,” Elderwood said. “In other circumstances, though—if the woman truly
believes in the custom, if the man is unknown and unexpected—magic might easily
be at work. One never knows for sure.”
    Alexis sighed. “Is there a counter charm of sorts? A method of
undoing the, er, magic?”
    “I doubt it,” Elderwood said. “Love is the most powerful magic
in existence. Why would someone who called upon it want to counteract it?”
    “Many reasons,” Alexis said. “Disinclination, disappointment,
nobility of character... I daresay there are others.”
    Elderwood shook his head. “Disinclination and disappointment
simply wouldn’t arise, if love was at work.”
    “But nobility of character might. Or self-sacrifice,” Alexis
said.
    “Perhaps,” Elderwood said, “if they are motivated by love. I
suppose love might be able to counteract itself. It’s an interesting
puzzle.”
    To hell with puzzles. Alexis strode over to the banked fire and
stood with his back to it, warming his damp breeches. “But not, for example, by
rolling in the meadow while clothed?”
    “Dear me,” Elderwood said. “Did she—whoever she was—try that?
No, no, that’s far too crude. She’s probably stuck with whoever came as an
answer to her prayer, particularly if they’ve met and spoken.” He paused, and
his voice fluctuated strangely. “Gazed into one another’s eyes, shared a
kiss—that sort of thing.” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “That kind
of magic, by what I’ve heard, is as powerful as a sacred vow.”
    Alexis said nothing.
    “Who’s the unfortunate fellow?” asked Elderwood, and his eyes
widened. “Oh, my dear Alexis. No other man was there? I’m so sorry.”
    He didn’t look sorry. Alexis thought he seemed almost
pleased—probably something to do with witnessing magic at work.
    Alexis didn’t believe it had anything to do with magic,
although it did seem rather like a miracle. He’d never expected to find the
right woman; no one remotely like her had been among the ones foisted on him by
his mother, year after year. “I’m not unfortunate. I couldn’t be happier about
this.” He merely had to figure out how to go about wooing Peony Whistleby. If he
only understood why she was so determined to refuse him...
    Elderwood’s mouth twisted. “What about Miss Barnes?”
    “That was never a real engagement,” Alexis said. “She wanted to
be left alone to write her tome, and I wasn’t inclined to marry any of the
ninnies my mother kept shoving at me, so it was convenient for both of us... Oh,
damn. That’s what I did wrong.”
    * * *
    If Lucasta hadn’t suddenly turned their way, staring
into the orchard, Peony would have extracted more promises from Sir Alexis.
“Stay here until Lucasta and I are indoors,” she whispered, “and don’t you dare
discuss me with her.” She hurried out of the orchard, opening the gate and
shutting it again with a clang.
    “I thought I heard voices,” Lucasta said. “Who were you talking
to?”
    “Myself,” Peony said. “Just as you were doing.”
    “I always talk to myself,” Lucasta said. “You never do.”
    “How do you know? I do it when I’m alone, which I thought I
was.”
    Peony couldn’t see her cousin