The Marriage Spell by Mary Jo Putney Page A

stay with Lord Frayne until one of the footmen can come and stand watch. He doesn’t need much nursing care at the moment. Mostly he needs the time to convalesce.”
    â€œI’ll admit there isn’t much I could do if he suffered a crisis except call for help, but I didn’t want to leave him. I had just fallen asleep when Ransom asked me to take over again.” Turning to leave, he added, “I thought you had agreed to call me Ashby.”
    She shrugged. “Yesterday was all turmoil. Today is a return to normality. You are a duke. I’m a country gentleman’s daughter and a wizard. It is time to resume our normal places in life.”
    â€œYou will always be the brave woman who saved my friend’s life,” the duke said quietly. “And I hope that I shall always be Ashby to you.”
    He meant it, she realized. And even though today was normal, she recognized there was a bond between them. She guessed it was rather like soldiers who had fought side by side in a battle. “Very well, Ashby. I shall endeavor to suppress my manners.”
    He smiled and left her alone with Frayne. As soon as the door closed, she moved to the bedside for a closer look. Even though he was sleeping, she saw humor and individuality in his face. His soul was firmly seated in his body again. She moved her hands above his body in a light scan. Yes, the repairs were sound.
    She rested her hand on his forehead. No sign of fever. Though she had banished inflammation the day before, there was always a danger it would return. That was perhaps the greatest risk to his recovery.
    Two tugs on the rope beside the bed would bring a footman so that she would be able to see to her guests. But before the servant could come, she allowed herself the indulgence of touching Lord Frayne. First she brushed the back of her hand across his cheek, finding the masculine prickle of whiskers to be strangely arousing.
    In teasing contrast, the brown waves of his hair were soft against her fingertips. “I’m glad you survived, Jack Langdon,” she whispered.
    She wondered how long it would take him to back gracefully out of his marriage bargain.

Chapter
V
    T
he brush of an angel’s wing…
Jack was drawn from sleep by a gentle touch on his hair.
    He opened his eyes, and saw not an angel but the burning sun whose warmth had brought him back to life. He blinked in shock, and the sun dissolved into an Amazon with startled eyes. When she didn’t turn into something else, he said politely, “Good day. I’m sorry I can’t greet you properly, but I don’t think standing would be wise just now.”
    Her surprise changed to amusement. “No, it wouldn’t. But you are doing well, my lord. I find no trace of fever.”
    He felt obscurely disappointed that she had been checking his temperature, not giving him an angel’s benediction. Though she had certainly acted the part of an angel to him. He studied her face. Wide cheekbones, a large mouth that seemed ready to smile, and those startlingly edged blue eyes. Not a beautiful face, but pleasant enough.
    She seemed a voluptuous, healthy wench, with an earthy sensuality that some men would find provocative. But she wasn’t the sort of female he would choose to wed. He repressed his sigh, not wanting to be insulting. “We are to be married, are we not? Perhaps you should call me Jack instead of my lord.”
    He had startled her again. After a brief hesitation, “It seems too early to call you by your Christian name or to discuss our marriage. First you must regain your health.”
    He didn’t agree that it was too soon to discuss their nuptials, but he hadn’t the energy to argue. “Alas—Miss Barton, I believe?—I do not even know your Christian name. I hope that in time you will give me leave to use it.”
    â€œMy name is Abigail. Usually I am called Abby.”
    He noted that she didn’t grant