MA

by itsbiz

for

7. Chapter 7

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/1020328.

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Doctor Who RPF

Relationship:

Alex Kingston/Matt Smith

Character:

Alex Kingston, Matt Smith

Stats:

Published: 2013-10-27 Completed: 2013-11-22 Chapters: 6/6 Words:

32055

like the magic of wild melodies

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)

Summary

His home is a modern country estate, opulent and full of life. The civilized magic there is easy to ignore if he wishes but that isn't the case here, not with this woman who is the wildness of magic incarnate. He cannot ignore the very powerful ancient magic radiating from her, and he has never felt quite so small.

Notes

For Charina, who prompted me with 'magic au' and this is what my mind came up with. Takes place during the Regency era. Story title from The Poet's Love Song by Sarojini Naidu. Chapter title from Read My Mind by the Killers.

with magic soaking my spine

His carriage rattles down quite possibly the only quiet lane in the whole of London, a strictly residential street with a dead end. No one drives down here unless they belong here, and unfortunately for Matt, he will belong here for as long as it takes. He stares at the passing houses through his carriage window, small and all grouped together without a space between them, so unlike the sprawling family estate he has been forced to temporarily leave behind for reasons too embarrassing to contemplate.

He just wants to get this over with as quickly as possible. Being the only one in his family incapable of performing magic is mortifying. His father and mother are quite powerful, his sister is something of a prodigy, and has been since her first act of magic at the age of eleven months. His parents kept waiting for him to show an aptitude for it and even as the years passed without a hint of magic, they didn't give up hope. The shame of a magical dud – a nihil, as the scornful call them

– in such a prominent family would have undone them. Matt has gone most of his life trying to hide it from everyone around him, even his friends. It's easier to do where he lives; out in the countryside of Wiltshire, but here in London, the magical hub of the country, he feels his inadequacy strongly.

The carriage slows to a stop at the very end of the lane, where a two-storey house sits all by its lonesome, facing the rest of the street. It's bigger than the other houses and though Matt has never heard of homes containing a magical essence, he thinks that if they did, this house would be one of them. Ivy covers the outside in vibrant green, and it's only in little patches that he can see the brick peeking through. Trees surround the whole place, towering high above and casting the house in eternal shade. It looks ancient and mysterious, almost sentient. Mesmerized by the wild magic emanating from the place like an odor, Matt climbs from the carriage and allows his footman to see to his bags, standing in the middle of the lawn and staring.

Henderson sends Matt's two traveling trunks floating toward the house with a muttered sursum and motus. Matt nods his thanks, following his belongings up the overgrown path and the creaky porch steps, pausing to knock. He bounces anxiously on the balls of his feet until the front door opens of its own accord, allowing him entry. He steps inside and stops in the foyer where his trunks slowly drift back to the ground and rest at his feet.

He glances around and calls out, "Hello?"

Hearing no reply but instead the murmur of an incantation further into the house, Matt frowns and follows the sound, letting it lead him through dark, winding halls until he finds himself standing at a door in the back of the house, open to let in the air and sunshine. Hearing the voice closer now, not muttering incantations at all but singing quietly, Matt peers around the door and finds a woman in a purple gown kneeling in the dirt, murmuring happily to a patch of alliums.

Assuming this must be his tutor, Alexandra Kingston, he opens his mouth to call for her tentatively when out of nowhere a ball of black fur launches itself at his legs. Startled, he releases an undignified yelp and jumps back, heart racing.

His tutor whirls, her eyes wide and unruly blonde curls bouncing around her face – a lovely face, he notices right away even through his panic. The cat hisses at him and slinks away to her side, rubbing itself against the skirts of her gown. "Moffat," she scolds softly as Matt attempts to compose himself. "That was horrid of you. Bad kitty."

She glances up at him and now that he isn't attempting to escape a clearly murderous cat, he notices things that escaped him before, like the pretty pink flush on the round apples of her cheeks, the wide, strong nose and regal cheekbones, but it's her eyes that leave him breathless. She has kind eyes – eyes the color of the Mediterranean – but there is a certain something lurking in them, a feral light that sends shivers up his spine.

She smiles at him, wiping dirty hands on the skirts of her dress without thought as she approaches. "I'm so sorry about him – he's not terribly fond of anyone but me, for some reason. You must be Matthew."

"It's quite alright, Ms. Kingston. I'll learn to stay out of his way from now on." He offers a friendly smile. He may not want to be here, but that's hardly her fault. It's only his, for being such a failure in a family that values magic above all else. "And call me Matt, please."

"In that case, I must ask that you never call me Ms. Kingston again." She winks at him and he nods, feeling an inexplicable flush creep up the back of his neck. "I'm terribly sorry I didn't hear you knock, I've spent the afternoon singing to my flowers."

"Singing to your flowers?"

She nods, glancing fondly back at the alliums. "They respond well to my voice. Aren't they lovely?"

He nods slowly, watching her warily. As beautiful as she is, she seems a bit mad, but he supposes all the brilliant ones usually are. And she is supposed to be the best – the most powerful sorceress in the country. Some say she's more powerful than even the most powerful sorcerer – Matt's future father-in-law, as it happens. The reason he's really here to begin with.

The dirt brushed from her small hands, Alexandra Kingston sighs a small sigh of satisfaction and

says, "Shall I show you to your room, then?"

He nods wordlessly and watches her walk past him, leaving the strange scent of soil and the damp, earthy smell of magic in her wake. Blinking after her, Matt hurries to catch up and only jumps back once when Moffat leaps in front of him with another hiss, eager to catch up to Alexandra. She scoops him up when he meows, cradling the black ball of fur to her chest as Matt trails warily behind her. She gestures as she goes, pointing out the kitchen, the dining room and the parlour, and then stops in the foyer where his trunks still rest, her eyebrow raised.

"Two trunks? My, aren't we excessive."

In her arms, Moffat seems to eye him accusatorily.

He flushes. "One is full of magic books."

"Oh, you needn't have bothered with those." Without another word, she waves a hand at the trunk of books and sends it skidding across the foyer, where a door opens. The trunk slides inside and the door shuts neatly behind it. "There, that's better."

He gapes at her. "You just – without an incantation?"

The corner of her mouth curls and he wonders at the secret hidden in that charming dimple. "Yes, and I learned to do it without the help of books. You will too, I promise."

Matt shakes his head, snapping his mouth shut quickly. He realizes now why the house reeks of feral magic. His home is a modern country estate, opulent and full of life. The civilized magic there is easy to ignore if he wishes but that isn't the case here, not with the house and not with this woman who is the wildness of magic incarnate. He cannot ignore the very powerful ancient magic radiating from her, and he has never felt quite so small.

Oblivious to the sudden trembling of his insides, she only waves her hand at his remaining trunk and with a flick of her wrist, sends it out of the foyer and slowly up the stairs. "Go on then, follow your trunk. It'll show you to your room. If it isn't to your liking, well, I suppose you'll get used to it. I'll expect you at seven for dinner." She winks again and turns on her heel, and Moffat manages a final glare over her shoulder before they both disappear into the parlour.

He gapes after her for a moment before realizing his trunk has disappeared around a corner, and

he trips his way up the stairs to follow it to his room before it goes without him and he has to search on his own. His room is on the left, almost all the way at the end of the second floor hallway, and he trails after his trunk, shutting the door behind him. It's small but not cramped, with plenty of room for his traveling trunk, the large bed in the middle of the room a bureau along one wall and a writing desk positioned by the window. His trunk settles itself at the foot of his bed and Matt gives it a little pat as he moves to the window, peering through the curtains and feeling delighted to find that he has a view of the street. It may be a quiet street but it's certainly better than a view of those alliums in the back garden.

Dinner is still two hours away and Matt spends his time until then unpacking and putting away his things before curling up on his unfamiliar bed and closing his eyes, hoping a nap will relieve him of the knot of anxiety in his stomach. Unfortunately, his rest is fitful and it seems he wakes only moments after he closed his eyes. Sitting up quickly, he runs his hand through his floppy brown hair and reaches blindly for the pocket watch on his bedside table. Flipping it open and peering with bleary eyes at the time, he groans and scrambles out of bed. Half seven.

His first day here and he's already insulted his tutor by not appearing for dinner on time. Cursing under his breath, Matt strips out of his wrinkled jacket and slips on a new one, adjusting the collar as he hurries from his room and down the hall, keeping a wary eye out for Moffat even as he very nearly leaps down the stairs to the dining room. Alexandra sits at the end of the table lit with candles, sipping a glass of wine with an amused smile as she watches him gaze guiltily back at her.

"Sit," she orders softly. "I kept your food hot with a warming spell."

Quickly moving to the chair she indicates across from hers, Matt flushes brightly and says, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to miss dinner. I fell asleep -"

"It's quite alright, Matt," she laughs softly. "I'm not insulted. All I ask is that you're never late to your lessons and we'll get along amiably enough." She watches him cut his meat and sample his potatoes, letting him enjoy is meal in silence while she sips at her wine, but he can feel her eyes on him as she studies him. When he finally glances up, she asks, "Why are you here?"

He frowns, reaching for his wine. "To learn magic."

She shakes her head. "No, you're here to learn how to use your magic."

"I don't have any magic," he confesses quietly.

Sliding her fingertips around the rim of her wine glass, Alex watches him closely. "Your family is a very powerful one, Matt. Magic is in your blood. You just don't know how to access it."

"And why not? My sister has been practicing magic before she could walk but I can't do even the simplest of spells." He runs a hand through his hair and sighs when his fringe flops back into his eyes. "I'm only here to learn what little I can – you're my only hope or my betrothal to the Lady Daisy Lowe will be forfeit."

She raises an eyebrow. "Your fiancée won't accept you if you can't perform magic?"

"My fiancée doesn't want to accept me at all, nor do I want her but that is of little consequence. This is a business deal between our families." He frowns at the pristine tablecloth. "It would be a beneficial union for both sides, but the Lowes would be a laughing stock if they married their daughter off to a man incapable of magic. The condition of our engagement was that I learn at least the basics."

Alexandra nods but looks at him skeptically. "If your only motivation for learning how to use your magic is to complete a business deal, I'm afraid we won't get very far. Magic is very temperamental. You have to want it, Matt."

"If I don't do this, it will be yet another disappointment to my family," he says, lifting his eyes to hers and meeting her unwavering gaze. "I want magic more than you realize."

She smiles, those strange eyes sad as she watches him. "Very well. Your first lesson is after dinner."

As much as he dreads showing her exactly how inadequate he is, Matt is working on a deadline – two months until his betrothal is announced– and the sooner he gets started, the better. He eats his dinner quickly under Alexandra's watchful eye and the moment he gulps the last of his wine, she waves a hand and his dishes disappear from the table. He almost smiles, still all at once awed and terrified of the wordless magic.

Noticing his expression, Alex summons an apple from the bowl of fruit in the middle of the table and lands it directly in front of him. "You'll want to use the words first since you're just beginning, but if I do my job correctly, you'll be performing wordless magic as easily as breathing by the time you leave."

"I don't know anyone who can perform wordless magic," he says, eyeing the apple in front of him

skeptically. "Not even Bronner Lowe."

"Bronner Lowe isn't half as powerful as he likes to think he is," she sniffs, and he almost snorts. "Now, levitate that apple."

"With all due respect, if I could do that, I wouldn't be here," he snaps.

Alexandra offers him a withering look. "Humor an old woman, hm?"

Dropping his gaze to the apple, he mutters, "Sursum."

As he'd known, nothing happens.

"See?"

"Try again."

He sighs and mutters the spell again.

Nothing.

"Again."

"It's not going to work."

"Are you the tutor or am I?" She asks dryly. "Do it again."

He says the spell again, biting it out through clenched teeth this time.

The apple does not levitate, but it does tremble a bit, wobbling on the table.

Matt stares at it in shock.

"Interesting," Alexandra murmurs, smiling enigmatically as she lifts green eyes to meet his. "I think we've found your trigger, darling."

Too stunned to be flummoxed by the pet name, he only stares at her, hope for his magical abilities rising in his chest for the first time in a very long while. "It moved."

She laughs, low and rich in her throat, and the sound steals over him like a pleasant shiver. "Yes, it did."

"I just don't understand what this has to do with performing magic."

Alexandra sighs patiently from her perch on a low hanging tree branch, her bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem of her skirts and Moffat in her lap, purring as she scratches his ears. "You're not trying to perform magic right now – you're just trying to access it."

"And I'm going to do that by sitting in the middle of your garden and meditating?"

"You might," she replies lightly, swinging her legs. "If you closed your mouth and opened your mind for more than five minutes."

Matt grumbles to himself and shuts his eyes again. "That still doesn't explain why you're sitting in a tree."

"Magic like yours is unpredictable when it's new," she explains. "I don't want to be in the line of fire. Besides, I like trees."

Of course she does.

"Are you even trying to meditate?"

He bites his lip, squinting his eyes open to see her watching him doubtfully. "It feels a bit silly," he admits.

With a much less patient sigh, Alexandra drops Moffat onto the branch next to her and slips from her perch, her skirts billowing around her and allowing him a glimpse of pale, shapely legs before her feet land gracefully on the ground and her skirts pool at her ankles once more. She pads softly through the grass to where he sits on the ground and the moment she's in front of him, she kneels and they're eye to eye. This close, her eyes are positively mesmerizing and Matt struggles to listen to what she's saying. "I've concluded that your magic trigger is your emotions," she says softly.

"A strong emotion combined with an incantation generates your powers. Last night you were only mildly annoyed with me and moved an apple. If you were truly furious, I imagine the result would be spectacular."

Having become lost in the soft cadence of her speech, Matt blinks hard and drops his eyes to her small hands laced together in the folds of her dress. "Then shouldn't you be trying to make me angry? Provoke me into using my magic?"

"I don't want you to associate magic with anger. That way leads to disaster, darling." She takes his hands in hers, warm, capable fingers squeezing his own. "Instead, I want you to recall what it felt like to do magic – that tingle under your skin, that spark that burned at the very deepest part of you. You felt it, didn't you?"

He nods, though at the moment he's experiencing a very different sort of tingling.

"Find it. Harness it." Alexandra smiles, releases his hands, and conjures an apple out of thin air. "And then levitate the apple."

She places it in front of him, rises to her feet and brushes gentle fingers across his shoulder as she moves away from him and back to her perch. Struggling to focus on anything but the dip of her back as she climbs back onto the tree branch, Matt wrenches his gaze away and shuts his eyes. It takes a while but eventually the world around him quiets. He stops hearing even the wind in the trees, stops picturing otherworldly eyes, or worrying about the cat attacking him while he has his eyes shut.

Slowly, he starts drifting and he allows it to happen, falling further and further into himself and that's when he finds it. There, deep inside the sanctuary of his subconscious, is the brightly burning flame of his magic, wild and unpredictable, waiting to be harnessed and used – as it has

been waiting all his life. Hello, he thinks. I'm sorry I doubted you.

Unsure of what to do now that he's found it, Matt reaches almost instinctively for his magic with his mind and feels it curl welcomingly around him like a contented cat. He flexes his fingers and when they tingle, the hair on his arms and the back of his neck rises in accordance. Keeping a tight leash on the power sizzling beneath his skin, Matt opens his eyes, startled to find that the sun is higher in the sky than it had been when he closed his eyes. It's been hours, it seems. He barely noticed.

Dropping his gaze to the apple sitting in front of him, Matt murmurs softly, "Sursum." Slowly, the apple rises from the ground, moving with shaky, uncoordinated jolts until it finally hovers right in front of his face, directly at eye level. Without thinking, he laughs in delight and shouts, "Kingston! I did it!"

He takes his eyes off the apple and it drops back to the ground but he pays it no mind, his gaze on the tree branch where Alexandra lounges next to Moffat, watching him with a beaming grin. "Very good, darling. Now do it again."

By the time she's satisfied with his efforts, Moffat has long since abandoned them to chase a mouse and Matt is exhausted. His mind actually aches but he'd levitated the apple every time and sometimes he even managed to keep it in the air for long periods of time. He still can't keep the spell in place without looking directly at the apple but as first days go, he's pretty pleased with his work. A few days ago, he would have given anything to be able levitate something as small as an apple. Sitting on the ground, munching on the apple he's spent the better part of four hours levitating off the ground, Matt watches his tutor walk toward him, her skirts trailing over the ground, and squints. "There are two of you."

She laughs softly, and somehow the delightful sound only intensifies the ache in his head. "Just one of me, darling. I don't believe you could handle two."

"I don't believe I could handle one," he replies, and then slaps a hand over his mouth. "Sorry. I don't know why I -"

"You're drunk, poor thing," Alexandra pries the apple from his grip and tosses it away. Midair, it disappears as if it had never been.

Scandalized, Matt gapes up at her – two of her, which means a frightful amount of hair, double the enchanting eyes and god, two sets of rather marvelous breasts. He's beginning to like the number two. He shakes his head violently to dislodge the very ungentlemanly thoughts. "M'not drunk."

"Not on alcohol, no." Alexandra takes his hands in hers and with a grunt and a great heave, manages to get him to his feet. He sways for a moment, blinking hard as the world around him spins, and then he stumbles into her. She barely staggers under his weight, wrapping her arm around his waist and helping him keep his balance as they start slowly toward the house. "You're drunk on magic. Too much of it too soon can make a person rather ill. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard today."

Sensing the guilt in her voice and only wanting to make it better, Matt pets her hair as she guides him into the house. "S'alright," he breathes, and feels her shudder. "I forgive you."

"Well then, I'll certainly sleep very sound tonight." She sounds amused and he huffs, leaning his head on her shoulder.

"Kingston, I feel sick."

"I know, darling. I'm sorry." She tightens her hold on him, directing him through the house toward the stairs. "Let's get you up to bed, alright?"

He hums his agreement. "I like calling you Kingston. Alexandra doesn't fit."

"Well," she begins; sounding distracted as she tugs him up the stairs and catches him when he stumbles. "You could always call me Alex."

He shakes his head stubbornly. "Kingston suits you."

She snorts. "Have it your way then, dear."

As they reach the top of the stairs, Matt trips over the last one and Alex steadies him with warm, capable hands, a weary sigh on her lips. His knees feel like they might give out at any second so he grips her tightly as they move down the hall, and her hair keeps brushing his cheek. He turns his head, inhaling the unmistakable scent of her. "You smell nice," he sighs. "Like flowers and magic."

She laughs again, pushing open the door to his room and very nearly dragging him to his bed. "Oh, you are going to be such fun in the morning." Pushing him gently onto the mattress, her

hands leave him as his head hits the pillow and he makes a small noise of discomfort at the loss. She doesn't notice, tugging a blanket under his chin and smoothing his hair from his forehead like he's a child under her care. "Goodnight, darling."

When he wakes in the morning with a monstrous headache and a tetchy stomach, as if he'd spent the night drinking rather than trying to levitate an apple, he lies in bed for a moment and tries to remember how he'd gotten into his room. Alexandra had helped him, he thinks fuzzily. Kingston.

He smiles sleepily. He likes calling her that – it suits her.

Instantly, he remembers that he'd told her as much and claps a hand to his mouth, feeling a wave of mortification roll over him. "Oh my god," he mutters through his fingers, and as more memories surface of the other ridiculous things he's said to his tutor – his very powerful tutor who could probably castrate him with a wiggle of one finger – he groans and rolls over, burying his head beneath his pillow.

Flowers and magic?

Deciding the only sensible course of action is to never leave his bed again – not a bad idea considering it means he'll never have to face Alex, never have to learn magic, and therefore never have to marry Daisy – Matt curls up beneath his blankets and proceeds to ignore the world for all of ten more minutes before his stomach grumbles loudly and he realizes the flaw in his master plan.

With a whimper, he very carefully extricates himself from his blankets and out of his bed, dressing with deliberate slowness in trousers, boots, and an undershirt with a waistcoat. He can't even contemplate slipping into his jacket and only hopes Alex will forgive the informality just this once as he slips from his room and down the stairs, all the while running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it.

As soon as he reaches the dining room, he remembers instantly that he needn't fret about his hair around her – anything looks tame compared to the voluminous mass of curls that is Alexandra Kingston's hair. It frames her face rather beautifully this morning and he takes a brief moment before she notices his presence to admire it and the way her blue gown seems to only enhance those eyes and curves and everything else about her. Embarrassed by the path his thoughts are taking, Matt shakes his head quickly and clears his throat, stepping into the room.

She glances up instantly from her tea and breakfast, smiling broadly the moment she sees him, and he notices instantly that Moffat is curled up on her lap. "Good morning, sunshine."

"Morning, Alexandra," he nods to her as he takes his seat, praying to every magical entity he knows that she won't mention anything he said last night.

"Oh, don't bother, darling," she smirks into her tea. "Your secret is out now." She bats her lashes. "Kingston suits me."

He flushes up to his ears and snatches his toast from the plate in front of him, ignoring her shameless grin as he spreads marmalade over his breakfast. "Alexandra is just very proper," he mutters, mortified.

"Oh, and I'm not proper enough for such a proper name, is that it?"

Eyes wide, he raises his head quickly to apologize when he finds her silently laughing at him from across the table, eyes twinkling merrily. "You mistake my meaning," he says, and ducks his head to smile at his plate. "But it's certainly very improper to taunt a man with words he said in a magical stupor."

Alex laughs, obviously delighted. "Then I suppose you're right – I'm not a proper lady at all." She sips at her tea in silence for a moment before muttering under her breath, "But I still smell like flowers and magic so I suppose I can't complain."

Moffat's ear twitches, and Matt gets the distinct feeling he's being laughed at. Pointedly ignoring the cat, he gives Alex a half-hearted glare but she looks so pleased with herself as she chews happily across from him that he can't really muster up the effort to work up a good glower. He pouts instead and finds it much more effective.

"Oh alright, I'm through mocking you. Witch's honor." She winks at him and he finds himself grinning back at her, wondering when he started actually enjoying his time here rather than just waiting for the moment he could leave. They finish their breakfast in relative peace after that, though every time Matt feels her smirk in his direction, he sinks into his chair and blushes like a school boy, remembering leaning on her as she guided him to his bedroom, and that brief moment he sniffed her hair. He swallows the last of his toast and feels oddly disappointed that he can't really remember how her arms had felt around him.

Pushing away the thought before it makes him blush yet again in her presence, he straightens his

waistcoat and sits up straighter in his chair, watching Alex – who had long finished her own breakfast – idly levitate all the fruit in the bowl on the table into the air and make all the apples perform a little dance around the oranges. "What's on the agenda for the day? Teaching the fruit to waltz?"

"Not quite but you're welcome to give it a try in your free time." She waves a hand and the fruit drops gently back into the bowl one by one. "Since you accomplished levitation yesterday, I've decided we'll move on to summoning." She gestures to the fruit bowl and leans back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. "Get the mountain to come to you, darling."

Leaning forward, elbows on the table and hands clasped in front of him, Matt directs all of his focus on the fruit bowl and says, "Venio."

Nothing.

Alex watches him patiently. "Did you even try to focus your magic or are you just saying the right word and hoping for the best?"

Instantly guilty, Matt tries to look offended and has a feeling she can see right through him. Ignoring her raised eyebrow, he shuts his eyes for a moment and furrows his brow, searching for the power source deep inside, that well of magic always lurking just out of reach. He finds it much faster than he had yesterday and the moment he wraps his mind around it, he opens his eyes and says again, "Venio."

Instantly, every piece of fruit in the bowl lurches up in the air and as if by some unseen hand, is lobbed directly toward him at alarming speed. Panicked, he yelps and ducks under the table to avoid flying fruit smacking him in the head, and over the sound of apples and oranges hitting the floor, he hears Moffat's discontented yowl as he leaps from Alex's arms and scurries from the room, and the charming peal of Alex's laughter over the din.

Slowly inching out from beneath the table once the last orange has fallen, Matt peeks over the edge of his seat and glares at her but she's too busy giggling into her hands to pay him any mind. Her face is red, her curls bounce around her face as her shoulders shake, and she looks like she can't even breathe. Though it's all at his expense, she makes such a lovely picture that he almost doesn't mind.

Almost.

"Why are you laughing? I could have died, Kingston!" He frowns when this only makes her laugh harder. "Is that really a letter you wanted to send my parents? Their son died a horrible death by injury to the head with a flying orange?"

"Well I doubt an orange would have killed you, darling. Much too soft." Alex giggles again, covering her face with her hands. "If anything, it would have been an apple."

Not amused, he climbs back into his seat with what little dignity remains to him, smoothes his hair back and glowers. "You are a horrible, horrible woman."

"Don't pout – it's unbecoming on a man your age. You may look twelve but you most certainly are not, Mr. Smith." Finally managing to get her laughter under control, Alex wipes at her watery eyes with a handkerchief she conjures out of thin air, tucking it into the bosom of her dress when she finishes while Matt struggles not to watch. The slightest motion of her hand picks up all the fruit from the floor and neatly places it all back into the bowl on the table. "Try again, please."

He shakes his head quickly. "Are you mad? Your fruit viciously attacked me."

"Blimey, what dramatics. You made the fruit attack you – the fruit does not have some sort of hidden agenda, darling. It isn't out to get you." She rolls her eyes – appallingly unladylike on anyone else but her, he'd wager – and asks, "Did you focus on the apple or were you just looking at the bowl when you said the spell?"

After a stubborn moment of silence, he mumbles, "The bowl."

"As I suspected." She looks entirely too smug as she folds her hands primly in front of her on the table and eyes him expectantly. "So try again. And focus this time. I really would hate to write a letter to your parents detailing their son's death by fruit. I, myself, might die of laughter before I finished it and then no one would ever know what became of us."

He's starting to get used to her strange brand of humor so he barely spares her a withering glance before directing his gaze back to the bowl. Zeroing in on one apple in particular, he narrows his eyes and says softly, "Venio." He barely has time to reach out a hand before the soft smack of an apple slapping against the flesh of his palm echoes in the room. Laughing in delight, Matt curls his fingers around his prize and instantly looks to Alex for her approval. She watches him fondly but without surprise, as if she'd know he'd get it this time. "Now what?"

Spreading her hands in front of her, she smirks. "Make it dance."

Huffing out a soft laugh, he balances the apple in his open palm and says, "Motus."

The apple wobbles but does not twirl around in the air the way Alex's had.

"Your magic is reliant on your emotions – you have to want it, darling."

"I do want it," he insists, frowning at her.

Alex studies him for a long moment. "Why do you want it?"

He sighs. "So you'll stop asking me these, frankly, ridiculous questions."

"Not good enough," is her instant reply but he doesn't miss the way her full mouth twitches in amusement. "Try it again and mean it this time."

Reminding himself that he's a gentleman of wealth and status and that gentleman of wealth and status do not make childish faces at very powerful witches at the dining table – or anywhere else for that matter – Matt focuses all of his annoyance on the apple and almost says the incantation before he remembers Alex's warning about the dangers of relying on his anger to feed his magic. The thought makes him uneasy and stops him in his tracks.

Quickly changing gears, he thinks instead of the effortless way Alex had performed the simple magic during breakfast, the small smile on her lips as she'd watched the fruit twirl around in the air above her – her own private entertainment. He wants that. Not only for himself and for his family but because he wants to see Alex beam at him again like she had yesterday when he'd made the apple lift into the air after hours of practice. She'd been proud of him and he wants that just once more.

Magic sizzling under his skin like a living thing, Matt whispers, "Motus."

The apple lifts from his palm and whirls in the air around his head, performing a funny little waltz all by itself. Alex laughs in delight, clapping her hands and tilting her face up to watch the apple's progress. "Very well done," she says, beaming, and he glows at the praise. "I told you, darling.

You just have to want it badly enough."

the magic's in the music

Chapter Summary

His eyes trace over the graceful line of her back, the sweep of her hair and those bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her gown, and he swallows hard. There is something about this strange woman – he knows next to nothing about her but that she's an extraordinarily powerful and prodigious witch – but he finds himself drawn to her inexplicably.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Do You Believe In Magic by the Lovin' Spoonful.

His first afternoon free, Matt spends some time at the little writing desk in his room, penning a letter to his family and detailing his progress – leaving out the sudden attack of fruit, of course. Even as he writes he knows his rather quick improvement from the inability to do even the simplest magic to summoning an apple to his hand will make it difficult for his family to believe until they've seen with their own eyes. He can hardly wait to see the look on Laura's face.

Dipping his ring in hot wax and pressing the engraved family crest onto the envelope to seal it, he carefully sets it aside to mail later, leaning back in his seat and glancing around with a sigh. There isn't much to do in the time between his lessons and usually the magic is so draining he sleeps for hours after but it's been getting better lately. The past few days he hasn't learned anything new, Alex insisting he needs to practice and perfect what he has learned so far but after days of summoning apples and levitating them and making them move about the room in mid-air, he's itching to try something else.

Wondering if Alex might permit him to forage through his magical textbooks and find something interesting to study, he rises slowly to his feet and stretches, starting for his bedroom door and the stairs. As soon as his feet hit the first floor of the house, he hears her voice – that low, soft murmur he'd heard the day he arrived. He follows it again and the sound takes him on the same path it had then, through the halls past the parlour, the dining room and the kitchen until he stands at the back garden door and sees her barefoot in a maroon gown, kneeling over her flowers and singing softly to them. Moffat slips past his legs with a hiss, disappearing into the house, and Matt sticks out his tongue at him as he goes.

"Does that actually accomplish anything or is it that no one else will sit still long enough to listen to you for hours at a time?"

Alex doesn't even jump at the sound of his voice, as if she'd somehow sensed his presence before he ever said a word, but she glances over her shoulder at him, honey curls falling down her back in soft waves. "Care to find out?"

"You want me to sing to your flowers?" He laughs, shaking his head.

She frowns. "What else have you got to do?"

"Actually, I was hoping you'd return my magic books." He looks at her pleadingly, trying not to fidget like a little boy asking for sweets as her frown only deepens. "Just to study – I'm astoundingly bored when we're not having lessons."

She arches an eyebrow. "I'm offering you a lesson right now, darling."

"Singing to your flowers is not a lesson," he sniffs. "It's madness."

She shrugs lightly; turning back to her garden as she says, "Suit yourself then."

She doesn't spare him another glance and Matt hovers in the doorway against his will, watching as she leans in close, touching delicate petals and murmuring softly. His eyes trace over the graceful line of her back, the sweep of her hair and those bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her gown, and he swallows hard. There is something about this strange woman – he knows next to nothing about her but that she's an extraordinarily powerful and prodigious witch – but he finds himself drawn to her inexplicably. He likes spending time with her and moments not spent in her company find him thinking of her – her laugh, the elegant twist of her hand when she performs magic, that peculiar light in her eyes when she looks at him. She is entirely bewitching without any magic at all.

When Alex glances up at him expectantly, Matt realizes he has somehow crossed the yard to stand next to her without even realizing it. "Change your mind?"

He blinks. "I must have."

Moving over to make room for him, she pats the ground next to her. "Down here then. And take off that jacket – hardly appropriate for gardening."

"And your gowns are?" He asks, sinking slowly down next to her and instantly dirtying the knees of his trousers. He slips off his jacket and tosses it aside, turning his attention to rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows.

"Unlike you, Mr. Smith, I don't have the luxury of trousers," she says, offering him a baleful look. "And I can hardly prance about in my altogether with you here, can I?"

Head lifting instantly, he gapes at her with wide eyes, his mouth suddenly dry. "Y-you mean to say you do that when I'm not here?"

Her smile turns impish and she slides her gaze coyly away from him. "Admitting such a thing would be terribly improper of me."

It's as good as a yes and Matt finds himself staring blankly at the soil beneath him as images flit through his mind of Alexandra Kingston wandering around her garden with barely a stitch of clothing on her lovely frame – or worse (Better? He can't decide) nothing on at all. It doesn't take long for his mind to conjure very ungentlemanly thoughts of her bent over flowers in the nude, breasts swaying and bum in the air. It's suddenly far too hot and he clears his throat uncomfortably, tugging at his shirt collar.

Alex watches him with a gleam in her eye and a smirk curling her lips, as if she can read his thoughts. The very idea is horrifying and not at all implausible considering her powers, so Matt struggles to get his mind out of the gutter and back where it belongs. He has a fiancée – not a fiancée that he loves, but a fiancée nonetheless – and having highly improper, filthy thoughts about another woman – his tutor, no less – is unforgiveable. "So… flowers then?"

Quickly turning her attention back to her garden rather than the blush on his cheeks, Alex bites her lip and nods. "I know it isn't very ladylike to boast but I happen to know for a fact that my flowers are lovelier and brighter than any other woman's in London or in fact, anywhere else in England."

He eyes the flowers all around her garden critically, noticing for the first time the varying, vibrant hues – yellows and purples, pinks and blues, oranges and reds. It's almost blinding, and he has to admit, absolutely beautiful. It would take a deft hand to create and maintain all of this. And apparently an accomplished falsetto.

"They're lovely," he murmurs, still admiring them. "How do you do it?"

"I sing to them, of course."

He raises his brows skeptically. "That's it?"

This time, it's Alex who flushes. "Alright, I'll confess but you have to promise not to reveal what I'm about to tell you to anyone."

He nods hurriedly, curious and more than a little hypnotized by the softness of her voice. "Your secret's safe with me, Kingston."

She drops her gaze, plucking idly at her skirts as she confesses. "I first discovered my powers when I was about three years old, singing a nursery rhyme to my kitten about a saucer of milk. I conjured the milk out of thin air just by singing about it."

"The very first time you did magic was conjuration?" Matt snorts softly, running his fingers through floppy hair. "Blimey, not even Lor did that."

"My singing voice was my trigger just like strong emotions are yours." She trails her fingertips over the soil beneath her, still avoiding his gaze. "It's why I learned wordless magic – I was determined not to have to sing whenever I needed to use my powers. But it's nice to do things the old-fashioned way now and again, and my flowers certainly seem to like it."

Delighted, Matt grins at her. "You have a magic voice."

She rolls her eyes. "Hardly. I'm talking right now and no spells are being cast. It's only when I sing."

"Hang on, so when you're singing to your flowers you're doing magic?" He gasps and Alex blushes again, ducking her head. "You're cheating, you minx!"

"Only a little," she admits reluctantly. "Is that terribly wicked of me?"

Matt watches her avoid his gaze and thinks of her out here, singing soft, beautiful melodies to her

flowers, infusing them with warmth and sunlight to make them bloom brighter and healthier, and he cannot condemn such a lovely thought. "I think it's amazing," he admits quietly, and smiles when her eyes lift to meet his. "Can you do it now? I'd like to hear you."

She stares at him, tentatively pleased, and his heart swells in his chest. "Alright, if you like." She clears her throat primly, one small hand reaching out to brush a pink allium. The moment she opens her mouth and begins to sing softly, Matt is entranced by the sweet, lush sound of her voice. He isn't the only one. Right before his eyes, the flower she touches glows with golden light for a brief moment and when she pulls her hand away, the flower is deeper and richer in color, as enchanted by the singing witch as he is.

He sits at her side for some time, dirt all over his fine suit and the afternoon sun beating down on them, but he barely notices, too mesmerized by the sound of her voice and the serene, happy expression on her face as she sings. He feels the same contentedness wash over him and he glances down at his hand, searching for that golden light and wondering if he'd been touched by her magic simply by being so near. His skin doesn't glow but he feels the warmth in his chest nonetheless, and as he silently surrenders to the strange magic that is Alexandra the improper witch, thoughts of his betrothed are miles away.

She looks different.

He'd stumbles his way downstairs for breakfast, his hair hastily combed and his waistcoat half-heartedly buttoned, but Alex looks to have been up for hours already, her breakfast eaten and her hum cheerful as she wanders through the house searching for her parasol. Matt watches her with a suspicious, scrutinizing eye, chewing thoughtfully at his toast, and finally realizes. "You're wearing shoes."

Alex turns from upending the cushions on the settee to fix him with an exasperated look. "Yes, and?"

"You never wear shoes. And your hair is up – you never bother with your hair!"

Alex snorts. "Thank you so much, Mr. Smith."

He blushes, stuttering and nearly spilling his tea as he rushes to explain. "I didn't mean it like that, honestly. You're -" He swallows. "Lovely. Just the way you are." Alex glances away quickly, her

lips pursed and her fingers clenched tightly around a settee cushion. "I only meant to say that you look different. Are you going out?"

She nods, flinging aside the cushion and dropping to her knees, ducking her head beneath a chaise and feeling around with an arm. "Just a trip to the apothecary. I need potion ingredients."

Brightening instantly, Matt puts aside his tea to help her in her parasol search, asking eagerly, "Can I come with you?"

"You do know as long as you aren't missing a lesson, you're free to leave the house whenever you like," she says, sitting up with a huff when the space beneath the chaise does not produce her parasol. "You're hardly a prisoner here, darling."

"I know that." He ventures into the foyer to check the umbrella stand in hopes she'd actually put her parasol where it belonged and just hadn't thought to check there in search. "I just haven't felt inclined to go yet."

"Whyever not?" Alex watches him from the doorway, a hand on her hip. "London is full of all sorts of things to amuse a young man your age."

Having no desire to confess that little holds his interest out there in London more than in here with her, he shrugs and when the umbrella stand produces nothing but a stray shoe, a flower stem and a broomstick, sighs loudly. "Don't you ever put anything back where it belongs?"

"If I did, what would you do with all your time?" She arches a brow at him and he huffs, amused despite himself. "Why the sudden interest in town then?"

"You said you were getting ingredients for potions." He moves back into the parlour and Alex follows behind him, obviously willing to let him take over the search in her stead. "No one in my family ever bothers with potion -making and I find the chemistry rather fascinating. It's the only thing I can do without magic – it's all about the ingredients."

"You like potion-making?" Alex looks at him as if she's just discovered a rather pleasant secret and he delights in surprising her. "You never mentioned it."

Eyes landing on the fireplace on the other side of the room, Matt starts for it on a hunch and says, "It hardly seemed relevant. So can I accompany you?" He pauses in front of the fireplace just

before he ducks his head to glance inside, grinning at her through his fringe. "A proper lady needs an escort, after all."

"Not at my age," she scoffs. "But find my parasol and you're more than welcome to do whatever you like, darling."

Sputtering as his mind creates all sorts of scenarios that he's certain Alex hadn't been trying to imply, Matt quickly ducks his head inside the fireplace and blindly feels around, his face hot. When his fingers brush a slender handle, he makes a soft noise of triumph and pulls, yanking the parasol out from its hiding spot and waving it proudly as Alex laughs from the other side of the room.

As they're leaving the house, Alex shouts behind her, "See you in a bit, Moffat!"

Matt can't be sure but he thinks he hears an answering meow in return.

"Sometimes I think that cat actually understands what you're saying," he says, looping his arm through his without waiting to offer it. Curling her hand around his forearm, Alex only smiles. They walk the three blocks to the apothecary in companionable silence, Alex twirling her parasol with a happy grin and Matt just pleased to be out and about while in her company.

He can't help but notice as they venture down more populated streets that people have very strange reactions to the sight of Alex. Some openly stare as she walks by, a look of combined fear and reverence on their faces. Others actually cross the street when they spot her, eyes downcast and steps hurried. He'd been aware, of course, that Alex was powerful, but he'd had no idea she could generate such sensation wherever she went. No wonder she hardly leaves her home. It makes him a little sad to think of her shut away with only Moffat for company, merely because she doesn't want to be gawked at or cowered from. It's obvious to him that these people have never seen the Alex he sees every day – the barefoot songstress with wild hair and a penchant for talking to her disagreeable cat.

He tightens his grip on her arm as they approach their destination, and when Alex glances at him questioningly, he offers only a tight-lipped smile and a wink. The apothecary shop is small, dank, and filled to the brim with every imaginable ingredient one might need for potion making. Matt wanders up and down the aisles admiring the little vials with an awed, delighted expression on his face that seems to amuse Alex endlessly. "Poor darling, have you never been to an apothecary before?"

A little embarrassed, he picks up a vial of Henbane and fiddles with it. "We have servants to fetch this sort of thing when I require it."

"Takes all the fun out of it, if you ask me," she says, and plucks the bottle from his hands, smiling gently when he scowls. "We both know you'll drop it in another thirty seconds, darling. Spare me having to pay for the damages."

"Spoilsport," he mutters, and trails after her as she bustles up and down the aisles like she knows exactly where to go to get what she needs. "What do you need all these ingredients for anyway?"

"Different things, really," she says, rising up on her tiptoes as she tries to reach something on a higher shelf. "I'm nearly out of almost everything. My cupboards are appallingly bare – honestly, I'm ashamed of myself."

Gently pushing her aside to reach the vial she needs, Matt snatches up a bottle of Wormwood and hands it to her. "For the lady."

She sketches a little curtsy, her vials clinking together in her arms as she moves. "Thank you, kind sir. It seems you're more useful to have around than I realized."

"Oi!"

She laughs brightly and the rest of their shopping trip continues in the same cheery fashion. It isn't until they're walking home, laden down with carefully wrapped vials of everything Alex could possibly ever need for potions, that she grows quiet and contemplative. He nudges her gently as they near the house, brow furrowed in concern when she looks up at him. "Pence for your thoughts?"

She smiles, shaking her head. "I was just thinking about something you said before – about how you liked making potions because it was something you could do without magic…"

He nods when she trails off. "Yes, what about it?"

"Darling, in order to properly brew a potion, one must possess magic. Otherwise whatever you brewed would be nothing but a combination of ingredients with no affect at all." Her smile grows as he stares at her, realization dawning. "Your magic has been there all along, waiting for you to take notice."

Sitting in the middle of Alex's back garden once more – he's learned his lesson this time and donned a pair of trousers made of less expensive material – Matt stares forlornly around him at the piles of lumpy, misshapen apples littering the yard. Today's task had been to conjure an apple out of thin air and though he's been practicing for hours with only a small break for afternoon tea, the results of his efforts are rather pathetic.

Watching glumly as Moffat smugly prances over a pile of deformed apples, he sighs. "I can't do this, Kingston."

A soft gasp from her perch in the tree makes him glance up to find her glaring at him. "Matthew Smith, I do not ever want to hear those words out of your mouth again. Nothing kills magic faster than negativity."

He frowns, watching her slip from the low branch and land on her feet, as graceful as any cat. "You've been watching me! It's obvious I'm rubbish."

With a sigh, Alex sinks down to sit next to him in the grass, plucking an apple from one of the many piles around him. "Darling, it says quite a lot of your powers that you're even managed to conjure anything at all so early in your magical education. It takes most people years to do this." She holds his malformed apple up to the light with a small smile. "You've already conjured the apple. What you're doing now is perfecting it. It takes time but once you get it, it'll grow easier with practice."

A little comforted, Matt watches her toss the apple back onto the pile and shakes his head. "How do you manage to be so patient with me all the time? I don't think I could in your position."

Her eyes twinkle. "You're not as difficult as you like to think. I've had students far more troublesome than you – and with half your talent. It's almost a pleasure teaching you, darling."

Pleased, he fights back a blush and bites his lip, ducking his head to peek at her through his fringe. "Are all your students called 'darling' then?"

"Just you." Her eyes widen, as if she had never meant to admit such a thing, and she hurries to distract him. Quickly conjuring her own perfect, shiny red apple, she pushes it into his hands. "Study that, memorize how it feels, and then try to conjure your own."

Still grinning widely at her admission, Matt curls his fingers around the apple and his fingertips brush Alex's as she pulls away, her breath catching in her throat. She clenches her hands in her skirts, purses her lips tightly, and looks anywhere but at him until Moffat grows tired of investigating Matt's failures and curls up on her lap. As she scratches his ears and Moffat lounges across her legs with shameless purring noises, Matt tries to focus on the apple Alex had conjured.

He slides his fingers over the surface and feels the smooth outer texture. He cups both of his hands around it to commit the specific roundness of it to his memory. He swipes his thumb over the little stem at the top. Finally, he hands it back to Alex. "Alright, I think I'm ready."

"Go on then." She smiles. "Impress me."

Wanting nothing more than exactly that, Matt concentrates on his magic, fixes on the image of the apple in his mind, extends his palm, takes a deep breath, and releases the incantation into the air. "Fio." The apple that appears in his palm looks exactly like the one Alex had conjured and he laughs in triumph. "Look at that! It's perfect!"

Alex laughs and looks down at Moffat, who watches Matt unblinkingly, obviously not impressed. "Excellent, darling. But perhaps you should taste it, just to be sure."

Shrugging, he bites into the apple and instantly recoils as sour juice fills his mouth. "Eugh." He tosses the apple aside with a shudder. "That was bloody awful."

She smiles knowingly. "I thought it might be."

"Well a little warning would have been helpful," he grouses, wiping at his mouth. "What happened?"

"You can't just picture the apple," she explains, obviously fighting back laughter at his expression of disgust – curled lip and all. "You have to be able to taste it. Imagine your teeth sinking into the crisp peel, and the way the juice floods your mouth. An apple is more than how it looks."

Quickly glancing away before the mere sound of her voice lulls him into yet another embarrassing stupor, Matt rakes his long fingers through his hair and sighs.

"Don't get frustrated now; you're almost there." Alex reaches out a hand and presses it to his knee, squeezing gently, and when he glances up and meets her gaze, her eyes are soft and imploring but most importantly, full of faith in him. "One more time, darling. You can do this."

He nods once, swallowing hard, and Alex smiles, pulling her hand away to pet Moffat, who continues to glare at him. "Right, okay." He breathes out steadily. "Just imagine it and it's mine, right?"

Her smile dimples and she toys with a curl against her cheek. "Essentially."

He closes his eyes because concentrating on apples when she's sitting there in front of him looking like that would be nigh impossible. Without the distraction of her face and her voice and really, everything about her, imagining the apple is easier. He combines the sight, feel and smell of the apple with the crisp taste – so vividly he can almost feel the succulent fruit in his mouth and the juices dripping down his chin. "Fio."

When he opens his eyes to the apple waiting in his palm, it looks exactly the same as the one Alex had conjured but he eyes it hesitantly, reluctant to taste it. Alex laughs, watching him fondly. "Just try it. It won't bite."

Deciding to get it over with quickly, he brings the apple to his mouth and sinks his teeth into the fragile outer shell, elation filling him as the familiar taste of a delicious, crisp apple floods his mouth. When his eyes light up, Alex beams proudly at him and suddenly his apple tastes a little like victory.

"Good then?"

"Best apple I've ever tasted," he mumbles around a mouthful, and she giggles. "You have to try it, Kingston."

She takes the apple when he pushes it into her hand, still chewing with enthusiasm, but what she does next, he'd never expected. Instead of biting into a new spot, she presses her lips to the spot where he'd eaten, sinking her teeth in, her eyes fluttering shut in delight as she tastes. Matt stares at her – not even chewing anymore – as his stomach turns over and heat floods his whole body.

"G-good?" He chokes out.

"Mm," she moans softly in reply, shutting her eyes as she chews. "Perfect."

Suddenly very uncomfortable in his tight trousers, Matt forces his gaze away, his heart pounding. He can't help but imagine what it would be like if he actually could conjure anything he liked just by imagining it – the lush fullness of Alex's lips against his own, how soft they might be, and how eagerly they might part for him, the little gasp of surprise she might make before sinking into his embrace.

Gaze drawn back to her without his permission, Matt watches as she takes another bite, her eyes open now as she looks at him, her smile wide and bright, entirely unaware of her charms. He swallows thickly, wishing everything were as straightforward as conjuring an apple.

this magic moment

Chapter Summary

His life is being planned out for him in his absence and the only thing left for him to do is show up at the right time and let it happen. It's a dismal thought, but he'd grown almost accustomed to it before – well, before Alex.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from the Drifters song.

Matty,

I hope you realize the havoc your last letter has wrought. News that you are actually capable of magic after all sent Mother into a bout of tears the likes of which I haven't seen since I told her she was going to be a grandmother five years ago. Father, of course, instantly wrote to Bronner Lowe to tell him the good news. Your soon-to-be father-in-law was quite ecstatic, proclaimed the engagement official and now I've been forced into preparing for the ball where your betrothal will be announced – set for nearly the moment you return. And all right, perhaps I haven't been forced. You know how I love a good party – especially when I'm in charge of it.

I'm still not convinced you aren't lying through your teeth, darling brother, but if you can perform any magic at all, Alexandra Kingston is utterly miraculous – and holds all the patience of a saint. Try not to drive her utterly mad before you leave, won't you?

I must go – planning is well under way and I'm to assist your fiancée in selecting material for a dress this afternoon. I know this isn't what you want, Matty, but she's a charming girl and I think, in time, the two of you will manage to be very happy together. Stay positive, and try not to injure yourself with your new powers.

I miss you only a little.

Your loving sister,

Laura

With a sad smile and a little sigh, Matt tucks the letter away into the pocket inside his jacket and scrubs a hand over his face wearily. Well, there's no going back now, is there? His life is being planned out for him in his absence and the only thing left for him to do is show up at the right time and let it happen. It's a dismal thought, but he'd grown almost accustomed to it before – well, before Alex. Before Alex, marrying Daisy had seemed like nothing but an obligation, a way to appease his family and make everyone happy. Now, it's a prison sentence.

Thinking of her, Matt climbs to his feet and leaves his chambers behind, wanting only to be near her for as long as he can, before he's forced to leave her vine-eaten home on this quiet little street, with her bright laugh and her strange cat. The thought of leaving it all behind, never waking up in the morning to the sound of her singing in the garden, or walking into the kitchen to the smell of lavender and belladonna as she bottled potions, is a melancholy thought indeed.

When he finally finds her sitting on the floor of the parlour, teasing Moffat with a ball of yarn, he sinks onto the settee and rests his elbows on his knees, chin in his open palms as he simply stares at her, drinking her in. Once he leaves, he'll move back to Wiltshire to be with his family, marry Daisy, and depending on what her father wants, possibly move even further away to be closer to him. More than likely, he will never see Alex again. The thought makes his chest ache and he rubs at his sternum, his eyes stinging.

Without glancing up from her game with Moffat, Alex asks, "What does your sister say?"

For a moment, he doesn't reply, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat. Somehow, this ridiculous, eccentric, beautiful woman has captured his heart without even trying, and when he leaves, she'll never know just how far he has fallen. Clearing his throat softly, he manages, "She's helping to plan the ball where my betrothal will be announced."

On the floor, Alex tenses so briefly Matt almost believes he'd imagined it, but when she turns to look at him, her smile is wide and entirely without sincerity – though he suspects he can only tell the difference because he has cherished every single genuine grin the woman has ever bestowed on him. "Is she? How lovely." Moffat bats viciously at the yarn in her clenched fist and she releases her grip, letting him have it. "You must be so pleased! Congratulations, darling."

He ducks his head and mutters a hoarse, "Thank you."

His voice must sound as hollow to her ears as his because Alex softens, watching him in sympathy. "It won't be so bad, Matt. You'll see. Most people grow to care for or even love their match in an arranged marriage."

He nods slowly, knowing that it's true. His mother and father had been betrothed to each other since they were barely old enough to walk and now though they're not madly in love, they have come to care very much for each other, like the best of friends. Laura's marriage to James had been arranged and the two of them are so in love it's quite sickening to be in the same room with them. Somehow, he doubts his relationship with Daisy will be quite so happily settled – especially not now, when his heart belongs to another. "Did you ever marry, Kingston?" He asks, genuinely curious but also desperately wanting to stop talking about his own impending nuptials.

"Oh no," she laughs softly. "I've always been far too independent to let a man just swoop in and control my life and my property." Her smile dims and her eyes dart from his, her expression sad and wistful all of a sudden. "I almost did, though, once."

Instantly intrigued, Matt prods, "Really? Who?"

"It was a long time ago, darling. I was still a girl, practically." She raises her eyes and smiles thinly. "He wasn't quite who I thought he was and thankfully I found that out before I married him."

"What happened?"

For a long moment, she says nothing and he's about to apologize for being so forward when she finally speaks, her eyes on Moffat curled on her lap. "He was a wealthy young bachelor - I'm sure you've heard of him but I won't say his name. Every girl batted her eyes and fawned over him, hoping he'd notice them but he wanted me." She frowns, lost in thought, and Matt can't help but wonder what she must have been like then, younger and in love. "I thought he loved me and it took me far too long to realize he only loved what I could do for him. I was more powerful than any of the other eligible witches and he loved having me on his arm - I made him look powerful too." She sighs suddenly, glancing up with a pained smile. "Once I understood that, I ended things. There hasn't really been anyone else since."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. Choked with emotion and rage that someone would dare use Alex for her powers, he can't manage to say anything else. It makes sense now, of course - why she shuts herself away here. He wonders if she believes everyone uses her like that cad had done but he finds that he doesn't have the courage to ask and hear the answer.

She shakes her head, brushing her curls from her face. "Don't be. I like things the way they are – here with my flowers and Moffat, and you for the time being." She forces a smile that makes his chest ache. "And when you're gone, some other magically hopeless person will come along and keep me company for a while."

The idea of being replaced like an old pair of shoes is like a knife to his gut and Matt struggles not to show it. "What do you mean for the time being? Are you saying you'll never come to visit, Kingston? We both know I'm your favorite student."

She laughs and he's pleased to see the melancholy leave her eyes, if only for a little while. "Perhaps I'll come to your betrothal announcement. It might be worth it just to see you dance."

"Oi, I am a brilliant dancer," he says, outraged.

"Forgive me, darling, if I don't believe you." She smirks. "You are quite possibly the clumsiest student I've ever had the misfortune to encounter. My sympathies for the poor girls who have been your partners in the past – their toes must have ached for hours after."

Matt gapes at her, insulted even as he resists the urge to laugh. "Alright then, you leave me no choice, Kingston." He stands quickly from the settee, brushes off his trousers and holds out a hand to her with an elaborate bow. "May I request the next dance, my lady?"

She purses her lips against a bout of laughter, gently scooping Moffat from her lap to settle him next to her as she climbs to her feet. Dipping into a curtsy, she murmurs, "You may, though I still fear for my poor toes, sir."

"They'll remain unharmed, madam," he says with a laugh. "You have my word."

She takes his hand and lets him lead her into the middle of the parlour. "We seem to be without music, sir."

"I'm sure you're quite capable of amending that." He winks at her and she sighs.

"Was this just an elaborate ruse to get me to sing, then?"

"Of course not," he says, pressing a hand to his heart. "But… I do like hearing you."

Smothering a smile, Alex shakes her head, takes a deep breath, and begins to hum the melody of a

popular waltz so perfectly that Matt could almost believe he were hearing the real thing. Slowly, he places his hands on her upper arms and Alex does the same, a becoming flush on her cheeks as she stands as close as propriety allows. As he begins to sweep her around the room, Alex looks apprehensive and she feels tense under his hands but as the minutes pass and he doesn't trod on her feet, she begins to relax, concentrating more on her humming as she lets herself be lead around.

Secretly pleased, Matt grins as he twirls her, both of them expertly stepping around Moffat, who refuses to budge for them. Truthfully, he used to be absolutely dreadful when it came to dancing, always stepping on his partner's toes or the hem of their dresses, but even living out in the country provided plenty of opportunities for dances and balls. His parents very quickly obtained their clumsy son a proper tutor and he remembers spending hours every week with a stern, matronly woman who very nearly snarled at him whenever he stepped on her feet. He learned very quickly to be graceful when the occasion called for it.

He isn't sure how long they whirl around the parlour together, dancing around furniture with light, quick steps, but he loses himself in the sound of Alex's soft humming, occasionally interrupted by a giggle when Matt takes her hand and twirls her. This time, when he draws her back into him again, she's closer than before, nearly pressed flush against him, but neither of them steps back. They keep waltzing, so close he can feel the heat radiating from her body and hear the hitch in her breath when his hand slides down her arm of its own accord to rest at her hip instead. He curls his fingers there tightly and if Alex is suddenly even closer, the curves of her body pressed against him, she doesn't try to stop him.

Never in his life has he been so improper with a lady before but something about Alex makes him take leave of his senses entirely. He wants nothing but to be near her, to hold her in his arms and bury his face in soft curls. He wants to let his hands wander to forbidden places and to know what her mouth would feel like under his own. Wild, inappropriate thoughts racing through his mind as they dance, Matt loses the rhythm of the waltz and before long they're only standing in the middle of the room and swaying gently, their bodies pressed tightly together. His eyes flutter shut as Alex strokes his hair, her fingers drifting down to stroke gently at the back of his neck.

He shudders at the light, illicit touch and turns his face into her curls, breathing her in greedily. The intoxicating scent of her garden – soft soil and new life – and the exotic, glittering tang of her magic is a heady combination and for a long moment, Matt is so lost to her that it takes him an inordinate amount of time to realize that Alex has stopped humming.

Pulling his head back to look at her curiously, he finds himself nearly nose to nose with her, looking into green eyes wide and dark with a need that reflects his own. He licks his lips, his gaze dropping briefly to her mouth. She stares back at him, scarcely breathing, full lips parted invitingly. A man stronger than he would have crumbled at the sight of her and Matt has found that he is so very weak when it comes to Alex.

He leans in, his heart in his throat and his hands shaking, and brushes his lips lightly against hers. Alex inhales shakily and he feels her fingers curl into the collar of his jacket as he presses in again, his kiss warm and impatient. She moans, dragging him closer, and her lips part beneath his own. His stomach somersaults and he holds her face in his hands, his tongue delving inside the tempting warmth of her mouth to taste tea and magic and sunlight – a wonderful, teasing glimpse of paradise before a loud crash from the other side the room startles them apart. Alex gasps raggedly and stumbles away from him, and they both turn to see a shattered vase lying in the middle of the floor.

It must have fallen from the mantle and he frowns in confusion.

Panting a little, her face flushed and her curls somehow wilder than ever, Alex takes another step back, nearly tripping over Moffat in her haste. "Well, it seems my voice doesn't only affect the flowers, hm?" She laughs shakily and he watches her hide trembling hands behind her back. "But I believe you now, darling. You're quite the accomplished dancer. I never would have imagined -

"

Matt reaches out a hand for her and she stiffens. "Alex -"

"Please don't." She drops her gaze to the floor and continues in a quiet, hollow voice, "You have a duty to your family, Matt. Don't make our parting a painful one."

Curling his hands into fists at his sides, Matt nods stiffly. "Of course. Because this doesn't hurt at all."

Alex flinches but he doesn't try to reach for her again, turning on his heel and leaving her standing in the middle of the parlour as he retreats hastily back to his chambers.

He keeps to himself for the remainder of the day, retiring to bed earlier than usual in hopes that sleep will take away the lump in his throat and the taste of Alex from his mouth. His dreams are vivid and full of his tutor, imagining the caress of her hands and the soft slickness of her mouth. He tosses and turns in his sleep, sure he can feel phantom hands on him, and when he wakes in the middle of the night with a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin, he gasps up at the ceiling and can still feel the strange touch.

Fingers coast down the length of his chest lightly and he yanks back his blankets, staring wildly

into the dark and seeing absolutely nothing. The ghost-like touch isn't cold but as warm as if real hands are touching him and in his half-asleep state, torn between reality and the vivid dreams of Alex, he sees no reason not to arch into those fingers. His stomach muscles tense and he clenches his jaw, fighting back a groan as fingertips trace over his hipbones – up and down, up and down, until he's writhing against his sheets and hissing please through clenched teeth.

Warm hands stroke his bare legs, tickling at his inner thighs teasingly, and Matt makes a soft noise of impatience, panting. His erection is a heavy, throbbing ache and when an unseen hand finally wraps around the length of him, he cannot stifle a whimper of relief. He shuts his eyes as a thumb slides swiftly over the sensitive head of his cock, imagining that it's Alex here with him in the dark, touching him so boldly. He pictures her sitting astride his lap, totally bare of everything but that infuriating little smirk, because she so loves driving him mad.

"Alex," he whispers, and the hand wrapped around his length begins to pump up and down in firm, steady strokes. Matt turns his cheek into his pillow, keeping his eyes firmly shut as he groans, lifting his hips to meet the unseen touch. "Please, god -"

The touch leaves him almost immediately but Matt keeps his eyes firmly shut, waiting for it to return, his whole body humming with need. She can't leave him here like this – miserable and wanting and right on the edge – she just can't. He clenches his fists tightly in his hands, struggling desperately to sink back into his dreams and find the touch again.

All at once, he feels warmth begin to envelop his cock and he gasps out a strangled moan at the feel of full lips stretching around his length and a hot tongue stroking the head of his cock. His fingers twist in the sheets and he arches frantically, desperate for more of that searing, wet touch. There is no one between his legs but he allows himself to imagine it's Alex – her slick mouth swallowing him down, her tongue tracing over the thick, sensitive vein on the underside of his cock to make him writhe. He loses himself so fully in his fantasy that he can almost feel the ends of her curls tickling his thighs.

It's the most erotic experience of his life – he can actually feel his cock sliding through swollen lips, the head hitting the back of a throat. An expert tongue slips and slides over him eagerly, ghost fingertips apply exquisite pressure to his testicles, and as Matt cants his hips forward with a needy whimper, he can feel slick saliva coating his skin. It's messy and obscene and he cannot stop himself, thrusting his hips into the air and fucking a mouth that isn't really there – a mouth he desperately wishes belonged to Alex. She would be so gorgeous kneeling between his legs, her mouth red and swollen, her eyes dark as she looked up at him through her lashes.

Matt stifles a cry, a tight heat building in his groin as the Alex in his mind opens her mouth wider, taking in more of him until all he can feel is the wet slide of her lips and the hot, slick flesh of her throat. "Alex, oh god - "

For a brief, breath-stealing moment, he imagines she hums around him – that gorgeous, magical, golden hum – and he can feel it all through him, vibrating his cock. His back arches off the bed and he opens his eyes to stare unseeing at the ceiling, mouth open to draw in desperate gasps for air. With one last whimper of her name, he comes so hard he nearly blacks out, staining his sheets and his thighs with his release.

Breathing hard, he struggles for air and curls up on his side, letting his eyes slide shut again. He's utterly spent and exhausted, and it doesn't take long for him to slip back into dreams – this time of Alex tucked into his side, her bare skin slick and warm against his as she sleeps.

When he wakes in the morning and remembers, he flushes so brightly he wonders if his face will remain red permanently. He climbs out of bed grateful that it had been nothing more than an erotic dream he can push to the back of his mind until notices the state of his sheets. Cursing softly, he crosses to the pitcher of water on his bureau and pours it into the bowl there to wash himself off. He strokes a wet cloth over his skin, stomach flip-flopping as he recalls the phantom touch last night, stroking him in all the right ways. It reminds him all over again that he is so new to the world of magic. Alex had said that his emotions could control his powers if he let it and she'd been right. It had taken nothing more than vivid dreams and a brief kiss to make him lose his tenuous grasp on his newly-found magic.

Groaning, he leans over his bureau, head in his hands, and wonders how he'll ever look Alex in the eye again. If she ever knew the nature of his thoughts last night – what he'd done while thinking of her – she would undoubtedly throw him from her home and curse him with boils or something equally unpleasant and he would deserve it. They'd shared one kiss and he'd lost complete control of his mind and his magic. She's more dangerous to him than he ever realized.

By the time he dresses and gathers his courage, he's late for breakfast but Alex is still there, slipping pieces of toast to Moffat, who meows pitifully under the table when she ignores him. Matt lingers in the doorway for a long moment, not really looking at her and wondering if it would be ridiculous to just walk into the dining room and sit down, sip his tea and ask about the lesson for the day – as if nothing at all had happened between them yesterday. As if he couldn't close his eyes right now and imagine her hands and mouth on him.

Deciding that he'll wait for Alex's cue, he steps cautiously into the room and says awkwardly, "Morning."

Alex glances up, startled, and his eyes find hers instantly. It's the first time he's properly looked at her this morning and all those thoughts from last night come rushing back in vivid flashes. He blushes fiercely as he sinks into the chair across from her but Alex smiles tentatively, her eyes soft. "Good morning, darling."

Tearing his gaze away from the sight of her – so beautiful and untouchable his chest aches – Matt

says nothing else for a while, pouring his tea and spreading marmalade on toast. He listens to the sound of Alex's teacup clattering lightly against her saucer and Moffat begging for another piece of toast with a quiet meow, and eventually, the silence presses in too tightly. He swallows hard, his eyes darting up to hers briefly before skittering away again. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "About yesterday. I overstepped all the boundaries of propriety and I hope you can forgive me."

Alex breathes out quietly and though he can't bring himself to look at her, he can feel her gaze on him as she whispers, "There's nothing to forgive, Matt."

He nods once, his mouth dry. "Good."

They finish their breakfast in silence, and when they're through, Alex eyes him hesitantly. "Would you like to continue your lessons today?"

"Please," he answers instantly, because as painful as being around her is, it will be nothing compared to the moment he'll part from her forever. He will spend every moment with her he can and treasure them all in the lonely days to come.

"Well, you've mastered some of the basics. Is there anything you want to learn?"

"Whatever you want to teach me." He raises his eyes to hers. "Kingston."

Alex smiles.

bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I

Chapter Summary

As hard as they both try to move on and forget what happened, the days that pass following the incident in the parlour are awkward and filled with tension – more so on Matt's part considering he also has to deal with illicit thoughts of the other night on top of memories of that one brief, perfect kiss.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from the Frank Sinatra song.

As hard as they both try to move on and forget what happened, the days that pass following the incident in the parlour are awkward and filled with tension – more so on Matt's part considering he also has to deal with illicit thoughts of the other night on top of memories of that one brief, perfect kiss. He's distracted every time he's around Alex, which makes concentrating during lessons difficult at best. How can she expect him to practice warming spells and cooling spells and basic healing when she's so near – when he can breathe in her scent, look into her eyes, feel her guiding touch on his arm?

His lack of focus frustrates Alex to no end. He jumps every time she touches him, forgets every word of her instructions and advice the moment she looks into his eyes, trips over nothing when she smiles at him. Alex is the most patient woman he's ever met in his life but even she is reaching the limit of her seemingly endless supply.

By the fourth day after their kiss, they're both on edge.

"Honestly, Matthew, did you listen to anything I just said?"

"Of course I did! And don't call me Matthew!"

"I will call you whatever I like," she snaps, and he can't help noticing the way her eyes glitter when she's cross with him. It's so enticing he finds himself swaying toward her unconsciously. "And if you were listening, then what did I just say?"

Matt instantly drops his eyes and scowls at his boots.

She taps her foot.

"Something about concentrating," he mumbles.

Heaving a mighty sigh and turning from him to pace toward the mantle, fingers tangled in her curls, Alex shakes her head and mutters under her breath. Whirling on him, her dress flaring around her bare feet, she manages a tight-lipped smile. "Yes, something about concentrating. Because you haven't been concentrating for days. Are you simply beyond my lessons now? Has the great Matthew Smith learned all there is to know about magic? Perhaps you've got something you'd like to teach me instead?" She crosses her arms over her chest and feigns interest. "Please, go on. Clearly, the student has surpassed the teacher."

"Stop it," he says, frowning. "You know that isn't true."

"Then why aren't you paying attention? I'm terribly sorry this is keeping you from your massive estate and your wealthy bride but -"

"Stop it, Alex -"

"Magic is not a game. It is dangerous and wild and if you are not careful you could hurt or even kill yourself. I'm trying to keep you safe, Matt!"

"I know," he snaps, and softens the moment he lifts his head to look at her. "I know. I'm sorry, Kingston." He breathes out quietly through his nose; running his fingers through his hair and sighing when his fringe flops back into his eyes. "Let's just try again, shall we?"

Pursing her lips tightly, she nods once.

Squaring his shoulders, Matt draws upon his magic with relative ease now but the trouble is clearing his mind of all else but the candelabra sitting on the dining room table. Lighting the candles – he can do this. He just has to stop thinking about Alex and her hair and her bloody glorious mouth and that unmistakable scent she carries with her everywhere she goes. He bites down on his lip hard.

"Ignem."

She's just so near and so tempting and he would give anything – possibly even his newly-discovered magic – just to kiss her once more, to feel all those curves flush against him and have her press closer rather than pull away. His mind strays just as his magic flares and he snaps his attention back to the present just in time to see the candles on the table burst simultaneously into bright, high flames, melting all at once right down to the quick.

Behind him, Alex is too shocked to speak, gaping at the smoking wax dripping onto her dining table, ruining the finish as it dries. Matt winces, swallowing hard. "Erm, sorry."

Alex makes a strangled noise of disbelief and he finally gathers his courage enough to turn around and look at her properly. She stares at him with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed in her obvious outrage and blimey, even her hair looks angry with him. He takes an unconscious step back, though he knows she doesn't even need to move to hurt him if she really wants to. "Sorry?" She asks faintly, her eyes drifting from him, to the candelabra and back again. "You're sorry?"

"Kingston -"

"That was an amateur mistake, Matt! I've seen twelve year old boys do that!"

He bites his lip. "Well, I do look quite young for my age -" A zap in the side – like someone has just pinched him – cuts off the rest of his sentence with a yelp of surprise and he gapes at her, clutching his side in outrage. "Kingston!"

"I've taught you better than that," she snaps, her glare daring him to interrupt her again. "This is child's play compared to the other things you've learned!" She runs a hand through her curls, shaking her head and looking seconds from crossing the room and slapping him. "How many times do I have to tell you to concentrate – to want what you're about to ask your magic for? What's the matter with you lately? You've been off somewhere else for days!"

He stares at her, a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling up in his chest and climbing up his throat. "What's the matter – what's the matter with me?" Alex eyes him warily as he takes a step closer. "What's the matter with me is that I don't want to light a bloody candle."

Alex throws up her hands, exasperated. "Well what do you want?"

"Not what, who." He takes another step but Alex holds her ground, her shoulders tense and her chin already quivering. "And it doesn't matter because no matter how badly I want, I can't have you."

She swallows when he stops right in front of her, so close her can feel heat radiating from her body, feel the way she trembles. Finally, she lifts her head to look at him and he stares into green eyes swimming with tears. "I'm trying to do the right thing," she whispers.

"I'm a big boy, Kingston. I don't need you to protect my heart." He cups her face in his hands and she barely blinks, melting into the touch.

"And who's going to protect mine?"

Her voice shakes and Matt feels his heart leap into his throat as he looks down at her, this powerful witch that he somehow manages to make so achingly vulnerable. He strokes his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek and her eyes pierce his own as he promises softly, "Your heart is safe with me."

"Matt – "

Sensing a protest on the tip of her tongue, he doesn't give her a chance to voice it, tightening his hands on her face and bending his head, his kiss gentle but greedy as he silences her. Alex struggles for only a moment, her hands gripping the lapels of his jacket to push him away, but she ends up hauling him closer instead, a soft whimper in her throat. Matt slips one hand into her hair, curling his fingers tightly around blonde ringlets, and slides the fingertips of the other along her throat, across her collarbone and slowly past her breast, palming it briefly just to hear her moan softly, her mouth opening under his. He grips her hip tightly, drawing her near until there isn't a space between them, his tongue twining hungrily with hers.

The last time he'd tasted her kiss had been so brief and he groans as the tang of tea and old magic bursts across his tongue now. He has all the time in the world and he plans on taking things slow, his mouth slick and hot as it slides against hers. Alex lets go of the lapel of his jacket to sift her hands through his hair, lifting onto her tiptoes to get as close as she can. She sucks on his bottom lip, nips with her teeth and drives him absolutely mad.

With a growl of desire, he backs her into the dining table and lifts her, settling her on top of it. He steps between her legs, his hands already fumbling with her skirts. It takes all of his willpower to tear himself away from the tempting warmth of her clever mouth, and he strokes her face

reverently, breathing hard as he presses three quick parting kisses to the corner of her lips, resisting Alex when she tries to draw him back in.

Instead, he drops to his knees and presses his kiss-swollen lips to her delicate ankle, tongue snaking out to dart over a charming freckle there. "So lovely," he whispers, his hands slipping beneath her skirts and his mouth dragging sensuously along the length of her calf until he reaches her knee, where he presses open-mouthed kisses. "My lovely, bewitching tutor. I never had a chance in hell of resisting you."

"I was never trying to tempt you," she breathes, her eyes dark as she looks down at him, and he wonders how quickly he might have fallen to his knees if she'd actually made an effort to seduce him. Five minutes after they met, he suspects.

"You never had to," is all he replies, and Alex drapes her leg over his shoulder, pressing the heel of her foot to the back of his neck to drag him closer. He huffs out a quiet laugh, kissing the soft skin of her inner thigh. He can feel the heat of her sex, smell the musky scent of her arousal, and his trousers are suddenly so tight he can't breathe. Christ.

Quickly disentangling himself from her, Matt yanks her petticoats down her legs with shaking hands while Alex leans back on the table and kicks them away. The moment she's free, she sits up again, pulling him up to her by his fringe, and he braces himself against the edge of the table with his hands, his mouth hard and biting against her lips. Alex gives as good as she gets, sucking lightly, teasingly, on his tongue, and his eyes nearly roll back in his head.

She doesn't say a word, but her eyes flash and the buttons of his jacket go flying. She wastes no time in yanking the fabric from his shoulders. It drops to the floor and seconds later, his waistcoat follows. Things are moving quickly now, and as much as he wants to spread her out on a bed and explore her for hours, he doesn't think they're going to make it all the way upstairs. It's difficult enough not to yank her dress up right now and push into the tight heat of her sex but there's something he has to know first. An unmarried woman, living alone, mostly recluse, with everyone in town too intimidated by her powers to really get too close…

"Alex," he whispers, biting his lip as she licks at his jaw. "Are-are you – have you ever-"

She shakes her head quickly, her breath coming in short, sharp pants against his throat. "I'm alright, darling. Hardly made of porcelain."

Slipping his hands beneath her, he grips the back of her thighs tightly and lifts her into his arms, kissing her cheek when Alex wraps her around his neck without protest. "Not here," he says softly.

She tightens her legs around his narrow waist and god, he can feel the heat of her core through his trousers, grinding against his clothed erection. Alex gasps, her hips bucking. "Parlour," she breathes.

Matt stumbles from the dining room and down the hall to the parlour, thankfully seeing no sign of Alex's strangely protective cat along the way. He trips on the rug on the way to the settee and they fall onto it tangled together, not even pausing to catch their breath as their mouths meet once again. Alex cradles him between thighs, wrapping her arms tightly around him as he kicks off his boots and mouths at her the soft, supple skin of her chest. He tugs at the neckline of her dress, grumbling about corsets until finally Alex pushes him away, and that golden light gleams in her eyes just before her corset disappears from beneath her dress to land on the floor next to his boots. He really must learn the incantation for that.

"You think you're so clever," he whispers fondly, and her quiet laughter turns to a strangled moan as he rips at the bodice of her dress and the thin chemise beneath it to expose full breasts and nipples stiff with arousal. His mouth waters as Alex sits up to pull the tattered remains of her dress and chemise over her head, tossing it to the floor, suddenly gloriously naked beneath him. "My God, Kingston. Look at you."

She yanks his mouth down to hers, her fingers curled around his ears, and smirks against his lips. "I've grown tired of you merely looking, darling. I want you to touch me."

It's a request he grants happily, his erection stiff and throbbing against the tight confines of his trousers as he smoothes his palms over her stomach, cups the heavy weight of her breasts, marvels over smooth, creamy skin under his touch. Alex responds to his every caress with soft sighs, and moans she tries to muffle by sinking her teeth into her plump bottom lip. The sight of her splayed beneath him and trying not to make a sound as he touches her is so erotic his head spins.

He drops his head to her chest, parting his lips to lick and suck at her breasts, relishing the way Alex gasps and squirms beneath him. Her hands thread through his hair and her back arches as he envelopes the stiff peak of a nipple in his mouth, laving his tongue over it and sucking hard just to hear her breath catch. "Darling," she pleads, her voice ragged. "Please, oh please -"

He kisses a path across her chest to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention as his hand slips down her body and between her thighs. He groans around her nipple when he parts her folds and finds her slick and ready, coating his fingers in her arousal. Alex keens, tossing her head back, curls spilling across the pillow behind her.

"Oh, how wet you are, my love," he breathes against the skin of her breast, slick with his saliva.

She whimpers, spreading her legs a little wider, and he strokes her softly, fingertips teasing at her clit. "Is this what I do to you, Alex?"

"Yes," she hisses, her hips lifting as he pushes a finger inside the tight heat of her sex. She pulses around him, silken and wet. He crooks his finger and she twitches, gasping. He mouths at her breasts, silently marveling at how easily she adjusts to a second, a third finger, even as she pants and whimpers, a lovely, writhing creature beneath him. She grits her teeth as he moves within her, flushed and gorgeous as she begs. "Oh yes, darling. There, please don't stop -"

"Never, Kingston. I'll take care of you." He kisses her cheek, sweaty and flushed, and Alex turns her face into his shoulder as he grinds the heel of his palm against her clit. She presses her forehead hard against his collarbone and cries out sharply as she comes, her dripping sex fluttering around his fingers and his name on her lips. He strokes her hair from her forehead tenderly, his lips against her temple. "I'll always take care of you."

"Do not make me promises you will never be able to keep," she whispers, reaching for him with shaking hands. He kisses her as they fumble blindly to finish undressing him – a shirt discarded and his trousers caught around his ankles. She laughs softly into his neck as they struggle, clinging tightly to him, and when they roll off the settee and hit the floor, it barely fazes them at all. Matt untangles his legs from his trousers and lifts himself over her, beaming down at her smiling face.

"You're beautiful," he says, and her smile softens. "Alex, I -"

"Don't, darling." She reaches up to stroke his face, her eyes sad. "Don't say it."

His heart lurches but he nods and kisses her instead, slow and meaningful, telling her without words. Alex tilts her hips in a silent plea and he pulls back to watch her face as he presses inside. Her eyes never leave his face and as he sinks slowly inside her, her gaze darkens and her full mouth drops open with a breathy gasp, her sex parting and stretching deliciously for him. Matt grits his teeth, trying to be gentle at first, and his efforts are rewarded. Alex barely winces as he fills her, only clutches at his arms and rocks her hips to take him in.

He presses her into the floor and the carpet beneath them scratches uncomfortably at his knees and chafes at Alex's skin as he thrusts, but he doesn't think she even notices. He doesn't give her a chance to notice, distracting her with deep kisses and long fingers stroking her sensitive nipples. He's dimly aware of the room shaking but at first, he thinks it's all in his head. Only Alex could make him feel like the world is actually moving with them. It's only when he hears a continuous, dull thud that he finally glances out of the corner of his eye and sees books flying off the shelves on the other side of the wall. Belatedly, he feels his magic humming under his skin; sparking and sputtering at his fingertips everywhere he touches Alex.

"Kingston -"

"Ignore it," she breathes, and he nods hurriedly, kissing her. Her tongue slides against his, licks along his teeth, and he groans, his fingers biting into her hips. Over the blood rushing in his ears and the sound of skin slapping against skin, he hears glass shatter but Alex holds him tighter and he suddenly doesn't care enough to look.

Her legs wrap around his waist and her fingernails scratch down his back, but the mild sting is nothing compared to finally having her here beneath him. Weeks of quietly, desperately craving his magical tutor and now she's clinging tightly to him and moaning his name every time his abdomen rubs against her clit. She's absolutely perfect – mad and brilliant and dangerous. He cannot let her slip through his fingers now – not for his family, not for Daisy, not for anyone. He knows now what it's like to have Alexandra Kingston and nothing else will sustain him.

Along with the tingle of his impending release – dancing at his spine and drawing his muscles taut

– his magic thrums in his veins, rushing all through him like a tidal wave, like it's chasing something. Home, he thinks, and for the life of him, he doesn't know why. His magic is searching for home – as if belongs somewhere else as well as inside him. He struggles to keep a tight hold on it as Alex writhes beneath him, ivory skin slick with sweat and her breath hot against his ear.

He threads his fingers through her hair, strokes her face, whispers that she has ruined him and he has never been so happy to be destroyed. Alex sobs, her thighs tightening around him, and when he reaches between her legs to stroke her with long fingers, she buries her face in his neck and comes. As Matt follows right behind her, his nose in her curls and her scent all around him, he feels his tenuous grip on his magic slip. Instead of only inside him, under his skin, he can sense his magic all around him. He feels it twining with another presence – something ancient and wild.

Alex's magic, he realizes just as a bright white light eclipses the room around them.

He shuts his eyes to the brilliance, feeling Alex's eyelashes flutter against his throat as she does the same. He curls around her protectively, wondering if he could just stay like this forever, hiding in the light with her. Gradually, the glow fades, the room stops shaking, and he tentatively opens his eyes to peek.

The parlour looks like a warzone – shattered glass littering the floor, books scattered all around, some with pages torn or bindings ripped, a table overturned, a chair on its side, pillows from the settee ripped apart at the seams to spill out feathers that float in the air around them. There are even a few sticking out of Alex's curls. He gapes at the carnage in silence but Alex glances around with amusement, a smirk curling lips he's well acquainted with now.

"Why?" He asks faintly.

"Your magic," she explains, and he suddenly understands why the vase had inexplicably crashed to the floor the first time he kissed her. Her small hands soothe him with gentle, circular motions on his chest until he gives in and collapses beside her in the midst of the wreckage. "I suppose I'll have to start teaching you to control it during sex."

Matt laughs softly, nuzzling into her. "That is a lesson I will gladly pay attention to."

He wakes hours later still on the floor in the parlour and the first thing he notices is that the mess had been cleaned up as he slept. A blanket has been thrown over him but Alex is nowhere to be seen. The house is silent – he can't even hear her singing to her flowers. Sitting up slowly, Matt rakes a hand through his disheveled hair and shoves aside the blanket tangled around his legs.

"Kingston?" He calls out hopefully.

When he doesn't hear a response, he sighs and climbs slowly to his feet. He takes a moment to stretch, still tired and sore, before reaching for the clothes folded neatly on the settee. Even the sight of the settee makes him blush now, thinking of Alex naked and breathless beneath him on it. Face hot, he grins to himself as he dresses, buttoning his waistcoat but not bothering with his shoes or his cravat. He tries to smooth his hair but his fringe keeps flopping into his eyes. He gives it up as a lost cause and pads around the first floor calling for Alex, checking the kitchen, the dining room, and the back garden.

Not finding her anywhere and hoping she would have at least left him a note if she were leaving the house entirely, Matt climbs the stairs to the second floor and calls for her again. He stands on the landing and listens intently, sagging in relief when he hears the unmistakable sound of Alex mumbling to herself somewhere down the corridor. He follows her voice all the way to her library, peering around the doorway nervously.

He's only been inside the library one other time – it's only a little bigger than the size of his bedroom, stuffed full of books and ancient texts that look older than God. In the corner of the room, wrapped in nothing but a dressing gown, her hair wild around her face, Alex sits surrounded by open books, a sheet of paper in her lap, a quill in hand and a strangely desperate expression on her face. He eyes her curiously for a moment, hesitant to interrupt, but the longer he stands there looking at her, the more he notices things like the rumpled state of her hair from his fingers in it, or the fact that she probably doesn't have anything on beneath that dressing gown. He finds his eyes wandering to the gaping neckline and swallows hard, wondering if he'll ever get the

chance to press his hands and his mouth to all that bare skin ever again.

"Alex?"

She glances up in wide-eyed alarm, her quill frozen above the page in front of her. "You're awake."

"Clearly." He waves awkwardly from his spot in the doorway and instantly feels like an idiot. "Hello."

Alex turns a little pink and averts her eyes. "Hello… I'm sorry I left you. I had to attend to a few things in here."

"No, it's perfectly fine," he mumbles, hating this new awkwardness between them. "Thank you for the blanket."

She nods once, biting her lip. "I don't believe I'll be dining downstairs tonight – I've got far too much to do in here." She waves at the piles of books around her with a negligent hand. "So you're free to do what you like for the remainder of the evening. We'll start your lessons again tomorrow, alright?"

Noting with trepidation that she still won't look at him, Matt begins to fear the worst – that she regrets giving her heart to him so readily and she doesn't know how to politely tell him it's never going to happen again. Too terrified of the truth to question her or even reassure her that he isn't going anywhere, but unable to sit back watch her slip away right before his eyes, Matt pushes away from the doorframe and steps into the library, crossing the room slowly.

Alex doesn't look up but her eyes freeze on the page in front of her and her body tenses as he draws near. Intent on stooping to kiss her, Matt slips his hand beneath her hair and curls his fingers around the back of her neck to pull her close, but the moment his skin touches hers, he feels a crackle of magic energy between them, a strange, humming undercurrent that makes the hair on his arms stand on end. He jerks his hand back quickly, a startled gasp in his throat. "What the hell -"

"It's nothing," Alex says quickly, tense but clearly not as surprised as he is. "Just your magic reacting to mine."

He shakes his hand with a frown, flexing his fingers and wondering when they'll stop tingling. "It never did that before."

Alex arches an eyebrow but still doesn't look up from her book. "Well, we'd never been intimate before, had we?"

"Right. Of course." He flushes, shoving his hand into his trouser pocket. "So does that always happen between magical people who have been… intimate?"

After a lengthy pause, Alex admits quietly, "No."

His lips twitch in a smile and he reaches out again, his hand hovering over her mass of curls, and if he truly concentrates, he can feel their combined magic sizzling under his skin. "We're special then?"

Finally, Alex glances up with a soft smile and he instantly notices the red mark he'd sucked into the hollow of her throat hours before. "Something like that."

Grinning now, he trails a hand over her face tenderly and the odd current between them isn't quite so startling now that he's expecting it. "To be quite honest, Kingston, the only way I want to spend my evening is in your company but I'll leave you to whatever it is you're doing." He swipes his thumb carefully over the soft, delicate skin beneath her eye and watches her bite her lip. "Just don't spend all night in here, all right? Being terrifyingly powerful doesn't exclude you from the need to rest, you know."

"I won't be long," she promises, and turns back to her notes and books, as if he'd already left the room.

With a sigh, Matt leaves her to it and walks to his chambers, wondering if she's avoiding him because she's genuinely caught up in whatever she's doing or she already regrets what happened between them. Desperately hoping for the former, he uses a pitcher of water and a cloth to rid himself of all the evidence of what happened in the parlour earlier, snorting a little to himself when he peers into a looking glass and finds a feather from a pillow still nesting in his hair.

After a change of clothes, he eats dinner alone in the dining room, picking listlessly at his food. When he's through, he still hasn't seen or heard Alex so he decides to try mastering his earlier lesson without her – he really doesn't want to try lighting candles around her again. The last time had been mortifying enough. Without her around to distract him, it only takes two tries before he

gets it and he leaves the lit candelabra in the middle of the dining table, hoping that if Alex ventures downstairs, she'll be delighted with his progress.

He takes a turn about the back garden on his own after that, achingly bored and missing Alex's company. He wants to hold her and talk to her about what happened between them; he wants to reassure her that it hadn't been a mistake but rather the best decision he's ever made. He'd been so mortified that his parents had to send their talentless son away to a magic tutor but what if they hadn't? He would never have known Alex or felt what it was to be truly in love. She makes him grateful he'd been so rubbish at magic.

When it's too dark to walk around the garden anymore and he lacks anything else to do but torture Moffat with a ball of yarn – the cat is even grumpier than usual for some reason and Matt winds up with a rather nasty scratch on his hand – he decides to go to bed early and hope things look better tomorrow.

Not bothering to light a candle with his newly found skill, he undresses in the dark and falls into bed, curling up into a ball and shutting his eyes resolutely. Sleep doesn't come easily and he spends hours tossing and turning, his mind constantly on Alex, before the object of his thoughts opens his door and slips into his room.

He says nothing, watching in silence as she pauses by his bed to slip off her dressing gown, realizing he'd been right when he'd imagined nothing beneath it earlier. She raises his blankets and climbs in beside him, instantly curling her body around his and pressing warm, bare skin against his own. He holds her close, sliding a hand up and down the smooth expanse of her back and burying his face in her hair. He feels the tension slipping from his frame slowly merely because she's near, and knows there is no going back. He's quite hopeless for her.

Pressing his lips to her temple, he asks sleepily, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"I don't know," she replies softly, and holds him a little tighter.

her fast-luck oil and her magic stones

Chapter Summary

As an unspoken rule, they never talk of the future or what will happen once Matt's time here is at an end and returning home can no longer be delayed. Instead, they live only in the moment.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Medicine by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals

Over the next week, they manage to establish a kind of routine, or at least as close to one as possible for two people such as themselves – a wealthy young bachelor promised to another and the older tutor he's fallen madly in love with. As an unspoken rule, they never talk of the future or what will happen once Matt's time here is at an end and returning home can no longer be delayed. Instead, they live only in the moment.

Alex continues to teach him magic during the day – though her lessons have become a little unorthodox, considering she rewards him with kisses now instead of just her praise. At night, she falls into bed with him, her smile luminous and her touch gentle as she teaches him how to control his magic when his emotions are high and desire is the only thing on his mind. He makes love to her every night, his fingertips sparking with light everywhere he touches her, and in the morning, he wakes to an empty bed.

This morning is no different and when Matt opens his eyes to the sight of cold sheets, he sighs in resignation and pulls himself out of bed to dress. He walks into the kitchen downstairs still straightening his collar and finds Alex just where she usually is in the mornings recently – standing over a small, boiling pot and frowning. Slipping an arm around her waist from behind, he presses his lips into her hair and murmurs, "One day, I shall wake up and you will still be sleeping next to me."

She tenses for only a moment before turning to glance at him over her shoulder, brushing her mouth against his jaw. "I'm an early riser, darling. Here, try this -" She holds a spoon up to his mouth and he sighs. This, too, has become a part of their routine – Alex experimenting with strange potions she never tells him the purpose of and then expecting him to test them for her. It's a testament to just how much he trusts her that he never questions what she gives him.

He wrinkles his nose. "I haven't even eaten breakfast yet and you want to force your strange

concoctions on me?"

She bites her lip. "Please?"

It isn't so much the word please as the tone in which she says it – pleading and soft, a bit like how she sounds when he has her pinned beneath him in his bed. Helpless to resist, Matt opens his mouth obediently and drinks her potion. It doesn't really have a flavor but it leaves a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. He makes a face and Alex watches him anxiously. "Sour," he explains, and she relaxes. "Did it work?"

Taking his face in her hands, Alex yanks his mouth down to hers and kisses him thoroughly, her tongue plundering his mouth to sweep away all traces of bitterness and leaving the sweetness of her instead. His skin hums at her touch and he feels that familiar crackling undercurrent between them as he groans and pulls her closer. Letting go and stepping back breathlessly, Alex looks at once disappointed and relieved as she says, "No, it didn't."

"I have faith you'll succeed eventually." He laughs softly, leaning in to kiss her again. "Now, what have you got for me today, Kingston?"

She hums thoughtfully and he relishes the way she leans into him, her small hands on his chest. "I thought perhaps it might be a good idea for you to become a bit friendlier with Moffat."

"What? No," he whinges, holding her to him tightly and dropping his forehead to her shoulder. "That isn't a magic lesson!"

"If you can get him to like you, it will be magic enough for one day, darling." She pets his hair, and though he can't see her face, he just knows she's laughing at him.

He lifts his head from her perfumed shoulder and frowns. "But he hates me, Kingston."

"He does not hate you, don't be ridiculous!" Alex shakes her head at him, turning on her heel and walking out of the kitchen, obviously expecting him to follow her. Which he does, of course, just as he always shall. "It takes him a while to warm up to strangers, that's all."

They find Moffat in the garden, lounging in the middle of Alex's flowers. Alex approaches him at a normal pace but Matt lingers behind her warily, eyeing the black cat with suspicion. Kneeling in the grass next to her companion and scratching his ears, Alex glances back at him with a sigh,

motioning him forward. "Well you can't get him to like you from all the way over there, darling. Come along, I won't let the bad kitty frighten you."

He glowers half-heartedly, charmed as ever by her grin, and walks cautiously toward them, sinking to his knees on the ground next to her. Instantly, Moffat tenses, hissing. Matt scrambles back hastily, pointing an accusatory finger at the animal. "See? He loathes me, Kingston."

"You startled him," she amends, stroking Moffat's fur soothingly. "Imagine such a small creature seeing you bumbling over here with all those gangly limbs – I'd be frightened too."

"Kingston!"

She giggles. "I'm sorry, darling. Give me your hand." Without waiting for him to offer it, she wraps her fingers around his own and pulls his hand slowly toward Moffat. "Just be gentle." The moment she presses his hand to Moffat's back, the cat yowls angrily, ears twitching, and Matt yanks his hand from Alex's, cradling it to his chest protectively. "Moffat! You're being rude."

"It's no use, Alex -"

"Nonsense. There's no reason he shouldn't like you." She furrows her brow and studies her cat, lips pursed. She looks angry with her beloved companion on his behalf and Matt feels his chest swell with affection as he looks at her. "You're sweet and charming and talented and you never step on his tail!"

Chuckling softly, he recaptures her hand and presses his lips to her knuckles. "He doesn't have to like me, you know. He's just a tetchy old cat."

"I know," she says lightly, glancing away to frown at Moffat. "It's just… I don't really have any family or friends to speak of – except for an old cat who always keeps me company. You're the first man I've – you're import – " She huffs, bunching the skirt of her dress in her little fist. "It would mean a great deal to me if you two would learn to get along, that's all."

Heart in his mouth, Matt tightens his grip on her fingers and kisses them softly, one by one. "Why don't you go fetch some treats from that tin in the kitchen, then? I'll see if he'll take a shine to me once I've got food."

Brightening, Alex lifts her eyes hopefully to his, a reluctant smile curling the corners of her lovely mouth. "Really?"

He nods and relinquishes her hand with one last press of his lips to her palm, settling back on the grass next to Moffat, who swishes his tail impolitely against Matt's leg. "We'll manage until you get back."

Standing slowly, Alex dusts off her dress and looks down at them sternly. "Alright, but don't draw blood while I'm gone."

He gapes at her. "You think I'd harm your cat?"

"Of course not." She laughs. "I was talking to Moffat."

As she turns on her heel and walks back toward the house, Matt grimaces and scoots a little further away from the cat eyeing him irritably. The moment Alex disappears inside the house, he sits up from his slouched position in the grass and glares down at the black ball of fur next to him. "All right, I know I'm always telling her she's mad for speaking to you like you can actually understand her but I'm going to try it anyway – just in case. I know you have your strange, cat-like reasons for not liking me, and I respect that, just as I hope you respect that I find you have the personality of an ill-mannered codger from Scotland."

Moffat bares his teeth in a silent hiss of disapproval.

Unfazed, Matt stares him down. "But we do have one thing in common." He jerks his thumb in the direction of the house, his expression instantly softer as he thinks of the woman inside. "We both love that mad, ridiculous woman very much and we want her to be happy. I'm not going to hurt her, if that's what you think."

Blinking at him, Moffat tilts his head to the side, apparently listening.

Feeling like a man on trial, Matt licks his lips and continues softly, "I can't marry Daisy, not now. I just have to convince Alex, when the time comes, that my place is here with her now. The money, the social standing, none of it matters anymore – not when I have her." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Since I don't plan on going anywhere in the near future, I think it's best that we learn to get along, don't you?"

Moffat's ear twitches and he yawns, looking disinterested.

"Please?"

He's begging a cat – actually, genuinely begging a cat. What has Alexandra Kingston done to his life?

"It's important to her, Moffat. Do it for Alex."

After a tense moment of silence in which Matt has a stare down with a cat, Moffat finally drops his eyes, paws primly at his face, and then climbs lithely to his feet. He clambers onto Matt's lap, curls up there like he owns the space, and blinks up at him, as if to say well get on with it, then.

Grinning widely, Matt reaches down and scratches behind his ear, laughing softly when Moffat begins to purr. By the time Alex comes back out with a handful of treats they don't need anymore, Matt is sprawled on his back in the grass with Moffat on his stomach. Alex looks delighted at the change, dropping down beside them with a beaming smile and scooping up Moffat, cuddling him to her chest.

"What on earth happened while I was gone?"

Hands folded beneath his head as a pillow, Matt watches them both with a smile and says, "I just talked to him. And I think you're right, Kingston…" He reaches out a hand and squeezes her knee though her dress. "He does understand."

"Of course he does – you just never bothered talking to him before." Laughing, Alex lies back in the grass with Moffat and curls around him, tucking a leg between his. Matt removes his hands from behind his head and wraps his arms around her, dragging her close and pressing his lips to her cheek in a smacking kiss.

"You've made me as mad as you are," he says softly.

Alex grins, the apple of her cheek rounding beneath his lips. "You love it, darling."

He really, really does.

"Try this one."

"Alex -"

"Darling, we have this argument every day. It would save so much time if you would relent now rather than later."

With a sigh, Matt opens his mouth and downs her latest experimental potion. "What happens if you turn me into a newt?"

"I would know how to change you back." She winks, studying him closely. "How do you feel?"

He looks down at her, in one of her simpler gowns today, her feet bare as ever, her curls piled messily on top of her head, and a few stray wisps springing around her flushed face. Grinning, he settles his hands on her hips and backs her into the nearest solid surface, which happens to be a wall. "I feel like ravishing you."

Alex tilts her face up to accept his kiss, and he can't contain a shudder at the tingly undercurrent of magic that thrums and crackles between them. "Ravishing later," she breathes, pushing him gently away. "I'm teaching you wordless magic today."

Bordering on giddy after that, Matt gulps down his lunch and drags Alex outside with him, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he stands in the middle of the yard. He's been pestering her about learning wordless magic since he mastered conjuration but she always insists it isn't the right time – until now. He sits obediently in the grass, looking up at Alex and watching her transform before his eyes into what he likes to call her tutor mentality. Her whole demeanor changes as she paces in front of him, no sly smirks or flirtatious winks, her brow furrowed adorably as she tries to find a way to explain wordless magic to him. He loves her like this – just as he loves her every other way, really – solemn and businesslike, determined to teach him something new.

"Most people never learn wordless magic for a reason," she finally says, glancing at him to make sure he's listening. When she sees him staring up at her raptly, eyes fastened on her and gaze fascinated and a bit besotted, she flushes and shakes her head, turning away. "It's complicated and it requires an immense amount of focus. To perform magic without vocal incantations, you're

going to have to draw upon our magic at the same time as you're thinking of the spell you need, and the outcome you want. Multi-tasking all of these things at once often results in either utter failure or disaster, so I need you at your best today, Matt."

When she whirls to fix him with a pointed look, he pouts. "You can't keep using the candelabra incident against me, Kingston. It wasn't my fault – you were being very distracting!"

She huffs. "I wasn't doing anything at all."

"You never have to," he says loftily, smirking up at her when she frowns. "But we don't have to worry about that anymore – that was before I could do this –" He reaches out a hand, yanks at the hem of her skirt and sends her stumbling forward, landing right on top of him. Her knees manage to avoid hitting him anywhere particularly sensitive but Alex looks incensed, eyes wide with shock as she stares down at him, straddling his waist. Pleased with himself, Matt takes her face in his hands, pulls her head down to his and kisses her. His lips tingle pleasantly and his skin sizzles with golden magic, and he shudders as he lets his mind wander to their nights and the way his whole body thrums when her naked skin is pressed against his. The magic between them is palpable when he makes love to her; he can taste it in her kiss and in the slickness of her arousal between her thighs. Groaning softly at the memory, Matt tightens his arms around her and sucks at her bottom lip, shifting restlessly beneath her.

Alex indulges him for only a moment before reluctantly tearing herself away, flushed and trembling as she rises to her feet and walks right over him, her skirts trailing over his face. Wiping delicately at her mouth, she clears her throat and glares down at him. "That is exactly the lack of focus that I'm referring to."

He pouts, sitting up to run a hand through his hair as he mumbles, "Your fault." When she doesn't offer a retort, he lifts his head from the ground and frowns at her back. "Alex? What's wrong?"

"Darling, we don't have much time left." She wrings her hands and avoids his gaze, her eyes far away and sad. "You can't hide from your obligations here forever and as much as I would love to spend our remaining time locked away in my chambers, I need to know when you leave that I've taught you everything that I could."

It's the first time she's brought up the subject of his upcoming nuptials in a long time, breaking the unspoken rule of avoiding it at all costs. Startled, Matt stares at her for a moment, watching her look everywhere but at him. "Alex, I'm not leaving-"

"I never expected you to stay," she says, turning her face into the cool summer breeze and letting it brush her hair from her shoulders, wild curls lifted from her upturned face. "You have a duty,

Matt, and I'm doing what I can to make sure you fulfill it."

He nods slowly, glancing away and swallowing the lump in his throat. "Do you – that is, would you rather I left?"

"Of course not. Don't be daft." She lifts wet green eyes to his, her lovely mouth trembling. "But this isn't about what I want."

He flexes his jaw, eyes burning into hers. "What about what I want?"

"An alliance between your family and the house of Lowe is bigger than our desires, darling." Alex watches him sadly, her arms wrapped almost protectively around her middle. "Your family -

"

"Hang my family," he snaps. "I won't let them control my happiness!"

"And how long do you think you'd be happy here with me?" She asks, her voice tearful as she gestures widely back to the house – covered in ivy and vines, more of a home now than his estate has ever been. "Disowned by your loved ones, scorned by the rest of society, with naught by a madwoman and a cat for company? How long before you resented me for ruining your life?"

"Stop it, Alex." He reaches for her wrist, wrapping his fingers tightly around it and pulling her close as she struggles. "Don't presume to know how I'm going to feel. You're the one terrified of what might happen if I stay. I know beyond any shadow of a doubt that I would be happy here with you for the rest of my days."

Alex stops struggling and stares at him, lips parted and eyes wide. She stands frozen in his grasp, motionless – he doesn't even think she's breathing. "You think I'm terrified?"

"I know you are," he says softly. "And it's alright to be afraid, but not when it means pushing me away."

"I'm not afraid," she snaps, and wrenches her arm from his grasp. "I'm trying to give you a choice!"

"I've made my choice!" He shouts, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "What do you think I'm doing right now? I'm choosing you, Alex."

She shakes her head, her eyes bright with tears and a delicate hand over her mouth. "No, you're not," she whispers. "You only think you are."

Frustrated and entirely unsure of what the hell she means by that, Matt turns from her and rakes a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to convince you -"

"Stop trying," she says, and her voice sounds stronger now as she tries to compose herself. "Please, darling. Just… let me teach you."

He tries, but focusing is near impossible after their unexpected row. Matt spends hours in the back garden, not speaking a word as he tries to summon and levitate and conjure silently, with little success. Alex says nothing as she hovers on the other side of the yard, offering none of her usual encouragement as she watches him with the air of a wounded, frightened animal. The atmosphere between them is tense, full of things they did and didn't say.

As the afternoon turns to evening, the weather grows colder and the clouds above them darken. Even angry with her, he can't stop stealing glimpses of Alex out of the corner of his eye and he notices her shivering in her thin gown, hiding her hands in the folds of her dress and obviously trying to fight off the chill in the air. Once he notices her discomfort, concentrating on anything else is impossible and he gives up after another ten minutes of struggling to create something in the silence. With a sigh, he stalks over to where she stands beneath her tree and she tenses as he approaches, watching him warily.

"Give them here," he orders softly, and reaches for her hands. They're so small his own dwarf them but he knows how powerful and how capable these hands are, and he holds them reverently between his own, rubbing swiftly in an effort to get the blood circulating to cold fingertips. Alex looks up at him questioningly but doesn't attempt to push him away, watching him through her eyelashes with a look of resignation.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

He shakes his head, kissing her fingers as he closes his eyes. He thinks only of wanting to take care of her and make her comfortable, but he feels the very moment his wordless warming spell takes effect, heating soft, delicate skin. Alex huffs out a quiet laugh of surprise and he opens his eyes to grin at her, his lips still pressed to her fingertips. "Better?"

She nods mutely, touching her warm hands to his cheeks tenderly. "Thank you, darling."

"Lesson over?" He looks at her hopefully and when she nods again, he smiles victoriously and bends to scoop her up into his arms, cherishing her startled giggle as she clings to him. He carries her into the house and upstairs to bed, and in keeping with his lesson today, the magic they exchange between the sheets is entirely without speech. They touch one another with warm hands and full hearts, and words would only get in the way.

Matty,

I hope you've learned quite enough magic to satisfy Lord Lowe because I'm writing to tell you preparations are at an end. A date has been set for the ball – exactly one week from now. Mother and Father insist you come home immediately to show us what you've learned and to oversee plans for the wedding.

I know these are not the tidings you wish for, but I really do think everything is going to be just fine. I have spent an inordinate amount of time with Daisy in the last several weeks and she's a sweet girl, dear brother. She is kind and beautiful and will make a lovely, proper wife for you – and a wonderful mother, when the time comes. Do not fret – Mother and Father have chosen your perfect match. Come home and see for yourself.

We've sent Henderson with the carriage.

Your sister,

Laura

"I thought we'd have more time."

Matt bites his lip at Alex's worried tone but can't bring himself to look at her. "We have all the time in the world, Kingston."

"You have to go home."

"I don't have to go anywhere." He lifts his head from his pillow and looks at her stubbornly. "I can simply reply to her letter with a plea for her to send along the rest of my things."

Alex raises her eyes from the letter in question and fixes him with a patient look. "Darling, you know very well that nothing will be simple about breaking your betrothal to the daughter of Bronner Lowe. You must go home but I ask that you please refrain from severing your alliance with Lowe house -" Matt begins to vehemently deny this request but Alex places a gentle hand over his mouth to silence him. "You say now you wish to remain here with me, but you might feel differently once you arrive home and see your family and Daisy again."

"I won't," he says stubbornly.

"Then you must go home anyway to break the news to your family. I'll attend the ball and if by that time, you still truly want to be with me, then we shall tell everyone together, alright?"

He wants to refuse but Alex fixes pleading green eyes on him, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, absolutely enchanting in a white nightgown and her hair streaming down her back in ringlets. She thinks he's going to change his mind, that he's somehow lost the plot living with her and that once he returns home, he'll come to his senses. Determined to prove her wrong, he nods reluctantly. "Fine."

Alex visibly relaxes, breathing out a quiet, "Thank you."

Snatching Laura's letter from her hands and tossing it carelessly in the direction of the nightstand, he crosses the distance between them on the bed and curls around Alex, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her throat. She threads her fingers through his hair and as she hums, he feels magic coursing through her fingertips, idly caressing his scalp. "Alex, when I break my betrothal with Daisy, will you -"

"If, darling," she says quietly. "If you break your betrothal, you can ask me anything you want but not until then."

Stubborn, Matt traces the words marry me into the inside of her wrist and his equally stubborn tutor pretends not to notice.

"Moffat is angry with me again."

"Don't be silly. He just hates goodbyes."

"Well this isn't goodbye," he says sternly, reaching for her hand only to be denied as his footman slips between them in the doorway, levitating Matt's trunks out to the waiting carriage. "You'll see me again at the ball, remember? Promise me you'll attend, Kingston." He says it lightheartedly because the footman is still within hearing distance but his eyes are solemn and pleading. "Your absence won't keep me away from you – it will only make me terribly cross when I find you again."

Alex smiles, though it trembles a bit around the edges, and glances uneasily out the door to ensure the location of the footman. The moment she sees that he's too occupied to pay them any mind, she pulls Matt into her arms and plants a searing, hard kiss against his mouth. He feels it right down to his toes and the crackle of magic between them makes him whimper, grasping her tightly to him. "I'll be there, darling," she breathes when they part. "Witch's honor."

Her kiss lingers on his lips for days after.

Leaving Alex behind had been painful. It had ached to part from her and it aches even now, the night before his betrothal to Daisy Lowe is announced to family, friends, and anyone else with enough social standing to merit invitation. Nauseated at the mere prospect of what tomorrow holds, Matt determinedly shuts his eyes and focuses his magic on conjuring another apple – the only physical reminder of Alex he has now that the marks on his skin are beginning to fade. The apple appears in his palm and he curls his fingers around it tightly, opening his eyes once more to look at it. He rubs his thumb over the smooth red surface, remembering her smile when he'd conjured his very first one, the way she'd looked at him as she tasted it.

With a sigh, Matt tosses the apple away into the growing pile at his side and flops onto his back in the grass. The manicured grounds of his estate aren't quite the same as Alex's naturally wild garden – there are no bright flowers or towering trees, and most unfortunately, no barefoot temptress wandering about with a magical voice – but it's better than the stifling walls of the manor. When he first arrived at Alex's home, he only wanted to learn magic as quickly as he could and leave again. Now, he can barely stand to be inside long enough to take his meals with his family. It doesn't feel like home anymore and his heart lies elsewhere.

Bronner Lowe had been more than satisfied with Matt's magic display upon his return. Standing in the man's vast library, Matt had lifted all the books from the shelves with an incantation he didn't

need to use - he hasn't told anyone the ease with which he uses wordless magic now, reluctant to share the power with anyone but Alex - and made them dance about the room and circle Bronner's head. He'd lit all the candles with a flick of his hand and a murmured word. He'd conjured a glass of scotch and handed it to Bronner with a flourish. And at the end of it all, Bronner had laughed with delight and proclaimed him an adequate match for his beloved daughter. Matt could only thank him with a bow and go home to wait.

The only thing keeping him from crawling out of his own skin is knowing that no matter what happens tomorrow, he will be with Alex again. Nothing else seems to be of any consequence – not even the constant, widening ache in his chest.

"I thought I might find you out here."

Matt wrinkles his nose at the sound of his sister's voice but says nothing.

The silk of her dress makes a soothing swish noise as it trails against the grass. "You never liked spending so much time out of doors before – in fact, I distinctly remember you saying nature was for the uncivilized."

"Yes well, I was a bit of a tosser."

Laura snorts indelicately. "Such language – Mother would faint."

"Exactly why I didn't say it in front of her," he sighs. "Though I'm sure a mere mention of my imminent betrothal would revive her quite quickly."

Prodding at the pile of apples beside him with one expensively slippered foot, Laura raises an eyebrow but doesn't deign to comment. "You're no longer the shameful son who can't perform magic, Mother and Father are immensely proud of you, and you're going to marry a beautiful girl in an advantageous match. I should think anyone in your position would be exceedingly giddy."

Matt grunts in acknowledgement.

"But you've been morose, verging on depressed, ever since your return from merry London, dear brother." In one graceful movement, Laura sinks onto the grass next to him, arranging her dress around her with gloved hands. Satisfied, she fixes him with a probing look, those sharp, defined features all the more intimidating as she scrutinizes him for a weakness. "In fact, I'd say you

were… pining."

He averts his gaze to the sky above him, determined not to give himself away.

Undeterred, Laura picks up an apple and admires it silently. "What I don't understand is what you could possibly have to pine over – surely you don't miss London smog and filthy streets, having lessons with a tutor every day, or living in such small rooms. You can't possibly miss the magic because you're just as free to practice here as you had been there." Brown eyes narrowing, Laura drops the apple and tucks shiny chestnut hair behind her ears. "Therefore, you must be missing a person."

Refusing to meet her gaze, Matt shrugs noncommittally.

"Did you meet a pretty young Londoner then?" She prods at his side with the tip of her finger. "Your eyes met across a crowded, grimy street and now you're hopelessly in love with a poor city-dweller?"

He finally looks at his sister, glowering. "I didn't go out much."

She smirks. "Alright, who then? Did your tutor employ a maid that you fancied?"

"Alex doesn't have servants – she likes doing things herself."

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Matt cringes and wants to shove them back in again. Laura's eyes light up and her grin of triumph is terrifying. "Oh, so just you and Alex in that big old house then? How cozy."

He flushes and mumbles, "Shove off, Lor."

She laughs, clearly delighted. "You are pining for your tutor! That is the most scandalous thing I've heard in weeks – and that includes Sarah Rutledge taking a carriage ride with Leonard Boothe without a chaperone."

"I'm not pining," he snaps, and then softens, rubbing a hand over his aching chest. "I just miss her."

Sobering instantly, Laura reaches out a gloved hand and clasps his. "Matty, it's perfectly normal to form some sort of infatuation with a woman you spent so much time with -"

"It's not infatuation," he interrupts, scowling.

Laura raises a prompting eyebrow, clearly not going to give up any time soon.

He sighs, drooping back against the grass in defeat. "I'm in love with her, Lor."

He doesn't look at his sister but he can sense her eyes on him for a long moment before she finally speaks, her voice quiet and solemn – full of pity. "Does she know?"

He swallows painfully. "Yes. I never said but…" All that time spent with her and she never let him say it. It's the first thing he's going to say when this is all over and she's in his arms again. "And I believe she loves me in return, but she insists I should marry Daisy."

"Then at least one of you is being sensible." Laura sighs. "What were you thinking, Matt? Carrying on an affair with your tutor? For god's sake, Mother and Father sent you there to learn magic, not to sully your reputation and hers. You're betrothed to Daisy and tomorrow all of society is going to know it. You have to put Alex behind you."

He clenches his jaw. "And if I can't do that?"

"Then your marriage will be a unhappy one."

"And if I don't marry Daisy?"

Laura inhales sharply, brown eyes wide. "Matthew Smith, what are you talking of? Have you completely taken leave of your senses?" She hisses, glancing around quickly as if their parents might have heard. "I am sorry that you fell in love but you cannot break your betrothal. Do you have any idea what that would do to your reputation? To Daisy's?"

"I know, alright? I know. But I can't marry her, Lor." He runs his fingers through his hair, turning his cheek into the grass and letting it tickle his skin. "A lifetime away from the woman I love, bound to another that I don't? It would kill me."

"You could learn to love Daisy, if you would just try -"

"I don't want to learn to love her, Lor. I already love someone else and I can't just forget her or her laugh or the way her hair felt around my fingers or that I'm the only one she's ever let so close -" He swallows hard, looking at his sister imploringly. "What if you met James and fell in love, but you were promised to another man? Could you just forget him? Forget how much he made you laugh or how it felt to be in his arms?"

Laura bites her lip, wavering. "No, I don't believe I could."

Nodding, he sits up and loops his arms around his knees, prompting, "Would you care what anyone else thought of you if it meant being with him?"

Clearly reluctant but unable to lie to him, Laura sighs and turns her gaze elsewhere as she says, "I believe that nothing in the world could keep me from James, not even the shame of being the subject of ridicule – or heaven forbid, Mother and Father."

Matt smiles. "Then why are you trying to be so bloody sensible?"

She scowls at him, tugging at her gloves. "Because I'm your older sister and I'm supposed to make sure you do the honorable thing."

"There is nothing honorable in condemning myself and Daisy to a life of misery together," he reasons. "So when I see Alex tomorrow, I ask you to -"

Laura holds up a hand, looking troubled. "She's making an appearance tomorrow night? Lord Lowe did invite her, of course, because of her station but why on earth would she attend a ball announcing your betrothal if she loves you?"

Matt lifts his chin stubbornly, leveling his gaze with his sister's. "I made her promise to come."

"Of course you did." She shakes her head, lifting one gloved hand to massage her temple.

"Stop being dramatic and promise me you'll distract Mother and Father when she arrives," he presses. "I'll need a moment alone with her before the announcement and quite honestly, I don't know if I'll be able to contain myself when I see her, propriety be damned."

Laura wrinkles her nose. "If she actually does make an appearance, I will do what I can to help but don't get your hopes up. Alex sounds like a sensible woman – I'm sure she'll want to stay away and make this easier for both of you by doing the right thing."

"Then I'll break my betrothal alone and find her." He presses one hand to the dull pain in his chest, using the other to conjure another apple and toss it onto his sister's lap. She picks it up, still watching him with concern, and he offers her a thin, hopeful smile. "She'll be there, Lor. You'll see."

that old black magic called love

Chapter Summary

A simultaneous murmur travels through the crowded ballroom, quiet gasps and whispers rippling like a pebble has been dropped into a pond. Matt glances up sharply, his heart in his throat, and his gaze is instantly drawn to the other side of the room, where the pebble in question stands in the entryway.

Chapter Notes

Story title from the Frank Sinatra song.

"Doesn't Daisy look lovely tonight, Matt?"

"Hmm," he answers absentmindedly, his eyes searching the crowd for someone else. James is stationed by the door in hopes that he'll be able to escort Alex to Matt the minute she arrives, while Laura has been wandering through Bronner Lowe's vast ballroom for an hour, pretending to socialize while secretly keeping an eye out for Alex in case she manages to slip by James unnoticed. It's been a team effort tonight and Matt is in his sister's debt for a good two months at least, but so far, no one has seen Alex.

Sensing his distraction and mistaking it for something else, his mother lays a comforting hand on his arm. "Don't be nervous, dear. This will be such a sensible, happy match and Bronner is already quite fond of you. I've no doubt he'll want you and Daisy to remain here after you're married. Won't that be lovely? This estate is larger even than ours."

Silently apologizing for the imminent crash of all his mother's hopes and dreams, Matt pats her hand and offers a wan smile. "It's a very fine estate, Mother."

She smiles, relaxing a little at his agreement. "I'm going to look for your father – no doubt eating all of the hors d'oeuvres, ridiculous man. Don't wander off, it's almost time for the announcement and you'll have to stand up there with Daisy and her parents. Oh dear, please try to do something about your hair before then. It makes you look like such a young boy, Matthew."

With one final pat to his cheek, his mother wanders off through the crowded ballroom and Matt releases a quiet breath through his nose, his stomach somersaulting as doubt and worry begin to

creep in. If Alex doesn't arrive soon, he's going to have to break his betrothal alone in front of all these people. He'll do it, of course, because marrying Daisy isn't an option, but the idea of facing the outrage and scrutiny without Alex by his side is daunting. He takes another steadying breath and discreetly wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers.

"You look like you could use a drink." He turns his head with a small smile and sees his sister at his side, wearing a light pink gown and a cheeky grin as she holds up two flutes of champagne. "Though I'm fully aware you're capable of getting one for yourself without moving or opening your mouth." She raises an eyebrow. "Don't think I haven't noticed all the wordless magic you've been performing. You're not as subtle as you'd like to be, little brother."

He winces. "Lor -"

She holds up a hand and says primly, "None of my business."

Sighing, he eyes her fondly. "Have I ever told you that you're my favorite?"

She nudges him affectionately and surveys the room as she sips at her drink. Matt gulps most of his hastily, and the tiny bubbles tickle his nose and the back of his throat. He coughs, sticking out his tongue at the dry, sweet taste while Laura rolls her eyes beside him.

"I've been thinking," she says slowly, and he smiles when he realizes her eyes are still sweeping the room for Alex. "And I've decided you're mad if you think Mother and Father are going to be angry that you want to marry Alexandra Kingston. She would be an even better alliance than Lord Lowe and increase their social standing tenfold. She's the most powerful witch in the country – they'll be positively ecstatic." She glances at him with a sly grin. "They'll take out a whole page in the society column just to gloat. So perhaps you shouldn't worry quite so much."

With a quiet snort of laughter and the dread in his belly suddenly dissipating at her light-hearted attempt to soothe him, Matt opens his mouth to reply only to be interrupted by the simultaneous murmur that travels through the crowded ballroom, quiet gasps and whispers rippling like a pebble has been dropped into a pond. Matt glances up sharply, his heart in his throat, and his gaze is instantly drawn to the other side of the room, where the pebble in question stands in the entryway.

She looks utterly resplendent in a rich red dress of silk velvet, the beaded bodice catching the candlelight beautifully. Her curls have been somewhat tamed, clipped away from her face but still spilling over her shoulders in neat, shiny spirals. Alex is already looking back at him, as if she'd known exactly where he would be, and the moment their eyes lock, Matt feels that constant ache of longing in his chest disappear, soothed by her presence. She tilts her head, red lips curled into a small smile, and winks at him.

Matt doesn't realize how widely he's grinning until Laura grips his elbow, her nails digging into his skin even through his jacket as she leans in close and hisses, "Please control that ridiculous expression on your face before everyone in this room knows exactly what you've been up to. Lord, I've never seen anything so blatantly obvious in all my days."

Reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Alex, still smiling, Matt raises his eyebrows at his sister. "I'm no more obvious than every other man in this room gaping at her. Look at her, she's -"

"Coming this way," Laura tightens her grip on his arm. "Take her onto the balcony, no one will see you there and I'll make James stand watch. But please try to be discreet and stop looking so happy."

Ignoring her entirely, Matt leans down and kisses his sister's cheek. "You're rather wonderful, you know."

"Oh, I know," she smiles, smoothing the lapels of his jacket as Alex approaches. "In ten minutes, it'll be time for the announcement so please be prepared, whatever it is you're going to do."

Matt barely listens, too intent on Alex's face as she reaches them, her cheeks flushed and her green eyes sparkling with mirth. "Mr. Smith," she murmurs, curtseying. "How lovely to see you again."

Laura elbows him and Matt blinks hard, flushing as he offers a hasty bow. "Ms. Kingston," he returns, barely containing the glee in his voice as he raises his eyes to hers. "I'm so glad you could make it. This is my sister, Laura. Laura, this is Alexandra Kingston – my favorite tutor in all the world."

Laura curtsies. "Pleased to finally meet you, Ms. Kingston."

"Finally?" Alex raises an amused eyebrow.

Laura grins and whispers lowly, "He's been pining, I'm afraid."

Blushing, Matt offers his sister a dark look and Alex giggles softly behind her gloved hand. Eyes

instantly finding hers again, he drinks in the sight of her as if it's been years rather than a mere week. He longs for nothing but to be alone with her, to touch her in ways that would appall everyone in this room. Gaze burning into hers as Alex regards him slyly, Matt extends a hand and asks silkily, "Would you care to dance, Ms. Kingston?"

Alex accepts his hand with a demure, "I'd be delighted."

With a final wink at his sister, Matt sweeps Alex onto the crowded dance floor. Without a word and her hand warm in his, he leads her to the end of the room nearest the balcony, as if they're going to join the dance but during the exchange, when the dancers block them from view of the rest of the ballroom, Matt yanks Alex with him past the heavy drapes and onto the balcony.

Safe from prying eyes, he wastes no time, taking her face in his hands and drawing her close, his mouth covering hers in a hard, desperate kiss. Alex makes a muffled noise of surprise but doesn't hesitate to kiss him back, her arms sliding around his slender frame, pressing warm, magnificent curves against him. She tastes like lavender and the heady, bubbly aftertaste of champagne, and Matt whimpers, gripping her hips tightly. The spark between them is just as thrilling as ever, that undercurrent of fire and magic tingling up his spine and racing through his veins. The air around them glows golden and he wonders briefly if everyone inside the ballroom will notice even through the drapes and come to investigate.

"Missed you," he gasps against her throat, walking her slowly toward the balcony railing and pinning her against it. "Every single second I was away from you actually ached, Kingston."

Alex tugs her fingers through his hair, whinging softly, and he can't contain the urge to kiss her again. Her kiss-bruised lips are soft and eager beneath his and he licks at them with a groan, seeking entrance that she grants readily. His wandering hands slide over the beaded bodice of her dress, brushing the soft swell of her breasts before moving down again, tangling her skirts in his fingers. Her hands grip the lapel of his jacket as he plunders her mouth but his drag up her skirts and petticoats and chemise up her legs until he finds the mouth-watering heat between her thighs. He sighs into her mouth as his fingers touch hot, slick flesh and Alex shudders in his arms, pulling her mouth away from his to look up at him with glittering eyes.

"You've made your choice then?" She asks, breathing hard.

Mouth caressing her jaw lightly, he slips a finger inside her and groans when he feels her body react with a faint spasm, muscles rippling around the invasion. "I made my choice the first time I kissed you, Kingston, and distance has only confirmed what I already knew. There is no one else on earth for me but you."

She smiles, lifting a trembling hand to stroke his face. "Not anymore, at least. We're for each other now, darling, and there isn't a damn thing we can do about it."

Before he can ask what she means by that, the music in the ballroom stops and he hears Bronner Lowe begin his speech and the boisterous murmur of the hushed crowd. Stomach turning over with dread, he glances pleadingly at Alex, sliding his hand out from between her legs and helping her straighten her gown and petticoats. "Please tell me you have some sort of plan."

"Of course I do," she smirks. "Now just play along and wear this." She reaches into the bosom of her dress and pulls out a long chain with a talisman on the end. It looks like a crest of some sort, elaborate and jeweled. Without waiting for him to take it, she slips it over his head and presses her lips to his jaw. "You're mine now."

"I always have been," he promises, and places a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

She smiles, flushing adorably. "Go on, then. I'll save you, darling."

Matt steps out from behind the curtain just as Bronner humorously asks after the whereabouts of his soon-to-be son-in-law. He raises a hand as he winds his way through the crowd, making his way toward the front of the room where Bronner stands with his wife and Daisy, who looks just as nervous as Matt feels. She really does look lovely, her ivory gown made of silk, and jewels artfully arranged in her chestnut hair. If he'd never met Alex, he might have learned to love this girl, but looking at her now, it's easy to see she is just as reluctant to enter into this union as he is and he can't help but wonder if there is someone else she would rather be with too. He hopes so – the last thing he wants to do is cause Daisy any kind of humiliation or pain. None of this is her fault.

"There you are," Bronner smiles, gesturing him forward with his champagne glass. "Come here, my boy. I'd like to make a toast."

As he reaches them, forcing a friendly smile in return, Bronner extends an arm toward him but stops suddenly. His gaze falls to Matt's chest and the necklace resting there, shock registering in his gaze. Instead of draping a friendly arm over Matt's shoulders and welcoming him forward, he grabs for the necklace, yanking Matt forward in the process. He tries to lean away from him, uncomfortable with being quite so near the man, but Bronner refuses to release him, his eyes growing wide as he studies the necklace.

After a long moment of tense silence, his face turns red and thunderous. He drops the necklace back to Matt's chest as though it's a snake that might bite him. Looking to the room at large, he calls out in a booming voice that shakes, "Alexandra Kingston, what is the meaning of this?"

Matt glances uneasily over his shoulder, wondering what exactly Alex had just forced him to wear into the lion's den. His eyes are drawn to the back of the room, where the heavy drapes rustle as she steps off the balcony and into the ballroom, her expression unconcerned. She walks coolly through the crowd, the train of her deep red dress trailing behind her as she passes Matt's alarmed parents, and Laura standing with James, both of whom appear to be hiding smiles as they cling to each other.

Stopping just behind Matt, Alex folds her hands in front of her and raises an eyebrow. "You called, milord?"

Bronner glares at her as much as a man can glare at a woman he seems a bit terrified of, gesturing angrily toward Matt. "Why is he wearing your family crest?"

Matt whips his head around to gape at Alex, but she merely blinks calmly at Bronner and says, "Because that's what he is now – my family."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, I imagine."

With a winning smile directed at the silent crowd watching and listening intently, Bronner steps closer to Alex and hisses, "Don't play games with me, Alexandra. I am more dangerous than you give me credit for. Do you or do you not have a claim on the young man?"

After a tense moment in which Alex scrutinizes Bronner and is scrutinized in return, she murmurs a quiet, "I do."

The crowd behind them gasps and whispers together, wide-eyed as they watch the scene unfold. Matt's mother looks like she might faint but Daisy looks relieved, squeezing her mother's hand tightly, a look of hope on her face. Matt returns his uncomprehending gaze back to Alex, hoping an explanation is coming. A claim? The only claim Alex has on him, as far as he's aware, is his heart – which may be quite substantial to him but he fails to see why it would affect everyone else so strongly.

Pale and clearly furious, Bronner snaps, "We have been planning this union for months, before Mr. Smith ever met you -"

"And yet my claim on him is stronger than yours," Alex points out patiently, throwing Matt a fond, quelling look when he opens his mouth to question her.

He snaps his mouth shut again, closing a hand around the talisman protectively.

Bronner tightens his jaw and stands a little straighter, speaking through his teeth. "Prove it."

A dangerous, smug smile curls Alex's red lips, as if she'd been waiting for those very words and Matt watches her nervously – this confident predator with a razor-edged smile nothing like the beaming, naughty grins of his Alex. She's absolutely terrifying like this but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't secretly a bit thrilled by her. "Matthew," she says without looking at him, fixing her eyes instead on the pale young woman meant to be his betrothed. "Kiss Daisy."

He blanches, turning to her in alarm. "What? I can't -" Her steely-eyed gaze locks on him, red mouth a thin line and blonde ringlets already slipping from her artfully arranged updo. She looks frightening and powerful and completely bloody gorgeous. He swallows hard. "Kingston -"

She softens and he sees his Alex shining through the façade for just a moment. "Please, darling. For me."

Still reluctant, he nods once and approaches Daisy timidly. "Sorry, I -"

"It's alright," she whispers bravely. "Anything to stop this circus."

Matt smiles sadly. "You're not so bad, you know."

"Pardon me, sir," she says, smiling cheekily. "I'm quite wonderful."

Maybe, he thinks, when all of this is over he'll be friends with Daisy Lowe. Laura had been right about her – as she usually always is about everything. With a deep breath and a fair amount of space between their bodies, Matt leans in with the intent of pecking her lips quickly with his own and making a hasty retreat back to Alex's side. He gets close enough to Daisy to feel her breath against his lips but no further before an unseen force sends him sprawling backward, flying through the air and landing several feet away. It all but knocks the breath from his lungs.

Alex is at his side in an instant, small but strong hands helping him back to stand upright before dusting him off. "What was that -" is all he manages to get out before she yanks him down to her and kisses him with enough passion to make his knees weak. Despite their audience and the highly improper circumstances, Matt can't help but melt into her embrace, cradling her face in his hands and sweeping through her mouth with his tongue. He doesn't even hear the shocked uproar of the scandalized crowd, barely notices the way Alex's magic tingles through his veins and the golden light surrounding them so strong in its glow that it nearly blinds onlookers. His world narrows – beginning and ending with Alex.

He feels her satisfied smile against his lips moments before she pulls away, and he blinks at her, in a daze. She turns expectantly to Bronner. "Do you require further proof, milord? I would be happy to provide you with it, but I don't believe Matt feels as favorably about exhibitionism as I do."

Clearly shocked speechless, Bronner stares at her for a long moment, flushed red and humiliated. He seems to understand what just happened – as does everyone else in the room judging by their faces – but instead of satisfied with Alex's explanation, it appears to have only enraged him further. Drawing himself up straight in his tailored, expensive suit, his jaw tight with fury, he takes a menacing step forward and Matt tenses instantly. Voice low and eyes on Alex, he says, "Alexandra Kingston, the mighty and unloved." He laughs and Matt steps in front of Alex, pushing her behind him with a gentle hand. Bronner watches him do it, sardonic smile still in place. "Is that the only way you can manage to find a family of your own, my dear? By trapping them?"

Matt has no idea what is happening or what sort of trap Bronner is referring to but he does know an insult when he hears one. He steps forward with a growl, eyes flashing golden. Caught by surprise, Bronner backs away. A gentle hand on Matt's arm freezes him in place. He blinks the magic haze from his eyes, curling his sparking fingertips into his palms as Alex steps neatly around him, looking bored.

"That's enough, darling." She lifts her chin, eyes level with Bronner's, and the curl of her lip as she stares him down says everything she does not say out loud – she could destroy a cretin like Bronner Lowe without lifting a finger and the man knows it. "You try my patience, milord."

She cocks her head and Bronner visibly flinches.

Excited, shocked whispers rise louder and louder in the cavernous ballroom, echoing off the walls around them. Bronner straightens his greatcoat and clears his throat loudly in an attempt to regain control – as if everyone will forget the most powerful sorcerer in the country has just bested by a woman. As a hush falls over the room, he says clearly enough to be heard by all, "I submit to your claim, Ms. Kingston. I believed you've caused enough disruption for tonight. Now please, take

your leave with your husband."

Husband?

Matt glances around wildly, scowl already in place, before Alex takes his arm in hers and he realizes Bronner had been referring to him. Stunned, he allows Alex to guide him through the crowd, his mind racing. Fingers curling tightly around his forearm, she whispers, "Stay calm until we're in the carriage, darling."

He nods wordlessly, feeling the weight of the last fifteen minutes crashing over him all at once as the adrenaline rush begins to fade. Numb, he clings to Alex's arm and avoids the fascinated gazes of everyone in the room. As he passes Laura, she reaches out a hand and squeezes his shoulder, her smile luminous. "Congratulations. Both of you."

Unsure of how to reply or why everyone seems to know what's happening but him, he nods woodenly and moves on. The ballroom suddenly seems more vast than ever, stretching out before him like eternity itself, and just when he believes they'll never reach the end, Alex leads him through the entryway and out into the corridor.

A man hands her a cloak and mindlessly, Matt helps her into it, clasping the front of it with strangely steady hands. Alex reaches up and wraps her fingers around his, her eyes full of sympathy. "Breathe, darling."

"Breathe?" He finally snaps, confusion and panic finally breaking through the fog. "That miserable excuse for a sorcerer back there just called me your husband, Kingston. I would definitely remember you consenting to marry me!" He yanks his hands from hers and runs them agitatedly through his hair, letting her push him in the direction of the door. "Some bloody magical force field knocked me on my arse when I tried to kiss Daisy -"

With an elegant wave of her hand, Alex silences him. Matt stares at her, outraged, but no sound escapes his lips. Oh, he hates it when she does this. She never did teach him how to counter her silencing spells.

"Breathe," she says again. "And get in the carriage."

She ushers him toward it and he stumbles in his haste to climb inside. She steps in after him; the train of her dress folded over her arm, and the moment she's settled, the footman shuts the door behind them. As the carriage starts to roll away from the Lowe estate and down the long drive, she

leans back in her seat and eyes him cautiously. "Now, can you keep quiet without the help of magic?"

With a resentful glare, he nods.

She waves her hand again and just because he can now, he snaps, "Explain."

"Do you remember the first time we were ever intimate?" She asks softly, green eyes darting away from his face and back again. "When this white light encompassed the whole room and we had to shut our eyes?"

He nods again warily.

Alex purses her lips, glancing out the carriage window as the darkened shapes of trees pass by outside. "That was the sealing of a magical bond, darling."

He stares at her, comprehension dawning. Magical bonds are said to be stronger and more binding than even the institution of marriage. But unlike a marriage ceremony, couples that are bonded become so outside of their own free will. Magical bondings are exceedingly rare, said only to occur between very powerful sorcerers and sorceresses. There hasn't been a legitimate bonding in nearly a hundred years. It happens without warning and as far as anyone knows, there is no way to release the bond once it has been sealed. If he and Alex are magically bonded, then in the eyes of everyone in that ballroom, they are husband and wife.

At his silence, Alex fidgets. "It's quite a strong bond. I've never heard of anything quite like it – even when we touch, it… crackles."

He thinks of the glow when they kiss, the way he can feel his magic twining with hers whenever Alex is near, how when he makes love to her his touches spark against her skin and their magic hums together in his veins like a drug. How did he miss this?

He stares at her, speechless.

Alex forges ahead nervously. "We can't even be away from each other without the bond causing us pain." She places a hand over her heart and smiles sadly. "It wasn't in your head, darling. It really did hurt to be parted from me, just as I hurt to be away from you. I thought perhaps once you left me, the bond might weaken with distance and you would be free to marry Daisy if you

wished but the moment you were far enough away, my heart hurt and I knew… you couldn't ever be with anyone else. The bond won't allow it."

Which explains why the bond had thrown him backwards when he tried to kiss Daisy. Remembering that he'd also kissed his mother and sister on the cheek, he idly wonders if the bond recognizes family members or intent.

"Matt, darling." Alex prods at him without touching him at all, her magic caressing his face. "Say something."

He deflects her touch with his own magic and shakes his head. "It's my fault."

Dumbfounded, Alex blinks at him. "What on earth led you to such a conclusion?"

He swallows. "You said it's a strong bond and we both know why – it was forged through my emotions. The more I feel, the stronger my magic is. It's my fault we're bonded."

"Stop it, Matthew." Alex holds up a hand, a wordless warning that her silencing spell is only a thought away should she need to use it again. "Your magic certainly helped the bond along but it needed mine to complete the task. If anyone is truly at fault, it isn't you, darling. I knew your magic was untrained, yet I still -" She sighs, shaking her head and smiling softly. "I still gave you my heart."

"And I'm glad you did. But what of my heart?" He asks, giving voice to the only other thing weighing on his mind. "You made me leave you. We were married, and you knew it, and you still made me go home thinking I was betrothed to Daisy."

"I couldn't be sure the bond wasn't influencing your feelings. I thought perhaps if it was weak enough, and you changed your mind once you put some distance between us, you could marry Daisy and be perfectly happy -"

"And to hell with your happiness then?" He waves a hand angrily and uses her own silencing spell against her, though he knows it won't keep her quiet for long – unlike him, she knows the counter spell. "Bloody hell Alex, have you forgotten what we were doing when we were bonded? I was making love to you. I already loved you, whether you allowed me to say it or not." He scrubs a hand over his face and feels the moment Alex breaks his spell, though she makes no attempt to speak. "I don't want to hear any more of this self-sacrificial nonsense. The bond may have married us, but my feelings are my own."

Alex looks at him through watery eyes, her smile radiant. "I'm glad to hear you say so, darling."

The anger drains from him instantly, leaving in its wake relief that the entire Lowe ordeal is behind them and that the woman across from him is his and his alone now. Before he can cross the space between them and kiss her – his wife – senseless, the carriage rolls to a stop. She wipes hurriedly at her eyes as the footman hops from his bench, almost entirely composed when he opens the door for them. Matt steps out first, turning to help Alex down.

She curls her arm around his and as they start for the inn, he leans in and brushes his lips against her temple. "You do realize my parents are going to insist on an actual ceremony where they can invite everyone and be terribly smug, don't you?"

She snorts, turning her head to beam at him. "Do you think they'd allow Moffat to be the ringbearer?"

"Oh, of course," he answers dryly, pressing his lips to the top of her head as she opens the door to her room. She steps inside and he follows behind her, shutting the door. Alex walks through the sitting room and directly into the bedroom but Matt trails behind her, glancing around fondly at her things already littering the place – a chemise draped over a chaise, one stray slipper beneath a table, headache potions and hangover cures she'd undoubtedly made herself lined up in little vials.

Matt stops suddenly, the smile slipping right off his face as the sight of those bottles sparks a memory. He recalls Alex plying him with potions every morning, never telling him what they were for, Alex pouring over her ancient magic texts with a single-mindedness that had amused him at the time. His stomach fills with lead as he realizes what he has been missing all along.

"Matt?" Her hair released from its updo and flowing around her shoulders in lovely ringlets, Alex peeks out from the bedroom with a smile. "Are you coming to bed?"

He clenches his jaw and shakes his head. "You were trying to break the bond."

Her smile fades and Alex drops her gaze. "Darling -"

"Every bloody morning, you fed me potions trying to break the bond, Alex. You researched for hours -" He stops, swallowing when his voice shakes. "Were you that desperate to be rid of me?"

She lifts outraged, widened eyes to his, suddenly pale. "Darling, no, that is not why I was trying to break it – I wanted you with me more than anything! But I couldn't be selfish."

She reaches out a hand for him but he doesn't move toward her. "That was not your choice to make alone."

"I know, darling. I'm sorry." She wraps her arms protectively around her middle. "I wanted you to have the freedom to choose -"

"You are my choice." He strides across the room toward her, grasping her hips in his hands and looking down into wet green eyes. "One day, I'll make you understand that."

Alex leans up on her tiptoes and he crushes her small frame to him, kissing her hard. She sighs against his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck to draw him down to her, slowly resting back on her feet again. He stumbles with her into the bedroom and toward the bed, desperate to have her – his wife, he thinks again giddily – and feel her bare skin against his. It feels as though they've been separated for eternity.

Alex pushes his jacket from his shoulders and uses her magic to pop all the buttons from his waistcoat – he's really going to have to teach her to be a little more patient before she ruins every waistcoat he owns, not that he minds – while he fiddles with the delicate buttons holding her dress together in the back. She steps out of her gown, leaving it a puddle of expensive red silk on the floor. Her petticoats join them, followed by her corset and chemise, until she's bare before him and just as lovely as ever. He lowers her onto the bed, his hand behind her head until it rests against her pillow.

He unlaces his trousers and Alex pushes them down his legs and off with her feet as he bites his way down her neck and chest. He sucks dusky nipples into his mouth, kisses the soft skin of her stomach and strokes his fingers and his tongue between her thighs until Alex nearly glows golden all over, gasping and impatient. It comes as no surprise at all when she finally pins him to the bed beneath her and straddles his hips – in fact, he'd been rather hoping she might.

Matt looks up at his wife with reverence, lips parting in a quiet groan as she takes his length in her small hands and rocks slowly down on him, enveloping him in the wet warmth of her body. He watches her eyes shut as she takes him inside and feels her magic and adoration settle over him like a warm blanket. He slides his hands up her sides and strokes her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples to make her shudder. He breathes out "I love you" like a sigh of relief, and freedom of finally saying the words he's kept locked away since the first time he touched her naked skin is enough to make him beam up at her.

Instead of replying, Alex leans down and presses her forehead to his, her curls tumbling around his face and tickling his cheeks. I love you too, darling.

It takes him a moment to realize she hadn't spoken aloud.

"Alex?"

Think of it as another advantage of a magical bond, darling.

He shuts his eyes as she starts to slide up and down the length of his erection, her forehead still pressed tightly to his. You can hear me?

Perfectly. And I know just what you want.

Her fingers rake through his hair and her sex tightens around him, her inner muscles squeezing him. He gasps sharply; swearing inside the privacy of his mind before realizing Alex can hear him anyway when she laughs aloud. She moves again, the slick flesh of her sex enveloping him again and again, and while it takes Matt longer to concentrate, he eventually realizes that he can sense Alex's desires just as clearly as she can sense his. Slipping a hand between their bodies to cup one of her breasts in his hand, he squeezes the supple flesh, pinches her nipple, and hears her moan out loud.

All at once, his mind is instantly flooded with feelings of joy and desire and love, devotion and happiness and a quiet disbelief that someone could ever love her enough to create a bond so powerful. And though she never said in the beginning, Alex shows him now how dearly she had loved him in return all along – this strange, hapless boy who smiled so freely at her and made her heart flutter but was promised to another.

Matt grips her tightly to him, and through the quiet roar of their thoughts melding together in a glorious cacophony, he feels Alex moving steadily against him, feels the sweat slicking their skin and hears their sighs and moans of pleasure. Curling a hand into her hair, he gently pushes his own feelings toward her in return, whispering through their link that no one has ever loved her as much as he does, as much as he will for the rest of their lives. He shows her his first impression of her, shows her the way his fascination had turned to infatuation and desire and quickly to love for everything that she is. He shows her that their bond had not created love, but in fact, their love had created their bond.

He feels her tears against his cheeks and he kisses her hungrily, somehow managing to keep their link intact as their minds turn once more to satiating their desire. Her sex swells and tightens around him, her kisses bruise and her fingers dig into his skin but she doesn't stop moving, pulling him steadily with her toward an explosive release. She senses that he wants to be bitten so she sinks her teeth into a tendon in his neck, sucking so hard it makes his hips buck into her and they both moan, starting a new, harder rhythm.

She tugs at his hair just the way he likes and squeezes her muscles around him again, riding him tirelessly, but the moment he feels her thighs start to tremble, he quickly flips them over. She looks up at him with wild hair and flushed cheeks, her eyes nearly black with want, and he groans, shifting his hips and filling her up in one slow thrust.

"My wife," he pants.

Alex nods hurriedly, her hips undulating against him. "Yes, yours."

Drawing her leg up over his waist, he presses his forehead to hers and finds her mind again as he pumps inside her, already addicted to feeling her essence caressing his thoughts. Alex's mind is like sunlight, warming him from the inside out, flickering colored lights across his eyelids and illuminating even the darkest places with her love and goodness.

Even the inside of your head is absolutely stunning.

She whimpers.

I could spend my life inside you – in your body, and in this mad, beautiful, brilliant mind.

Please, darling.

He senses her urgency, the overwhelming need for release. Lifting her leg higher around his waist, he changes the pace of his thrusts to roll his hips hard against her. He delves deeper into her mind, exploring all the things she never said, all the moments she wanted to kiss him but never did, the genuine pride and thrill she felt every time he succeeded in what she was trying to teach him. He doesn't prod at the only closed door in her mind but it glows brightly, calling to him. He senses somehow that whatever is behind that door makes her happy, but before he can ask her, he feels Alex shudder, her head thrown back against her pillow.

Touch me.

Slipping a hand between their bodies, he finds the place where they're joined and strokes his fingers over her slick sex, rubbing in slow, hard circles that spark with light. Her hips jerk and she keens aloud, swollen lips parted as she gasps and writhes beneath him.

Yes – don't stop – yes, there, yes –

With one last trembling cry, Alex falls apart in his arms and the feel of her body tightening and fluttering around him coupled with the intensity of her pleasure echoing in his mind pushes him dangerously, blissfully close to the edge. With a whimper, Matt buries his face in her neck, his hips still moving erratically as he breathes her in – the exotic aroma of her magic and the scent of her garden lingering on her skin, the comforting smell of her potion ingredients. His heart swells and he feels her mental fingers stroking his mind, leaving trails of golden magic in her wake. Overwhelmed, he squeezes his eyes shut and presses his lips to her shoulder, spilling inside her with a quiet cry of her name.

Alex curls around him as he rolls over to catch his breath, her sweat-damp curls pillowed on his chest. He wraps his arms around her, brushing his lips over her forehead as he feels the mental connection break. He makes a soft noise of dissatisfaction at the loss and she begins to hum softly, just enough to make his oversensitive skin tingle as her magic brushes over him. Sleepy and sated, he only just remembers the closed door in her mind – the shiny one that called to him and made her happy. "You were hiding something," he points out drowsily, slipping his fingertips up and down her spine. "Something good."

She smiles against his skin and her hum changes to soft words, a gentle croon that threatens to lull him to sleep even as he feels her magic seep into his skin like a loving embrace.

"Missed your voice," he murmurs.

She presses her lips to his chest. "You'll be hearing it often soon enough."

He frowns, his mind fuzzy with pleasure and exhaustion. "Why?"

Lifting her head from his chest, Alex smiles at him, green eyes bright with her secret. "I've heard babies enjoy lullabies."

They call her Melody.

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