Destiny's Magic by Martha Hix Page A

O’Brien knows what Pippin and I ran from.
    What else did he know? Did he know Susan had struck Orson with Snooky’s hook? Would Burke order a pair of fugitives banished to a wilderness shore? Or give them into the hands of the nearest peace officer?

Eight
    This was a carnival woman. A liar. Possibly a voodooess. The last, the worst. He prayed he was wrong, since he didn’t mess with magic.
    Hell and damnation! Burke didn’t even know Susan’s real last name. She had him twisted inside. Wanting her body, wanting to shake her teeth, wanting to thank her for baking that cake. It had been years since anyone had done him a kindness without being paid for it.
    Disappointed at dirt on the petals of her past, Burke pressed a finger to her lips. “When I stomped into this galley, I was mad as hell. And not only because of a snake. You know what I’m talking about, Susan. Your lies.”
    Her eyes closed, her shoulders slumping. “What are you going to do to me?”
    What a question. Burke laid his hand across the ruffle of her peasant blouse, then squeezed a shivering arm. “Know something and know it well. I’m going to protect you.”
    Her brown eyes flew open, widened. “You won’t—you will? ”
    â€œAye. I’ll see you and Pip safely to New Orleans and into your father’s hands.”
    A smile flashed across her face, a smile as bright as sun rays glancing off the great river. The bruise on her chin became less noticeable, thanks to her radiance. She sailed into his arms. He felt her hair, so pale and bakery-smelling, against his lips. Laughing and hugging, she offered thanks, twice.
    He stroked her back and fiddled with the braid. “Want to hear my stipulations?”
    Going still, she looked up at him warily before retreating a step. “Let me not be foolish. You would have me prove my worth in a kitchen.”
    Witless desire darted to his manhood. “Before this riverboat reaches New Orleans, I’ll know the secrets of Susan. Then—”
    â€œYou can’t force me to your bed. I won’t allow it!”
    He hadn’t particularly meant the secrets of her body, but why argue truth? In spite of warning bells going off in his head, he did want her in his bed. Or under him in a dozen places aboard this riverboat or within the confines of 21 rue Royale.
    â€œForce you?” Smoothing a strand of golden braid that had dislodged against his lips, he murmured, “Will I need to?”
    She gathered herself up, determined, proud, and defiant. “I am worth more than two tickets down the Mississippi.”
    Burke would have been archly disappointed at any other answer. He’d feared a different one. “Then you’d best listen to my stipulations. First, no more lies. Promise?”
    â€œI promise.”
    â€œThe second is about Pip,” Burke explained. “Where is his mother, Susan? Where is she?”
    â€œI don’t know. Angela lives upriver. Iowa, I think. But I am his parent. She deserted him. I’ll never forsake him.”
    The lengths Susan had gone to in getting Pip—damn! Burke fully expected the authorities would meet their boat. Which didn’t concern him. He had influence.
    Sincerity ruled her expression. “He is the child of my heart. Pippin doesn’t need Angela Paget. He’s got me. I’m going to love him, and give him a home in Sussex, and make an English gentleman out of him.”
    Sussex? “What kind of home will you provide? Your father doesn’t have a clue you’re on the way, and you don’t know if he’ll welcome you. You may call yourself Mrs. Paget, but you lived in sin with the ringmaster, be his rod proud or puny.”
    Susan blanched and backed away, until her spine met the wall. Her eyes shared the same look as that of a trapped animal. What a difference from the way they had softened with desire.
    â€œPippin couldn’t have said