Page 59 of Christmas Magic

“If you’ll excuse me….”

Before he could walk past, she stepped to the side, blocking his path. His eyes narrowed, but she pressed her palm flat to the middle of his chest. Heat from his body warmed his shirt and reminded her of skimming her hand over his bare, satiny skin. She fought the pull of desire.

His eyelids lowered a fraction, but in his demeanor, she saw no hint of tenderness or sensual smolder. They were engaged! How could he not have romantic feelings for her?

“I’ll go take care of what’s waiting for me,” he said.

“Good. Thank you. First, though, we need to talk.”

“Maybe we should talk later—”

“No. Now.”

His gaze turned steely; the way he might have looked at a disobedient subject when he’d lived as a medieval lord. A chill gathered within her, but she curled her fingers slightly into his shirt, as if to anchor herself to him. “Lucian, you’re under a spell.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“Aye!”

Rose hissed.

“You haven’t felt different today? Not quite yourself?” Molly asked.

He shook his head. “I’ve felt fine. Great, in fact.”

His voice hadn’t even wavered. He must be completely in the spell’s thrall. While she might have no chance of reaching her Lucian, she had to try.

“Who am I to you?” She couldn’t keep the plea from her tone.

“Is that some kind of trick question?”

“Just answer me.”

He sighed, as though she sorely taxed his patience. “You’re Molly Hendrickson.”

“Yes. And?”

“You work here at the store. We are…friends and roommates.”

Oh, no, no, no.

“Poor Molly,” Daisy mewled.

“We are far more to each other.” Molly’s voice caught. “You don’t remember?”

“I’m trying, but….”

“What happens when you try?” The more he could tell her, the better. Even the tiniest bit of information could help her find the right spell to end his enchantment. “Can you explain in more detail?”

Annoyance touched his features. “Is there a point to this discussion, because—?”

“Yes!” Fighting a sob, Molly held up her left hand. Her vintage diamond ring—the one he’d given her when he’d proposed—glittered on her finger. “Do you remember giving this to me?”

Lucian’s throat moved with a swallow, and he shook his head.

“You don’t recall getting down on one knee and asking me to marry you?”