The Magic of You by Johanna Lindsey Read Free Book Online Page B

Amy, was curled up in an overly large stuffed chair, fast asleep, her chin resting in the palm of her hand. She’d seen to it that food was served earlier, and another midnight snack, but no one had done more than pick a little, some not even that.
    A pretty girl, Amy; no—beautiful, actually. Every time he’d happened to look her way earlier, he’d caught her lowering her eyes, as if she’d been watching him. Too bad she was a Malory—what the hell was he thinking? She was much too young for him. She was more Drew’s style, and he was welcome to her—if he could get past her uncles to get to her.
    A quarter after four.
    As much as Warren loved children, he was never going to go through this again. Not that he was ever going to marry to have any of his own. Women were the most perfidious creatures on earth. They couldn’t be trusted. They couldn’t be believed. If he didn’t have a purely basic need for the company of one every once in a while, he’d never have anything to do with them again.
    His sister was the only exception, the only female he cared anything about, and if anything happened to her…
    Still another Malory had shown up late in the evening, James’s son, Jeremy. He’d been excited when he’d been told the news, jubilanteven, too young to know about the complications that could arise, the risk, that there was nothing to be happy about until both mother and child came through the experience safely. But he’d taken one look at his father’s haggard countenance, which sobered him instantly, and parted with the promise, “I’ll send for Connie.” Nor had he put in another appearance since. No doubt the parlor was too depressing a place to be for a boy of his natural exuberance.
    Warren hadn’t stirred at the name “Connie,” which belonged not to a woman but to a man who, from what he’d heard, was James Malory’s best friend—and another ex-pirate. He’d met Conrad Sharpe at Anthony’s house the night he and James supposedly had put their differences aside for Georgina’s sake. Not bloody likely, as his brother-in-law would say.
    Four-thirty.
    Then Regina returned, with Drew and Thomas on her heels—she’d been too eager to reach her uncle to stop and tell them anything. But the smile that appeared when she looked at James told them all what they’d been praying to hear. The cheering started, waking Amy and even stirring Boyd from his drunken stupor. But James held his breath, silent, needing more than that beautiful smile, needing to hear the words.
    Regina, understanding perfectly, went straight to James, put her arms around him,and said, “You have a daughter, and her mother is fine—they’re both fine.” Then she squealed as he hugged her back, too hard in his relief.
    He let her go with a laugh and looked around until he had located Anthony. “Where’s that bloody drink?”
    It was still in Anthony’s hand. Anthony lifted it; James took it and drained it, set it aside on the mantel, then pulled Anthony forward for some more hugging. Anthony, at least, could withstand it, though just barely.
    He finally moaned, “Good God, James,” then relented. “Well, get it out of your system before you visit George,” he said dryly. “And don’t cry, for God’s sake. I did, but we both don’t have to make asses of ourselves.”
    James just laughed again and pounded his brother’s back. He was so happy it hurt Warren to watch him. Warren had never seen the man like this, never thought to, didn’t want to. But in those few moments while they shared the same gut-wrenching relief over one woman’s well-being, there wasn’t the least bit of animosity between them.
    When James turned and noticed him, Warren said, “Don’t even think about it,” referring to James’s current obsession with hugging. But he was grinning as he said it, had been grinning ever since Regina’s smile had communicated that mother and child were allright, and James returned it and came forward to