If I could have any supernatural ability, I would ask for the gift of healing. Ancient stories abound of people who seemed to have a magic touch. Since I don't possess such a gift, I decided to play with the idea in a current wip. Here's a snippet from The Devil's Bride (working title for now) .
His eyes —almost black—burned fiercely in a face that could have been carved from dark teak. A small scar traced a fine line across his left eyebrow. When he scowled down at her, his gaze glittered threateningly.
She looked up at him murmuring, “Diablo, patience.” Rachel noted with satisfaction, his surprise at not frightening her.
Cradling his head, she pressed her hands on either side of his face as his breath brushed warmly against her breasts . As it always did, the moment blurred, power taking her. He grunted an inarticulate protest and then sat motionless as she stroked his scarred brow pulling the crushing pain into herself. Her fingertips caressed intimately, seeing the injury that lay beneath bone and tissue, channeling the waves of healing heat to soothe the drawn flesh.
When at last, she dropped her left hand into her lap, her body swayed against his, momentarily weak and vulnerable. His arm drew her closer,as though sensing Rachel now carried his pain and ached with it. Dispelling the moment that had seemed mystical, she straightened and tried to rise.
He reached for her and fastened his hand around her narrow wrist. “What sorcery did you work on me, gypsy girl?” But he spoke of magic to her back as she shook him loose and unsteadily walked away leaving him stunned and wondering at his release from torment.
Simon Grant searched the corridors and rooms of the big house, not even trying to hide his pursuit of the woman. He grimaced at the joke played on him. He hadn’t had a cockstand since he’d been felled by an Apache war club at The Battle of Sand Creek. Even after the ache in his head had diminished to a constant hum, his cock had remained nothing but a tube to dribble piss from, without a will to rise and rut upon a woman—until the gypsy girl aroused a longing in him he'd thought long dead.
Negotiations for Indian land were forgotten. Devil Grant had one purpose in mind and that was finding the beautiful woman with the magic hands.
For more of my western romances, visit me @ Gem's Place.