Page 10 of Spellbound
There was no shadow of memory to tease him, only a feeling of rightness at her words. Despite his preference on the matter, it had not been an accident. But he feared the ramifications of reinforcing her belief that it was somehow her fault.
Try as he might, the details continued to hover on the periphery of his mind, remaining just out of reach. Rising to his feet, he peered out into the darkness from the narrow window above the bed. “Someone did this to me intentionally?”
She nodded again, passing him the cup. “Do sit down. I worry that you are exerting yourself overmuch.”
He accepted the libation and then eased himself down onto the edge of the bed once more. His head ached abominably butsitting did ease the dizziness somewhat. “How did you reach this conclusion? Other than my things not being pilfered, of course.”
“Tis a rare thing to hit only one’s head,” she mused. “Had you fallen or suffered some sort of accident, be it in a carriage or on horseback, or even being rundown by a horse, there would have been other injuries. But there is nothing. Not even your palms are scraped. Only the wound on your forehead. I think it likely that the wound you received came from a blow, being struck with an object wielded by another man… someone quite strong. I can’t imagine how else you’d have received the injury in such a location.”
He raised his hand to his forehead once more, gingerly probing the bandaged area despite the pain it caused. She was quite right, of course. The wound was just at his hairline. A pale glimmer of a memory came to him then, indistinct and mysterious. A person standing above him, holding a large rock, as he lay bleeding on the road. “I fear you are correct, Belladonna. I wish I could recall the details of the attack, but my memory only gives me vague shadows. Regardless, I can only be thankful that God led me here to you.”
“If you listen to local gossip, it is not God who would have led you to my door,” she said archly.
“I could have wandered aimlessly in the woods. I could have lain in a ditch by the roadside with no one to aid me. If it wasn’t God who led me to your door, what else could it have been? I know I certainly feel blessed that of all the possible places I could have stumbled to, I wound up—inexplicably—on your doorstep. If you do not wish to call it God’s will, you cannot deny that it was fateful at the very least.”
“Where were you going after we parted in the clearing?”
He didn’t know. Try as he might to drag any memories back to the forefront of his mind, they remained stubbornly out of reach. “I cannot say.”
“Your memories will return in time, I’m certain… But, Desmond, while divine providence may have played a role, it was your own incredible determination to survive that brought you here to me. I am only glad that I found you when I did… Had you stayed out in the rain much longer, I fear what might have become of you.”
“As do I… Tell me the truth, Belladonna. I can only think that you must have some theory as to what really passed. Why did this happen?”
“You will not believe me when I tell you,” she said sadly. “Because it is a thing that challenged everything you know to be true and right in this world.”
“Tell me anyway.”
She took a deep breath, then she held up her hand, palm to the ceiling. Flame suddenly erupted, hovering over her hand, burning steady and strong but never touching her skin. “This happened to you because I am a witch. Because I am a witch and there are those who hate me for it.”
TEN
Desmond stared at the flames. Was he dreaming? Had he somehow slipped into unconsciousness again? Was he suffering some sort of delusion? “This cannot be real.”
While her gaze was fixed in his direction, she was not looking at him, but past him. Almost as if she were afraid to see his reaction. “It is. It is real, Desmond. And I understand if it changes things between us. I would be astounded if it did not.”
Did it? In the general order of things, he supposed it should. But all he could think of was the way she had tended him, the way her touch had soothed him. Whatever beliefs he might have had about the practice of witchery, there was no evil in the woman before him. None. So he spoke freely, impulsively, and with complete sincerity, “What could possibly change? Other than my thinking you are more extraordinary than I could have imagined… I will not run from this. Not from you nor from what I feel for you.”
She closed her hand, the dancing flame vanishing inside her closed fist. “You don’t understand. I am cursed. Every woman in the Goodwynne line has been cursed. And this instant attraction we have for one another, this immediate connection between us is part of that. It’s as if… it hastens things. Accelerates thedevelopment of any tender or romantic feelings. They develop sooner, but the relationship ends sooner, as well. Usually it ends only in death.”
“For you?” He asked.
“No,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “No. The curse will be that if I let myself love you, then I will onlyeverlove you. And I will grieve you for the rest of my life. I’ve only known you a short time, and already I can feel the tethers forming between us. And I can’t bear it. I can’t bear for you to die because you had the misfortune to cross my path.”
It should have startled him, her talk of love. After all, she was correct on one count. They had only known one another a short time. But it didn’t feel like a short acquaintance. It felt as if he’d always known her, as if meeting her was more like discovering a part of himself that had been missing and now he was whole. “Isn’t that my choice to make? Whether or not I’m willing to risk it?” He asked. “And I should warn you, Belladonna, that despite the flames dancing on your fingertips, I do not believe in curses. I do not believe in magic. What you did is simply something science has not yet found a way to explain.”
She walked away from him then, once more seating herself at the small table. The slumped shoulders indicated that the weight of the world was resting on her. “You do not understand, Desmond. No woman in the Goodwynne family has ever made it to the altar. Either their lovers die or are proven false before such a thing can occur… And I know you have not proposed marriage. I cannot let it get that far. If I do, it would be a death sentence for you.”
Desmond waited for the panic to set in—to feel that bone deep urge to run when discussing the possibility of forever. After all, he’d spent his entire life trying to avoid the trap of marriage. But it didn’t happen. She’d brought it up and it simply felt right to him. Like everything else had since he’d met her. He hadn’tbelieved in such a thing as love at first sight. But he was now having to reconsider his stance on the topic. “I very much fear, Belladonna, that we are already well past the point of caution. It was one thing to go for a walk alone. It is quite another for us to have been alone in your home, unchaperoned for two nights. The people of Highgate will be more inclined to accept a witch than to accept a woman whose virtue they have such a reason to question.”
He watched her face, noting the moment when she recognized that truth. But then her shoulders squared and she said, “I am so low on the social strata that it simply will not matter. How can lying with a man outside of marriage be worse than being in league with the devil? That is what they whisper about me now. That is what Reverend Stalker has been telling anyone who will deign to listen.”
Stalker.The mere mention of his name had, as if indeed by magic, cleared away the veil between his conscious mind and the memory of the events that had brought him to his current place. “Dear God!” The exclamation came out on an exhale, the words low and stunned. “That’s it, Belladonna! That’s bloody well it.”
“What?”
“Stalker,” he said. “I remember now. When we were in the clearing, I heard the snapping of branches and insisted you leave. I was trying to protect you from whomever was lurking there.”
Belladonna staredat him in horror. “That was why you made me leave? Because you thought I was in danger? Danger from Reverend Stalker?”
