Page 2 of Once Charmed, Twice Cursed
Good luck has followed me ever since. When I was three, a freak storm leveled half of Pine’s End, but my family remained unaffected, our home the only one without so much as a shingle blown out of place.
When I was seven, I went digging for crabs at the seashore and unearthed a chest of gold instead, stashed there by some long-ago pirate. The found fortune allowed us to move from the humble industrial town of Pine’s End to this lavish country estate six miles southward, where my parents now count dukes and lords among their neighbors.
And my luck hasn’t ended there. It spills over onto those around me. Whenever I pass by in the street, people find lost trinkets in their pockets, or remember things they’d tried desperately not to forget. In the market, a vendor might knock a carton of eggs from a table, only for it to landunharmed in my basket. Someone will cast a handful of dice in my presence and come up with exactly the roll they wanted.
Serendipity billows off me like perfume, and anyone standing close enough can inhale a bit for themselves.
Hence the ninety-nine offers of marriage.
It’s not because those men actually care about me. None of them even know me. Not really.
“Noteveryman,” I tell Brendan.
My brother’s smile turns puzzled. “There are a hundred bachelors in Pine’s End. You’ve had ninety-nine proposals. Surely you can do the math.”
I lift my eyebrows and give him a significant look.
His smile dims. “You can’t mean... Come on. NotWeston.”
My fingers tremble, and I bury them in my skirts to hide the tell. I’ve never dared to confront Brendan about my feelings for his best friend. Truth be told, I’ve never really dared to confront anyone about anything. My luck has always tilted the world in such a way that I haven’t had to. Everything always comes to me.
Everything except Weston, that is.
“Well, why not?” I say.
Brendan’s gaze narrows. “Bria. That isn’t funny.”
“Who said I was joking?”
“I did,” he says crisply. “Forget that he’s my best friend and I’d break his nose if he so much as sniffed at you in that way. He’s aNull, Bria. I know you two are friendly, but you can never forget his Mark.”
I press my lips together. I haven’t forgotten Weston’s curse. Or the terrible luck that plagues him because of it. I never do. “I know. I only thought that... That maybe...” A fistcloses around my windpipe, and my courage dries up. Damnit.
Brendan cocks his head. “What? You figured he’d like having you around to cancel his curse all the time? That you might avoid a real marriage by working out some sort of friendship situation with him?”
Shock nearly pinches my throat shut. “What? No, I?—”
“First off, he has no money to offer,” Brendan says, as if I haven’t even spoken. “He may be the most brilliant accountant in Pine’s End, but he can’t compete with what the others have promised, not on his salary. Even if he could, no man is going to marry a woman he can never touch.”
I do my best not to flinch, but Brendan may as well have just slapped me across the face.
My brother’s eyes drop to my neckline. I squash the urge to plaster my hands over my triquetra, because there’s no point in trying to hide my Mark. Or the dismayed heat creeping up my chest.
He sighs. “Look, I know you want to help him, but his Mark is his problem, not yours. Even if he could offer for you, even if he swore to give you your own room and be your husband only in name, I’d never put you in that position. All he’d have to do is touch your hand for a minute. He’d be so tempted. Sooner or later, he’d slip. And you’re too valuable for that.”
My throat burns. “My Mark is too valuable, you mean?”
“Right. Yes.”
Hurt yanks at my insides. Suddenly, I want to push him. Knock him down and shout that my worth as a human and as a vehicle of divine favor arenotone and the same.
That I amount to more than this tattoo at my collar.
But emotion clogs my throat, walling off the words, so I turn back to the window. Weston will come. He has to. I’ve never wished this hard for something and not gotten it.
Another half-minute slinks by, but the drive remains vacant. So does the road, and when the sun kisses the treetops, bitter doubts creep in.
The fortune goddess can’t actually help me with this, I realize. No amount of divine luck in the world can affect Weston Wildes.
