Page 77 of Once Charmed, Twice Cursed
“Later.” He comes at me like an aimed javelin, then picks me up and carries me to bed. And proceeds to love me with a ferocity that leaves me awestruck and breathless and deliciously sore.
Afterward, we eat, and he asks if I’ve come up with anything for the honeymoon.
I pause. I don’t know how he’ll take it, but there’s only one way to find out. So I tell him.
He puts his fork down, thoughtful. “All right,” he says. “I’m surprised, but all right.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
We knock on Helena’s door on a blustery morning in early November.
The door swings inward, and the moment she sees us, her brown eyes brighten. Her eyes drop to my collarbones, then to Weston’s, and when she meets my gaze again, she presses a hand to her mouth. Tears quiver in her eyes.
“Hi,” I say. “I hope this is okay. You did say we should come visit, and I?—”
She yanks me into a hug, squeezing so tightly my words evaporate. “Of course it’s okay. Fortuna, look at you. You look so beautiful. You both look sobeautiful.”
When she finally lets go, she turns to Weston. She approaches him slowly, every movement steeped in hesitation, but he doesn’t resist. Helena ends up with her head buried against his massive shoulder, her eyes closed in gratitude. When she releases him, she and I are both crying outright.
“Fortuna’s blessings,” she says to Weston, between hiccups. “I never thought you’d let me do that.”
His face pulls into a glower. A mild one. “Well, last time you tried, you almost died for it. So.”
She laughs, then pulls us into her charming cottage and insists on serving us tea.
While we sip, I tell her about everything that’s happened since the last time we saw each other. Right down to Alverton and his terrifying room.
She sets down her teacup, her expression sober. “Well. It’s a good thing he got what was coming to him, then.”
“He…what?” I frown. “Got what was coming to him? What do you mean?”
Her golden brows pull into a line. “Didn’t you hear? He took a fall from his horse. Two weeks ago. Broke twenty-three bones apparently, in the fall. He’s very, very dead, Bria.”
Shock stabs into me. I look to Weston, but he only gazes back, his expression mild.Two weeks. Right around the time we got married. Or maybe the day after.
My eyes narrow.
Later, as we lie in bed in Helena’s guest room, I nestle my head in the crook of his shoulder and trace the swell of his pectoral. “That day, when you went with Brendan and my dad. Was that the same day the duke died?”
He aims a cool glance down at me. “Maybe. I wouldn’t know. I hadn’t heard about his accident.”
“No?” I arc a brow. “So you wouldn’t happen to know anything about his twenty-three broken bones?”
His expression doesn’t flicker. “I wouldn’t.”
“Hmm.”
He holds my eyes for a century, then aims a glance at where my fingers play with his chest, as if asking whether I plan to do anything more with them.
I absolutely do, but I have one more question, first. “Do you think,” I say softly, “he broke those bones before he fell off his horse? Before he died? Or after?”
“Oh, before. That much, I’m absolutely sure of.”
My hand stills. I just stare at him, my heart so full and wide that I have to go searching for my breath. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, an awful little door to an awful little room clicks shut. “I love you,” I say. “Goddess, I love you so much.”
A small smile graces his mouth. Then he catches me by the wrists and flips me onto my back, pinning me to the bed in one move that has my head spinning and my pulse flying into a frenzy. My knees would probably give out, if I weren’t already lying down.
“Anything else you’d like to ask me, Mrs. Wildes?”
