Page 50 of Once Charmed, Twice Cursed
My dreams that night are spun from sunbeams, glowing and golden.
Chapter Sixteen
Iawake with the first rays of dawn, my heart a soft, bright thing in my chest. Today, I’ll become Bria Wildes. By the time the sun sets, I’ll be Weston’s wife.
It’s almost too beautiful to be real.
I yield to a dreamy smile, too contented to get out of bed yet. Silence blankets the room, and I picture Weston still lost to slumber, enjoying his very first night of uninterrupted sleep. For long minutes, I bask in the knowledge that I was able to give that to him. But soon, a growing urge overtakes me.
I want to do something more for him. Something to reciprocate all he’s done for me. Something specific, like the hairbrush.
How many options do I have, though, out here in the woods?
I think until my brain hurts, then settle on an idea. Soundlessly, I slip from bed and tug on a simple yellow dress, then grab my wicker gathering basket. As quietly as I can, I ease the door open and emerge into the morning.
The rain has stopped. In the forest, dew limns the foliage in silver, and I strike out toward the trees.
At the edge of the clearing, I hesitate. Weston probably wouldn’t like me venturing out alone like this, what with the duke’s men still searching. But as long as we’re separated, my luck will protect me. No one will find me unless I want them to.
And I’ll be quick.
With that decided, I wend my way into the woods, in search of flowers to weave into a bridal crown. I plan on making a matching boutonniere for Weston’s lapel—a small gesture, but one laden with meaning. It’ll be a symbol of unity. A way for us to touch when our hands can’t.
The forest grows thicker. Branches tug at my skirts, but I press onward. I don’t know what kind of bloom I’m looking for, only that I’ll recognize it when I see it.
A flash of color catches my eye, and I push aside a screen of foliage. A gasp escapes me.
There, in a clearing, grows some kind of wildflower I’ve never encountered before. Star-shaped blossoms gleam in the dawn, their golden petals ruffling on a phantom breeze.
I step closer. The find is beyond lucky—so few wildflowers bloom this late in the season, and these happen to be the exact color of Weston’s hair.
Golden flowers for my golden boy. A gift from Fortuna, if I ever saw one.
A smile spreads as I kneel in the grass. The sweet, delicate fragrance tickles my nose as I gather the blossoms for my basket.
Lost as I am in my task, I almost miss the sounds behind me.
But then a twig cracks, making me freeze. Weston. It has to be. No one else could have found me. I pivot and peer over my shoulder.
Fear douses me in ice. It’s not Weston.
A stranger stands a few feet away, his hands folded, a black tricorn shadowing steel-gray eyes. His maroon greatcoat is fine, edged in gold braid that winks in the dawn.
For a moment, I can only gape. How’d he get here?
A slow smile curls his lips. “Hello, Bria.”
My tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth. Fortuna help me, this isn’t good. The fact that he knows my name is a very, very bad sign.
“Bria? Who’s Bria?” I try.
He smirks. “Let’s not do any of that, now. It’d only be a waste of time.”
My heart thumps a staccato rhythm against my ribs. Okay, next tactic. “Did the duke send you? Because I can top whatever he’s paying you. I can make it worth your while to walk away.”
“Maybe you could,” he says impassively. “But Ramses didn’t come here for money. He’s rich already. Now he just likes to do the impossible. Find people who don’t want to be found.”
I jerk a glance around, scanning for a second man. “Ramses? Who’s Ramses? Is he?—”
