Page 73 of No One's Bride
He did not stop looking at her, drinking her in like a man parched.
Ailsa tucked the note into her bodice, next to the message he had written earlier to remind her of the power of lust. Words that would fade with time, just like their passion.
He led her outside.
The crisp air breezed over her, raising goose pimples on her skin. Amid the smell of damp earth and sweet blossom, she detected the faintest trace of his cologne.
She hid a smile while watching him strike the sulphur-tipped spill and light the lamp. Tomorrow, she would visit Truefitt & Hall, scour the shop for cologne with notes of vanilla and musk, and drench her pillow with her lover’s piquant scent.
“Are you ready?” Sebastian glanced at the crescent moon, his muscular shoulders sagging.
No!
Kiss me one last time.
Don’t let me forget what we’ve meant to each other.
But they had to do this.
Being truthful was important to both of them.
No one wanted to live amid a shadow of doubt.
“Will ye go first?” Her throat tightened at the thought of what was at stake. “Remember, ye’re supposed to recite the lines with clear intention.”
He glanced at the paper in his hand. “I’ll recite the words, but I don’t believe we’re bound by magic.” Inhaling deeply, and in a voice devoid of emotion, he continued, “This spell no longer serves me. With the last wisp of smoke, set my soul free.”
The churning in Ailsa’s chest brought bile to her throat.
She looked to the heavens, expecting to hear a violent clap of thunder, witness a blinding flash of light tearing through the night sky. A reckoning. Punishment for the pleasure they’d stolen.
Nothing.
Not a sudden breeze.
Not a crow’s caw.
Not an eerie chill chasing down her spine.
“It’s your turn to sever our bond,” he said, his tone much cooler than it had been of late. “Once you’ve read your lines, we’ll burn the papers together.”
Ailsa reached for the folded note but drew the wrong one by mistake. Silently, she began reading Sebastian’s lewd message.
I could scour the shores for a lifetime and never find a pebble perfect enough to honour you.
Shocked, she met his gaze. The words were beautiful, deeply personal. They touched on previous conversations. Showed how their relationship had developed into something meaningful.
She might have stepped forward and pressed a tender kiss to his lips, thanked him and promised to cherish it always. But a distinct air of tension made her swap the notes and recite the recantation.
An emptiness enveloped her when the last word left her lips. As if an invisible force had punched through her chest and stolen her soul.
He must have felt it, too.
With a dazed expression, he set the paper to the lit candle and watched until the flames destroyed their fantasy.
“We should return to Fortune’s Den before Gibbs gets frustrated and deserts his post.” Sebastian visited the hothouse to fetch their clothes and then led the way back to the house.
Minutes passed while he went upstairs to finish dressing. Minutes where she felt nothing but numb. To busy herself while waiting, she found Michael’s grimoire and began flicking through the pages.
