King and Henry looked at Rory, and he blew out a breath. “I don’t know what to do. I love Genevieve and the chance I have now to be a real father to Frances. I don’t want to lose either of them, but if my giving those relationships up mean that Harriet and my son—” His voice broke on the word, and he had to clear his throat and take a moment to swallow the lump rising in it. “If I can bring Harriet and my son back, don’t I have an obligation to do so?”
“It’s an impossible decision,” King said. “Sacrifice your son and your first wife—and I know your marriage was difficult, but you loved her once—for the woman you love and who loves you.”
“It’s more than that,” Henry said. “I see something in you I haven’t seen since before you married Harriet. You’re happy, Rory. You’re content.”
“But is my happiness all that matters? We’re talking about the lives of two innocents who died because of my mistakes. How can I refuse the witch’s offer?”
King clapped him on the shoulder. “You don’t have to make the decision now. It’s late. We’ll walk back to the inn and talk again in the morning.”
Rory agreed. Henry smothered the fire, and the three of them walked back to the inn. The warm light from the windows beckoned them in, and as soon as they entered the public room, they were engulfed in warmth, the mouth-watering aroma of fresh bed, and embraces from their wives and children. Rorylifted Frances into his arms and pulled Genevieve close. But she drew back and frowned at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’ll talk later,” he said.
“You must be hungry. We made sure to have supper waiting.”
“Can I sit beside you, Papa?” Frances asked. “I don’t want to go to sleep yet. I’m not even tired.” She stifled a yawn.
“You can sit next to me,” he said. “And you’re staying in our room tonight. If you think I’ll let you out of my sight anytime soon, you had better think again.”
She giggled. “I love you too, Papa!”
Rory squeezed her tighter.
*
“Is she asleep?”Rory asked, and Genevieve glanced at Frances and nodded.
“She was exhausted. I hope you’re not too angry with Joshua, and I had a long talk with Frances about not going off with strangers.” She sat on the bed and slipped her boots off, wiggling her toes before rolling her stockings down.
“I’m not angry at all,” he said. “I can hardly expect children to be any match for a witch.”
Genevieve sucked in a breath. “You still think she is a witch.”
“She said as much herself.”
Genevieve didn’t think saying a thing made it true, but there was no point in arguing. Rory obviouslybelievedshe was a witch. Arguing with him wouldn’t accomplish anything. “What else did she say?” she asked. “Whatever it was upset you.”
He nodded and tugged his coat off then bent to remove his boots. Genevieve pretended to be busy unfastening her bodice, but her hands were shaking. What if he wouldn’t tell her? Would he shut her out again? “You don’t have to tell me,” she said,having stripped down to her chemise and stays. She couldn’t force him to confide in her. If he wasn’t ready, then she would have to be patient.
“I want to tell you,” he said, and she all but sagged with relief. “I just don’t know how.” He was in his shirt and breeches now, his shirt partially untucked and hanging down, the neck open in a V at this throat.
“Come here,” she said. “Let’s lie down. You’re tired, and so am I. Somehow, it’s easier to whisper secrets in bed.”
“I can’t argue with that.” They finished undressing, she in her chemise and he in his shirt, and climbed into bed. Genevieve blew out the candle, and Rory opened his arms to her. She settled against his chest, her head over his pounding heart. For the first time since learning about this wretched curse, Genevieve felt fear. Did it really matter if she believed in the curse? Rory did, and plainly it frightened him. Genevieve had her own scare today when Frances had gone missing, and she could thank the witch for that as well.
She held Rory tighter, wishing she could make all the pain he’d endured over the years go away.
“The witch is dying,” he said.
Genevieve sat up. She didn’t want to feel relief, but she did. Perhaps they would finally be rid of curses and spells.
But Rory was still tense and rigid under her, and in the flickering firelight, she saw his jaw was set. “Go on,” she said, placing her hand over his heart.
“She says we’ve run out of time. Tomorrow, we must decide about the counter-spell. If we’ve found true love, the curse can be reversed. The reversal requires a sacrifice, and that sacrifice is you.”
“Me?”
