Chapter Sixteen #3
Well, if they were true, then she needed to find a sword to go with her shield.
She waited until Neal left the house on business before she knocked on Harry’s door. Rowan answered. “Please have the colonel up and downstairs in half an hour.”
“That will be a challenge, my lady.”
“Is he not here?” she wondered.
“He is . . . but he drank port last night.”
Thea felt her patience snap. She had a war to wage, and she needed all the help she could muster. “Have him up.”
She made the same request of Margaret.
Within the hour, she was pleased when both Harry and Margaret joined her in the breakfast room. Harry slumped into a chair and placed his head facedown on the table. Margaret gave her brother a look of disgust.
Thea said, “Neal is dying. It has started.”
Now she’d captured their attention. Harry’s head came up.
“How do you know?” Margaret asked.
“His left arm occasionally has bouts of paralysis,” Thea said. “He says that is how it starts. I want you to know I am not giving up.” She jabbed the table with her finger to emphasize her words.
“He’s not the one who should die. I should die,” Harry muttered. “Why doesn’t the curse take me instead?”
“Because you are too soused to fall in love,” Margaret said without pity.
Her brother glared at her. She glared back and then said, “Be honest, Harry. You are too selfish to love, and I’m too difficult.” She turned to Thea. “What do you think we should do?”
Thea had the dream journal she and Neal had been keeping. She opened it up. “We’ve been writing descriptions of the dreams. There is always fire. One of us is always burning. And quite often there is laughter. It is the most hideous cackle, like a crone’s laughter.”
“That must be Fenella,” Margaret said. “She is the one who placed the curse upon us.”
“Where can we find her?” Thea asked.
“Find her?” Margaret questioned. “She’s been dead for hundreds of years. She died the night she placed the curse upon our line.”
“Or perhaps she has been in hiding?” Thea leaned toward Harry and Margaret. “Has anyone gone after her?”
There was a beat of silence as they considered her words. Harry lifted his head and answered, “Thea, did you not hear Margaret? Fenella died almost two hundred years ago. I would hope she is not around. She’d be a hideous-looking hag.”
“Where was she from?” Thea asked. “Where did she place the curse on us?”
Again there was puzzlement. Harry glanced at his sister. Margaret spoke. “Well, the family back then was from Glenfinnan. Charles of Glenfinnan was the first to be cursed. I don’t think any of us have a record of where Fenella and her clan were located. It’s one of those details lost in history.”
“Then we must find answers, and we don’t have much time,” Thea said.
“Neal wants to live to see his son born. I pray he does. But I want more. I want to defeat this curse. Neal says that over years your family has tried exorcisms and hiring witches for reverse spells. But nothing has worked. So, we must try something else. Harry, will you go to Glenfinnan?”
Harry had his elbow propped on the table so he could hold his head up. He turned bloodshot eyes on Thea.
“Will you go, Harry?” she pressed. “At one time, you were the most fearless of warriors. Can you be fearless once again for your brother’s sake—?”
“What is going on here?” Neal’s voice said from the doorway.
Thea’s gaze went straight to his left arm. He appeared normal, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to relax until the curse had been lifted.
“I thought you had an appointment this morning,” Thea said, trying to shield the journal with her arm. She wasn’t certain how her husband would feel about her sharing it.
“Gilroy had to cancel our meeting,” Neal answered. “What are you hiding there, Thea?”
It was his sister who answered. “We are joining you and Thea in the fight against the curse,” Margaret said stoutly. “We don’t want to lose you, Neal.”
“She told you about my hand,” Neal said. A sad smile came to his face. “I wish you hadn’t, Thea.”
“They would have noticed sooner or later,” Thea defended herself. “And we have a plan. Harry is going to Glenfinnan.”
“Glenfinnan? What for?” Neal asked.
“Because that was the home of Charles Chattan before he married his English heiress and started our line,” Margaret answered.
Thea was heartened by the enthusiasm in Margaret’s voice, but Harry was quiet.
Neal entered the room, coming around to stand by Thea.
He placed his hand on her shoulder. “I want you to know that I have no regrets loving my wife. She has made me the happiest of men. I have done more living with her these past months than I had all the years before my marriage. I’m at peace with whatever comes my way. ”
“But I’m not,” Harry said, speaking at last. He pushed himself up from the table. “Thea is right. It’s never good to wait upon the enemy. I shall go to Glenfinnan.”
Neal shook his head. “Harry, you are not in good shape—”
“I’m going, brother. I’m going for you . . . and for me. I will not let you die without a fight. The only people who truly see me for what I am are in this room.”
“Harry, we love you,” Neal said.
“Can you?” Harry said. “I can barely abide myself. What better man than I to wrestle with a witch?”
“It will not be an easy task,” Thea predicted. “Think on it. Her magic must be strong. It has lasted all of this time.”
“Yes, well, she hasn’t met this devil,” Harry answered. He moved toward the door. He stopped and looked back at them. “And for your information, Margaret, I do love. I love you and my brother very much. You are all I have.” He left the room.
“I feel rotten,” Margaret confessed. “I’ve been horribly mean to him. Excuse me while I make an apology.” She followed after her brother.
Thea and Neal were alone.
He didn’t speak. Instead, he leaned over the table and flipped a page of the journal. His fingers brushed over her writing.
“What made you think of this?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Something you said to me. I woke with it in my mind, and I realized how right you were. You said the heart is a shield. Your forebears have tried so many ways to defeat this curse, but what if we embraced it, Neal? What if we used our hearts as a shield against her evil? What if we went to her and let her know she can steal our lives, but the love we feel for each other is stronger than her powers.”
Neal pulled her up from the chair. He placed his arms around her. “Dear God, I am blessed to have you for my wife.”
Thea smiled up at him. “And I am glad you recognize the fact, my lord.”
His response was to tilt his head back and laugh. The sound was carefree, and Thea put her arms around his waist and hugged him as tight as she could.
“We will defeat this,” she promised. “I won’t let you go without fighting with everything I have.”
“Then Fenella had best watch out,” he whispered. “But whatever happens, Thea, you are my wife and my love. Not even death will be able to change that.”
And then he kissed her.
No man’s kiss had ever had such power over her. He claimed her every time his lips met hers. She loved! And his father had been right when he’d written in his letter that they were sweet words.
At that moment, they were joined by Jonathan and Christopher. The boys had obviously been out in the cold, because the tips of their noses were red. They often went to the stables down the street to help feed their ponies.
“Good morning,” Christopher said in a happy voice.
He was always in a good mood in the mornings.
He came right over to Neal and Thea and threw himself into the hug.
Jonathan did the same. The boys giggled at their audacity, their arms reaching around Thea and Neal’s legs—but Thea didn’t laugh.
She thought it was a blessing that her sons had found a father.
A blessing that she had found a man she could love for all eternity.
Neal reached for her hand with his left one. He laced his fingers with hers, showing her that his strength had returned. His grip was strong.
It might weaken again. Or it might not.
But in this moment, having it return was the confirmation they needed.
They would defeat Fenella. She knew they would.
As her sons climbed into chairs around the table for their breakfast, she leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder.
The heart was a shield, and the love she felt in this moment was enough to protect them all.
Fenella had best beware.