THREE
Angharad
The realization that her guest was the son of the man she despised to her very core had shaken Hara.
She worried over it, the fear that he would somehow betray her whereabouts coloring every waking moment with discomfort.
It put her on edge, and her usual calming practice of walking in the woods and surrendering her anxious energy was not working.
Corvus and the Commander were the reasons she woke in the night with her heart thudding.
The river of fear and resentment ran deep, cleaving her soul with hateful waters, polluting all it touched.
The only way she had found a semblance of peace after all these years was to dam it up.
But the dam was being tested.
As the days passed and the slush melted into mud, Hara contemplated if she should say anything to Gideon.
For the most part he was his usual prickly self, making barbed comments about everything from her magic not helping his wounds heal fast enough to his annoyance with Seraphine’s habit of jumping on his lap.
However, there were some subtle changes she noticed since the night he offered to help her.
She was able to perform her household spells in peace now without the tense feeling that she was being watched, and he offered to help her with household chores.
He even suggested that she take her bed back, but she had insisted on keeping the sleeping arrangements as they were.
It almost seemed like he was trying to repay her for her kindness in helping him, but she found she did not want to accept his repayment.
While his attitude towards her had changed from outright distrust and suspicion to tentative camaraderie, Hara found her feelings had changed towards him as well—and not for the better.
Before, she had been curious about him, and she decided that his circumstances, while not honorable, had been repaid to him in kind by his suffering.
Now she was wary.
In the years since she escaped from the palace, Hara tried to keep abreast of the happenings of Montag from travelers who passed through the village.
Empirator Corvus had invested in fantastic modern inventions to lessen Montag’s reliance on magic.
The capital city of Perule was said to be wondrous, with never-dimming lights and hot water that flowed indoors on command.
But they also produced new weapons, such as machines that sprayed ammunition and incendiary shells that could raze a house in an instant.
Norwen and Lenwen had been locked in war for a generation, and Montag had grown rich from it.
Their thick forests and deep mines kept them well supplied, and the factories were impressive, but there was something else Montag was known for.
After the coup, any sorcerer who was associated with the royal family was arrested.
Commander Falk, Gideon’s father, employed witch hunters to capture any who may have had ties to the Ilmarinen family, down to the chambermaids.
Though Hara and Gideon were both children at the time, she thought that surely Gideon was aware of this.
What he did not know was that her mother had been the court Seer, a close servant to the Ilmarinens.
She had been one of the victims caught in Falk’s net all those years ago.
Inviting the son of Corvus’ closest servant into her home and fostering him under her roof was nothing short of dangerous.
One could argue that Gideon was not like his father, but had he not admitted to ransoming a woman for his own gain? Hadn’t he recoiled from Hara’s spells? Clearly, in this case, the son was no different than the father or the rest of the Montag court.
Every instinct told her to toss him out and spit on his footsteps.
But the rational part of her said it would do no good to give him a reason to resent her, and the virtuous part of her recognized that he was still in need of healing.
So each day she went about her chores and she said nothing more about her past.
The sooner he was better, the sooner he would leave.
Hara watched as Gideon split wood outside.
He had taken over the task earlier in the day while she was at the chopping block.
“Here, let me,”
he said, taking the ax from her.
She wiped the hair from her face.
“I can manage just fine.”
“I can reach higher on the kindling stack than you can, and I can haul wood without a barrow. Besides, I’m crawling out of my skin being cooped up in that cottage. I’m going soft.”
“Very well. I will not argue if you want to work,”
she said, handing him the ax.
He took it and abruptly said.
“You should go inside and warm your hands by the fire. You look cold.”
“What a nurturing soul you have,”
she said dryly, passing him on the way to the cottage.
“I could make a healer of you yet.”
She turned from the window and went back to her table, taking up the mending for the ruffled shift Gideon had been wearing as a nightshirt. Seraphine watched her needle and thread go in and out of the cloth.
After Hara had gotten over the initial shock of Gideon’s identity, a thought seeped its way into her mind and would not let go: he might know what had happened to her mother. The curiosity burned at her, years of blind hope clawing for knowledge.
“Should I ask him what happened to the arrested sorcerers?”
she asked Seraphine.
“How does one bring up such a subject? ‘Gideon, do you know anything about a magical prison?’”
Seraphine watched her, purring gently. Hara sighed.
The problem was his lingering prejudice against witches.
She was uncertain how deeply it ran and how dangerous it might be to reveal her past.
It was tempting to believe that he would be understanding and willingly share his knowledge, but he could just as easily betray her to his father as soon as he arrived home.
If only she could ease his mistrust of magic-folk.
She made a few more stitches, and the thought occurred to her that she was not obligated to teach this stubborn man about the complex beauty of her craft.
He had seen and felt for himself the power of her healing magic; his cough was all but gone, and his foot and knee were mending without a hint of infection.
Without her skill, he would have died soon after that first night from fever and dehydration alone.
If he came away from this experience and still continued to distrust magic-folk, then she did not know what would convince him.
And even if she did change his mind, she could not make him care about her or her mother.
Bitter wind swirled into the cottage as Gideon entered, and he snapped the door shut behind him.
His nose and hands were red from the cold, and he gave her a tightening of the mouth that could be mistaken for a smile.
Hara rose to go to the fire, and she ladled up some bubbling stew into two bowls.
She passed one to Gideon, and they ate in silence while Hara worked up her courage.
How to begin?
“Tell me about your father,”
she said finally.
Gideon’s spoon paused on its journey to his mouth.
“What about him?”
“Whatever comes to mind,” she said.
He resumed eating, taking his time to answer. It was the first time they had spoken of Gideon’s father since the night she learned who he was.
“He is brilliant,”
Gideon finally said.
“I’ve never met anyone with a finer mind for business or politics. He has tried to tutor me in his methods, but I’m not sure if it stuck.”
“I’ve heard he does not favor magic,”
she said lightly. It was clear that he admired his father, so she had to be careful not to anger him.
Gideon let out a long breath through pursed lips.
“I thought you may have heard of that.”
“Is that where you get it from?”
she asked, trying to sound teasing. Inwardly, she could feel all her rage and fear awakening from long-neglected corners of her mind.
“No. If you’ll believe it, I was indifferent toward witches until I was poisoned,”
he said.
“Then I wondered if all the stories they tell in the north were true.”
“What stories?”
“That witches are malevolent tricksters not to be trusted,”
he said. She could not hide her scowl, and he quickly amended.
“Not to sound ungrateful. You’ve proven that is not true for all witches.”
So it was not a deep-seated mistrust after all, thought Hara. Just ignorance.
“If only your father could see that,”
she said.
“Did he not send witch hunters to capture all the sorcerers connected to the royal family?”
“That was many years ago,”
said Gideon with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Since then, he has welcomed sorcerers to work in service to Corvus.”
“And what happened to the captured sorcerers?”
asked Hara, her heart in her throat. She did not find it likely that Corvus would allow the Ilmarinen’s inner circle to walk freely as members of his court.
“I don’t know. As I said, it was long ago. I’m sure they were given trials and were served justice,”
he said, spooning up more stew.
Hara fought to keep her hand from trembling. What little care he had. She almost envied him for his ignorance. It was clear he did not know what had happened to her mother, but she seriously doubted that fair trials were given to those captured.
Gideon would leave here and go on living his life of privilege, blithely unaware that the woman who saved his life was still haunted by nightmares of her escape. Her lungs felt as though they were filled with burning air, her breaths becoming rapid and shallow.
Appetite gone, Hara lay down her spoon. It was likely that all in the city of Perule were as nonchalant about the coup as Gideon, and many probably justified it. They would have been fed the sanitized version, the victor’s story. Commander Falk would continue to be the hero with no one to question his crimes, and magic-folk would continue to live on the fringes.
There was nothing to be done to make Gideon understand. Mere words would neither stop him from loving his father nor convince him to go against everything he had been taught.
Then the idea came to her. Unpleasant as it was, he needed to see. He needed to know what happened that night so many years ago.
She waited for him to finish his meal, and then she spoke.
“Gideon,”
she said.
“I would like to bring you somewhere special to me. A sacred place.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I need you to see something. Best bundle up and bring your cane. It’s a bit of a walk.”
Warmed from the stew, they set out from the cottage with Seraphine on their heels, moving slowly as Gideon navigated the forest floor with his walking stick.
“I feel that I won’t have to use this much longer,”
he said.
“It’s only a bit sore now. Not like before.”
Hara said nothing. It was rare that she brought anyone to her sacred spaces. In fact, she could not remember the last time she had invited someone willingly, aside from Seraphine. A small part of her wondered if it was cruel of her to do this, but another part of her didn’t care.
Moonlight gilded their path in silver, reassuring Hara and warming her like sunlight. Hara’s heart beat faster as they approached the fallen log that formed a natural altar, and she found that she was nervous about bringing him here. What if he scoffed at her memories, or did not believe what he saw? It would be akin to him kicking Seraphine.
With this worry on her mind, she brought him to a nearby rock and bade him to sit, then went to the felled tree and placed her hands on its soft, mossy surface in greeting. She laid her brow to the trunk, feeling it acknowledge her, the millions of lichens and mosses and insects recognizing her touch and vibrating with life. She could feel what she wanted hovering there, like a shiver she had not yet let steal through her body. She had never attempted this before, but she felt sure.
“Gideon,”
she whispered.
“Come to me.”
“What are you going to do?”
he said with trepidation.
Impatience licked at her, and she held out her hand wordlessly.
She heard slow footsteps, and then felt him lower himself to his knees next to her. Reaching out, she grasped his hand and placed it on the tree, laying her fingers over his.
“Kneel down, like me.”
A brief pause, and then he knelt, his brow touching the fallen tree.
“I want to show you what happened to my mother. You need to see it.”
Keeping her skin on his, she closed her eyes and let the past steal through her, entering her mind as though it were water overtaking a ship’s deck. It was more than memory, it was the past itself. The woods around them fell silent, the soft dripping and wind and straggling birds fading to nothing. Only their breaths filled the muffled silence, and then . . .
Gideon gasped next to her. The past bloomed behind her eyes, sharp and dark, and Hara felt Gideon’s influence entwined with hers, watching. In her mind, she saw the images just as she knew Gideon was seeing them.
She was a child of ten years old again, and her knobby knees were cramped and folded underneath the floorboards of the abandoned cottage they had been using for days. Her mother warned her that bad men might come, but that she must listen to her without question when the time came. Go south, into Norwen. Go south until she found Aunt Merowyn.
By the time they found the cottage, they had been on the run for months. They’d left the capital in the night, listening to the crashes and screams in the dawn as the palace was overtaken. Her mother knew they would come for them. Guards had locked down the border between Montag and Norwen, stopping anyone who might have ties to the Ilmarinen family.
And so they waited. It was only a matter of time before the guards would decrease and the hunters would give up searching for them. Eventually, they could cross into Norwen undetected.
They never stayed longer than a week at any one place, but when they found the cottage, it had started growing cold in the mountains. It was abandoned, and there was good food to be gathered all around in the woods.
As the weeks passed, the tense silences were broken by her mother’s familiar teasing, and her smiles returned. She began to speak of life down south, and at night, she would tell Hara stories of when she was a girl in Norwen. Bracken and berries dried on the windowsill, and there was a fire to warm them at night. The abandoned cottage began to feel like home. It felt safe.
But her mother had a funny feeling, as she often did in those days. Some would call it paranoia, but Hara knew it was more than that. Her mother wouldn’t use her Sight to look into the future anymore, but it was not easily suppressed. Every so often, her eyes would dart and her hands would shake. She would begin to toss their stored food into the fire, scrubbing all evidence of their presence from the cottage. They would pack their few belongings and go into the forest, spending freezing nights on the mountain without a fire.
Days would go by without a soul crossing their path, and then her mother’s strange feeling would pass and they would make their way back to the shelter of the cottage.
When Hara asked her why they must do this and why she did not just use her Sight to see if they were in danger, her mother would grip her hair and begin to weep. So Hara learned it was best to say nothing. Whatever her mother’s reasons for avoiding her Sight, it was clear she did not wish to share them.
One night she woke Hara, much as she had the night they escaped from the palace, and she told her to hide underneath the floor. There was a small area only big enough for Hara to lay flat on her back amongst the dust and rats.
A boom pounded against the door moments later. The floorboards trembled, and Hara heard wood splinter. Men burst through the door, and she felt their boots thrum mere inches above her body, stronger than her pounding heart.
“Here she is. We found the Seer!”
a man’s voice shouted.
“Just as you said.”
She heard her mother’s low voice.
“Please, I am not with them. I would never—”
“Lies,”
came another man’s cool, emotionless voice.
“In the name of Bartram Corvus, you are arrested for providing treasonous intel to the Ilmarinen family and for harboring state secrets. You will be questioned and imprisoned according to your rank.”
“Treason? I couldn’t, my Sight was—”
A sickening crunch cut off her mother’s words. Hara watched through a crack in the floorboards as one of the men took her mother by the hair and began to drag her out. Her mother screamed then, and she clutched the door frame as they pulled.
Raw welts sizzled upon her skin, and Hara realized they wore gloves of iron like finely woven chainmail. Her ragged cry halted abruptly as one of the men knocked her unconscious, and then her hands went limp from the doorframe and they pulled her away. The sound of tramping boots, lewd jokes, and horse hooves faded into the distance.
Hara stayed beneath the floor for the rest of that night and the next day.
Time stretched as she lingered in that cramped space, the fear seizing her chest and locking her hands where they were still clamped over her mouth. Hours passed before she realized that she had wet herself, and her damp skin burned with discomfort.
When she finally moved, sensing the darkness outside, her joints ached with stiffness. Seraphine let out low yowls, pacing above her with soft footfalls.
Hara pushed up on the floorboards and climbed out, taking up the cat in her arms, and then she ran. She ran with terror driving her steps, carrying her south.
Eventually she stumbled into a village, and she begged every villager she met if they knew of a healer called Merowyn. Most shunned the ragged girl, disgust pinching their faces at her tear-streaked cheeks and soiled clothing.
So she went to another village, and another. She ran for weeks, sleeping when she could and stealing scraps, until finally she found the cottage.
Hara inhaled sharply, rising from the altar of the fallen tree as though she were surfacing from the depths of a lake. Her hands were shaking and weak, and her heart skittered as quickly as a rabbit’s. Performing deep magic made her feel as though she had fasted for a week. An ache settled deeply into her joints. She flexed her fingers a few times to loosen the stiffness, and then she turned to Gideon.
He did not look well. His eyes were wide and his hands were trembling. His lips kept tensing and releasing as though he were about to weep or vomit, and they were pale. She felt like reaching out to comfort him, but she knew that in order for him to understand, he needed to feel everything she had felt. Her memories were his now.
“How did . . . ”
He shook his head.
“I felt as though I was you. I could feel the straw sticking into my back, and when they took my mother—your mother . . . ”
There were shining tear tracks on his hollow cheeks, and the tip of his nose was red. He wiped it, giving a deep sniff, then he turned raw eyes to her.
“My father helped Corvus do this. He assembled the witch hunters to make the arrests.”
“Yes.”
“Hara, I’m . . . I’m so sorry. I know it is not enough, it could never be enough, but I am sorry.”
Hara had kept herself calm up until this point, but at his words she felt rage surge inside her.
“You’re only sorry because now my memory is your memory. You knew your father helped destroy the Ilmarinens and the court, but you never cared enough to question it. Only now that we share the same pain, you feel remorse.”
“Hara,”
He raised his hands, as though to take her by the arms, but she jerked away from him.
“I healed you because that is what I am—a healer. But your father hunted us down like we were prey. I am a bird feeding a cuckoo chick that has overtaken her nest, so large and monstrous, demanding care while it kills the other babies.”
Hara got to her feet and moved several paces away from Gideon, her hand coming to her mouth. He stood as well, and even through her rage she could see helpless, deep sadness in his eyes.
“Hara, I swear to you, I’ll . . . ask my father what happened, or—”
“Now you’ll ask. Now that you have seen a glimpse of the hurt he’s caused. Now that it pains you. Now you will talk to him.”
“What do you want me to say?”
he said angrily.
“I’m still trying to understand what it is I saw. I did not know you could impart memories onto me, and you just lay your trauma at my feet without my consent—”
“Your father stole my mother without consent,”
said Hara, breathing rapidly.
“Now you get to taste his actions. I’m just giving it back to his son.”
“Would you just—”
Gideon stepped closer, and Hara stepped back. He held up his hands and slowly approached.
“Please, Hara, you do not need to fear me.”
“You hate magic,”
she whispered.
“Why do you hate us?”
The anger left Gideon’s face as she spoke, and he hung his head.
“I do not hate you, Hara. I never have. I did not trust you, at first. I’d been told all my life that sorcerers disrupted the natural order. Kings are supposed to be the most powerful people in the realm, but not even a king could stand up to a sorcerer. I let fear rule me when we first met. I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”
Hara was quiet. The bone-trembling weariness began to descend, dispelling her anger. It was difficult to focus on his words.
“Gideon,”
she said, and then she felt her knees begin to buckle. He was there, catching her as she fell. He looped her arm over his shoulder and held her up.
“Hara, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”
he said. Hara tried to straighten, but all she wanted to do was sleep. She vaguely felt his arm come under her knees and lift her up. Her head swam, and she could not tell if they were moving or staying still.
Gideon
When they arrived back at the cottage, Gideon kicked open the door. Seraphine wound around his legs, meowing insistently and fraying his already raw nerves as he lay Hara down onto her bed. Whatever she had done to show him her memories had taken a great toll on her.
“Hara,”
he said, gently patting her cheek.
“What do I do? How can I help you?”
Her eyes fluttered open. She regarded him for a moment before closing them again.
“Silly boy,”
she murmured.
“What?”
he said, indignant. She chose now to mock him?
“Watched me . . . for days . . . ”
Then it occurred to him. What did she always seem to be doing? His eyes landed on the kettle hanging above the low fire. He took up a clean mug and found some honey and a tin with Willow Bark etched in spidery writing in her store cupboard. When the tea was strong, he brought the mug to her, placing it in her hands.
Hara took it and weakly brought it to her lips. She drank deeply, making small sighs between each sip. When the cup was empty, Gideon took it from her and said.
“Are you all right?”
“Better,”
she said.
“Thank you. Maybe you’re not such a silly boy after all.”
Gideon scowled, and she smiled back weakly.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,”
she said.
“Seeing all that again . . . it’s been a long time since I let myself experience it fully. It brought forth some old, buried rage.”
“I understand,”
he said.
“I would be angry too. I am angry. And what I said is true: I am deeply sorry.”
She watched him, and he felt caressed by her warm, dark eyes.
Under normal circumstances, Gideon hated feeling indebted.
He didn’t fancy the idea of this hedgewitch having leverage over him, but he found that this was the first time he could recall ever wanting to honor a debt because of gratitude.
For days now, he had been trying to think how he would repay Hara when he was well enough to travel.
Doing the odd chores around her home seemed to be drops compared to the brimming bucket she had given him.
Knowing that his own father had a role in tearing her family apart was another weight on the scales.
Remorse joined the fray of confusing emotions that he felt towards her.
They weren’t his sins, but they felt almost like a physical burden upon his shoulders.
After experiencing such an intimate glimpse of her past, Gideon saw the way that he could help her.
She saved his life, and he felt compelled to pay that debt to the fullest measure.
A life for a life.
“Hara,”
he said, for she had closed her eyes. She opened them, listening.
“I’ve been trying to think of how I can repay my debt to you for all your help. I know money is probably not of interest to you.”
She was already shaking her head.
“I don’t want anything from you. When you are well, you can leave with my blessing and that will be the end of us.”
This unexpectedly stung, but he recovered quickly.
“I would like nothing better. But I cannot leave you with nothing, not now. I want to fix this.”
“I don’t care what you want. You can take any debt you feel and repay it by helping someone else.”
Would she not hear him out? Gods above, the woman was frustrating.
“What if I told you I could help you get your mother back?”
Hara stared at him, fully alert now.
“You jest.”
“I am Lord Gideon Falk. I ransom maidens and whinge. I don’t jest.”
“How will you find her?”
It would be tricky, there was no getting around that. There were people at court who would not like them poking around in old capture records on the Ilmarinen’s inner circle.
“There are records in the palace. She may be held prisoner somewhere.”
“How do you know she wasn’t killed?”
asked Hara softly.
“Only the family were executed,”
murmured Gideon. He had never felt remorse about the fate of the Ilmarinens until this moment.
“So they are gone then,”
said Hara softly.
“The last line of the great elementalists. Such a loss of magic in the world.”
“We’ll go to the palace library, and then we’ll search the private collection of my father’s senechal,”
said Gideon, already planning.
“Go to the . . . ”
Hara’s eyes widened.
“You want me to go to Montag? Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”
“Not if you’re with me,”
said Gideon firmly.
“You were a child when the court was overthrown, so you are guilty of nothing. You would be under my personal protection. No one would lay a hand on you unless they wanted their fingers shortened.”
“How can I trust you?”
said Hara.
“You could just turn me in as another prisoner to Corvus.”
Gideon gently clasped her upper arms, trying to impart his sincerity to her.
“You would have to trust me just as I have had to trust you not to poison me every day that I’ve been under your roof, or turn me over to the authorities.”
his voice softened.
“My own mother is alive and well at court. But now that I have your memory . . . it is the strangest feeling. It is as if I have two mothers now, and I can feel the loss of the other. I want us to find her.”
Gideon could see the hope building in Hara’s face.
“But what if he refuses to release her?”
“I am my father’s only son and heir. And he holds great sway over Corvus.”
Hara’s expression transformed from skeptical to worried.
“I don’t know . . . I must think on it.”
“Are you afraid? Or have you grown too comfortable here in this little daub and wattle village?”
he goaded. Just as he had hoped, her brows furrowed at him.
“Are you suggesting that I would choose my own comfort over my mother?”
“Those are your own words, not mine,”
he said, and her frown deepened. She looked away. Briefly, Gideon wondered why he was trying so desperately to convince her to undertake this mission. A not-so-insignificant reason was that he was rather loath to leave her behind, but he quickly squashed the thought.
“You were a child when you were separated, but now you are a woman grown with a sworn protector at your side. There is no better chance for you to find her,”
he said in a softer tone.
“A service for a service.”
“I believe the traditional way to thank someone for saving your life is to grant them three wishes,”
said Hara. She heaved a great sigh and stared off into the distance.
“I hoped that all the whingeing was just to test my fortitude.”
The corner of his mouth lifted.
“Sorry. One decidedly un-magical wish is all I can offer.”
She blessed him with a warm smile. Gideon felt his heart quicken at the sight of it, and then turn over as she slipped her hand into his. Calm down, you’re being an idiot, he told himself. In a hasty motion he sat up, pulling his hand away. She settled back into the pillows, yawning. Then her brows furrowed.
“You walked almost a full mile carrying me on your bad foot?”
Gideon was slightly taken aback by this change in topic.
“Well, I had to. You were slipping in and out of consciousness.”
“I would have been perfectly at peace on the forest floor. I just needed to rest for a bit. The sacred energy of the moonlight would have helped me recover.”
“How should I have known that?”
Gideon said crossly.
Hara tsked.
“How does your foot feel?”
“Not so bad,”
he lied. It pulsed with pain with every heartbeat.
“I feel almost as good as new.”
She lifted an eyebrow at him, and Seraphine stepped into the mess of blankets. The cat settled on Hara’s chest and began to purr deeply while Hara absentmindedly stroked its fur.
“I’ve never left this place. I would have to find someone from the village to look after the chickens and care for the plants. Perhaps Gertrude . . .”
She let out another huge yawn.
“What happened to you in the forest?”
asked Gideon.
“Why did you become so weak?”
Hara smiled softly.
“All magic comes at a cost. Transferring my memory to you was hard work.”
Gideon was quietly impressed. Her hums and mutterings seemed a mite less silly now. Hara winced and moved the cat off of her chest. He was momentarily distracted as she massaged the full, soft area where the cat had stepped.
“Why do you always insist on putting all your weight there, Seraphine?”
“Is there anything you’d like me to do? Something to help you?”
“You made a fine tea,”
said Hara, lifting her mug to him, and Gideon felt an absurd flicker of pride.
“All I need is rest. Could you help me with my stays? I’d rather sleep without them.”
Hara sat up and moved her hair to rest over her shoulder, gently undoing the braid she wore.
Gideon stared awkwardly at the tight laces.
Before he could stop himself, he reached for the knot at the bottom of the stays and tugged.
The strings opened, and Gideon moved his fingers up the loops, loosening each rung.
He remembered not so long ago averting his gaze from her as she undressed each night, annoyed that she felt no shame in wearing her undergarments around him.
Now his gaze was fixed as he watched his fingers unbind her.
She wore only her shift beneath, and he could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric.
The gentle, sweet scent of her skin caressed his senses, and he took slow, measured breaths.
All the times she wiped his brow, helped him dress, and witnessed every bodily function in his sickbed, he had felt only helpless embarrassment.
When he carried her through the woods, her whole weight borne in his arms, he had no thought other than to get back to the warmth of the cottage.
They’d shared a thousand chaste touches over the past few weeks.
But now, with this barest of contact, he felt his pulse beat in his fingertips at the intimacy.
The roles were reversed, and he was caring for her.
How had that happened?
As he tugged the final rungs loose, she gave a soft sigh of relief, and his breath caught.
Appallingly, that familiar heat sank below his hips, and the front of his trousers felt uncomfortably tight.
Damn it all.
He was hard, and there was no stopping it or denying it.
This witch had managed to arouse him, dowdy homespun and frizzy curls notwithstanding.
His nostrils flared as she lifted the stays over her head and he caught the maddening scent of her hair.
Turn to me, ask me to take you to bed, and I’ll do it.
The thought entered his mind wildly, uninvited.
Hara looked over her shoulder and her eyes widened.
Her lips parted in surprise, rosy and wet from the tea.
Their gazes held one another, still and tense in an infinite moment, neither wanting to move and shatter whatever was happening between them.
Gideon felt his body straining to be nearer, and he tensed his muscles to stop himself from reaching for her.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth and flicked back to his eyes.
He felt an overwhelming urge to bury his fingers in her hair, pressing her down onto the bed and running his tongue up her neck.
Her breasts would be warm and heavy if he caressed them over her shift, her softness filling his hands deliciously.
He wanted to part her thighs to see if her heat matched his.
He held perfectly still, not trusting himself to do more than breathe, and Hara gave him a small, knowing smile.
He watched dumbly as she shimmied out of her overskirt and burrowed under the quilts, turning to face the wall with a sleepy sigh.
In moments she was asleep, and Gideon wondered what in the hell had come over him.