Chapter 4
The fire crackled low in the hearth but not for long. Declan added more logs to it, and it sprang to life casting heat throughout his bedchamber. He stood, the weight of the day pressing on him like a heavy cloak, one soaked through with rain, worn and unwilling to be shed.
He rubbed his hand over his face, frustrated.
Chieftains had arrived throughout the day with their daughters in tow and try as he might, he couldn’t stop the women from getting too close.
Repeatedly, they fell at his feet. He’d barely escaped without tripping over flailing limbs and swooning sighs.
Hamish had delivered the final blow just before supper.
“More chieftains are on their way,” he’d said grimly.
“Word’s spreading fast. The women seek you for a husband, and fathers seek you to benefit themselves, the Clan MacCrone is a respected one and now with you as its laird, they look for an alliance.
You’ll be swarmed by fathers and their daughters in no time. ”
Declan had laughed at first, a dry, hollow sound. But the truth of it was worse than any jest. There would be no end to it. Not while he remained unwed. Not while this blasted cursed wish made him the most desirable man no sane woman should come near.
He paced slowly across the chamber. A log popped in the hearth behind him while shadows danced along the walls.
What was he supposed to do? Flee? Lock himself away? Let the women form a line and drop at his feet one by one until his patience snapped?
He paused at the window, looking out into the dark. And then… the idea struck.
Marriage.
His shoulders stiffened.
A union to shield him. A way to stop this madness long enough to find a solution. His brow furrowed. It wouldn’t be a real marriage, nor a courtship of love and promises. It would be a marriage of convenience. And there was only one woman who had not fallen at his feet.
Aura.
She was plain-featured, sharp-eyed, and practical. The very opposite of all the women swooning at his feet. She showed no interest in his fine features, charm, or title. She only agreed to help him. A partnership of sorts. It made perfect sense.
If they wed, it would end all offers of marriage. No woman would dare approach him romantically. And the two of them, bound by a shared goal, could focus on breaking the wish’s hold once and for all.
Of course, he’d have to convince her, and he doubted very much that it would be easy to do.
Still… the thought took root. And for the first time all day, he felt like he could breathe again.
Declan turned from the window, his eyes narrowing with determination.
He would ask her tomorrow.
Aura stirred the contents of the small clay pot with a steady hand, her focus only half on the brew bubbling gently over the flame. The sharp scent of thyme and elder bark filled the air, but her thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Declan MacCrone.
It was difficult not to find the man appealing, he had such fine features.
Shoulder-length, dark wavy hair that any woman would envy.
Taller than most men and a body defined with muscles, but then he was a warrior who had fought many battles.
Then there were his eyes, blue or green, they couldn’t seem to make up their mind.
One moment they were a striking blue, the next a subtle green.
She huffed softly and set the wooden spoon aside. She’d met plenty of men—arrogant, boastful, charming to the point of nausea—but none had stood before her claiming to be cursed by a wish that forced women to collapse in his presence.
And yet… she’d seen it with her own eyes when they returned to the village and a bevy of women were waiting there with their fathers to lay claim to Declan.
Two chieftains’ daughters had dropped like stones, eyes glazed and sighing his name like he was some legendary bard’s ballads come to life. And Aura… hadn’t.
She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall of her small cottage, staring at the hearth as the fire snapped and popped.
What did it mean?
Was she immune? Was the wish weakening? Or was there something about her—plain, unremarkable, overlooked—that simply didn’t fit whatever magic was at work?
She didn’t mind not falling. She wasn’t prone to that sort of nonsense in the first place. But her mind itched with questions. How had the wish taken root? Why did it choose to manifest so literally? What force had granted it?
And more curiously… why had Declan made such a foolish wish to begin with?
Aura chewed the inside of her cheek.
There had been no malice in him when he told her. No sign of pride, either. Only frustration and exhaustion. And, beneath it all, something that looked very much like regret.
She wasn’t sure what to make of him. But she did know one thing. Whatever magic had touched his life, it had twisted his path—and now, somehow, she was tangled in it.
She turned back to her worktable and wondered why she was immune to his wish when not a single woman, young or old, could avoid it. Further observation was needed to see if she could make sense of it and help him. In the meantime, he had to make sure to avoid swooning women.
She let out a brief laugh, though it truly wasn’t funny. He was a man cursed by his own words, and possibly, by something much older, and that could prove dangerous.
The morning mist still clung to the trees when Declan reached her small stone cottage tucked among the woods.
It was better maintained than the village dwellings with fresh thatching in various areas of the roof.
A generous stack of firewood was piled near the home, and a sizeable garden extended out from the side of the cottage.
He took a breath and rapped his knuckles against the door.
The door swung open as he dropped his hand away.
Aura stood in the doorway, hair tied back with a strip of linen, sleeves rolled to her elbows. She gave him a quick once-over. “You look troubled.”
“You could say that,” he muttered.
“I thought you might come,” she said, stepping aside. “But before you say whatever it is you came to say, I want to ask you something.”
Declan hesitated, then nodded and followed her inside.
She moved to her table, motioning for him to sit. “You told me about the wish. But something about it still doesn’t sit right with me. That night… do you recall anything else? Anything strange?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Strange?” he repeated, brow furrowed. “We’d just won a long, grueling battle. Everyone was half-mad with exhaustion. We drank, laughed… and made our wishes.”
“And?”
He stared at the table for a long moment, then said slowly, “There was a figure, in the woods. I thought it was a dream… we all did. No one could see it clearly, but… the moment the last wish was spoken, it vanished.”
Aura’s gaze sharpened. “A figure?”
“Aye. Dark cloak, face hidden. There one moment, gone the next.”
Her eyes narrowed with recognition. “That makes a difference.”
Declan looked up. “How so?”
“Because you’re not just dealing with the consequences of a foolish wish,” she said, her voice calm but serious. “You’re dealing with a witch.”
Declan leaned back, blinking. “A witch?”
Aura nodded. “And if she’s the one who granted your wish…” Her nod changed to a shake. “It makes no sense. Witches don’t grant wishes. Unraveling this won’t be as simple as reason or regret. Magic leaves a trace. But it also leaves a purpose.”
Declan was quiet a moment, the weight of her words settling deep and realizing the urgency of his dilemma, asked, “Will you marry me?”
Aura stared at him, completely confused.
He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to be so bold, but this is a strange situation.”
She arched a brow. “And you think marrying me will solve the problem?”
“Let me explain,” he said, his voice calm and assured.
“A marriage—between us—would put an end to this madness. No more chieftains showing up with daughters like wares on market day. No more women flinging themselves at my feet. With you as my wife, even in name only, a marriage of convenience, there would be no further offers. And that gives us time. To think. To act. To end the curse.”
Aura didn’t so much as blink. “So, this marriage benefits you.”
“It benefits us,” he said without sparing a moment. “With a marriage, you’d have protection. No one would question your place in this village. No one would dare with you being my wife.”
“I’ve lived just fine without a husband,” she countered. “No one’s questioned my place so far.”
“Because no attention has been brought to you,” he said.
“Not so now. You didn’t fall when in front of me.
That makes you different and being different can cause problems. Tongues will wag, suspicions will be cast, and senseless blame laid.
That can make for a dangerous situation and being my wife protects you from that. ”
She narrowed her eyes. “So, you would fix it by shackling me to you?”
He turned a charming smile on her. “No shackles. No demands. Just an arrangement. You’d be free to do as you please. But under my name, you’d be untouchable.”
His handsome features were hard to ignore, but she did her best, not wanting them to get in the way of any rational decision. “You want the freedom to solve your problem without interruption. What do I get besides a headache and a village full of accusations and whispers?”
“You’d get peace,” he said simply. “Freedom from suspicion, from fear, and the possible storm that’s brewing.”
She held his gaze, neither budging.
After a moment, Declan turned another smile on her. “I can see I’m not going to win this debate, at least not today.”
“Nay, you’re not,” she agreed, cool and composed, though not feeling so. “This is something that takes thought.”
He dipped his head. “Then think on it, but I beg of you, please don’t take long.”
Aura didn’t respond. But she didn’t say nay, either.
And that, for now, was enough.