Page 114 of The Duchess Curse

She snorted but snuggled closer. She’d tend to his wound later.

They were quiet for a long while, and in the heavy, lovely warmth of his embrace, she almost fell asleep.

But then his mouth moved against her hair, and she came awake all at once as he said, “I would rather die in your arms than spend my life without you. You do not hurt me by staying with me, by loving me; you hurt me by leaving. And if you think you can leave, if you think you can walk away and I won’t find you, you’re more foolish than I thought. I don’t want to hide in shadows anymore. I want to live in your heart. I’ve already died, Guin.” A rough laugh. “More than once. The curse cannot hurt me any longer, and you know me… I’ll slice the neck of any curse that thinks to take you from me.”

What could she say to that? Words clogged her throat, crying for release, but emotion sat too thick there. Everything stuck and muddled—fear and joy and longing. She should run. It was selfish for her to stay right here, where she most wanted to be.

“I’m going to ask you,” he said, his mouth close to her ear now, “to believe me when I say something you’re predisposed to disagree with. And in return, I’ll believe you.” A pause, then: “You tell me I am fit to be a duke, that I am good at it, meant to do good with it. I disagree. The duke is an ill-fitting suit of clothes that strangles me some days. But I respect you, and I’m going to try to believe you. I’m going to try to do good as the duke. Now…” He placed a kiss on her temple. “Will you try to believe me?”

She knew what he was going to say. Knew how hard it would be to give him what he wanted. A soul couldn’t outlearn a fear, a certainty, a truth, in a single snowy morning. But she’d been trying to unlearn it for days now. Perhaps soon, hope, not fear, might even become her habit.

With a grunt, he pushed upright, bringing her with him, and she folded her legs beneath her to face him. He held both her hands and looked her in the eyes. His own were forest green, rimmed with glowing gold when he said, “There is no curse, of that I am certain. But if there is, I will help you break it. Whether you choose to stay by my side or not, trust me, I will release you from it.”

He was reshaping his chains, learning the locks, mastering them. He wanted her to do the same.

Yes, she was quite good at running. An escape artist, he’d called her. But she was also an excellent fighter. And if her husband was determined to be her shadow, she might as well stand and fight by his side.

Her inhalation was shaky, but it filled her up with new air, with strength that was substantial.

“Yes,” she said, not quite knowing what question she answered, only that she answered it with all her heart. “Yes, yes!” She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, and they collapsed to the bed together—him with a sound half chuckle, half groan. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”

She had him naked from the waist up shortly and was checking his wound and calling for a maid and requesting ingredients. Turmeric and snow.

He wasn’t bleeding anymore. It wasn’t infected. It would scar but would otherwise heal nicely. She hummed while she painted his wound with ointment, and he smiled as he watched her heal him.

27

THE SHADOWS OF IT, AND THE LIGHT

They stayed in one small room atop a set of rickety stairs overlooking a coaching yard for three more days. The Duke and Duchess of Braxton mainly took meals in that room but ventured out once every day to walk in the snow or sit by the fire in the dining room, and when the manager of the inn tried to give them a set of rooms befitting their station, they declined the offer. And they kept each other warm with words and bodies in that one small bed in the middle of four close walls.

They rode to Bath on muddy though passable roads with the sun shining, an early promise of spring.

When they were close to their destination, Guin’s hands began to fidget. She was nervous, and Bran decided to distract her. They were sitting across from one another in a private rented carriage, and he stretched his legs all the way out, propping them next to her skirts, crossed at his ankles.

“Did you really give that woman your shop?” he asked

She was looking out the window, but she turned to him, eyes cloudy. “What? Oh, my shop. Yes, I did.” A small, sad smile.

“Why?”

“It didn’t feel like mine anymore. It is all the same, exactly as it was before, but I… I was different. She needs it more than I do.”

“We know nothing about her.”

“I know she’s lonely and clever and worryingly talented. She could get herself in trouble with that kind of talent. And she’s desperate, which causes trouble, too. I figure if she has an entire shop to run, she can’t spend so much time trying to have people killed. And if I’m going to produce a potion for the queen, I don’t have time to run a shop. Bran… I think I might need to travel. I do not have everything—knowledge, ingredients—to do what the queen wishes, but I think it can be done. Eventually. And the answer to the queen’s potion and the tainted talent in my blood may be the same thing.”

“Hm.” He tapped his toes against her thigh. “Sometimes a new perspective is necessary. We’ll travel, then.”

“But Bran…” Her voice was smaller now, and he moved across the coach to sit next to her, wanting to cradle whatever hurt was rising to her surface and kiss it away. “I don’t know if I want to travel. I think… Well, have you ever considered… children?”

His heart stopped, and when it started up again, it beat a frenzy of happiness through him. “Not until recently. Have you?”

“Not until recently.” She pressed a palm against her chest as if by force of will alone she could reach through skin and muscle and bone to catch up her heart. “I’m terrified. If there is a curse in my blood, I will not pass it to child.”

“There’s not. I know Diana told you what she discovered. It seems to me evidence that something is deeply odd in your family, and I don’t think it has anything to do with magic.”

“What Diana showed me is why I made for Bath to begin with. If there is any evidence of… something, it’s at the family seat.” After a moment, she added, “I still think the simplest answer is we’re cursed.”