“Why can’t you heal him? I don’t understand.” There was a faint note of accusation in her voice, though she tried to hide it from him.
“But you do, if you’ll think on it. What did you see when you looked with your hands?”
She looked down at her open palms. “His light…it is weak. Growing weaker.”
“But nothing else. No sign of illness, aye?”
She shook her head, still staring at her hands as she clenched them into fists.
“That is what I saw. I cannot heal what is not there.”
She crossed her slender arms beneath her breasts, her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. What is killing him?”
“I think I know what ails him but not how to fight it.”
Her head came up, hopeful eyes on him. “You do? What is it?”
“Witchcraft, Rose. Someone is murdering your father with magic.”
The hope evaporated from her expression. She shook her head. “That’s what I thought at first, too. But who? Why? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I know not, but I’ve seen it before. What else could it be? Have you ever seen aught like that before?”
She raised her brows and her shoulders simultaneously. “No…but that doesn’t mean we have to act like hysterical elders, crying witchcraft.”
He arched a brow, taken aback by her sarcasm. How could she be incredulous about this? Her sisters were both witches.Shewas a witch. And she couldn’t fathom someone using witchcraft to murder her father?
She held up a hand for peace. “I understand why you think it’s witchcraft, but I’ve already examined that possibility. I’ve been through every grimoire I own and have found nothing. Gillian has consulted with ghosts. Isobel has searched for visions. But more important—who would do such a thing? No other witches besides my sisters and I have been near my father. And besides, he became ill before he brought us home. Who would do this?”
William nodded, seeing her point, but he was not ready to give up his theory until he tested it. “Humor me, aye? Not everyone wields magic as we do. Some use spellcraft.”
“Spellcraft.” She rolled her eyes. “I have tried thisspellcraftand find it useless. A person either has magic or they don’t. No amount of words will make it so. You make no spells when you heal, do you?”
He couldn’t deny that. “I have not studied spellcraft, but there are…wizards, magicians, who can makes curses and evil spells.”
Rose sighed. “Very well. Perhaps itiswitchcraft. How are we to counter it?”
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”
After a moment of silent thought she reached her hand out to him, and he took it. She squeezed it as she gazed up at him. “I know you tried. I know if you could have, you would have healed him, and I welcome any help you are willing to give. I thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
He held onto her hand when she would have pulled away, stroking the soft skin on the back with his thumb. His heart thudded, his blood running thick. He wanted to kiss her again, and this time do far more than kiss her. She did not protest or even speak; she just gazed up at him with wide eyes. A flush stole up her neck, igniting a fire in his blood. He tugged at her hand, drawing her closer.
A loud throat-clearing destroyed the moment. She yanked her hand away and abruptly bid him goodnight.
William turned to the bed and scowled at his brother.
Drake pushed himself up on his elbow and grinned lecherously. “I guess we’re staying for a bit, aye?”
“Aye, we are.”
Drake dropped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “The uncle will be a problem.”
William didn’t argue, though it wasn’t the uncle he was worried about but the soon-to-be-arriving betrothed.
Chapter 10
He climbed the stairs to his chambers, excitement rushing his blood. Finally, Rose had returned with the healer. Everything was in place. When Alan expired under the Wizard of the North’s watch, no one would even think to look elsewhere. Not that they did now. No one suspected what really ailed Alan—all believed it was some illness that could be cured if they could just find the right healer.
