“I appreciate Harry taking the boys, because it gives us a moment for plain-speaking,” he said.
“Are you afraid they will be frightened of the curse?” She let her doubt show.
“Thea,youdon’t have to believe, just accept whatIknow is true. There is more to this world than what we can touch and see.”
Thea settled back into her corner of the coach. “I believe in more than what I can touch and see. But I don’t believe in fairies and kelpies either. We set our own course, my lord. Mayhap your family believes there is a curse because of a lot of bad luck—”
“Yes, hundreds of years’ worth,” he answered, his tone stiff.
“Or perhaps it is just the vagaries of life.” She leaned forward. “I don’t mean to scoff, Neal, but what sort of curse is this that would expect you to marry someone you don’t like? It is not logical.”
He waved away her objection with a curt motion. “It’s not that I want to marry a woman I truly don’t like,” he said. “But she must be someone I willneverlove.”
“Because?” Thea pressed.
“Because once I fall in love, I will die.”
It took a moment for Thea to digest exactly what he’d said. And she still didn’t understand. “Immediately, Neal? Or will you be allowed a few years of wedded bliss?”
“I thought you claimed not to scoff, Thea.”
“I was being rude,” she admitted. “Sorry,” she tossed out, without any conviction.
“It does sound fantastic, and the truth is more so. My family has been cursed for generations by a Scottish witch. Apparently, my ancestor had handfasted with her daughter. Then he betrayed her by running away and marrying an Englishwoman from a wealthy family. The daughter was distraught and took her own life. So the witch cursed us.”
The shadows of the evening were growing long. Thea sat in the swaying coach wondering if he actually believed this nonsense. “Well, one should be wary of a witch’s spawn.” His brows came together and she reminded him, “I explained I am a skeptic. So what makes you believe it is true?”
“The first Chattan,” Neal said, “the one who jilted the daughter died within months after his marriage. They said he was very pleased with his new wife. He’d fallen in love with her—and the curse took him.”
“When was this?” Thea asked. “What year?”
“It was in 1632. The witch’s name was Fenella. The daughter was called Rose.”
“Fenella? That is a witchy-sounding name, but, Neal, people died of all sorts of things back then, and at relatively young ages.”
“His wife was carrying a child, a son,” Neal continued. “He grew into manhood, married, and died once he married, also for love. Death claimed him after a year of marriage.”
“And was his wife carrying a son?”
“Yes.”
“And that son grew into manhood and married and died?”
“Yes.”
“And so on and so forth?” she asked.
“Yes,” he reiterated, his tone growing testy.
“So your family has a history of dying at a young age,” Thea concluded. “That does not mean there is a curse. However,” she quickly added, “I have read stories about nonsense like curses that claim the strength of the curse is in how deeply one believes. Perhaps you should stop giving this curse any power over your own life.”
He made an exasperated sound. “Do you not think that one in a long line of my ancestors has not considered the same? Of course we have. We’vetried all manner of tricks to defeat this curse. My great-grandfather consulted witches and shamans and all sorts of mystics and religious men of every caste and creed to break the curse.”
“What happened?”
“He fell in love with one of the witches and was dead in three months.” Neal leaned toward her. “The only way we’ve found to hold the curse at bay is to marry out of obligation, something not unheard of for our class. But whatever we do, we can’t allow ourselves any warm feelings toward our spouse.”
“Which explains why your mother was such a cold woman,” she said with interest.
