Page 29 of An Enchanting Dare

“Aisling!” Her name struck the night, smashing into her consciousness like a hammer breaking glass, and Aisling jolted in shock. Eyes flying open, she blinked, dazed and afraid, to see Sylvester standing over her. He reached for her, hauling her up by her arms, oversetting the candle so that the velvet cloth caught the flame.

“No!” she cried desperately. “No! Oh, no, what have you done?”

She stumbled away from him, staring at the broken circle in horror.

“What the devil is this?” Sylvester demanded, glaring at the salt circle, at the candles, at her.

Aisling stared at him, wishing that for once in her life she could put her trust in a man who was not her kin, and not be disappointed. The energy that had fuelled her with hope, with this one chance to keep her secrets safe, drained away, leaving her hollow and fragile as glass. She swayed and her knees gave out, taking her to the floor. Her breath caught on a sob, and she tried to swallow it down, tried to hold it inside like she had held everything inside for such a long time, but she had no resources left, nothing left with which to fight it. The tears came then, and she could not deny them any longer. They had waited for too long.

“Aisling?”

Distantly, she heard him speak her name and admitted surprise that he had not fled from her, from what he had seen. Perhaps he would call a magistrate, have her taken up for witchcraft. They might not hang women for such crimes any longer, but it would still cause an uproar. There were still laws against it.

Strong arms gathered her up, and she only realised she was shivering with cold and distress as warmth enveloped her. He wrapped his coat about her and pulled her into his lap, rocking her like a child as she wept.

“All will be well,” he murmured.

Gently, he wiped her eyes and cheeks with a handkerchief before pressing it into her hand. He sat stroking her hair, offering her comfort and security, though she did not know how long it would last. He was kind. She believed that of him now. Perhaps he was just offering her a moment of respite before everything fell apart.

“Nothing will ever be well again,” she said dully, remembering her ruined spell, the invitations sent. The desperate inevitability of it all.

Sylvester held her, his arms a temporary shelter from the trouble about to rain down upon her. The promise of that shelter rang in his voice, his words, but she knew it could not protect her for long. “I don’t understand, but you are going to explain it to me and whatever it is, I will help you. I promise, Aisling. I will do anything I can to protect you, but you are going to have to trust me. I always keep my promises, darling. Always.”

She looked up at him then, blinking away tears and staring into his hazel eyes. Such sincerity dwelled there that her heart ached. She ought to have believed him earlier, but she’d not known how. Perhaps that made her a fool all over again. A fool who had put her trust in a wicked man and turned a good one away.

“What were you doing, love?” The words were tender, his expression calm, not full of suspicion or leaping to conclusions, but ready to listen to her.

“A… A b-banishing spell,” she admitted, swallowing down a fresh burst of tears.

“Christ, you could have just asked me to leave,” he said, hurt shining in his eyes.

“No! Oh, no, not you. I wouldn’t… I-I don’t want you to go,” she said, clutching his lapels tight with both hands. “Not anymore.”

He smiled at that, a crooked, one-sided smile that made him look boyish and pleased with himself. “You don’t?”

Aisling shook her head and then laid it back against his shoulder. It was a nice place to be, in his arms. It felt safe, even if that safety was a lie. Sylvester was a good man, but when he discovered the truth, he would not want her. She could not blame him for that.

“Who then?” he asked, his arms tightening about her. “Who is it that frightens you so badly you turn to… to black magic?”

“It was not black magic!” she said, sitting up and staring at him. But she could not protest too hard, nor pretend she was innocent and had done no harm. “You think me a fool. You think it’s all a lot of nonsense. Eye of newt and bat wings. Don’t you?”

“I don’t understand it,” he admitted. “But I don’t think you are a fool. I do need you to explain it to me, though. All of it. From the beginning.”

“That might take some time,” she said with a weary sigh.

“We have all night,” he said, tightening his hold upon her. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

She leant into his warmth, resigned now. The circle was broken, her spell ruined, and the last night of the waning moon was drifting into morning. “I’m a witch,” she said, finding a little relief in admitting it.

“Biddy taught you?” he guessed, sounding remarkably sanguine about such a revelation.

She nodded. “Yes. Since I was just a little girl. You must not blame Biddy and accuse her of bewitching me, or some such nonsense, for it was the other way about.”

Sylvester took her hand, twining their fingers together.

“I don’t remember saying I was going to accuse anyone of anything,” he said mildly, and Aisling sighed.

“No. You didn’t, did you? Why aren’t you horrified and running away in disgust? Why are you still here?”