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Twenty-Four
Peering out into the dark, I spotted Roarke’s silhouette at the top of the mountain. This wasn’t the Weaver’s Gate but instead a wintery wonderland cresting high in the clouds.
“May I join you?” I asked tentatively, not wanting to overstep.
Roarke patted the seat beside him where he sat on a bench near the mountain’s edge.
Bundled in winter gear, I shuffled through the snow. I sat down, remaining silent as I took in the mesmerizing view. Stars shined brightly, hanging high in the night sky, while far below glowed the lights of a glittering town. “Where are we?”
“The top of Pike’s Peak,” Roarke replied without diverting his eyes. “Did you know this is where Katharine Bates wrote ‘America the Beautiful’?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“It’s said she stood here for only thirty minutes in the summer of 1893, and it was all the inspiration she needed to write the patriotic poem.” Roarke turned to look at me, his face highlighted in the moonlight. “She wrote it as a kind of prayer for a country that had lost its way.”
I recalled the lyrics and fought the rising lump in my throat. “That’s beautiful.”
“I was here, you know? In 1893.”
I recalled Roarke’s timeline, remembering he’d accepted his role a hundred and seventy-five years ago. “Do you mean to say you had a hand in her inspiration?”
My smile faded when he turned away, his eyes breaking from mine. “No. In reality, she seemed really sad.”
“Is that why you return here when you’re sad?” I guessed.
He nodded slowly, leaning down to pick a flower beside his boot. “I figure if something so beautiful could come out of someone’s sadness here, it’s the perfect place to ease my heart as well.”
He handed me the tiny arctic yellow violet, and I gazed out from the peak, losing myself in the night sky as I imagined the stars as the hopes and dreams of all the residents below.
Pike’s Peak marked the western edge of Colorado Springs, and my mind caught on the name. It was the same as Genevieve’s true surname, though I doubted there was any relation. Still, I couldn’t lose sight of what I had planned. I needed to locate her source if I had any chance of breaking Roarke’s curse.
My mouth opened, ready to confess what I knew, but the words died on my tongue when Roarke leaned over and laid his head in my lap.
I think I’d loved Roarke since the first time I saw him in my dreams. I didn’t know how it happened—destiny, loneliness, or a combination of the two—but since then, my days had been colored with the hope of it, lighting a path leading forever back to him.
I couldn’t tell him he was cursed when he was already so upset. And now, even more so, I planned to take care of it myself.
We sat beneath the stars for hours, protected from the elements by our Weaver magic. Roarke eventually stood, pulling me up for a kiss, then transported us back to his home. The cabin was toasty. Warmed by the fire to the perfect degree. He released my hand, walking straight to the bedroom. A moment later, the fall of water hit the slate tiles of his shower floor.
I turned to go, feeling as though he might need time alone, when suddenly warm water sprayed my back.
Roarke’s hands settled on my bare shoulders, his husky voice whispering in my ear. “I need you, Milly. Will you stay?”
I stood frozen. Momentarily mortified as years of shyness held me in place. Roarke’s hands didn’t move. He waited patiently for the answer that would shape our night.
I gathered my courage and spun to face him, baring myself, soul and all. “Of course I’ll stay.”
Our lips crashed together. Roarke’s mouth seared mine beneath the hot water as his hands started to roam. Slipping across my skin, he followed the curves from my shoulders to my hips, reaching around to cup my backside in both hands.
“Have I told you how gorgeous you are?” he whispered, his tongue licking the side of my neck.
I tilted my head, giving him full access. “No, but… thank you. I—” A moan escaped me, cutting off my words. Roarke’s fingers found their way between my legs, and I lost all sense of thoughts or speech.
Lost in each other, I let myself drift beneath the water and into his strong arms.
The energy between us was undeniable. And Roarke was right. The magic we created had the power to change the world—starting with my own.
Never before had I felt so wanted. So sexy or loved. The emotions of our connection threatened to overwhelm me until Roarke cupped the back of my head, placing his forehead against mine.
