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“If you have a tent…” I said weakly.
“Be reasonable,” Mrs. Gallagher said, ignoring my offer.
“I will not.”
“Then you’ll sleep in the workshop. You do anyway,” she snapped, her sudden harshness making me blink.
Without a word, Rafe spun around and stalked out the door. Mrs. Gallagher mustered a tired smile. “Some welcome, I’m sure. Miss…”
“Barnes,” she said.
“Miss Barnes, if you go through the parlor, the bedroom door is on the left. And Mr. Fairchild?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I apologize for my son’s rudeness. He’s had a difficult time of it.”
“Of course, ma’am. I understand.” I’d just as soon not share a bed with someone who disliked me, even if he was tall and dark.And fairly compelling. I winced, ready to smack myself for such an inappropriate thought.
“The kitchen’s in the back, and Rafe’s room is the door on the right. Why don’t you both unpack some and I’ll see what I can make for dinner.”
“I’ll help, of course,” Miss Barnes said. I would have offered, too, except when it came to the kitchen, I was as helpless as a kitten. Instead, I left the bag of provisions and went to the room I’d been assigned.
I hadn’t expected a cheery greeting, given that they were in mourning, but Rafe’s anger felt excessive. And we’d triggered some kind of spell, probably for protection. I’d felt it break when we came ashore.
Martin Gallagher hadn’t been much of a witch, at least until he found the Ferox Cor. Madam Munro’s notes had stated frankly that neither his wife nor his child should have possessed the kind of gift it would have taken to set such a spell.
But then, her notes also said Rafe was a child.
Was it possible the Ferox Cor had passed on to Rafe when Martin died? I needed to study Madam Munro’s notes, to discover anything she’d written between the lines. Then I’d start my search. I didn’t expect to find a box labeled “Ferox Cor” in a corner somewhere, but stranger things have happened.
The room Mrs. Gallagher directed me to was only a bit larger than the single cot pushed up against the far wall. No wonder Rafe objected to sharing. There might be space to make a pallet on the floor, but if so, whoever was in the bed would have to step over it to leave the room.
Such a small space didn’t lend itself to decoration, but still I was struck by the bareness. No pictures, no books, nothing that might give me insight into the man. I set my valise by the door.
A wardrobe just fit between the foot of the bed and the opposite wall, close enough that the door couldn’t completely open. I’d packed light, well, as light as was possible for me, but the narrow cabinet looked too small for two.
I shouldn’t have worried. Rafe owned fewer things than I’d brought with me. The shelf at eye level was nearly empty, and only two of the five pegs along the cabinet’s back had clothing hung from them.
Unpacking my valise, though, would be a statement of sorts. My spare suitcoat and trousers, rumpled from my bag, would announce me, would say that I’m here.
That I’m staying.
And in all honesty, I felt ill equipped for the task at hand. My skills – charm and prettiness chief among them – wouldn’t do me much good at all here on this lonesome sandbar. Madam Munro must have truly feared for my life if sending me to this patch of wilderness was her safest recourse.
Despite my doubts, I unbuckled my valise and lifted out the first thing my hand touched. My toiletries. Setting the small leather case on the cot, I reached in for more. Barnard said he’d be returning on Monday. I could last that long, and with any luck, we’d find the magical device before then.
Gripping my determination with both hands, I unpacked my things and, rather than review Madam Munro’s notes yet again, I gave in to the urge to move. I found Miss Barnes in the kitchen, pawing through the bag of provisions.
“Where’s Mrs. Gallagher?” I asked.
“She said she had to wind the light.” She lifted up a bundle, two loaves of bread wrapped in printed cotton. “Apparently there’s a mechanism that keeps it flashing at a regular interval. They wind it every couple of hours.”
The kitchen wasn’t a lot bigger than the bedroom I’d been given. A black stove squatted on one wall, flanked by small cupboards with painted doors. A table took up much of the rest of the floor, which left precious little space for more than one person.
The room had only one window, its glass splattered with raindrops. Beyond loomed a mass of deep green. The forest. “Not much to this place. Seems like finding a bejeweled magical box should be fairly easy.”
Her chuckle had a touch of indulgence. “We can hope so.”
