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“I don’t know how,” Reeve said, frustrated. “I do understand how she feels about the curse, but witches don’t exactly shout out their presence in the area. I have Neil making inquires, and he’s found a prophet, but no witch.”
“Perhaps the prophet can help,” Bryce suggested.
“He can’t remove the curse,” Reeve said, frustrated.
Duncan smiled. “But he can advise if it will affect you.”
Reeve’s face brightened. “True enough, and it could put Tara at ease.”
“Unless he tells you that you’re going to die,” Bryce said with a grin.
“Seriously, I’m going to have to beat you one day,” Reeve said.
Bryce laughed. “You can try.”
“My wager is on Reeve,” Duncan said.
Reeve scrunched his brow. “There is one thing we are not considering.”
“Which is?” Duncan asked.
“The prophet could very well know who among us is king,” Reeve said. “Do we take that chance?”
“We take a chance every day of his identity being discovered,” Duncan said. “Besides, he may be able to add to or explain what Bliss has told us about the spy and about the theft of the hide.”
“He does make a good point,” Bryce said.
“We should discuss this with Da first,” Reeve said.
Bryce placed a firm hand on Reeve’s back. “Then let’s go find him, so that you can put your wife’s mind at ease and enjoy your wedding night.”
Duncan laughed. “Or else you’ll be sleeping alone.”
Reeve approached his bedchamber with apprehension, not something he had ever thought he’d be doing on his wedding night. He had never meant to hurt Tara, was shocked that his actions had, and was even more surprised when she had claimed she would give her life for him. That’s something a man would do for his woman, give his life to protect her. Tara was so much more courageous than she realized. And if anyone could defeat this nonsensical curse, she could.
However, she didn’t see it that way, and in a way she had been right. Though it wasn’t the curse he hadn’t taken seriously, it was how the curse had affected her that he had failed to consider. He had expected her to simply believe that their love would be enough to battle the curse. But he had not lived through the ordeal that the hex had cost her. Year after year, losing those she loved, living alone without so much as a comforting touch. The curse had been a costly ordeal for her, and he had expected her to dismiss it as if it had never affected her. He had been a fool.
Carmag had agreed about the prophet, and word was sent to Neil to have the prophet brought there. He wasn’t sure it would appease Tara, but it was worth a try. And he intended to let her know just how seriously he was taking the matter.
He entered his bedchamber with trepidation, though determined. He stopped dead once inside and grew angry. She wasn’t there. He hurried to his mother’s sewing room, and when he found it empty, he grew angrier. He hurried to Trey’s room and quietly opened the door to peek in, but it was Willow who sat watch over his sleeping brother.
Now he was furious. There was only one other place she could have gone—her cottage. And by returning to her cottage, it all but told him that she didn’t consider them wed. He stormed downstairs, through the great hall, and out into the night.
A light snow fell, and though the air was bitter, his anger had him much too hot to notice. He didn’t bother to knock at the door; he grabbed the latch and shoved it open. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened as her head shot up from where she stood in front of the fireplace. She had already changed into her soft white wool nightdress, the fire’s light silhouetting her naked body beneath.
He slammed the door shut behind him.
“If you have not come to your senses, then take your leave now.”
“And what of you, wife?” he argued. “Deserting her newlywed husband on their wedding night?”
“You’ll not lay the blame on me for this,” she spat.
“And I should lay it on me for saving you?”
“You took a chance of—”
“Keeping us both alive,” he snapped, “and successfully.”
