Page 66 of To Ride the Wind

He groaned again. “I’m not explaining it well. I’m just saying that your beauty isn’t only physical. It shines out of you. I could see it in the way you approached simple tasks like gathering food and in the way you interacted with your sisters. I suppose, objectively speaking, they are attractive enough, but they seemed like gray clouds beside your sun. I know it sounds foolish, but I felt as if I knew you. And then after we talked…”

The rustle of sheets gave away his restless movement. “After we talked, I was really sure. If I hadn’t managed to convince you, I don’t know what I would have done. Thanks to the enchantment, I would still have needed a wife, but how could I have married someone else?”

Fresh warmth suffused Charlotte. Henry had seen her from the very beginning, just as he had seen her all these weeks in the castle. She had come home ready to fight for their future, but was it possible he was already won?

Her heart soared at the thought even as she cautioned herself. If he loved her as she loved him, why did he keep such a careful distance, never treating her as anything more than a friend and companion?

Unless he’s just keeping his promise, a new voice whispered.

As soon as she thought it, Charlotte realized how likely it was. Her husband—her good and true husband—had made promises to her that he would consider absolutely binding. Promises he wouldn’t break, no matter his feelings.

She let out a sound that was half sob, half laugh. Whatever Gwen had once been to him, his attention now seemed solely for his wife. Everything she longed for was in front of her. She just had to reach out her hand and grasp it.

“What is it?” he asked sharply, worry in his tone. “Are you all right?”

Charlotte was tempted to say no, just to see if he would cross the divide to comfort her again. But she couldn’t bring herself to say something so untrue.

“I’m just happy,” she whispered. “I’m happy to be back.”

“Oh.” He settled back, rustling the sheets at his movement. “Then we can be happy together.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “Together.” She knew her voice sounded a bit watery, but she didn’t care.

Soon she would tell him all her heart and admit her foolish fears. But she didn’t want to mar this perfect moment with her confession. They had the rest of their lives to be together as husband and wife. There was no rush.

“I think I might actually be able to sleep tonight,” Henry murmured in a voice that was already half slurred with sleep.

Her heart contracted. Had he lain awake without her beside him? Or perhaps he had prowled the corridors as she had feared. As much as her heart ached for him, it also rejoiced to know she had so much sway over his emotions.

“Sleep, dear husband,” she whispered. “And in the morning, we will begin afresh.”

And she would know his face by then. She would be able to picture him as his true self, and there would be no more barriers between them.

Swept up in her emotions, even the enchantment seemed like nothing. With their combined effort, how could they not find an answer to it?

His breathing evened, slowing into the familiar rhythm of his sleep. She lay for a long time, listening contentedly to the sound of his presence. But finally eagerness overtook her, and she stole out of bed.

With trembling fingers, she retrieved her mother’s candle and flint. It took her several tries to light it, and part of her thought it wasn’t going to work. But then flame blossomed in the darkness.

She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting a moment for them to adjust before cracking them open. She had never realized how bright a single candle could be until she had seen the depth of full darkness.

Shielding the single flame with her hand, she crept around the end of the enormous bed, approaching the far side where her husband lay. Her heart pattered far faster than her feet, sounding so loud she feared he would hear it and awaken.

But he slumbered peacefully, clearly deeply tired. When she had approached close enough, she leaned in, holding the candle so it would illuminate his face.

Her breath caught at sight of him. How was it possible that he was even more handsome than she had dreamed? He looked so peaceful in repose, giving her a full chance to admire his straight nose, strong jaw, and the riot of dark brown hair. The candlelight caught on his head, suggesting a hint that was almost auburn amid the brown. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she didn’t need to see them to fall even more in love with him.

Her body swayed toward him, pulled by something beyond conscious thought. But as she shifted position, a drip of candle wax fell. She only had time to gasp and jerk backward as it landed on the hand he had thrown over the blanket.

His eyes sprang open, and she forgot everything else at their piercing blue. With his eyes closed, he had been almost painfully beautiful, but the animation and intensity of his eyes only amplified the effect. The startling blue stood out against his dark hair, creating a whole that robbed her of breath. Could this man truly be her husband?

His expression, which had started out with the confusion expected from someone who had been woken from deep sleep by burning wax, softened at the sight of her. Their eyes locked together. Looking at his true face—at his unguarded response to her—she knew he already loved her as completely as she longed to be loved.

But the joy had barely registered when his expression changed. His thoughts had caught up with his instincts, and his gaze dropped to the candle in her hand. Instantly his face changed to a look of such profound horror that she fell back before it.

“What have you done?” he cried. “What have you done?”

“I…I just…” She moved to blow out the candle, panicked by his response, but he leaped forward and gripped her wrist in a steel hold.

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