Page 123 of When Hearts Surrender

“But the heir? Isn’t that what you need for the curse?” When he first told me his reasons for needing an heir, I didn’t believe him, but now, with everything going on, I’m starting to doubt my convictions.

If we have a child together, will I be dooming him?I can’t think this way. There has to be a way out of this mess, if there even is a curse to begin with.And I can’t imagine having a child with anyone other than him.

“We’ll figure something out, I don’t know what.” He pulls me tightly against him, a frenetic energy threading his voice. “Everything I’ve learned about the curse is passed down through the generations. No oneever said the heir needs to be biologically related to me, or maybe we can use a surrogate. We’ll figure something out.”

He smooths his hand down my trembling back. “I’m here, little muse. I’ll always be here for you. You’re not broken. You’re perfect in my eyes.”

His words and his touch are bandages on my bleeding wounds, sutures to my broken heart.

“I love you,” I whisper.

He doesn’t respond but holds me tightly in his arms. I try not to let his silence cut into my bleeding heart, but I realize even if I’ll never hear him say those words to me, it doesn’t matter anymore.

Because I’m hopelessly, irrevocably, in love with him.

Chapter 45

“Where are you takingme?” I ask, my eyes blindfolded, as the car coasts to a stop.

“We’re here. You’ll see.”

“It’s not skiing, right? Because I haven’t recovered from yesterday.”

He laughs. The rich sound is something I’ll never get sick of. “No, it’sdefinitelynot skiing.”

Yesterday, after the delicious Singapore style inspired spaghetti Maxwell made me—which he credited Mora with for having the patience to teach him how to cook—he whisked me off to a ski resort nestled in the Alps.

It was my first time, because I’d somehow lived almost twenty-five years without having skied before.

My legs felt like jelly, my butt probably bruised, but it was fun watching such a tall, imposing man on the bunny slopes with me, holding my hand and not letting go as I screeched and fell a thousand times.

A few little kids giggled when they saw him flat on his back, absorbing my fall, and he laughed and pelted them with snowballs.

He would make such a wonderful dad.

Tears threaten again, and I shift my thoughts away. A dark voice inside me can’t help but wonder if I’m holding him back.Ugh! Stop it, Belle. You’re a great person and he’s lucky to have you.

But still…

He’d be a wonderful dad.

I touch my empty womb and sigh. It’s a bottomless hole nothing can fill and something completely out of my control.

A brisk gale blows into the car as the door opens, and I hear Maxwell murmuring a few words in German to whoever is standing outside.

My thighs clench—listening to him speak foreign languages is like an aphrodisiac to me. Too bad I’m on my period still.

“Careful, little muse, watch your head.” He gently leads me out of the car and I step on to a soft surface.

He takes off my blindfold and I open my eyes and see…

Large empty fields blanketed by snow, the skeletal remains of plants poking out randomly from the slush.

I narrow my eyes and turn to my husband. “This is where you’re going to tell me you’re secretly a vampire or a serial killer and you’ve taken me here to dispose of me, right?”

Maxwell barks out a laugh, his eyes shining. “The things that come out of your mouth. God, I love it.”

He wraps his arm around me and leads me toward a building to the side. “And no, I’m not—I can’t believe I have to say this—a vampire or a serial killer. I’m here because I thought you might like to see how hemp and linen fabrics are made.”

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