Page 32 of If The Fates Allow
Grace’s song—the same song she had been hearing during the night—was coming from somewhere deep in the heart of the forest, and Willa strained to listen. It was most definitely her sister’s singing.
As if in a trance, she began to walk into the darkening wood. Twilight would be upon them soon, and once it covered the land, they would have a hard time finding their way back to Hope without a lantern.
But Willa couldn’t think about that. She had to discover the source of the singing. Who was out there tormenting her? Who was breaking her heart all over again?
Noah was not as interested. “It’s time to go back.” He caught up and laid his hands gently on her shoulders. “It was wrong to bring you here.”
On a mission, she shrugged off his hold on her. “I want to see who is singing.”
Not knowing exactly what to expect when they departed Haven House, she had thankfully donned her walking boots, making her hurried trek through the forest easy.
“We’re close to where they meet.” Noah moved to stand in front of her, his large body completely blocking the way. “What you’re hearing is probably Melinda. She likes to sing for us.”
A raging heat erupted in the center of her body, exploding like a fiery pulse through every fiber of her being. With it, a bloody haze draggedacross her vision, its tendrils curling around Noah’s beautiful face. “Sing for you?” she said, only slightly concerned by the screeching pitch her tone had taken. “These gatherings sound like a rather fun time. Too bad you never invited me. I’ve been told I sing quite well.”
A lie.
She couldn’t sing.
Bonnie’s cats carried a tune better than she did.
“Oh, so you sing?” he asked, approaching her as if she were a wild animal who might startle easily. “Is there anything you can’t do, Ms. Fairweather?”
“Do not tease.”
“Oh, but I so enjoy it.” He lifted a hand hesitantly, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That look that enters your eyes whenever you’re pretending to be upset over something I’ve said is incredible. It makes me crave things I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I want you glaring daggers at me all the time.”
“Ah, I see. You’re a masochist.” She would not smile, fighting its emergence to the bitter end. “I cannot say I’m surprised.”
“Why is that?” The hand in her hair coasted lower, skating along her jaw to cradle it. “Because I’m a doctor?”
“Of course. Your kind likes to learn through pain.”
His thumb stroked her cheek while she bravely held his stare. The last time they had been this close was when she tripped on the path to his medical cottage weeks ago. Only this time, there was no Lucy or John Richards waiting around the bend. This time, it was just the two of them, their breath mingling together in the cool winter air.
“I have not touched those women, Willa.”
“And I do not care.”
The serious expression that had taken over him suddenly transformed back into the arrogant smirk he carried around so effortlessly.
“Liar.”
“I am not,” she said, more to the tree she was staring at than him. “And I’m quite offended that you would call me such.”
“There are several things I’m going to say that might offend you,” he countered. “Things you won’t mind hearing. Things you’ll be begging me to say and perhaps begging me to do.”
A crimson hue proceeded to cover every inch of skin on her entire body. She was naïve to such things but understood the undercurrent of what he was implying.
Around them, the singing changed, going from Grace's light, ethereal tones to something deeper and more robust. It mixed with a giggling like the night she first heard it.
This time, Noah heard it, too. “Is that the song?”
“Yes, and the person who has been singing at night.” She listened a little longer. “I recognize the giggling.”
“That’s Jennie.” Noah dropped his hand from her face. “It’s time for us to go.”
The singing stopped, turning into a muffled conversation. They must not be far off, and Willa was determined. “Not until I speak with my brother.”
