Page 9 of The Irresistible Warrior
“You’ve given me more,” she said. “Now I can start thinking about what it means that I didn’t fall… and what that says about the curse.”
Declan tilted his head. “You believe me now?”
“I never said I didn’t believe you,” she said, faint amusement playing at the corners of her mouth. “I just don’t believe you understand your wish just yet. And until you do, we’re only peeling back the first layer.”
He found himself staring at her longer than he meant to, drawn in by her quiet strength and the lack of awe in her gaze. She didn’t fear him and didn’t fawn over him. And oddly, it was a relief.
“I’ll speak the truth as best I can if you will help me,” he said finally.
“I’ll do my best and try,” she said, then added with a wry smile, “But I’m not in the habit of curing curses born of foolish wishes.”
He cringed. “And I am not in the habit of making them and I’ll never make another wish again.”
CHAPTER 4
The fire crackled low in the hearth but not for long. Declan added more logs to it, and it sprang to life casting heat throughout his bedchamber. He stood, the weight of the day pressing on him like a heavy cloak, one soaked through with rain, worn and unwilling to be shed.
He rubbed his hand over his face, frustrated.
Chieftains had arrived throughout the day with their daughters in tow and try as he might, he couldn’t stop the women from getting too close. Repeatedly, they fell at his feet. He’d barely escaped without tripping over flailing limbs and swooning sighs. Hamish had delivered the final blow just before supper.
“More chieftains are on their way,” he’d said grimly. “Word’s spreading fast. The women seek you for a husband, and fathers seek you to benefit themselves, the Clan MacCrone is a respected one and now with you as its laird, they look for an alliance. You’ll be swarmed by fathers and their daughters in no time.”
Declan had laughed at first, a dry, hollow sound. But the truth of it was worse than any jest. There would be no end to it. Not while he remained unwed. Not while this blasted cursedwish made him the most desirable man no sane woman should come near.
He paced slowly across the chamber. A log popped in the hearth behind him while shadows danced along the walls.
What was he supposed to do? Flee? Lock himself away? Let the women form a line and drop at his feet one by one until his patience snapped?
He paused at the window, looking out into the dark. And then… the idea struck.
Marriage.
His shoulders stiffened.
A union to shield him. A way to stop this madness long enough to find a solution. His brow furrowed. It wouldn’t be a real marriage, nor a courtship of love and promises. It would be a marriage of convenience. And there was only one woman who had not fallen at his feet.
Aura.
She was plain-featured, sharp-eyed, and practical. The very opposite of all the women swooning at his feet. She showed no interest in his fine features, charm, or title. She only agreed to help him. A partnership of sorts. It made perfect sense.
If they wed, it would end all offers of marriage. No woman would dare approach him romantically. And the two of them, bound by a shared goal, could focus on breaking the wish’s hold once and for all.
Of course, he’d have to convince her, and he doubted very much that it would be easy to do.
Still… the thought took root. And for the first time all day, he felt like he could breathe again.
Declan turned from the window, his eyes narrowing with determination.
He would ask her tomorrow.
Aura stirredthe contents of the small clay pot with a steady hand, her focus only half on the brew bubbling gently over the flame. The sharp scent of thyme and elder bark filled the air, but her thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Declan MacCrone.
It was difficult not to find the man appealing, he had such fine features. Shoulder-length, dark wavy hair that any woman would envy. Taller than most men and a body defined with muscles, but then he was a warrior who had fought many battles. Then there were his eyes, blue or green, they couldn’t seem to make up their mind. One moment they were a striking blue, the next a subtle green.
She huffed softly and set the wooden spoon aside. She’d met plenty of men—arrogant, boastful, charming to the point of nausea—but none had stood before her claiming to be cursed by a wish that forced women to collapse in his presence.
