Page 56 of The Heart of an Earl

Down a ravine. Up it. Scrambling over rocks and fallen branches, their feet slipping on the half-melting snow that had blanketed the ground.

The sleet had gathered into globs of wet snow that fell from branches and hit her forehead as they ran through the forest. Twenty minutes they sped along at Des’s relentless pace, her lungs thundering—threatening to explode—yet still he dragged her on.

“Des. Des. Des.” The words barely made a sound through her gasped breaths.

She was going to drop.

The world around her was turning darker with every blink of her eyes. Her head starting to sway. Breath no longer in her lungs.

Des glanced back at her and his feet instantly slowed.

“Jules—shit.”

Her head swiveled, searching for him. His hand was pulsating, wrapped around hers, but she couldn’t find him through the black spots that had taken over her eyes.

“Jules—you have to sit.” His hands went to her sides and he steered her to the left, pushing her down to land on a stump. Muttered blasphemies growling from his lips, he set a hand on her upper back and pushed her downward so she was doubled over. “Breathe, Jules. Don’t do anything but breathe.”

His hand splayed on her back, rubbing, trying to move air into her lungs.

The black spots dissipated and just when she thought she could stand again the sound of horses’ hooves and dogs barking echoed into the air about them.

A shiver ran down her spine, spreading to the tips of her toes and fingers. She seized onto a breath—enough to get words out. “Hell—his dogs—the bloodhounds. I left my cloak. We can’t outrun them, Des.”

Des spun from her, his fist hitting a tree. A blast of rage that flashed and dissipated so quickly it was gone by the time he turned back to her and grabbed her hand, tugging her to her feet and back into motion. “Come. We can still lose them. We get back to that brook we crossed and walk along it. Our feet will get wet, but they’ll lose the trail. We can still outrun them.”

Her head shaking, her heels dug into the ground. “It won’t work, Des. He’ll find us. He went around the damn world to find that box. And he did.” Her stare met his hazel eyes. “He will find us.”

Des shook his head, meeting her stare. “Don’t give up on me now, Jules. Not now.”

Not now.

Hell.

Her eyes fell closed, her chest lifting in a breath that choked down her throat.

Don’t give up on him.

But that’s exactly what she needed to do.

She’d been living on hope the last few weeks. Hope that she could go home. Hope that she could have Des. Hope that she could somehow cobble together a life of normalcy.

Hope she had no right to court. Not with the curse.

That was the thing about curses. They hovered. Patient. Plotting. Letting hope sprout. They waited until the moment you thought you were safe. The moment you had the world at your fingertips.

They waited to crush you from the highest of highs into the bowels of hell.

Des tugged her hand.

She opened her eyes and yanked her fingers from his grip. “I cannot. I cannot hope—not with this curse that hangs over me. If I want you—if I love you, the curse will take you away from me. It’s what it does—the curse. I see it—I see that now. It will not let me be.”

Des stepped to her, his glare slicing her to her soul, his lower chest hitting her breasts as he grabbed her upper arms. “Don’t do this, Jules. Don’t hide behind that bloody box. Damn the blasted curse—damn the blasted ring. You need to leave with me. Leave now. We can still make it.”

The vibrations of thundering hoofs on the ground made way into the soles of her boots.

“Except we won’t escape him—my father—I heard what he said to you. I saw it in his eyes too—even though I pretended it wasn’t there. Someone has to pay for taking me and he’s decided it will be you.” Her head shook, her cold wet hair slapping across her cheek. “We won’t be free of him—we won’t be free of Redthorn’s crew. Not ever.”

The sting of her words—of the loss of hope—ran across Des’s face and it shook her to her bones.

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