“Why there? Wouldn’t over my head be a more likely choice?”
Isobel fiddled with a piece of kindling. “I’ve no wish to burn your face off, my lord. I’ve grown quite fond of it. And the choice is significant. It’s something my grandmother taught me that I’ve been able to confirm with my reading. There are centers of power in the body, sort of like openings. A trained practitioner can access some of these with their healing if they’re skilled enough or...”
“Or open a gateway to curse someone,” he said heavily.
She nodded. “Their number varies depending on the culture of the person writing the account. On average there are seven. I had initially thought to choose the one just below,” she said, moving her hand down her stomach with a tightening of her cheeks. “It’s the one usually associated with sexual release, but after doing more reading, I decided the one above it would suit us better.”
She turned away hastily to organize a few things around the circle, a series of flat white stones. Once they were in position, she grabbed another box with a fine grey powder and drew lines between the stones.
“Are you sure? The one associated with...being amorous certainly sounds like a fine candidate,” he said awkwardly.
Turning back toward him, she nodded quickly. “I thought so too at first, but the one above is tied to your personal will, and yours has been overpowered by this other being. I believe it will serve us better. Besides, we don’t want to damage you…lower. I’m still hoping to have a family someday.”
The last was said in a lighthearted tone, but it made his throat tighten. “I’d like that, too.”
It was hard to stifle the rush of warm optimism that was running through him now. His wife was a brilliant woman, who possessed a great deal of raw talent and power. If anyone could get him through this, it was her. And he would spend the rest of his life thanking her for it.
“You sit here, but don’t disturb the salt. We can’t break the circle,” she instructed, gesturing to it with a sweep of her hand.
Sucking in a deep breath, he stepped carefully over the line of salt and lowered himself into a seated position. Isobel did the same, taking extra care with her skirts. She reached for the brown bottle.
“You have to drink this.” She handed him the bottle, her face pale. “Don’t do so until I say, and then brace yourself because it will cause a lot of pain. You must take care to bear it as best you can. The circle must not be disturbed, so you mustn’t move, at least not overmuch.”
He nodded and took the brown bottle.
“Not yet,” she admonished with a finger before reaching out for a large piece of wood from the kindling.
Next she placed her hand on the lantern and closed her eyes. It sounded like she was whispering, soft words he couldn’t make out but sounded vaguely like Latin. With a spill of bright sparks, the length of wood began to smoke and then flared into a blazing orange flame.
He swore. It was the damnedest thing he’d ever seen. Peeking from behind her lashes, Isobel squinted at the torch before relaxing and smiling at him.
“I’ve been practicing,” she said with a nod at the flame. “It won’t go out until it’s over. It’s charmed.”
“Impressive, bella mia,” he said, slightly out of breath.
“Don’t compliment me yet.” She sighed, almost vibrating with tension.
“It’s going to be all right, mi amore.”
“I’m supposed to be telling you that.”
Time seemed to stand still for a moment. She gave him another anxious glance, then nodded at the bottle.
He looked down at it, breaking the seal of the wax stopper with a twist. The smell of the liquid inside was overpowering, a strange mixture of metal, earth, and cloves. Coughing slightly, he raised the bottle in a toast before downing the contents in a quick pull.
For a long moment nothing happened. He parted his lips to ask Isobel if something had gone wrong. The blinding wave of pain took him by surprise. It rolled through his abdomen, burning like acid as it went. In seconds the pain radiated to his extremities.
It was as if he was already on fire. Every single part of his body was crying out. He could feel a fierce shaking and knew he was having convulsions. Opening his eyes with effort, he checked the line of salt around him to make sure he hadn’t broken the barrier.
He’d managed—only just—to stay in his half of the circle. Catching a glimpse of his love through watery eyes, he saw her face was deathly white.
“Matteo, I’m going to begin now. Please try to hold on!”
She was barely beginning now?