Like Brigid’s garden, I pulsated with renewed life when I walked back into the mist. The sunlight faded, swallowed up by darkness, and I found myself kneeling again in front of the altar. The herbs were nearly consumed, the few remaining leaves and twigs giving their last heat. I took in a deep breath of smoke and earth to reacquaint myself with the mortal world. All of my senses were heightened, the feel of the rough stone against my skin, the scent of burning herbs mixed with freshly crushed ferns, the sound of breathing nearby...
My eyes flew open, searching the darkness. Directly in front of me, I saw Henry, illuminated by the moonlight. He was dressed in a pair of breeches and a linen shirt, left untucked and open almost to his waist. In his haste to follow me, he hadn’t tied back his hair or even pulled on shoes or stockings. I could feel his confusion at finding me like this, his desire for what he saw as my untamed nature. Be true to thyself. Nothing could be more true than my love for Henry. I wanted him to know what I was, and to love me if he could.
As if in a dream, I walked over to him and slid my arms around his neck. He offered no resistance when I pulled him to me, bringing our mouths together hard. His chest was exposed, and the heat from his body passed through my thin sheath to the skin beneath. Already dangerously near the surface, a warm tide surged inside me, threatening to spill over if we didn’t stop.
Henry’s arms encircled my waist, and he pressed a hand into the flat of my back to bring us even closer. A tremor of pleasure ran through me and I gasped as the fire poured from my skin. It flowed into him, and he pulled his head back, groaning softly. Then his hold on me tightened and he brought his mouth down upon mine with renewed fervor. My whole body blazed hot, the intensity nearly driving me beyond control. I wanted him to take me further, to make me his wife right here on the forest floor.
Another rush of power, and his arms began to tremble around me. He groaned again in pleasure, pressing my head hard against his chest. “Oh, Selah,” he murmured into my hair. “What are you doing to me?” He kissed me again, letting his mouth slide down to my neck as his hands moved up my back. “What spell is this?” he whispered, his breath hot on my skin.
With our bodies pressed together, his desire flowed freely into me, equal to my own. But there was something else, something I hadn’t expected. Other emotions began to take hold—not fear exactly, but suspicion and unease.
“You have bewitched me...”
His words knifed through my passion. Piece by piece, I felt him arrive at the conclusion that I was somehow unnatural—that I was indeed a witch. In a panic, I wrenched free of his grasp, and stepped back, terrified of what he might do or say next. “I...I didn’t mean to,” I gasped.
“Wait, Selah,” he said, reaching for me.
But it was too late. I turned and started to run. Finding the path, I ran as if demons were chasing me, my feet pounding against the earth. Henry started after me, but being more familiar with the woods and running barefooted, I stayed ahead of him. Reaching the house, I ran in through my apothecary and straight up the stairs to my room. The bolt slid into place, securing the door just as Henry arrived. We were both breathing hard from the exertion, and I heard him lean against the door. My legs were shaking so badly that I could no longer stand.
“Selah, please open the door. We need to talk.”
“I’m sorry, Henry.” I rocked back and forth, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees. “I’m so sorry...”
Chapter Thirteen
A Vision of Evil
Loud knocking woke me from my place on the floor, followed by Mary’s muffled voice asking if I needed help to dress for Sunday meeting. Not wishing to be seen, I spoke through the closed door, telling her that I would remain home this morning. Cold and sore, I regretted sending her away without first asking for a pot of tea.
Henry had stayed in the hallway for much of the night, trying to convince me to let him in. I had refused, telling him to go away when he so much as hinted about what happened in the woods. From his choice of words and conflicting emotions, I knew he thought me to be a witch. Or, at least, he was very close to thinking so.
Why was it always this way with humans? A bit of unfamiliar power, and I was inevitably evil. With Henry’s testimony, Nathan could seal my fate for good. She led me into the woods and put me under a spell. They would hang me twice, just to be sure.
I must have inhaled too much of the burning herbs at the altar to think he would understand, or that he could ever believe what I really was. Not that I blamed him. Standing in his place, I probably wouldn’t believe me either.