He let out a deep breath filled with anger and frustration. Then he turned to her, his eyes sad. Before Briar could register his motives, Henry leaned down and kissed her, full on the lips. The sensation was cold from the water he’d been drinking but soft with tenderness. He pulled away, his eyes searching hers.
“Well?” he asked. His hand still cupped the back of her head where he had grabbed her to lift her lips to his, and his face hovered inches from hers. “Do you feel anything?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Briar lay stunned, staring back into Henry’s deep gaze. The kiss happened so quickly she didn’t know what to think or feel. She certainly didn’t have time to feel any fluttering in her stomach or the warmth of a kiss inside, or even a quickening of her pulse.
“Wh-what kind of non-romantic question is that?” Briar said. If a boy was to kiss a girl for the first time, he should try harder to make it meaningful.
Looking disappointed, Henry gently pulled his hand away and tucked the patchwork quilt around her.
He shrugged at Fanny. “I’ve failed in every way. My kiss didn’t even heal her.”
Briar blinked. “You thought you could heal me with a kiss?” Okay, that was a little romantic, even if the setup was lacking. “Fairy tales are best left to children,” she said. Hot tears flooded her eyes and she turned to face the wall. How humiliating to be so hopeless that Henry had to resort to kissing her in a final attempt to save her.
“Maybe she needs Wheeler,” Henry whispered to Fanny, but Briar could hear him. Now her face truly burned. She did not need Wheeler.
“No, dearie, it’s an old curse, and therefore unpredictable. I can’t say if the kiss would have worked even if you were grounded properly.” She stamped her foot on the worn wood planks. “This floor feels all wrong. I can’t believe it, but Miss Prudence forgot to set the foundation. She never forgets anything. Humph. Must be old age—but don’t tell her I said so.”
Briar stole a glance to see Fanny nudge Henry back to the bed. “Take her out into the woods and tell her your part of the story. It’ll make you both feel a whole lot better and give me time to think.”
“I can’t walk,” Briar reminded them. “I can’t even stand. My legs are asleep.”
Henry shook his head. “They only think they’re asleep. We have to convince them otherwise. I can help.”
Briar tried not to be annoyed. The last thing she wanted to do was attempt to walk in front of Henry. He really didn’t understand what was happening to her. Or maybe he did. The kiss had distracted her. He knew about the spindle. Which meant her early suspicions that he knew Fanny were correct, too. He knew all about Fanny. And he hadn’t told her any of it.
“That’s kind of you, but no. Thank you. I’d rather stay here.” She smoothed a wrinkle in the sheet with her fingers, pretending that even that much motion was no big deal.
“You can sit, can’t you?” Fanny retorted. “May as well get some fresh air.” She exited the door and then returned with a wheelchair. “From town,” she said. “It’s a bit dusty from the walk up the lane, but it’ll do.”
Briar eyed the set of wheels with distaste. To go from the freedom of a bicycle to the confinement of a wheelchair was too much.
Henry lifted her like a bale of cotton and transferred her to the chair. Her legs wouldn’t cooperate, and Fanny had to bend them as best she could so they weren’t sticking out too much. So stiff.
They positioned her like a porcelain doll and she couldn’t fight them. She wanted to punch and kick and flail her arms in protest, but it took all her energy just to breathe.
“Off you go, then,” Fanny said, tucking the patchwork quilt around her.
Briar tried to relax as Henry pushed her along the bumpy path, but it was hard to have so little control. The path was narrow and filled with rocks threatening to bump her right out of the chair. She had to completely trust him to steer clear of the branches and keep her from tumbling over. That he could take care of her in the forest, especially if something were to go wrong.
“Why did you kiss me?” she asked as soon as they were out of sight of the cottage.
“You mean a reason other than I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months?”
She could sense the grin in his voice. There it was. The old, incorrigible Henry. Never serious.
“Tell me. Life has gotten a bit strange since you left. Nothing can surprise me now.” She wanted to hear him say it. To hear him explain how he was not the person she thought he was.
“I will.” His voice sounded sad again. “But in the proper place.”
After several minutes of silence, and Henry struggling to push the wheelchair over the forest path, he said, “We’re nearly there.”
“Thank you for the fresh air,” Briar consented. “I feel better already.” She didn’t really, but it had broken the monotony to get out of bed.