“You need have no fear. Erik’s . . . malady will not affect your child, Kristine. Have no fear of that, but your life might be in danger.”
“My life? Why?”
Lady Trevayne took a deep breath. “My son was married before.”
“Yes, I know.”
Lady Trevayne nodded. “His wife, Dominique, died in childbirth. Dominique’s mother is a powerful sorceress.”
“A witch!” Kristine exclaimed.
“Yes. She blamed Erik for her daughter’s death. It was she who put the curse on my son.”
Kristine shivered. “What kind of curse?”
“She accused him of behaving like a rutting beast and declared that a beast was what he would become.”
“A beast . . .” Kristine sat down heavily. She wanted to say it wasn’t true, couldn’t be true, but it explained so many things.
“You should leave Hawksbridge Castle immediately,” Erik’s mother said quietly. “Go anywhere you wish. I will see to it that you and your child want for nothing.”
“Leave?”
“You can return, in time, and claim your child’s birthright.” Lady Trevayne paused a moment. “Should your babe be a boy, he will be the eighth lord of Hawksbridge Castle.”
“In time?” Kristine looked at the other woman in horror. “You mean when Erik is . . . is . . .”
“When the transformation is complete,” Lady Trevayne said.
“No . . . I can’t leave him. How can you suggest such a thing? He’s so alone.” She stood up again and began to pace the floor. “Why did you leave him when he needed you most?”
“I did not leave him,” Lady Trevayne replied sharply. “He sent me away, and when I returned, he sent me away again. He did not want me there, did not want me to see . . .”
“I’m sorry.”
The anger left the older woman’s eyes and she inclined her head in a gesture of acceptance. “No one can help Erik now.” She lifted a hand to the rosary she wore around her neck. “I only pray that . . . that once the transformation is complete, he will have no memory of who he was before.”
Kristine stared at Erik’s mother. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she rocked slowly back and forth as the reality of the curse, the sheer horror of it, flooded her mind.
She remembered a day some months ago when Charmion had come to the house, remembered Erik asking her if she was afraid. She had said she was not. You should be afraid, he had said. The day may come when I’ll tear you to shreds.
She had not understood his meaning at the time; now she feared she understood all too clearly. “Is there no way to end this curse?”
Lady Trevayne shook her head. “None that I know of.”
“But there might be,” Kristine said desperately. “There must be! Surely the witch could remove it.”
“Yes, I’m sure she could, but she will not. She is an evil woman, one who has always taken pleasure in inflicting pain. There is no forgiveness in her, no mercy, nothing but an unholy desire for vengeance.”
“There has to be something we can do!” Kristine said vehemently. “I’ve got to try.”
“Don’t be a fool! There’s nothing you can do for Erik. You must think of your child now.”
“I am thinking of my child,” Kristine retorted. “I’m thinking that he will need a father’s love and guidance.”
Color flooded Lady Trevayne’s pale cheeks. “Erik cannot be a father! Do you not understand? Soon he will not be a man at all, but a wild beast. Is that what you want for your child? A father who is a wild animal, a beast who will likely have no memory of his humanity, who might attack both you and your child?”
“No.” Tears that had been hovering close to the surface for days filled Kristine’s eyes and ran in twin rivers down her cheeks, unleashed by the gruesome images created by her mother-in-law’s words. “No.”
She bent at the waist, her head cradled in her hands, certain she would die from the pain knifing through her heart. She remembered the sight of the long dark hair that had covered one side of Erik’s body and imagined what it would be like when the transformation was complete, when all trace of his humanity was gone and he was truly a beast.
She moaned, “No, no,” and then she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw Lady Trevayne standing at her side. Tears shimmered in the older woman’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, daughter,” she said quietly. “Would you like to pray with me?”
Kristine sniffed back her tears. “Yes.”
Lady Trevayne reached for her hand and together they walked down the long, narrow corridor that led to the chapel.
The light from dozens of tall white candles filled the room with a soft amber glow. Kristine glanced at the painted faces of the saints as she made her way down the center aisle. They all looked so serene; she wished she could find that same sense of inner peace in her own life.
She knelt in one of the pews beside Lady Trevayne, bowed her head, and closed her eyes. Kneeling there, she poured out the desires of her heart, praying for a miracle that would thwart Charmion’s curse, praying for a strong, healthy child, begging, pleading, for help.
She lost track of time as she knelt there. She had forgotten what a blessing it was to pray, to lay one’s burdens at the feet of a loving Heavenly Father. She seemed to hear the words Only ask and ye shall receive, felt a reassuring presence near her, comforting her.
Blinking back tears, she rose to her feet, then offered Lady Trevayne her hand. “Why don’t you come home with me?” Kristine asked.
“Thank you, Kristine,” Lady Trevayne said with a smile. “But . . .”
“Erik has gone. I should dearly love to have your company.”
“And I should love to spend more time with you, daughter, but . . .” She squeezed Kristine’s hand. “I should not like for him to come home and find me there.” Lady Trevayne took a deep breath. “It’s not because I’m afraid of him,” she explained softly, “but because he does not want me there. He does not wish me to see him as he is now, and I must respect his wishes.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you, child. I hope you will come and see me often.”
“I will. And I hope you’ll come and spend Christmas Day with us.”
“I should like that very much. Ask Mrs. Grainger to send the coach for me.”