“No one's ever told you what?” he asked, frowning at her. “That you're the best thing that's happened to them?”
She shook her head.
“Not even your father?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. He was beginning to hate the man. Why hadhe been given a daughter like Beatrice? He didn’t deserve her in the least.
She shook her head once more.
“I am sorry you’ve never heard it before,” he said, “because you deserve to hear it every day. I know we haven't known each other long, but I can already tell that you are perfect for me, and I can't wait to watch us grow together.”
The words felt foreign in his mouth, even as they felt so right. He'd never said something like that to anyone before, and yet they felt absolutely true. He knew without a doubt that Beatrice Montgomery—or Beatrice Dunham—was going to be a big part of his life, and he could only hope that they would get to live together for a long time.
He'd never really thought about living a long life with his wife before, probably a side effect of his parents dying well before their time. He couldn't wait to see what that could look like. And he couldn't wait to see it with Beatrice—assuming, of course, the sorcerer didn’t come back and try to kill them both.
“Unless, of course, you're scared and plan to leave me,” he said. He said the words jokingly, but deep down, he wondered if she would take him up on it. It wasn’t every day you discovered that your husband was cursed.
“Of course not,” Beatrice said, looking at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted a second head. “I am your wife, and I plan on sticking with you for the rest of our lives. You can't get rid of me that easily. If it was that easy, I would have left my father behind years ago.” The last words were muttered and seemed more for her benefit than his.
He raised an eyebrow at her, but she didn't seem inclined to give more information, and he didn’t want to push the matter, so he didn’t ask.
“I’m your wife,” she said firmly, coming out of her thoughts, “and whatever happens, we will see it through together.” Shereached for his hand and squeezed it before letting go quickly, almost as if she was afraid of his reaction.
He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “Thank you,” he said, the words sticking in his throat for a reason other than a curse. “I never could have imagined that I'd find someone like you.”
“I suspect you never imagined you would be hit with a silencing curse, either,” she pointed out. “I still have to figure out why you were cursed and who cursed you, and how long I have before things could be dangerous.”
He didn't say anything. He knew better than to even try. The fact that he'd managed to say this much was a bit of a miracle.
“I don't suppose you can tell me how long we have,” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Can I guess?” she asked.
“Maybe,” he said.
Beatrice frowned. “A year?”
“No.”
“More or less?” she asked.
“Less,” Alexander said.
Having just been through this with Guinevere yesterday, he wasn't surprised when it took several guesses to get even remotely close.
“Less than a week,” she finally said, and he nodded.
She thought for a moment, looking down at Rose and stroking her back before she looked up at him with her mouth wide open. “It’s your birthday.”
It shouldn’t surprise him that she’d figured it out so quickly. One of the reasons he had chosen her to be his bride was because she was smart—she’d proved it over and over again. But still, the fact that someone had figured out that he was cursed and so quickly narrowed it down to the day of reckoning was shocking.
Beatrice took a deep breath. “Well, I suppose there's only one thing to do. I wish you had told me yesterday so I didn't wastetime on something as frivolous as reading a romance novel when I might need to save your life,” she teased. “But now that I know, I shall get to work straightaway.”
“Doing what?” he asked.
His wife raised an eyebrow at him. “Doing what you paid me to do,” she said. “I'm a librarian. We read.”
Chapter thirteen
