“Yes!” he nearly yelled, then blew out a breath. “I am sorry. I am frustrated, and worried, but I know what I saw and felt.”
“I believe you,” she offered. “What time was it? Do you recall?” Though that shouldn’t make a difference, maybe it did.
“Nearing midnight, I suppose,” he answered. “What do you think it was?”
That was a question she was not willing to answer right now because she was afraid that she already knew, no matter how impossible.
“I am certain there is a reasonable explanation,” Antonia offered. “It could have been something you accidentally ate, mixed with the ale. You might never know the answer, or you may discover a reasonable explanation.”
“You do not think I am mad?” he asked as if this was a deep concern.
“No,” she assured him with a soft laugh.
“Do you think it will happen again?”
Antonia shrugged because she truly did not know, but hoped with all her heart that it never did again.
Chapter Eight
A reasonable explanation, that is what Philip needed.
He wanted to trust in what Lady Antonia had told him, and her words had calmed him, especially since she had not pulled away. But, as the night grew darker, his anxiety returned. What if it happened again, tonight?
For that reason, Philip did not go into supper, nor did he partake of ale or brandy or any of the liquors within Nightshade Manor. He was hungry and sober when he made his way to the Sacred Grove to await the midnight hour.
The secrets of the Sacred Grove had been revealed little over a year ago, and even though men were still discouraged from entering, the dryads who lived here no longer feared the men of his family.
As he sat on the steps of the temple and stared out over the lake, he waited, his heart pounding in anticipation and fear.
The moon rose high in the sky, and as midnight approached, dizziness began to assail him. The lake shifted and blurred in his vision as the trees surrounding it swayed, not from gusts of wind. Then the ringing or buzzing in his ears began. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Just because he had suffered such the night before did not mean it would occur again.
Philip had barely finished his thoughts when both hands cramped, and he couldn’t help his groan of pain as he doubled over.
This wasn’t happening. It could not be happening, but as much as he denied the fact, Philip opened his eyes to see that both hands, instead of the one, were covered in hair and his nails were long enough to be claws.
“No!” he yelled.
“Lord Chedworth!” a woman gasped.
He did not know who she was, but suspected it was one of the dryads. Quite beautiful and dressed as one would expect if they were to view a goddess of ancient Greece.
Two other dryads joined her.
“What is happening?” he asked.
They looked at his hands and took a step back.
“Do not return. Ever!” the first one to emerge ordered.
“You see them?” he demanded, holding up his hands.
The women nodded.
“You must leave,” another dryad ordered.
“Do you know what is happening to me? What this is?”
She frowned and tilted her head. “You do not?”
