“No, that is not it.” The spell gave him parts of a wolf, his beast within, and Antonia read animals as easily as she read humans, so that should not be the reason his emotions were more distant to her. “Nor do I understand why.”
“Maybe you simply cannot feel the emotions of werewolves.” The side of his mouth quirked.
“How can you tease at a time like this?”
Chedworth sobered. “Because I think you are worried enough for the both of us. If your anxiety becomes too much, it may affect the correct spell when it is found.”
“That has never happened to me before,” she insisted.
“I have seen it happen to others in my family. Perhaps a spell hasn’t been so important to you before.”
He was correct. Antonia knew that she would need to remain calm, or everything could go from bad to worse.
“Thank you.”
The corner of his mouth quirked again. “For what?”
“Being kind and understanding. For your center of calm.”
He chuckled. “I must truly be hidden from you because my center certainly is not calm.”
“No, but it is rational and not ruled by terror, which it easily could be. You still have hope.”
“Do you not?” he asked, his cobalt eyes boring into her.
Did she? Antonia wasn’t certain how to answer.
Chedworth squeezed her hand. “You do, or you would not be out here after midnight, nor would you promise to work for a solution. If you had lost hope, you would have given up.”
Having hope that the solution would be found and working to find an elusive answer were two different matters, but she’d not correct him.
Antonia pulled her hand from his, and an emptiness filled her. She nearly grasped it again. For most of her life she had avoided touching others whenever possible and wore gloves when it was necessary. She and Chedworth had clasped hands with nothing between them, and she felt his presence within. He had an ability to give her what she needed, yet she couldn’t even begin to explain it to herself. A connection to another soul, or the part of her that had been missing.
She’d only felt a small connection in the past, but it was strong tonight.
Perhaps it was the circle of magic, the waxing moon, the hour, and maybe she was simply tired, but he soothed her and if Antonia stopped to contemplate what it truly meant, she would lose her focus on what was important and that was reversing the wolf spell.
Antonia said nothing of what she experienced, but closed the spell book, then gathered her crystals, returned them to the satchel then blew out the candles. Chedworth helped her gather those and then they stood. Instead of offering his arm to escort her from the gardens, he took her hand and looked down.
Did he feel it too?
Chapter Thirteen
The need to touch Lady Antonia was nearly overwhelming, and as they started to exit the garden, Philip took her hand again, and a calmness, a rightness came over him, just as it had after she had held his hand when the spell had been complete.
During the spell he had only felt a connection to her and the book. It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, simply attached, as if he were part of her and the book.
It had been broken when she had pulled away, but then she took his hand again and that is when the peace filled him in a way that he had never experienced before. As if they were meant to be here, in this moment, together.
His mother once told him that when magic is shared, a connection is made. Except he did not possess magic. Only Antonia did. He had nothing to share with her.
But, after the spell, they were most definitely connected, as one, her being the other part of him.
Did she feel it as well? Or was this simply an aftermath of being part of a spell, or the transformations that were happening in him because of the original spell?
Philip nearly asked if she needed to touch him as much as he needed her but feared she did not feel the same.
At least she had not rejected him when he reached for her hand, but had held tight, as if she needed him as well.
