The Mirror - Page 198

But he had grown to love, and deeply.

Perhaps it had been the birth of their first children, Collin and Connor, that had opened that part of him. And as years passed, as the family grew, so did his love for the woman who made that family with him.

Now, older and wiser, he was content to—slowly—turn the reins of the business over to his sons. Good, bright, steady young men, both of them. And he could and did trust his eldest to tend to his siblings when the time came for it. To make a home, as he had, in Poole Manor.

But today wasn’t about a far-flung future. He had more ships to build, plans to expand the manor again.

After all, he’d have grandchildren coming before too much longer.

The thought made him laugh at himself.

“Wedding first.” He gave his mount a pat on her long neck. “And we’ll see to it the manor shines like a jewel for it. The most important wedding Poole’s Bay has ever seen.”

The woman stepped onto the path so he had to pull up his horse. The woman dressed in black, her black hair a tumble rather than modestly restrained. And her dark eyes full of uncanny light.

He knew her, Hester Dobbs. He knew her for a witch.

A chill ran through him as she smiled.

“Woman, you have no place here.”

“I will have. I will have my place here, in these woods, in the grand grounds before them, in the manor that rises over the sea. I will have all.”

“Go back to your cottage, woman, and stir your witch’s brew.”

“Oh, I have, Arthur Poole. I have. And your son drank that brew thinking it was no more than a cup of water after a long ride. And when he did, I bedded him in my cottage in the deep woods.”

Rage rose up. “I can have you hanged for it.”

“But you won’t.” She stepped closer to him, laid a light hand on the horse’s neck. “I tell you now, Collin Poole, your firstborn, yourheir, is mine. As these woods will be mine. And I will be mistress of the manor for all time.”

“And I tell you, you will have nothing. You will not touch my son again, and I will make certain of it. I will see you dragged from your cottage, banished from Poole’s Bay. You will have nothing of mine, and never will you step foot in my home as long as I live.”

“This is true. This I know. I have seen it, and so.”

She lifted her hands.

“In this place, I call the wind. And as it blows, your life I end.”

The horse shied as the wind swirled, as it moaned like a wounded man and sent leaves spinning.

With a curse, Arthur controlled it.

“Be damned to you, witch!” Arthur shouted it, but Dobbs continued.

“Father to son, the manor will pass, and under my spell, he will do all I ask. With my power your life I take. Now turn and turn and bend and break!”

His head turned at an odd angle on his neck. For an instant, his eyes, Poole green, bulged, and his mouth opened as if to gasp for air.

Then something cracked, a hideous sound. And he fell, limp and lifeless, to the ground.

With a laugh, she gave the horse a swat to send the mare running down the path. Stepping over, Dobbs looked down at Arthur.

“You thought you could stand against me? Keep me from what I desire? Your death only brings me closer to what is mine, what will always be mine.”

She lifted her arms again, turned in the swirling wind. “I am and will be mistress of the manor. All who stand against me will meet death.”

She started to slip back in the woods, then turned her head sharply.