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“I did. She stood on that wall, raised her arms up, and just…” He tipped the flat of his hand over. “Just after three in the morning. Everything got quiet almost right after she jumped. The wind died, and the moon changed back.”

His eyes, deep and eerily blue with the black rings around the irises, looked directly into hers. “It wasn’t stepping through a magic mirror into another time, but it was a goddamn moment.”

“You could’ve waked me.”

“Why? It was over, and all of us needed some sleep.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Instead, she walked to him, set her coffee down, and wrapped her arms around him as she had Owen.

“She didn’t hesitate, Sonya. She’d come here to end herself at the manor, and that’s just what she did.”

“And she’s still here, a part of her is.” Drawing back, she framedhis face, kissed him. “That had to be beyond strange, and really hard to witness.”

“Your instinct is to stop it. Just stop it, no matter what she did, what she is or was. But there was no stopping it.”

“It wasn’t for love of Collin Poole. That’s not love, I don’t believe that. It’s not jealousy over a man.”

“They’d have hanged her. For the murder of Astrid Poole. They’d have hanged her in the village, away from the manor. She needed to die here, at her own time, at his place, by her own means. I don’t know much about witchcraft or curses, but I’m betting on that.”

“Oh.” She stepped back as it struck her. “Of course. It makes sense in the completely insane scope of it all. How could she doom a Poole bride every generation if she was hanged miles away? How could she take their wedding rings—because the rings, Trey, are part of how the curse holds.”

“The spell you heard—when she killed Agatha Poole.”

Closing her eyes, Sonya brought it back.

“‘With my blade, I took the first, then by my blood this house was cursed. One by one they wed, they die, because they seek to take what’s mine.’”

She opened her eyes. “‘And with their rings of gold, my spell will hold and hold.’”

And shuddered.

“She stabbed Astrid—by her blade,” Sonya began. “She killed herself here—by her blood. And yeah, the rings are the key to holding the spell, the curse.”

“There’s the other part. They—not she, not Astrid—theyseek to take what’s mine. Not Collin Poole, Sonya, or not just Collin Poole.”

“The manor.” On a long breath, she slid down onto a stool. “Not love for Collin Poole, however deranged. The manor. He’d inherited the manor from Arthur Poole, from his father, after his father had a riding accident.”

“Was it an accident?”

Eyes wide, she pressed a hand to her heart. “You think—and God, I see why—she caused the accident.”

“She has an affair with the oldest son, the son who’ll inherit the manor—and all the prestige that goes with it. A lot of wealth besides. Get rid of his father so it passes to him? It’s not a big stretch, considering.”

“I guess it isn’t.”

“But then, he doesn’t want Dobbs. He’s not going to marry Dobbs.”

“He marries Astrid Grandville. He loved her, Trey. They loved each other. I saw that. I saw them.”

“I’m not disputing that. In fact, that’s part of it.”

Rising, he slid his hands in his pockets. Paced to the window to check on the dogs.

“He loved someone else, married someone else. Someone who’d live here, make a family here. So she killed Astrid, the first bride. On her wedding day.”

“But Collin still didn’t want her.”

“No, he grieved, ordered that portrait painted. And Dobbs will be hanged for murder—and I’d say in no small part for witchcraft. She escapes long enough to come here, cement the curse with her own blood and death.”