Page 20 of Beyond the Cottage (After the Fairytale #1)

Chapter 20

H ands fisted at his sides, Ansel followed the women inside. He was a moron. He’d expected Gretta’s hostility, but he hadn’t anticipated her fear.

He should have. While she possessed courage and confidence in spades, he knew she hadn’t fully processed what happened to them as children. Her panic seemed to have subdued, and he maintained there would have been no holding her back from this visit, but he could have at least taken it slower, eased her in.

As they entered the kitchen, Gretta’s eyes darted around the sunny, clapboard room. When they narrowed at Isobel’s little pot-bellied stove, Ansel resisted the urge to throw her over his shoulder and haul her back to the boat.

Isobel pulled three chipped cups off a shelf and set her kettle on the stove. “How do you take your tea, Gretta?”

“I don’t drink tea. One of your sisters used to sweeten her chamomile with our tears, and I guess I lost my taste for it.”

“That bitch wasn’t my sister, honey. But no tea all the same. How about a nice cup of dandelion wine?”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“It’s in that cupboard if you change your mind.” Abandoning the tea, Isobel busied herself with arranging cookies on a plate.

Ansel moved in close to Gretta. “I’d like to check the roof,” he said quietly, “but I’ll stay if you don’t want to be alone with her.”

“No, go. But take her with you for a few minutes. I want to get my bearings before we talk.”

Knowing Gretta, that meant she wanted to snoop. “I’ll be right outside.”

He pulled a chair out from under the plank table, and Gretta dropped into it. She produced a small pad of paper and a pencil and jotted something down, ignoring the cookies Isobel placed before her.

“Alright, Izz,” he said. “Show me the damage.”

Isobel led him from the cabin, out to where shingles were missing from her roof. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he looked it over before heading for the shed. He surveyed its jumbled clutter while Isobel’s stare burned holes in his back.

“So,” she said from the doorway. “Care to tell me the story?”

Ansel dug through a crate of cedar shingles, plucking out bits of rotted wood. “No. Our reunion wasn’t a happy one for her.”

“How’s that possible? You two were so close, and you did grow up to be a handsome wretch.”

“Yeah, well. I fucked her over bad, and now she despises me.”

“That wasn’t my interpretation of things out in the yard.”

“She was having a panic attack, Izz. Witches might be the one thing she hates more than me.”

Isobel pulled a ladder off the wall. Ansel leapt to take it from her with a scolding look.

Putting her hands up in surrender, she settled against the door frame. “How exactly did you fuck her over? I won’t let this go until you give me details, so spill.”

He knew that was true enough. She’d needle him with questions until she got it out of him, and he wasn’t in the mood for a drawn out interrogation.

He tossed a hammer and a box of nails into the crate and turned to her. “Jonas abducted Gretta from the city and dumped her unconscious body on my office floor. Instead of offering assistance, I stole her dust while she slept and locked her in a cell so she wouldn’t go to the police. I menaced her, insulted her, and didn’t come to my senses until it was far too late. So, yeah. She fucking hates me.”

Silence greeted him. He averted his eyes.

“Oh, honey ,” Isobel sighed.

He picked up the crate and brushed past her to the yard. He was in the mood for her pity even less than her questions.

She followed him, dogging his heels. “One day I’d like you to bring your cousin ’round so I might have a word. He’s been nothing but a problem for years.”

“Jonas isn’t in charge, and he’s not the one who held her captive.”

“Do you still love her?”

Ansel drew up short. Looking straight ahead, he dumped the crate beside the cabin and roughly brushed his hands on his trousers. “That’s immaterial.”

“Tell me you at least apologized. Sometimes men forget that part of the forgiving process.”

“Of course I did. Hell, I’d let her carve my heart out if I thought it would make any difference. Some things can’t be forgiven.”

Humming, Isobel tapped her lips. “I’ve got a little devotion potion left. It won’t make her love you, but it’ll keep her by your side a bit longer.”

“What a splendid solution. Making her my captive again, except this time with a spell? Goddamn brilliant.”

“I only meant as a way to buy you time to win her. Point taken, though.”

Exhausted by the subject matter, Ansel faced her. “I’m disbanding the farm.”

“About time! I’ve been waiting for this, you’re destined for bigger things than peddling dust.”

Patently false, but there was little point in arguing it. “Will you be okay? I fear I’m leaving you in the lurch.”

“Don’t worry about me, I mostly dabbled in dust to help you.”

“I, ah…might be gone for a while after this. I don’t know when we’ll see each other again.”

“And where are you off to?”

“Gretta says she knows an investor for the repellent, and she’s asked me to join her in the capital. More likely, a prison sentence awaits me when we reach Antrelle.”

Isobel’s eyes flared. “Are you going with her?”

“To Antrelle? Yes.”

“What about the capital?”

He couldn’t bring himself to believe that was an actual possibility. Best to take each moment as it came. “I don’t know. Probably not.”

“It’s a good thing I’ve got plenty of hope for you.”

Disregarding her misplaced optimism, he said, “There’s something else—Gretta was sent here by her employer specifically to find you. He’s a senator named Nathaniel Grey.”

Isobel’s brow arched. “Indeed?”

“Yes. I don’t want you to lie to Gretta, but be cautious. I get the impression he’s a powerful man, and I have no idea what he wants with you.”

“My,” she preened. “A powerful man with questionable intentions wants me? Maybe I shall go looking for him .”

“I’m sure you’d have him eating out of your hand within an hour. Still, be careful.”

She winked. “I always am.”

Ansel slid the hammer through his belt loop and started unbuttoning his shirt. “You better go back inside. Please, Izz, be patient with her. Give her breathing room.”

“Of course.”

“And for godssake, do not meddle in mine and Gretta’s personal affairs.”

She fluffed her wayward curls. “Ansel, do you know me at all?”

“Yes. I do.”

She saucily blew him a kiss and traipsed to the house.