and had had lovers in the past, as well as mistresses…except he had not loved any of those women. He only loved Miranda and feared losing her. He’d gone so far to convince himself that he’d rather have her as a friend than not have her at all. Except, he also could no longer live with always wanting and loving her while only being friends. He needed so much more, and it was time to find out if that were even possible. Which he’d do tonight.
“Why are you really here?” he asked.
She glanced back at him, her eyes narrowing.
“I don’t believe I shall tell you because I’m certain you will laugh.” She sniffed and walked closer to the well.
Wesley placed a hand over his heart. “I promise that I will not. On that you have my word.” And he certainly hoped he wasn’t making a promise that he could not keep. Life with Miranda would be wonderful and whimsical as she searched for magic and what lay beyond her imagination, while he remained grounded in reality. However, she needed to accept his suit before that could happen, and Wesley still feared that she would not accept him as a suitor instead of as a friend.
As much as Miranda wished to spend as much time as possible with Lord Epworth, she didn’t dare tell him the truth as to why she’d come to this clearing.
After Miranda had learned that his opinion of her had been that of a feather-brained, odd miss, she’d tamped down her utter fascination for ghosts. She never denied that she believed in ghosts, because she did, whole-heartedly, and the two of them had argued over the existence of anything magical or other-worldly several times. However, their disagreements weren’t so strong as to alter their friendship. However, if he knew why she was truly in this clearing, by this well, he might begin thinking her feather-brained again and Miranda feared losing his friendship.
Friendship! That’s all she was to Epworth, a friend.
Oh, why couldn’t he see her as anything more? As far as Miranda was concerned, Epworth was nearly perfect with his blond hair and blue eyes, sculptured features and just the perfect height of being a head taller than her. Further, he was kind and an enjoyable companion, someone she nearly trusted completely.
Epworth was perfect. Perfect for her and he was her friend.
Though she continued to be careful not to let Epworth know how badly she wished to encounter a ghost, it was impossible to ignore the opportunity to do so at Castle Keyvnor and the very reason she’d snuck away from everyone following the wedding. If rumors were to be believed, the castle was brimming with ghosts and it had been her intention to find one—just one—during the week of wedding festivities, but so far, they’d been elusive.
As elusive as Epworth’s love.
“Are you going to tell me?” he asked, a blond eyebrow hitched as he waited for her answer. “Why is it so magical?”
“The well.” Her cheeks grew hotter as she gestured to the weathered bricks, but she’d not shy away from what she believed.
At that he frowned and pointed. “That well?”
“Yes, this well.” She neared the crumbling structure, which she suspected remained standing only because of the vining flowers that grew about it, like string holding together the broken pieces.
“Is this a special well?”
“If you must know, it’s a wishing well.” Miranda made light of the rumor so he didn’t suspect that she believed with all her heart that any wish could be granted.
Epworth bit his bottom lip as if he were trying to contain his reaction, as he promised.
“It holds a water nymph and if an offering is made, wishes will be granted,” she confided in a teasing whisper, though her heart beat a rapid tattoo of hope that it could provide one of her fondest wishes.
Epworth dipped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ghosts, pixies, mermaids and now water nymphs. None of it logical,” he mumbled more to himself before he lifted his chin to look at Miranda. “Did you bring a coin?” he finally asked.
“You don’t throw coins into this well.” Miranda pulled a ribbon from her hair.
“I don’t understand.” Epworth stepped forward. “Then what do you wish with?”
“The nymph, nor the well, has any use for money,” she answered with authority. “I’m offering a favorite ribbon that I wore today specifically for this purpose. The nymph may offer it to the pixies or keep it for herself.”