more, his eyes scanned the line of trees, but there was nothing there.
Philip ran a hand over his face, trying to catch his breath.
He didn’t know who she was. He didn’t even know if she’d been real or if he’d imagined her.
All he knew was that for the first time in two years, for the briefest of moments, he felt something close to alive.
“And where have you been?”
Selina smiled at the crotchety old woman stirring a bubbling pot over the hearth.
“I’ve been walking in the woods, as well you know,” she answered. “Where else would I be?”
“Who knows?” Agnes bit back. “With you, I’m never sure whether you’ll come back or wander off again.”
“Oh, whisht.” Selina hurried over to plant a kiss on the woman’s wrinkly cheek. “You know I always tell you when I’m going. Or at least leave you a note.”
It wasn’t often that Selina wandered off somewhere to be alone and sleep under the stars. Just that sometimes she had the urge for open space. For freedom.
“Hmph. Decided to stay and grace me with your presence awhile then, did you?”
Agnes was rarely in the mood to be charmed, and she certainly didn’t suffer anyone gladly. But Selina knew that underneath the gruff exterior lay a soft heart.
Otherwise, she never would have kept Selina safe and raised her from a babe when her mother had died giving birth to her.
“I did,” Selina answered smoothly, moving to set the table for their simple repast while Agnes continued to stir, humming softly to herself.
As Selina set out plates and cups, she thought back to the man in the carriage.
She’d known he would be passing by at that time. Had sensed it. Just as she’d sensed the sadness emanating from the little boy inside that vehicle.
Selina’s heart had seized with the pain as he’d gone by. The fear, terror, and sadness that followed the boy surrounded her. Surrounded him.
He was trapped in it. Haunted by it.
She’d been drawn to the road in ways she didn’t understand but knew now not to question.
From childhood she’d learned not to question her gift.
The seventh daughter of the seventh daughter.
It was a potent gypsy magic that people didn’t understand.
People fear what they do not understand.
Agnes’s words had become a litany for Selina.
When she’d been teased by boys in the village. When people clutched their valuables tighter as she walked by. When whispers of dark magic and witchcraft followed her around the small village where Agnes sent her for supplies, Selina repeated those words to herself.
In truth, she didn’t understand it either.
It was so much a part of her, this extra sense, that she no longer feared it or wondered about it.
It was just who she was and over the years, she’d learned to be content with it and this life she led.
Sometimes, wanderlust hit and she’d pack a bag and leave for a few weeks, living in nature. Everything around her felt like a friend. She didn’t fear the forest, or the ocean, animals, or the wilderness.
In Selina’s experience, the only danger she truly had to fear was humankind.
Men and women were the ones who caused her hurt. Who’d killed her mother and her people. Who’d driven her to this life.
She wouldn’t leave now, however. Not now the child was here. The child who clearly needed her help.
Her mind skittered from the boy she hadn’t seen to the man she had, and once more that odd feeling she’d experienced as their eyes had locked swept over her.
There’d been something about him. The stranger.
Something that had taken her breath away and unfurled a dark, wicked something inside her.
The look in his eyes as he’d gazed into hers had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
It wasn’t just the desire.
Men had desired her for years. And Selina had learned that desire didn’t mean respect, or love, or even tolerance.
No, for men it meant only the wish to bed her and nothing more.
Her poor mama had learned that lesson the hard way. Selina had learned it by listening to her mother’s tragic story and refusing to follow in her footsteps.
But the man, the stranger. Though desire had flared in the bright blue depths of his eyes, there’d been something else.
They’d never met. They’d never seen each other before, yet his soul had connected with Selina’s as though they were old friends.
However, he too was haunted by his past, though not in the same way as his son.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Agnes placing a bowl of steaming stew in