“He killed them.”
“We prove it.”
“I don't need proof.”
“Yes.”
“You do.”
He stared.
Penny continued:
“If you kill Silas, he becomes a dead cousin and you become the cursed husband who finally went mad.”
That stopped him.
“Is that what you want?”
“No.”
“Then sit.”
Declan sat.
Barely.
That night Penny stayed at the cabin.
Samuel and Thomas returned to town for records.
Declan insisted Penny take the bedroom.
She refused.
They argued.
Finally she sat beside him by the fire.
He looked exhausted.
Not physically.
Soul-level exhaustion.
Penny wore a lightweight cream chemise beneath a burgundy shawl because the cabin had become warm near the stove.
Declan tried very hard not to stare.
Penny noticed.
Given the darkness of the day, she almost enjoyed the normality of it.
“You may look.”
His head snapped toward her.
“What?”
“You've spent twenty minutes pretending the fireplace is fascinating.”
Declan’s face reddened.
Penny smiled.
“I’m not offended.”
“You should be.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m thinking things a gentleman shouldn't.”
Penny leaned closer.
“Maybe I’m tired of gentlemen.”
His breath changed.
She let the shawl slip slightly from one shoulder.
Nothing indecent.
Enough to make him forget grief for half a second.
Declan whispered:
“Penny.”
“Yes?”
“Cruel woman.”
She smiled.
“Mountain monster.”
He reached for her.
Stopped.
Penny watched his hand.
“Still asking permission?”
“Always.”
She took his wrist.
Placed his palm against her waist.
His fingers tightened gently.
Penny’s voice softened.
“Good.”
He pulled her closer.
Their foreheads touched.
Declan whispered:
“I want you.”
“I know.”
“I hate that I want you.”
“That part is less flattering.”
He almost laughed.
“I mean because—”
“Seven graves.”
“Yes.”
Penny looked into his eyes.
“I am not them.”
“No.”
“And wanting me does not kill me.”
“No.”
“Then stop treating desire like murder.”
He stared.
Her fingers touched his chest.
Declan leaned closer.
Almost kissed her.
Then Penny noticed something.
His gums.
A faint dark line.
“Wait.”
Declan froze.
Her expression shifted.
“Open your mouth.”
“What?”
“Do it.”
He obeyed.
Gray-blue discoloration.
Penny’s stomach dropped.
“You've been drinking the cabin water since returning.”
“A little.”
“How much?”
“Penny—”
“How much?”
“Two cups.”
She stood instantly.
Went to the wash bowl.
Tiny metallic flakes.
Fresh.
Not old contamination alone.
Someone had recently modified the system.
Penny grabbed the lantern.
Crossed to the tank.
Scraped the newer seam.
Gray material peeled away.
Declan approached.
“What?”
She held it up.