The Glass Casket by Mccormick Templeman Read Free Book Online Page B

if the man sees the fire in those eyes, sees himself there, then he can fall in love before they’ve even spoken a word.”
    “But what do
you
think?” he asked, a fervor in his voice. “Do you think it’s possible?”
    She considered this, furrowing her brow. “I don’t know. I suppose I like the idea of some part of our bodies knowing and recognizing our futures even if our minds cannot. That appeals to me. But no,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think it possible.”
    “You don’t?” he laughed. “Really? If your future husband came riding into the village one day, you don’t think you’d recognize him immediately?”
    Rowan shook her head. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
    “How does it work, then?”
    She was silent for a moment as she tried to untangle what she thought from what she felt. “I think in order to love someone, you must know their heart. You need to witnesstheir goodness, and you can’t know something like that unless you’ve known someone for a while. I think familiarity breeds love.”
    “That’s not very romantic of you,” he laughed.
    “Isn’t it?” she wondered. “I think there’s something charming about couples who grow to love each other as they get to know each other. Why, didn’t you tell me that your parents only married because their own parents wanted to merge families? Presumably they didn’t love each other at the beginning, but now I imagine they feel all the more proud of their love because it wasn’t easy to come by. It was something they worked at.”
    Tom snickered. “You can imagine all you want, Ro, but I find it highly unlikely that my parents love each other even now.”
    “No,” she said, mildly troubled. “They love each other.”
    “They’re familiar with each other. There’s a difference. I’m talking about love, grand love—that thing that makes your chest feel like it’s about to explode, that makes you feel like your knees are about to give way, that certainty that you’ve seen the essence of your future in a pair of red lips.”
    Rowan sighed. “Tom, beauty isn’t the same thing as goodness; it isn’t the same thing as love.”
    Tom smiled slyly. “Ro, just because you haven’t experienced it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
    Rowan was growing increasingly uncomfortable. “You needn’t play games, Tom. We both know you’re talking about Fiona Eira. You might as well call her by name. Butyou haven’t even met her—you’ve only seen her once. You’re delusional if you think you know her.”
    “But my heart knows her,” he said, not to be dissuaded. “She is my future. When I looked in her eyes, I saw my birth, my death, everything in between, as if knowing her so intimately in the future means that I already know her now.”
    Rowan noticed an unfamiliar tension in her shoulders. In their relationship, she was the one used to having the answers. She was the one who explained things to Tom, but here he was so confident, explaining things to her as if she were a child. She didn’t like it.
    “Tom,” she said. “I know you want me to make the introduction. I know that’s what you’re getting at, but you’ll have to ask another girl. My father doesn’t want me speaking to her, remember? Can’t your mother do it?”
    “My mother won’t do that, and you know it,” he said. “She already thinks poorly of the glassblower. And besides, sometimes I’m not sure my mother is fond of the idea of me ever taking a wife, especially not …”
    “Such a pretty one?” Rowan finished what Tom seemed unable to say.
    Tom nodded. “The pretty ones are always ill tempered. I’ve heard her say it fifty times if I’ve heard her say it once.”
    “Let me guess, the lovely harlots are for Jude. You’re meant for a dull girl with big cow eyes who knows her way around a broom.”
    “Exactly,” he laughed, and then he reached out for her, placing a hand on her arm. “Ro, you have to help me.”
    She bit