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be done with it?”
    Miri entirely agreed with her. It would have made despising Simon so much easier and far less painful.
    As though determined to compound Miri’s confusion, Marie Claire went on, “To give the devil his due, there is one other thing that I will always be grateful for. When the writs of arrests were sworn out, he took great care that your name should never appear.”
    Miri stiffened. Marie Claire might be grateful for that, Ariane and Gabrielle as well. But it was one of Simon’s actions that Miri found most unforgivable.
    “You’ll never know how much I resent him for that,” Miri choked. “That my sisters, my good brother-in-law Renard, you and so many other women on this island should have been charged with sorcery, while I alone was spared because of some whim of Simon’s.”
    Miri tried to fight her anger, the emotion poisonous to her, but it coursed through her like a dark tide. “I hate him,” she said with fierce intensity as though trying to convince herself as much as Marie Claire. “I have never hated anyone else in my life, but Simon forced me to loathe him. I hate him for what he did to my family, my friends, and most of all, for what he did to this island. There used to be a wild sweet spirit that lived here and Simon destroyed it. I should have shot him that night in Paris but I was too weak. But believe me, if I ever get another chance, I’ll know how to deal with the villain.”
    “Oh, hush, child.” Marie Claire cradled Miri’s face between her hands, a deeply troubled look creasing the older woman’s brow. “This kind of talk is not like you.”
    “Isn’t it?” Miri whispered, wondering how well Marie Claire knew her, wondering how well she knew herself anymore. “I suppose I do sound like young Carole, cursing her former lover. This is what Simon Aristide has reduced me to, these horrible black emotions that tear me up inside.”
    Tears burned Miri’s eyes and she blinked them back fiercely. “That—that is why I try never to think of him.”
    “Then I am sorry for ever mentioning the man’s name. I only thought that you should be warned. I shall pray very hard that your paths never cross again.” Marie Claire gently brushed aside the sole tear that had escaped to trickle down Miri’s cheek. “But I really do feel you should leave Faire Isle.”
    “Because of Simon?”
    “No, because you should have never come back here in the first place.”
    Miri gave a tremulous smile, attempted to jest. “What! Are you so tired of my company already, Marie?”
    Marie Claire’s eyes clouded with a look full of such wistfulness, such loneliness, it pulled at Miri’s heart. “No, child. Having you here has meant the world to me. But this island is no longer any place for you. It holds nothing but memories of a time that is gone forever.”
    “The same is true of you,” Miri protested, but Marie Claire only shook her head with a sad smile.
    “I am an old woman. Memories are all that are left to me. But you are too young to dwell in the past.” Marie Claire stroked back a stray wisp of Miri’s hair in a tender, motherly gesture. “You may not have asked for my advice, but I am giving it to you. Leave Faire Isle, go back to Bearn, and marry that young man who adores you.”
    Miri felt herself blush. “You sound like Gabrielle. No doubt she has been writing and complaining to you about my folly.”
    Unlike Ariane, Gabrielle had not been nearly as resigned or understanding when Miri had mentioned her desire to return to Faire Isle. It had been the one remark that had been able to snap Gabrielle’s attention from the latest canvas she’d been working on.
    “Are you completely insane, Miribelle Cheney?” In her agitation, Gabrielle had waved her brush, scattering stray flecks of paint about the room. “Why would you want to go back to a place where you’ll be lonely and miserable, to say nothing of possibly being in danger? When you could stay right here and marry