Ambrose set his glass on the table beside him and stretched out his legs. The clock on the mantle said that it was well after midnight. The others had found their beds long ago. He’d avoided Eve for the rest of the day, both ashamed of himself for kissing her and desiring nothing more than to do so again.
Only the whisper of voices in his head held him back. Sometime after dark, they’d started again. First as a low murmur, then growing in volume until he could no longer hear the storm or the crackle of the fire. Drink had only quieted them enough to hear himself think, and still, they plagued him.
He pressed his hands over his ears and tried once more to block them out.
Suddenly the air shifted around him. Ice slid down his spine and quickened his heart. The voices grew louder, almost shouting in their intensity.
“No.” He didn’t know whether he whispered or yelled the word. All he could hear were the multitude of voices.
Ambrose lifted a shaking hand toward the scotch just as Eve’s voice rang out.
“Stop!” she commanded.
He turned to find her in the doorway, wearing only a thin night rail, with Alfred at her feet.
“Stop yelling,” she said.
“Eve?” She wasn’t addressing him, he realized. Her gaze was on a spot near the fireplace.
“I will help if you would please stop shouting.”
Suddenly the voices in his head fell silent. The fire crackled and Alfred purred as he selected a spot near the fire to curl up. The cold tingle across Ambrose’s skin was gone and all that remained was a quiet study.
“Eve?”
She met his gaze, and he saw a mixture of sorrow and helplessness in her eyes.
He stood.
Eve closed the door behind her and slowly crossed the room to his side.
He ached to draw her into his arms, but though the voices had silenced, he knew he was and forever would be cursed.
She wasn’t meeting his gaze again, which reminded him of earlier in the attic, when he thought he’d heard her speaking to someone.
“Who is shouting?” he asked.
Eve wrapped her arms around her waist and pressed her lips together. “I didn’t want you to know.”
“Know what?” When she didn’t reply, he took hold of her upper arms and gently drew her closer. “What are you afraid to tell me, darling?” He hadn’t meant to utter the endearment, but it felt right.
“Father is marrying me off because I have no other suitors. No one wishes to marry the addled woman who sometimes is found talking to an empty attic.” She grimaced.
Ambrose thought back to the few things he’d heard her say. She had asked something like “What stopped you?”. Not words people usually said to themselves. Or like moments ago, when she’d commanded someone to stop. “You weren’t talking to yourself.”
“No one believes me when I say so.”
“I believe you, Eve.”
She searched his face. Then she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him.
Ambrose smiled and pulled her closer. Here, in the darkness of his study, with Eve in his arms, he felt whole. Not like a man cursed or lonely.I want this always. I want her.
The moment the thought entered his mind, the voices began. He tensed.
Eve’s eyes widened. “Ambrose?”
He pulled out of her arms and backed away. “Stay back. I don’t want to hurt you.”
