His hands settled at her waist, drawing her nearer; she came without resistance. Her fingers rose to his shoulders, then to the back of his neck, threading lightly through his hair as though they had always known the way. They stood as though shaped to one another—balanced, inevitable.
When at last they parted, the air between them seemed thinner, charged.
Both of them were breathing unsteadily.
“I feel obliged to warn you,” Benjamin said, his voice still roughened, “that I am in danger of becoming quite insufferable. I shall seize every tolerable excuse to kiss you. I shall look at you across rooms in a manner certain to unsettle the staff. I shall tell you I love you with such frequency that you will beg me to stop.”
A slow smile curved her lips.
“I shall endure it.”
“Good.”
He kissed her again—softer now, reverent—and drew her toward the settee.
“Come. Sit with me.”
She settled beside him, and he wrapped an arm about her shoulders. The firelight gilded the room. For the first time in her life, Eleanor felt wholly secure.
“Tell me about the future,” she said. “What do you see?”
“I see this house bright again,” he answered. “The gardens restored. The paths clear.”
“What else?”
He hesitated only a fraction.
“I see children.”
Her breath stilled.
“I once believed it wiser to let the line end,” he admitted. “But now—if you wish it—I see sons and daughters running these corridors. Growing in a house that knows warmth.”
“I would like that,” she whispered.
He pressed a kiss to her hair.
“I see us growing older without fear. The scars fading. The silences easy. I see us still disputing literature when we are grey.”
“I shall still be correct,” she said.
“Undoubtedly.”
She turned in his arms.
“We will have it,” she said. “All of it.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
They remained there together until the fire burned low, talking about everything and nothing.
At some point, Eleanor drifted to sleep against his shoulder—undone by the emotion of the evening, soothed by the fire’s warmth and the steady cadence of his heartbeat. Benjamin did not stir. He only adjusted his arm more securely about her and watched the embers sink into a quiet glow, scarcely daring to breathe for fear of disturbing the fragile peace.
She had chosen him.
Despite the scars. Despite the silences. Despite the long weeks of misunderstanding that had nearly cost them everything.
