Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

M ax towered above her, the strong lines of his face illuminated in the soft flicker of candlelight. The hush of the room was filled only with the echo of their breathing and the crackle of dying embers.

His gaze was fixed on her lips, and she wanted very much for him to lean in all the way and meet their mouths together.

Amelia's heart raced as Max's warm breath brushed against her skin, his hand gently cupping her cheek. Anticipation, hesitation, and longing all seemed to merge together into a single moment of suspended time.

And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, they each crossed the distance halfway and their lips finally met.

It was a gentle touch at first, tentative and uncertain, an exploration of the desire that had been simmering between them ever since they met. But as their kiss deepened, a surge of that undeniable passion ignited between them, binding them in a dance of raw emotion and unspoken truths.

Amelia melted into the embrace, losing herself in the intoxicating sensation of Max's lips moving tenderly yet urgently against hers. The world around them faded away, leaving only their synchronized heartbeats and warmth that enveloped them together.

Each brush of his lips against hers sent sparks through her veins, as heady and powerful as any spell.

Amelia could taste the lingering sweetness of magic on his lips, feel the gentle pressure of his hand against her cheek, and hear the soft cadence of his breath mingling with hers.

As they broke free from the kiss, their eyes locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes beyond words. Max's gaze held a mixture of reverence and adoration, as if he had discovered a hidden treasure in the depths of her soul. Amelia, however, felt that she was the fortunate one, for Max’s kiss had opened a hidden chamber within her, where emotions long kept at bay now surged as hot and fiery as Isolde’s spell had been.

The echoes of their kiss reverberated through Amelia like a long-forgotten melody. With trembling fingers, she reached up to caress his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath her touch, grounding her in the reality of the moment.

Max's eyes bore into hers, a silent question hanging between them, pleading for permission and understanding. In that shared gaze, Amelia saw reflections of her own longing.

She nodded slowly in answer to his question.

Yes, she wanted this. Wanted him. As much as he was willing to give her and for as long as he would keep himself open to her.

“Max,” she breathed, “should we?—"

“We… should say goodnight,” he said, his face suddenly shuttering as he stepped backward as though he was closing a door between them. Amelia’s heart fell, even though she knew that his dismissal had nothing to do with her — it was due to all the reasons he told himself that he couldn’t be happy or find any joy.

“Very well,” she said, forcing a smile she didn’t feel onto her face. The swirling passion deep in her stomach was telling her to fight for this night with him. But the truth was, he was probably right. He was her employer, and she was supposed to be spending months here. How would she do so if they became intimate and he pushed her away after that? “Goodnight, Max.”

She walked away regretfully, feeling his gaze on her back as she went.

Max was proud of himself.

He had shown great restraint, stopping himself before he and Amelia had taken any rash actions that might have been brought about by the rush of excitement after quelling the dark forces.

So why did it feel like he had made the worst decision of his life?

He tossed and turned all night. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Amelia’s face, backlit by a wall of fire. Then, a deluge of water seemed to douse him. When he woke, his entire body was wet, and it appeared that his dreams had come to life.

Perhaps he never should have given in to these powers that had been tugging at him for years now.

They had saved Amelia, yes, but now he had no idea how to live with them.

He needed help.

He hated that he had to ask, but after he had continued on his fence work that morning, he sought Amelia out in the music room, where today, she was actually sitting in front of Isolde’s painting, her brush touching the canvas.

“Here for your daily check on me?” she asked without turning around, and he watched her side profile, loving the way that her tongue peeked out of her mouth, touching the corner of her lips in concentration.

“I don’t check in,” he argued, and she peeked over her shoulder toward him.

“You do. But it’s fine. I actually look forward to seeing you.”

He grunted awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. She was so much more forward than most women of his acquaintance that he often wasn’t entirely sure how to speak with her.

“I need your help,” he blurted, unsure how else to ask.

“Isolde seems to be behaving herself today,” she said. “But what can I do to aid you?”

“It has to do with these… powers that I seem to have.”

“That you do have,” she corrected. “Not that you seem to have.”

“Very well, that I have,” he corrected, stopping himself from rolling his eyes. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with them.”

“ Do with them?” she repeated, continuing to paint. Only he wondered how she was making any progress, for every time she brought her brush to the canvas, it was only to make the smallest dots or strokes that he couldn’t even see. “You use them.”

“Well, that’s the thing. I don’t know how to use them. They present themselves at inopportune times. I need to control them.”

“That’s your problem right there,” she said. “You cannot control them. You have to learn how to live in harmony with them.”

“Will you help me?”

“How would you like me to help you?”

“To… practice, I suppose.” He ran his hand through his hair, and she must have sensed his frustration for she finally turned around and studied him more closely.

“I would be happy to help you with whatever you need,” she said. “We can practice.”

“Tonight?” he asked, pushing away from the doorway, sensing that she was focused and didn’t want to be disturbed at the moment.

“Tonight. After dinner,” she agreed.

He was sure this was going to make for a night to remember.

He just wasn’t sure what type of memory it was going to be.

Amelia’s entire body was cracking with anticipation over the rest of the day.

She could hardly believe that Max was embracing his powers. He had not only used them but had wanted to learn how to work with them.

Quite different from the man she had first met, who had refused to believe in magic altogether. She supposed living with a spirit who had cursed your family would be one way to convince a person.

They didn’t speak of it during dinner, instead discussing her work on the painting and his on the fence.

When they stood afterward, his face was drawn, likely hiding any nervousness he was feeling.

“Let’s go to the terrace,” he said. “There is nothing important out there that I might destroy.”

“If you believe you are going to destroy something, then you will,” she said. “That’s the first lesson. You have to believe in yourself and your abilities. If you don’t, no one else will.”

“Except you.”

“Except me.” She smiled as he held his elbow out to her. She took his arm, reminiscent of that first night they met, as he led her through the library doors and then outside, where the night air greeted them, cool and crisp.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the cobblestone path that wound through the estate's unmanicured gardens. As they walked in silence, the only sound was the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant hoot of an owl.

She stole glances at him from the corner of her eyes, his profile sharp and defined in the moonlight. There was mystery to him, depth that she couldn't quite grasp, a piece that he was still holding back from her.

They reached a secluded garden bench, the sides of it adorned with climbing roses that had been allowed to grow of their own will, their sweet scent mingling with the earthy aroma of damp grass.

Max tugged her hands down to sit on the bench and then turned to face her, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. "There is something I must tell you,” he said, his voice low and serious, causing her heart to race.

She lifted a brow and waited for him to continue.

“I’m nervous,” he admitted.

She released her own uneasy laughter that his revelation was not particularly disturbing.

“That’s understandable.”

“Do you think you could tell me how you first discovered your powers?”

“Of course,” she said, happy to do so if it would help him feel more comfortable, sinking closer into him, her thigh pressing against his.

“I was still fairly young—only ten years old. We lived in London, not well off but with enough to get by and be happy.”

“That sounds like a nice upbringing.”

“It was.” She smiled as she reminisced. “My mother was a painter, and I painted with her for as long as I can remember. One night, I was in the middle of painting, and you can imagine my shock when the dog I had painted came to life and started running around the room barking at me.”

“You are not serious.”

“I am. I was both thrilled and terrified. I had always wanted a dog of my own but not exactly in that way. Fortunately, my mother had always been a medicine woman herself, and she was no stranger to what she called witchcraft. It was in her family, and she had been watching to see if it was something that I might inherit.”

“So, she knew how to help you.”

“She did. There are even societies in London where people with abilities gather and help one another. She introduced me to one of them who has been of great help to me.”

“How fortunate I am to have you, then,” he said dryly, but she answered him as though he was being serious, patting his leg.

“You are, actually.”

“What do we do first?”

“The first thing you have to do is to talk to this voice of yours in your head,” she said, causing him to rub the bridge of his nose.

“I’d rather not. He’s annoying.”

“Maybe he thinks the same of you.”

Max laughed at that.

“Very well. Here we go.”