Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

M ax was not enjoying any part of this situation.

He didn’t like Charlie's familiarity with Amelia, although he was smart enough not to comment on it.

He wasn’t pleased that Lord and Lady Grantham hadn’t left after making their agreement as they said they were going to.

And he most certainly was annoyed at how Amelia looked like she was about to fall over. For such a vibrant woman, she had lost much of her brightness, and he was sure that Charlie had noted it, if the way he was looking between Max and Amelia was any sign. He most certainly seemed to suspect that Max was to blame.

The worst part of it was that Charlie was right. It was Max’s fault.

The sooner he could get them all out of here, the sooner they could break this curse, be done with it, and hopefully restore Amelia’s vitality.

But it was not as though he could share that with any of them.

However, dinner hour was nearing, and soon, he would either have to invite them all to stay or send them on their way.

He knew which was the polite option. But he had no wish to do it.

“Where did you say you were staying, Charlie?” Amelia asked, clearly of the same mind as Max.

“With Lucas Albright,” he said. “You remember him?”

“I do,” she said. “He is a brilliant sculptor.”

“He lives near here now,” Charlie said. “He says he draws his inspiration from the countryside and finds the city far too cloying. He said it stifles his creativity.”

“How lovely that you could see him,” she said with a warm smile, and Max was reminded of how well she fit with other people – unlike him and this mausoleum he had forced her into. “I shall have to arrange a visit before I leave.”

“I would love to see you again,” Charlie said, leaning in close and placing a hand on Amelia’s arm for long enough that Max wanted to growl at him to remove it. “Perhaps you can do so while I am still here.”

“I will do my very best,” she said, and Charlie looked over at Max.

“I hope you are not working her too hard, my lord.”

He said it in jest, but Max was aware that there was an underlying current of warning beneath it.

“I have found that Miss Lennox is the one who insists on working herself too hard,” Max said. “I would actually prefer that she rest more.”

“I am glad we are in agreement,” Charlie said. “As you are the one here with her, you will have to be sure to remind her.”

Max only lifted an eyebrow.

While Charlie might be correct, he was an artist, and Max was an earl. He wasn’t used to being spoken to as such, and it seemed that Charlie quickly realized it as he hastily covered his mistake.

“Which I am sure you do. You seem a most gracious employer.”

“My lord is the best of gentle men,” Lady Grantham said enthusiastically, although her eyes were sharp as she was clearly understanding some of the tensions that lined the room.

Max sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he saw Whitaker lingering in the doorway, likely wondering about the approaching dinner hour.

“Lord and Lady Grantham. Mr. Bastian, would you like to st—” He hadn’t even gotten the word out when there was a rumbling from beyond. He looked through the parlor window but found that the skies were clear. If there wasn’t any thunder, that meant—oh bollocks. It seemed Isolde wasn’t interested in hosting guests tonight.

“What was that?” Lady Grantham asked, looking around.

“Perhaps someone was moving something elsewhere in the manor,” Amelia said helpfully, even as her eyes met Max’s in concern.

“It could be,” he said. “We are doing something of a… renovation. That is part of why Miss Lennox is here working on one of my most prized paintings.”

“I see,” Lady Grantham said, her eyes flicking back and forth between them as she was obviously quite interested in this lie they were concocting, although Max couldn’t be sure what she actually believed. “Could we see the work you are doing?”

“It is too dangerous,” Max said. “Scaffolds, high bricks… I would not want anyone to be hurt.”

“Where in the manor is?—”

A door suddenly slammed down the hallway, followed by a succession of more slams that echoed one another, each farther away.

“My goodness,” Lady Grantham said, bringing a hand to cover her mouth. “I recall your mother saying that this place was haunted, but I always thought that she just had an overactive mind. I never believed in such nonsense myself. But…” she looked around thoughtfully. “This all seems rather strange.”

Her husband, a silent man, was already standing near the door, fists clasped in front of him.

“I believe the Crawleys are expecting us, dear,” he said. “We best go.”

His face was drawn in fear. Apparently, as much as Lady Grantham didn’t believe in hauntings, her husband did.

Isolde’s plan had worked.

She always was a smart one.

Are you still interested, then, Grandfather?

She cursed our family.

Max sighed. So much for that idea. He had hoped that if he could get his grandfather to forgive Isolde, they might be able to rediscover the love that the curse had discussed.

But his grandfather was a stubborn one, even though Max sensed that, deep within, he still held love for Isolde.

Max recognized the emotion himself.

He stood to walk Lord and Lady Grantham to the front door, although he couldn’t help but overhear Charlie’s conversation with Amelia.

“I suppose that is my cue to leave as well,” he said, “although I do not like leaving you here alone.”

“Charlie,” she said with a slight chuckle. “I am not alone. The earl is in residence, as are his staff. I can assure you that I will be perfectly fine.”

Charlie lowered his voice slightly, but Max could still hear him. “Something isn’t right here, Amelia. I can feel it, deep in my bones.”

“Just some lonely spirits,” she said flippantly. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

As Charlie had not been invited to stay, he certainly couldn’t say anymore, but Max did try to stay close enough that he could prevent any additional line of questioning.

Lord and Lady Grantham were out the door so quickly he barely had time to say farewell and thank them for stopping by before the door slammed behind them. He turned to find Charlie standing there, looking around apprehensively.

“Amelia,” he said slowly, “why do you not come stay with me and Lucas for the night? He would love to see you, and it isn’t far. You could return here to work during the day. Actually, yes, I think that would be far preferable?—”

Max fisted his hands as he tried to tamp down the ire that was growing inside of him, and he stepped forward menacingly. “Amelia—” He was about to say rather forcefully that she was staying here . That this was where she belonged. That she was his, and she would not be going anywhere that required her sleeping in the home of a man who wasn’t him.

But then he remembered everything that Amelia had told him. How proud she was that she had made her way in the world by herself, without a man looking after her. That she spoke for herself and only for herself. And he knew then that if he said what he was truly feeling, he would only push her away.

He took a breath to calm himself, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Amelia has the ability to make her own decisions. I think it would be better if you asked her rather than told her.”

He looked back at her, desperately hoping that she would decline.

She was staring at him with amazement in her face. Then her lips curled up in a small smile.

“Thank you,” she said softly before turning to Charlie. “I appreciate the offer, Charlie, and I will come to visit sometime soon. But I shall stay here.”

Max waited for her to say that she was waiting until she finished the work, or that she would be returning to London in due time, but she left it where it was, and he had to wonder what that meant.

Charlie nodded, obviously wanting to say more but knowing it was not his place to do so before he said goodnight and walked out the door.

After Isolde slammed it behind him, Amelia looked at Max expectantly. There was so much to say, so much that they needed to do.

But first, he needed to kiss her with the same intensity that he needed to breathe.

He wrapped her in his embrace, loving how she felt in his arms, which was exactly where she belonged. He leaned her over, dipping her backward as he kissed her soundly, reveling in the sensual response of her lips actively seeking him out as she reached up and held him against her.

Their kiss was a symphony of emotions and unspoken words. As his lips moved over hers, a surge of electricity coursed through Max, igniting the embers of emotion that had been smoldering deep within his heart. Her taste was intoxicating, and he couldn't help but deepen the kiss, losing himself in the moment.

Amelia's hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if afraid he might vanish if she let go. Her touch was gentle yet fervent, a silent plea for him to stay close. Max could feel the raw passion emanating from her, matching his own desire with a fierce intensity that took his breath away.

Finally, she leaned back, gasping for breath as her eyes met his in a soul-searching moment.

“Max,” she whispered. “I…I…”

He waited with bated breath. Did she love him? Could she? Did he want her to say the words?

Yes, he did – with all his heart. No one had ever chosen him before, nor even appeared to want him for any reason other than that he was a powerful earl. Even his parents had not been around long enough to convince him that he was worth the love of another.

Suddenly a mask flashed over her eyes, and he lost her for just a moment.

“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

She stepped back, her arms falling away from him and down to her sides.

“She’s calling me,” she murmured, the glaze covering her eyes. “She wants… she wants me .”

She began to step backward toward the door as panic beat deep within Max’s chest. He reached out, following Amelia, catching her hands and holding them against his chest.

“I’m here,” he said urgently. “Fight it. Fight her. I am with you. Stay, Amelia. Please.”

His voice had grown to a shout as he tried to hold on, and she shook her head violently as she was obviously trying to fight Isolde out of her mind.

“Max,” she cried out. “We have to break this. Now. If she takes me over… I don’t… I don’t know if I can come back from it. It’s like a darkness sucking me in. But a tempting darkness that’s getting harder to resist.”

Max cried out a curse before bending down and scooping her into his arms. Damn their visitors from today. If they hadn’t had to pause, they could have been done with this hours ago. Instead, both he and Amelia were now tired and hungry and had to break a curse cast by a sorceress who appeared to be growing ever more powerful by the moment.

Seeing he was losing Amelia, Max carried her downstairs to the music room, knowing that he was going to have to finish a lot of the work that Amelia had started. He could do this. He had to.

He laid Amelia down on the sofa that lined the side of the room. She was still there in body, but her eyes had taken on an eerie glow. Max lined up facing Isolde’s portrait, which was now practically gleaming in the light that was streaming in through the window, light that he realized was lightning, streaking through the sky.

It seemed that Isolde was aware of what they were planning to do and had decided to begin her own onslaught.

Max closed his eyes, trying to remember the incantations and symbols that Amelia had discovered through the painting and she thought they needed to break the curse, but found he couldn’t remember them properly. She had also been working on the right incantation but hadn’t had a chance to share it with him.

Why hadn’t he paid more attention to her?

He knelt beside her, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking deeply into her eyes.

“Amelia,” he said, trying to speak to her soul instead of her mind. “I need you with me now. I need your help. We have to break this curse, and we have to break it now.”

She blinked a few times, the sheen lessening somewhat each time before her eyes cleared slightly and she stared back at him.

“Yes. Yes. I’m here.”

“Good,” he said in relief, reaching out and wrapping his arm around her head before placing a kiss against her forehead. “Let’s do this.”