“Here, drink this.” He ordered in a soft tone.
She attempted to comply, thankful for his steadying arm around her and the way he guided the drink to her lips. Her shivering wracked her so forcefully and without mercy, she had no chance of bringing the glass to her lips for herself. The liquid burned her throat the moment she swallowed, causing her to cough.
“Slowly now,” Eric crooned, bringing the glass to her lips again.
She coughed and turned her head away from the glass.
“Take another sip.”
She complied, this sip sliding down her throat with a bit more ease than the last, though still abrasive. Even so, she noted the warmth it brought to her insides, spreading down her throat and through her belly.
“Thank you,” she croaked, knowing Eric couldn’t hear her but needing to express the sentiment anyway. He watched her closely, eyes softening a degree as he allowed her a moment to rest. After another sip, he set the glass down beside the hearth and began to tug at the corner of the blanket.
“It’s soaked through,” he noted. “It's not going to do you any good.” He tossed the blanket into a corner and got up to search in his closet while Eloise wrapped her arms about herself, tucking her knees into her chest. Within seconds, Eric returned with another blanket, but hesitated.
“Can you take off your shift?” Eric asked, kneeling beside her again. Her eyes widened at the question and his color darkened in the glow of the fire, but he persisted. “You're not going to warm up with wet clothes on and a wet blanket,” his eyes darted in every direction but toward her face.
Realizing his words were true and beginning to feel weak for the unending shivering of her body, Eloise swallowed down her embarrassment and attempted to do what he asked. Her hands failed her, too cold to grasp at her hem effectively, and her limbs proved unwilling to move in the way she required them to. Seeing her difficulty, Eric set down the blanket and reached out to her.
“Forgive me,” he stated before taking hold of her shift and pulling it up and off her body. He remained as much behind her as possible, his eyes averted to the side, and immediately wrapped the blanket around her once the shift was removed. He then busied himself draping the garment over a chair he set beside her, giving them both a moment to contend with their uneasiness. He came back to sit beside her as she stared into the flames, setting his back to the fire so he could see her features.
"IT'S BEEN YEARS SINCE I wandered in my sleep," Eloise reflected to herself. She shifted her gaze from the flames to Eric's shadowed face, watching him observe the movement of her lips. He looked into her eyes, a small furrow building between his, the hint of compassion floating in them before he blinked it away and began searching the space around them, absently patting at his pockets. He turned his head toward the desk, then back to her.
"I'll get the notebook."
She darted her hand out from beneath the blanket and cut his hand as he prepared to stand. He looked to her with tilted head, and she began to shake hers.
"It's too much and too personal to write anyway," she admitted, enjoying the feel of his hand in hers and contemplating the opportunity before her. Eric settled back into place and Eloise bit her lip, wondering if he would find her odd.
She took in a breath, unwilling to remain silent. "You may think me awkward for prattling on, but there's something comforting in speaking to you." She paused again to look up at him, then barreled on before she lost her nerve.
"I don’t remember the fire that killed my parents, but I remember it took a long time to get to my uncle’s estate.” Eric’s thumb brushed over the backs of her knuckles and a soft warmth spread through her.
“All I had been told was that I was going to a new home, a new family. I didn't want a new home. I was grieving for the one I'd lost and my parents. I found it helped, however, to believe I was going somewhere that would be just as warm and accepting as the place I’d lost.” She swallowed, pressing her lips together and staring into the fire as she remembered those days, a wave of pity rising for that doomed little girl.
“I arrived at my uncle's home convinced I would be welcomed with open arms. I was excited to meet him and my aunt, desperate for their love. But I was sorely mistaken in my assumptions, and the additional disappointment seemed so much worse because I had tried so hard to build up a happy ending for myself. It plunged me into a deep despair. One doesn't normally think of small children as being capable of such unhappiness, but I remember it. The world seemed so dark and cruel.”
She returned her gaze to Eric, somewhat surprised to see the intensity of his attention. Though he still held firmly to her hand, his thumb had stopped its movement and a tension appeared to build in his posture. She blinked and returned her attention to the fire, finding it easier to continue without the distraction of his eyes.
“That's when I started wandering in my sleep. It frightened me, I would wake up in other rooms, or sometimes outside, and have no idea how I got there. I worried one day I might wander somewhere far enough I wouldn't know how to get back home again. I didn't dare tell my aunt and uncle, I believed they would reprimand me for leaving my room at night.
“And then my angel found me.” She smiled wistfully. “My cousin Alain came home on holiday from boarding school. He took an instant liking to me, I'll never know why, but We attached to one another and I knew my first happy days since the fire.
“I didn't tell him about my wandering either at first, afraid he might tell his parents, but our rooms were next to each other and he heard me one night when I left.
“He followed, took me by the hand, and guided me back to my room. When I woke in the morning, I nearly stepped on Alain.” A giggle welled up at the memory. “He'd taken one of my stuffed animals for a pillow, my coat for a blanket, and guarded my bed the entire night to ensure I didn't wander again.”
Smiling, she looked again to Eric, but the happiness her thoughts of Alain vanished in an instant when she took in his pallor, evident even in the shadows. His eyes had taken on a haunted appearance that sent a shiver through Eloise. "Eric?" She asked with a squeeze of his hand. He started in blinked, seeming to come back to himself as she watched. She gave him a moment, wanting to assure herself that he was well. She narrowed her eyes at him, his reactions triggering something in her, but then he returned the squeeze to her hand and her eyes blinked automatically to that connection. When she raised them again, all trace of Eric's earlier unease had vanished.
Beginning to feel uncertain, Eloise hurried to complete her tale.
“We became fast friends,” she noted. “And I came to rely on him for my confidence. He often told me I was stronger than I believed, and he had confidence I could stand on my own, but it seemed that confidence never lasted after he left. I have always wish to find that person he sees in me, but had all but given up hope...” She worked up the courage to meet Eric’s eyes. “Until I came here. Something here makes me feel strong and alive. I'm afraid of losing that feeling when I leave again.”
She swallowed and ducked her chin. Eric’s eyes had taken on that faraway look again, so eerily similar to understanding, but that was impossible...
He shifted beside her, and she felt his palm move up along her arm from her elbow to her shoulder. That small touch calmed her, dispelled her doubts.
"I should get you back to your room." Eric's words sounded beside her. She tilted her head back but caught only a glimpse of that strange emotion again before he stood, lit the taper from the fireplace and moved toward his closet.
She watched him move, her heart beginning to labor in its workings and her breath coming short. She closed her eyes, remembering the look of concentration he'd had as he watched her tell her story, watched her lips move.
Her eyes flew open and she breathed in a small gasp.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ERIC STEPPED INTO THE closet with a sigh. How he wished his life weren't such an open-ended lie. Among his family he was one person, to the world, another
, and now a strange mixture of the two with Eloise. How she would despise him if she knew he understand what she had said, all the private and deep concerns she’d shared. A part of him longed for just such a reality. He'd never known anyone outside of his family willing to show such depth of truth and emotion to him. Closing his eyes against the pain of their false closeness, he grabbed at his shirt, pulling it up over his head and tossing it aside before opening a dresser drawer and rummaging through for another. A shadow shifted in the doorway.
Turning in place, Eric found Eloise standing in the doorway, clutching the blanket about her shoulders and standing on trembling legs. The faint light of the candle he’d set behind him on the dresser revealed an anguished expression his fingers ached to smooth away.
“I don't want to go back to my room yet.” She pleaded. “It's cold, and dark, and childish though I may be, I fear my memories will take hold of me again before the dawn and lead me out where I shouldn't be.”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Eric could do nothing but stare, wanting to comfort her, knowing he couldn’t respond to her unless she wrote out her concerns, and cursing the blasted notebook which sat on his desk. She blocked his escape and didn’t seem concerned about his comprehension.
“Let me stay here with you?” She shifted the blanket about her shoulders, her eyes beseeching in the soft candlelight.
“Eloise,” Eric began to shake his head, but she stepped in closer to him her nearness confusing his senses. He shut his eyes against the scene, knowing it was only her lingering fright and confusion which prompted her. In desperation, his lips formed the lie meant to dissuade her, send her back to the fireplace. Words he swore he’d never use again in a conversation. “I don’t underst—”
But his words cut off with a gasp and his eyes shot open when he felt her small, blissfully warm fingertips skim over the skin at his ribs. The sight of those fingers tracing over his ribs and curving around his side to his back entranced him until the press of her palm against his spine brought him back to reality and the danger of their scenario. “Eloise,” he implored her, but something in her eyes as she angled her head back to gaze steadily at him made his blood run cold a moment before she spoke. They looked at him as though his very soul lay bare to her inspection.
“You understood me, didn't you?” She challenged, all of what I just told you, everything I told you by the fire. You don't need that notebook.”
Eric stiffened, but she leaned into him, refusing to let him go.
“And not just the words,” she continued, “You understood the meaning of it, didn’t you?”
His breath caught and he struggled to maintain an even breathing pattern, knowing Eloise would notice if he didn’t, she stood too close not to, the only barrier between them the arm which still clutched the blanket closed about her shoulders. Here stood his fantasy come to life, but his mind couldn’t believe it, refused to trust it. He needed to put space between them, drink in the winter air again before he went mad. Her words reflected the fanciful expression of a stressful night and the suggestive environment. When morning came and she saw him again in the light of day, she would regret everything she said now, remembering what he was to the world.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, forcing his hands up to her shoulders and forcing her a step back, breaking their connection enough to slide past her and head for the relative safety of the balconette. He threw open the doors and stepped out, gulping in great drafts of night air until the spinning in his head lessened and the racing of his heart subsided to a manageable hum.
Returning to his room, the sight of Eloise, blanket wrapped tightly about her, sitting forlorn beside the fire met him, clawing at his heart, she turned to face him, lip caught between her teeth and avoiding his eyes.
“I don’t think we are all that different,” she murmured, making it difficult for Eric to read her words. She’d taken on a distant stare. “Both wanting to be seen and accepted. I thought we could see each other.” She smiled into wherever her thoughts had wandered. “I’m very sorry I was wrong.”
She ducked her head and got to her feet, still not directing her attention to Eric. Walking over to the desk with the confidence of someone comfortable in the space, she adjusted the blanket so she would have use of her arms and sat in the chair, reaching for the notebook.
He stood rooted in place watching her, the glow of the fire playing over her hair and exposed shoulders. Something changed, the warmth in her dissipated, leaving the cold mask of neutral politeness she’d taken on after their kiss under the mistletoe. With a jolt he realized she’d set it aside for a moment while she’d spoken, and in her plea to stay.
Anger built in him, anger at himself for being the cause of her resetting the mask. Every fiber in him yearned to turn back time, return to her request and grant it, wholeheartedly.
She set down the pencil and rose, leaving the slip of paper where it lay and returning to the fire, again avoiding him, behaving as though she walked through an empty room. A tightness formed in his chest. Used to others ignoring him, the thought of Eloise joining their ranks sent a sharp pain through him deep enough he feared recovering from the loss. He tore his gaze from where she’d settled by the fire again, focusing instead on the note she’d written. Moving to the desk, he took up the paper and red it.
Forgive me for my behavior, it won’t happen again. I’m ready to go to my room.
The pain surrounding his heart ripped through him again. He raised his eyes to where she sat, attempting to swallow past his insecurities. He'd tried in the past to believe when a woman told him she cared deeply for him, she understood his difficulties and decried the world for shunning him. Inevitably, those women either lied outright in some ploy to satisfy a fetish or came to regret their statements and declare him a source of unending embarrassment. He’d steered clear of both scenarios in recent years and had no desire to reanimate them.
Moving with measured steps in her direction, he regarded her in light of his own experiences, noting her utterly defeated stance. She stared into the fire unseeing, legs tucked under her, shoulders sagging. The words she’d written spoke of strength of resolve, but her posture echoed the plea her eyes had sent him earlier. He knew the feeling of defeat, the consequences it could lead to, and would rather take on every hardship in the world than allow Eloise to experience it any more than she had already.
Kneeling beside her, he set gentle hands on her shoulders, once again covered by the blanket, and prompted her to turn. He needed to see her eyes. She tilted her head back of her own volition, straightening her spine and jutting out her chin in a show of confident defiance only partially displayed in those eyes. The eyes held back a mist and wavered, ghosts of fear, hurt, and disappointment flitting across them.
He pressed his lips together. If he were wrong, he’d potentially destroy everything he’d built over the last decade. If he were right, Eloise put herself in danger of ruin.
I thought we could see each other, her words repeated in his mind. Swallowing, he looked again at the note she’d written, then crumpled it in his hand before tossing it into the fire. She’d followed his movements and now returned her gaze to his face, head tilted to the side, eyes scanning his.
“You weren’t wrong.” He bent down to kiss her, tugging at her shoulders so she met him half way.
HIS MOUTH CRUSHED HERS with an urgency born of weeks of uncertainty, the frustration of hiding himself from her, and the suppression of all he’d felt in their previous kiss. The connection sparked the same instant flash of heat he had no will or desire to deny. From the moment their lips met, the world around them fell into place, promising the confidence and permanence he now knew they both searched for. He delved into her, tasting, devouring, needing to show her the effect her words had on him, but it wasn’t enough.
Breaking the kiss, he felt her lungs expand on a gasp as he kissed down along the column of her throat, a surge of excitement running through him when a light humming resounded
against his lips. Curious, desiring verification of his assumption, he raised his head, finding hers tilted back, features flushed, and those velvet lips formed into a soft “oh.”
A smile forming, he forced himself to slow his attentions, returning to her neck and pressing soft kisses there. Her hands released the blanket edges, reaching out to his bare torso. He gasped when they found him, unprepared for the multi-pronged assault each of her small fingers would incite, sparking ripples of awareness to wash through him and bringing every inch of his body alive. He shivered and nipped at her throat before running his tongue along the space at the base of her jaw.
That humming returned beneath his lips and she leaned into him, a tremor running through her. Her palms flattened against his ribs, attempting to run up over his chest, but his hands were still at her upper arms, limiting her movement. Leaning back slightly, he took note of her precarious balance with undue male pride before bringing one arm around behind her shoulders, the other to the backs of her thighs, lifting her in one swift movement from where she knelt on the carpet and settling her down beside the fire, himself leaning half over her.
Her eyes went wide, the movement likely bringing her thoughts back to where she was and with whom. Her small hands clutched the blanket. Eric swallowed, breath ragged, and forced himself to pause. Her eyes searched his, which never wavered as he placed a hand on her knee over the blanket, setting it into motion and watching as his palm slid up her thigh, found the curve of her hip beneath the formless blanket, followed that curve to the Valley of her waist and ever higher over her ribs to wear her elbow clamped against her side, up along her arm onto her shoulder. He ran an index finger along the edge of her jaw, watching as a shiver ran through her and her eyelids drooped. He waited, running the same finger along her throat to the edge of the blanket, feeling her muscles work as she swallowed, then bringing his awareness higher in time to see her tongue dart out over her lips, too tempting to ignore.
To Love in Silence (Currents of Love Book 3) Page 10
