Page 48 of Magic and Matrimony

“Ambrose is getting the car.” I keep my eyes trained forward, watching out the window for the car to appear through the deluge.

“He’s a pig,” Odie signs beside me, and I nod. Tucker ignores her and steps directly in front of me.

“Does your new husband enjoy bossing you around? Does he have you crawl to him every night to kiss his feet for saving you from your big, bad uncle?”

Odie stiffens beside me.

“He’s not so insecure that he needs someone to praise his every action.” My voice is stronger than I thought it would be. Hearing Ambrose stand up for me at dinner was eye opening. I don’t know if he was doing it because we were in front of his mother, our friends, or if he just wanted to, but I appreciate it, whatever the reason.

Tucker grabs my arm, his fire magic sparks beneath my skin, sending a jolt of burning pain through my nerves. It’s a searing rush of flame that licks underneath the surface. A trickle of sweat drips down my temple, but I don’t scream. He loves when I scream.

“You think you're free? He’ll drop you as soon as he realizes what a burden you are.”

I yank my arm away, his nails raking over my skin. “That might be true…”

Before I finish my sentence, another crack of thunder rattles the house. My uncle throws his head back in laughter. “Still afraid of storms. You’re such a helpless child.”

The front door opens, and Ambrose is there with an umbrella. He glares at my uncle when he sees how close he is to me.

“Do you need a matching bruise on your jaw?” Ambrose asks, but I rush over to him and push him outside, Odie hot on my heels.

“Let’s not have a fight in your mother’s foyer.” I look over my shoulder. Tucker is glaring at me.

“Why not? I think the white floors could use a little color, don’t you? Maybe some red?”

Ambrose doesn’t fight me though. He lets me shove him toward the car where it's idling. The rain batters the pavement and even with the umbrella Ambrose is holding over our heads, Odie and I are soaked when we slide into the backseat. Roman’s behind the driver's seat and Ambrose sits up front with him.

“Do you think Francesca, Tucker, and Anastasia will make it through the rest of the trials?” Odie asks next to me. I have to concentrate because it’s dark in the car and she’s a little drunk. Her hand gestures aren’t as crisp as normal and I’m still learning sign language.

I don’t know if Odie has never been able to speak, or if something happened that caused her to lose her voice. It isn’t my business to ask. Since we’ve become friends, I’ve done my best to learn sign language quickly as possible. Stellan picked it up the fastest, but I’m getting better.

“I really hope not,” I reply.

Ambrose is up front singing along with the radio as though tonight was a totally normal evening. I suppose it was for Mystic Hollows.

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly over the evening. The wipers are furiously swishing back and forth across the windshield, but it’s raining so hard they’re not making any difference. I’m not sure how Roman can see the road in front of him.

“I’ll bring your car back tomorrow,” Roman tells Ambrose as he drops us at the front door of the chateau.

Ambrose waits for me with the umbrella as I get out of the car, but the rain is coming from all directions. We sprint to the door, rain splashing up my legs with each step. Ambrose unlocks the front door and throws it open, hurrying us inside. Even though he quickly shuts the door behind us, the rain follows us inside. Ambrose drops the soaked umbrella in a stand by the front door. The two of us stare at each other in the front hall, dripping all over the dark hardwood floors. I jump at the boom of thunder and Ambrose reaches out to me.

“Are you okay?”

“Just tired, and I think my nerves are a little rattled.” I hug my arms, shivering in my damp clothes.

Ambrose’s eyes drop down to my body, and his throat bobs as he swallows. I pluck at my dress that’s clinging to me like a second skin.

“I’m going to get a snack.” Ambrose nods toward the kitchen, but his eyes never leave my body.

“We just had a six-course meal.”

“It’s an empty pit.” Ambrose smacks his washboard stomach.

His white button-down clings to his skin and the outline of each of his abs is clearly visible. I would really like to be his snack. I blow out a breath and wipe water from my face. I’m sure my makeup is melting at this point.

“I’m going to dry off. Get changed into something warm.” I gesture with my thumb over my shoulder as if he doesn’t know where my room is.

Neither of us moves. There’s a lamp on next to the display of broadswords, and it casts everything in a soft golden light. Ambrose looks angelic, his skin golden, his hair darker from the rain. Droplets of water cling to his skin, and I almost lean forward to press my lips to his jaw, his cheek, wondering what the taste of the rain mingled with him would be like.

---