Chapter 20
TWENTY
Rosalia,
I shall be away for a few days for business. Be good.
Draven
I awoke to discover a letter placed on my seat at the dining table during breakfast. There was an odd sense of relief knowing that I would not have to face Draven for a few days, but I was also disappointed. After Draven’s demeanor the night prior, my feelings for him remained unclear.
Each creak of the floorboard echoed my thoughts as I made my way down a long corridor. I walked toward Draven’s end of the hall where I hadn’t dared to try opening his door since my first night here.
An uneasy feeling tugged at me, urging me to stop and turn back. But my curiosity pushed me onward. I reached out and grasped the cold brass knob, my heart racing despite knowing Draven was away. For a moment, I braced myself, half-expecting him to appear.
With a deep breath, I turned the knob and pushed the door, only to find it locked.
I felt foolish for even trying. I turned and made my way back down the hall, my movement sending a ripple across the fabric of a tapestry that hung on the wall.
Its colours, once vibrant, had faded over time, and its peculiar placement struck me.
No other tapestries adorned this hallway.
I reached out and ran my hands along the texture, and felt something protruding from the wall behind. I moved aside the tapestry and my suspicions were confirmed; a door lay behind it.
The knob refused to budge as I twisted and wiggled it. I peered through the keyhole, but it was too dark in the room for me to see anything. I felt a chill rush over me, wondering why the door was hidden.
I left, making my way to the foyer, when I heard Imalda sneeze. She was dusting the ornate banisters.
“Imalda,” I called softly, drawing her attention.
“Ah, Miss Rosalia. How lovely to see you,” she replied, pausing her work with a warm smile. “Is there anything you require?”
“I was curious about—” but then I paused. I wanted to ask her about the room behind the tapestry, though something else came to the forefront of my mind instead. “The letters I gave you. Did you bring them to Elmcross?”
“Yes, I delivered them to the address you gave me. The little black house,” she said.
“And who did you give them to?”
“No one was home. I put them by the front door.”
“Hmm.” I was perplexed as to why Vail hadn’t received them.
“Were they important?”
“No, they were for a friend. Don’t fret.” I assured her. “I have been wondering though, Imalda. How did you end up here? In Draven’s employment?”
Imalda set down her cloth, her expression shifting to one of reflection. “It is quite a story. Years ago, my sister fell ill with a terrible disease. I did everything I could to care for her, but when she passed, I was alone.”
“I am so sorry,” I said, feeling the weight of her words.
“Thank you,” she replied. “I had nowhere to go. I set out for Elmcross, hoping to find work. However, a storm hit. It was fierce, and I got lost.”
“What happened?”
“I stumbled upon this mansion and knocked on the door, drenched and shivering. Mr. Blackwell answered. He invited me in, wrapped me in blankets, and made me tea. He took care of me while I recovered,” she continued, a soft smile played on her lips.
“He has always been kind. I stayed here, and he offered me a job. I have been a part of this household ever since. He saved me in more ways than one.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” I said, feeling a deeper connection to Imalda.
By the third day of Draven’s absence, Thornwood had become more than just a temporary haven.
I sat reading in the library and began to understand my yearning for stability.
The idea of a place to call home, a place far away from the dangers that lurked in the night.
I believed that I deserved safety and comfort, and Draven has given that to me.
I considered these new desires and wondered if I could find companionship with Draven. I could not deny my feelings for him. I longed for his return.
The sunlight streaming through the tall windows of the library was warm on my skin as I lay reading. The fireplaces, with their crackling logs, were warm, and soothing and my eyes grew heavy.
When I awoke, I found myself being carried, wrapped in the tender embrace of Draven’s arms.
“Keep sleeping,” his voice rumbled deep in his chest as he carried me up the stairs. “I did not mean to wake you.”
I blinked groggily, feeling a mixture of confusion and comfort as I nestled in his arms. “You are quite strong.” My voice was laden with drowsiness.
“You should still be asleep,” he urged softly.
“I am awake now,” I replied with a sleepy smile, but then I realized how close our bodies were.
“Is it strange that this is not the first time you have carried me into bed?” I felt him tense beneath me.
“I figured it was you, considering you carried me home the night you rescued me. Though I could not help but wonder who undressed me my first night here. I distinctly remember waking up in a nightgown.”
“That was Imalda.” His voice was now tense.
“Did you take a peek?” I teased. I do not know what came over me. I shouldn’t have been speaking to him in this manner, though I saw that a corner of his mouth dared to lift. “You can put me down now,” I said as we reached the top of the stairs.
“We are almost there,” Draven reassured me as he continued to carry me. “You are not heavy.”
“I can walk on my own, you know.”
“What kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady walk?” He chuckled to himself; the deep sound resonated through my body. He set me down gently. “And to answer your question, I did not peek.”
I stood upright, and the blood rushed back into my head. I swayed for a moment, reaching out to steady myself as I placed my hand on his arm.
“Perhaps you were better off with me carrying you.” Draven’s voice was full of amusement.
“You would like that too much,” I teased, my eyes meeting his.
“I would.” His gaze held mine intensely, and I felt that string again, the invisible pull of my body to his.
“Welcome home,” I said.
“Home? Is that what you think of this place now?”
“I have been making myself at home, yes.”
“I see,” Draven said. “I am pleased to see you, Rosalia.”
“I as well.” That magnetic pull, drawing me to him. I cleared my throat. “I spoke with Imalda earlier. She told me how you helped her after her sister died. That was very kind of you.”
“Imalda … she is like family to me.” His face softened. A flicker of vulnerability crossed his features, and I caught a deeper glimpse of him: a protector.
We stood there for a moment in the hallway, and as I stared at Draven, all I wanted to do was to reach out and run my hands down his cheek.
“Good night, Rosalia,” he said, our routine of him walking me to my room and saying goodnight at the door playing out once more.
I didn’t want to say goodbye. “Draven,” I said, reaching for him as he turned to leave. “I have a question. The maids. I saw one of them the other day, someone I have never seen before. I ran into her in the kitchen, and when she saw me, she ran away.”
“You probably startled her. The maids are not used to anyone at the mansion other than me.”
“But she fled as if she were afraid of me. Why would that be?” I asked him, searching his face for any notion of the lies.
“Perhaps she feared she was being replaced? I seldom have visitors, and the maids have been in my employment for quite some time. She likely spotted you in the garden and assumed you were a new addition to my staff.”
“You were not there. She reacted as though I intended to harm her. And I’ve heard the whispers in town …”
“What whispers?” he asked, his gaze locked onto mine.
I looked at him for a moment, truly looked at him. The man who saved me from the river and had given me shelter, the man who also saved Imalda. I decided to forget about the rumours and to believe what my heart told me.
There was nothing to be afraid of at Thornwood Manor.
“Nothing. I do not believe them.”
“All right,” he said. “Have a good evening.” But he didn’t move, looking like he was waiting for me to say something else.
I didn’t know what to do next. I had felt lonely the days Draven was absent, and now I didn’t want him to leave. A bold impulse overtook me. I opened the door to my room and stepped inside.
“Would you like to come in?” I asked him, my heart beating rapidly in my chest.
“I would love to,” he replied, a smile carved on his face. With that, he stepped into my room.
I closed the door behind him and walked over to the bed.
Draven stood there for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to do.
I have been alone with him before, but never like this.
My palms felt sticky, and my heart would not stop beating hard in my chest. I was sure he could hear it as well in the quiet room.
Draven surveyed the room as my things were scattered around.
Since the last time he was here, I had made it more my own.
Piles of books now sat on the furniture, and my desk was covered in discarded drafts of letters to Vail.
As much as Imalda tried, clothes still lay around the room.
I always had trouble in the morning figuring out what to wear, since I loved all the dresses.
I cleared my throat and walked over to Draven, who straightened for a moment. “Can you help me?” I asked, turning around and pointing to a ribbon that laced up the back of my dress.
Draven reached out, his movements slow and deliberate, as he began to untie my dress. I held my breath as his fingers brushed the skin of my back.
“All done,” he said, his voice slightly strained. He appeared to be as affected by our proximity as I was.
I let the dress slowly slide off my shoulders and fall into a puddle of fabric around my ankles, leaving me in just the under slip, the thin fabric barely concealing my figure.
I felt nervous as I turned around to face Draven. I looked up at him and reached out to brush a lock of his hair away from his eyes. “You are extremely beautiful,” I told him.
He exhaled a breath. “Rosalia, if only you knew how often I find myself lost in thoughts of your beauty,” he confessed, his voice thick with desire. My heart raced, and my fingers twitched, yearning to touch him more.
Our lips drew closer. I hesitated, a thousand questions swirling in my mind. Was this right? The moment stretched, charged with tension that made my skin tingle.
“Draven,” I whispered.
“Yes, Rosalia?”
“May I kiss you?”
The moment our lips touched, I knew I had opened a floodgate that would never close.
My heart thundered in my chest. The world outside faded, and all that remained was the pull drawing me closer to him.
He took my face in both of his hands and tilted my head back, deepening the kiss. I let out a moan as he did.
Our lips danced in a silent symphony, and I felt weightless, as if the burdens I carried had melted away. Draven broke the kiss, his gaze searching mine.
“Is this all right?”
“Yes,” I breathed, drawing him back to my mouth.
After what felt like an eternity, I reluctantly pulled away, anticipation coursing through my veins.
“Can you stay here with me tonight?” I whispered.
“I would love nothing more,” he replied, stroking the side of my face. I looked up at him, into his pale eyes, and kissed him again. I pulled him over to the bed and sat down on the edge, and just like that, we were no longer tentative with each other.
In one fluid motion, I pulled him down on top of me, and he held my body, hovering over me. His mouth left my lips and trailed along my jaw, making its way to my neck. Another moan escaped me.
“Draven,” I whispered, my voice quivering in a plea filled with longing. But then I hesitated, my fingers curling against his shoulder. “Wait …”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, concern flickering in his eyes. “What is it?”
“I need to tell you something before we go any further.” I looked away, shame pressing against my chest. “I am not … I am not pure. Not in the way someone like you deserves.”
His brow furrowed. He touched my chin gently, coaxing me to meet his gaze. “Rosalia,” he said softly. “What makes you think I care about that?”
I swallowed hard. “I just thought you should know. That you should have the chance to walk away if—”
He silenced me with a tender kiss, slow and reverent. “There is nothing you could say that would make me want to walk away from you,” he murmured against my lips. “You are not impure.”
Tears stung the corners of my eyes.
“You are my heart,” he responded, kissing me even more passionately, sealing our connection in that moment of desire.
That night, we spent our time lost in passionate embraces and whispered conversations.
In his arms, I felt like time ceased to exist, our words weaving stories about our lives.
It was in the late hours of the night that I realized how profoundly I had begun to care for Draven.
His words painted pictures in my mind, and I felt our bond grow stronger.
It was an overwhelming feeling that I did not want to end.