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But you need an heir. You need a child. It’s your duty to carry on your family name.
Even with my grandmother’s words replaying in my head, there is not one part of me that is as desperate to have another child as I am to keep the memories of the one we already had.
Do you hear them talk about your grandfather? No, you don’t, Christopher. He’s dead, gone and to them forgotten. It’s the people that loved him that keep him alive. Us. His family. What will happen once you’re gone and forgotten? Who will keep you alive?
I would sooner forget all there is to me. I’d lose myself completely, before I forgot or lost any of her.
If there’s a choice to be made in any way, shape, or form…I will always choose my girls.
Chapter 34
Arabella
The house is so old everything seems to creak in the silence of the night. The shadows of the snowflakes dot the dim darkness of the room, reflecting off the mirrors and fuzzing the light of the moon. It’s so low that it could be hanging right outside the windows.
Something inside me tenses with every wince of the house. Every bluster that whistles past the window has my heart tripping over itself and beating a little faster. The stupid thing is that I’ve never been scared of the dark or even old buildings. But Christopher’s absence from our bed…it makes everything feel eerie. Everything feels wrong and lonely. All feelings I’ve had months to get to grips with, but just like all those months, I keep waiting for exhaustion to knock me out. I keep waiting for it to eclipse my fear and longing.
With the moan of the floorboards outside the door, my whole body tenses. I hate being this weak and scared. But shadows and darkness are scars I’ll never be able to erase. They didn’t just break my heart and my body—they splintered my soul.
Tucking myself deeper into the duvet, I pull it tighter around me as the door groans open and then shut one more time. The light from Christopher’s torch glows from all the mirrors around us, and just as I’m about to turn to look at him, his fingertips stroke down my face so softly it’s barely a whisper of his skin on mine.
Closing my eyes, I savour his touch. I relish his warmth. The comfort of his affection.
Christopher’s love for me is palpable. It’s not words or a feeling tangling my insides. I feel it heat my skin and seep through my pores. It blankets me from top to toe, inside and out. It flows through my bloodstream and steels my bones.
His love for me is momentous. Inexplicable. Consuming. It’s awing in its magnitude.
Stroking his thumb down the bridge of my nose, he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed, and my body rolls slightly into him. Bringing his lips to my temple, he presses a feather-light kiss before he whispers, “My everything.”
There isn’t a single part of me that can doubt his words. Soft murmurs in the dark twine around my whole being. As he presses another kiss to my cheek, I turn, my lips taking his. With my hands trapped beneath the thick cover, I can’t hold on to him as tightly as I physically need to, but the enigmatic pull between us has him pressing lower and my body arching up to him.
A groan vibrates down my body. I’m unsure of whether it’s his or mine. It fuels my need for him. All I can think of is how good his lips feel melding with mine. The heat of his body is an inferno I have no wish to part with, his kiss hot as hell as he licks into my mouth, his tongue swirling around mine with vodka-sweetened hums.
I want to taste more of him.
Wriggling impatiently out of the covers, I wrap my arms around his shoulders. Without a word he sits up, taking me with him. When we’re both sitting upright. Christopher cups my jaw. It’s a tender touch that breaks my heart some more. The dark distorts his features, making me wish for more light than that of the moon.
I want to see all the things that make him mine. The things that only I see. Kneeling up, I shuffle closer to his side, until I’m close enough to straddle his lap.
“I more than love you, morena.”
“I more than love you, cariño.”
Holding me tight, he sighs into my chest, nuzzling into me with light kisses to my erratic heart. His arms slip lower, over my waist to my hips, before he stands. I don’t have time to wrap my legs around him before he’s lowering me to the ground.
My legs wobble as my feet touch the cool wood floor. The blizzard outside howls, and my insides tremble as Christopher takes a step back and then sits back on the edge of the bed.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, his eyes shining monochrome with the light of the moon.
The way they cling to the hem of my nightie makes my insides knot with anxiety even as I nod. “Yes.”
“Show me.” It’s not exactly an order, but there’s weighted edge to his request.
“No.”
He thinks he wants to see. He thinks he wants to know. But once it’s there, you can’t unsee it. A taunting reminder of what we’ve lost.
“Why?”
