Chapter 43

Chapter 43

James’s self-loathing ran deep enough to have no bottom at all; he hadn’t even predicted he’d lose his composure just by asking Rose to dance.

‘Think rationally, James Dautryche.’

But the desire that had slipped its leash refused to be satisfied by anything less than a fundamental resolution.

Every minute, every second, new magic sprang up in him faster than he could channel it out through Rose.

The power he failed to release built up in layers of raw, seething frustration.

And tonight.

As always, everything had been under his tight control.

Until she had literally dragged his magic out of him.

“I thought I was the one in control. What a fool.”

He flexed and unflexed the hand that still tingled from their shared magic, replaying the scene over and over.

“Wine… I must have had more than I thought.”

Her voice had trembled with embarrassment, eyes darting wildly as she fanned herself awkwardly.

What if he’d given in to impulse right then? What if he’d blamed the wine too and simply pressed his lips to hers?

Would anything have changed?

Would she have agreed?

If this attraction were just base lust, it wouldn’t be this complicated.

James let out a pained groan and raked a hand through his carefully combed hair, messing it thoroughly.

‘How am I supposed to treat her?’

‘How far can I go before it’s too far?’

While they danced, he’d seen it in her eyes—emotions that matched his own.

But when he approached, she fled; when she fled, she provoked him.

He felt like his head was about to split open.

At last he grabbed the decanter and poured the amber liquid into a crystal glass.

If he had to numb his brain to stop the overload of thoughts, so be it.

Otherwise he’d reach an emotional conclusion he’d regret forever.

He downed the whiskey in one rough swallow, hoping the burn would quiet the chaos.

But there was no calming the turmoil.

If anything, she became clearer in his mind.

Rose Taylor, standing less than an inch away.

Rose Taylor, whose grip tightened nervously on his arm.

Rose Taylor, in that silk evening gown exposing her pale shoulders.

Rose Taylor, who had unknowingly drawn his magic deep into herself until she was all that remained in the space it left behind.

He had to admit it.

She was special.

From the moment they first met, she’d always been special to him.

“I really thought dinner would be the end of it all tonight…”

Somehow Rose managed to return to her room, only to groan at realizing she still wasn’t free to rest.

“Oh my, miss—it’ll just take a moment.”

“Come now, sleeping in makeup will ruin your skin.”

Despite the late hour, the maids were waiting with brushes, towels, and soap, greeting her with tireless cheer.

It had taken so long to twist and pin and lace her up for dinner that undoing it all required just as much time and effort.

By the time the maids finished and departed like the retreating tide, Rose stretched her arms high and let out a shout.

“Ughhh, finally alone!”

She all but collapsed onto the plush bed in her soft, feather-light nightgown, sinking into pink ostrich-feathered covers that smelled faintly of sunshine and soap.

Left in the unfamiliar room alone at last, the memories of the dining room surged back, making her heart pound uncomfortably.

‘I didn’t look weird… right? Right?’

The brilliantly lit electric chandelier, the music from the gramophone—all of it had felt like magic.

But the most magical moment had been when she took his hand.

“May I have this dance.”

That deep voice. The instant their eyes met, blue locking with violet.

The heat at her fingertips, the magic flooding in.

His solid arm, the confident grip of his large, warm hand. The forceful steps that left her breathless.

Just remembering it made her cheeks burn all over again.

“I’m completely out of my mind.”

She let out a strangled sound, pressing both palms to her face.

She’d even washed a second time after changing clothes, yet she could still smell him clinging to her nose.

She remembered that one-inch gap shrinking, the tangle of shared breath.

His breathing, the musky sweetness of wine on his breath, the cedar wood scent that always wrapped around her like velvet.

It had been even more intoxicating than usual that night.

The moment she’d wanted more of him, his magic had surged into her.

No—it hadn’t simply flowed. She’d yanked it out of him like a thief.

She knew how mana transferred with contact, but she’d never imagined she could steal it.

‘It’s literally robbery without a knife!’

She let out a miserable groan and buried her face in the pillow.

It was no different from rooting around inside him and taking something precious by force.

‘I have to apologize tomorrow…’

She tried to shake off the memory, but even with her eyes screwed shut and the covers pulled over her head, the feel of his mana wouldn’t leave her.

The raw, heady concentration of it had been too good.

She felt so wretched she could almost cry.

Worse than stealing his magic was that moment at the end, when she’d fallen against his chest.

Just for an instant she’d breathed him instead of air; her heart had synced to his heartbeat.

If she’d just squeezed her eyes shut and blamed the wine…

What would have happened?

She couldn’t stop imagining it, over and over, ensuring there’d be no sleep for her tonight.

Especially with that door connecting their rooms preying on her thoughts.

She noticed the faint sliver of light leaking from the newly installed door in the wall.

‘He’s still awake.’

Just knowing that if she opened that door, he’d be right there had her nerves on edge.

Every sound—the rustle of sheets, even her own breathing—felt loud enough for him to hear.

Rose squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to think of something else.

‘No. Think pure thoughts! Nice, calm, wholesome thoughts!’

At last she sat up with a start and flipped on the lamp.

Maybe she should read like last time? Or soak in the warm bath again?

That’s when her eyes fell on something sitting on the nightstand.

A small, childhood treasure box she’d once held dear.

‘Fine. If I can’t sleep anyway, let’s think about when I was an innocent kid.’

Rose picked up the box and plopped back onto the bed, determined to focus on its comforting weight in her hands.

The old wood was smooth, well cared for by her nursemaid; it showed almost no sign of age.

She let her fingers gather mana and murmured the passphrase she’d used so often as a child.

“Chocolate chip cookie is cat’s tail.”

Crackle!

Mana sparked violently against the box, the spell rebuffing her attempt with force.

“What the—?”

Her eyes went wide at the unexpected reaction.

It was impossible for her old password to be wrong.

Yet the lock hadn’t opened at all. It had thrown her magic back in her face.

“Ha. Look at you.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen this happen.

It was a clash of magic on magic she used to experience daily—though these days she barely remembered it.

‘Did… did Mother put another lock on it?’

Her mother had always warded cookie jars and candy tins with spells to keep Rose from sneaking treats.

Though she certainly hadn’t expected her daughter to throw the cookie jar across the kitchen in frustration, smashing several dishes in the process.

Of course, she’d been thoroughly scolded, forced to write a letter of apology, and put on a month-long dessert ban.

Remembering it now only made her smile faintly.

Rose Taylor wasn’t about to throw the box against the wall just because she was frustrated.

“Ah, right…”

Something else her old nursemaid had said came back to her.

“I kept it safe for you. Your mother and father asked me to give it to you once you were grown.”

Her head spun.

‘What on earth did I do as a snot-nosed kid to make them double-lock this thing and give it to the maid for safekeeping?’

“Hah… honestly.”

She tried to dredge up any relevant memory, but nothing came.

Still.

“Well. No helping it.”

A playful smile spread across her face.

“Guess I’ll just have to open it and see.”