What a pity, for I have always found the stories of unrequited love so desperately sad.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
An owl hooted somewhere in the darkness beyond the library windows, jolting Lionel out of a surprisingly peaceful slumber. He blinked, not quite knowing where he was, or why it was not a terrible nightmare that had chased him out of his rest.
His confusion deepened as he realized he was not alone, a weight curled against him, soft breath tickling his neck. The fire had smoldered down to the embers and the candle nearby had sputtered out, so he could only see her by the haze of silver moonlight that snuck in through a gap in the drapes.
We fell asleep…
He remembered holding her, he remembered her telling him that she would help him to sleep, and he remembered being glad to embrace her, but how could he have fallen asleep with her in his arms? Why had she not woken him up or moved back to her reading chair?
As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he carefully shifted his head to get a better look at her. She rested against him, her head on his shoulder, her legs draped over his, curled up into him. She was warm and at peace, her face a picture of calm content as she slowly breathed in and out, entirely asleep.
I have never seen anyone so perfect in all my life. I have never slept so well in all my life.He longed to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face, worried that the tickle of it might bring her out of her restful slumber. He longed to kiss her forehead and adjust his arms to hold her tighter, but instead he just stared at her as an uneasy feeling began to crackle in the center of his chest.
Panic.
No… no, no, no, this cannot be happening.His heart began to thunder, his warm skin suddenly chilled by a cold sweat that prickled down the back of his neck. He needed space, he needed to get out of that chair and out of that library as quickly as possible, before the feelings that grew within him started to extend their roots, to the point where he would not be able to remove them.
“Lionel?” Amelia mumbled in her sleep, her eyelids fluttering.
He sat perfectly still, praying she would not wake up. He could not have her seeing him like this, in such a state of distress.
You are falling in love with her,a soft voice whispered in the back of his mind.It is quite all right. You can love her if you wish it.
He scrunched his eyes shut, dragging in breath after strained breath, willing that voice to be quiet. He couldnotfall in love with her. He could not entertain the idea of falling in love with her and being happy with her, for if he allowed himself to do that, he would take leave of his senses. He would become furious with the world, and with fate, when he had fought so hard to make peace with it.
“I am sorry, my darling,” he murmured, permitting himself to press one last, soft kiss to her slightly furrowed brow. “I would love you if I could. I would love you with all my heart, if it would not break you one day.”
She mumbled something incoherent, nuzzling against his shoulder, still fast asleep.
Taking his chance, he lifted her as carefully as he could, and stood with her in his arms, wondering what on earth to do. He did not feel comfortable letting her sleep in the reading chair, for the library had turned rather cold, but nor did he want to risk her waking up as he carried her to her bedchamber.
Deciding that the latter meant she would, at least, be warm, he braced against the pain that shot up his injured leg and headed out of the library.
The manor was silent as he carried her through the hallways and up the stairs, pausing here and there to make sure she was still asleep. For someone who had been having trouble sleeping, she seemed to have gotten over it, breathing softly, her expression remaining peaceful.
I wish I had met you in another time, when I was another person.His heart sank as he continued to wield her up to her chambers, pushing the door open with his hip and carrying her inside.
He took her over to her bed and lay her down as carefully as he could, freezing every time she made a movement or muttered something. In truth, he was just glad he had not tripped on the stairs with her or caught his foot on the rug, sending him sprawling forward. Apparently, he had been relieved of his clumsiness for a short while.
Gently pulling the coverlets up to her chin, he perched on the edge of the bed and gazed down at her for a while.
“I will keep my promise,” he said quietly. “I will not disappear again, but… I cannot be near you. It is too difficult. I want so much more than I can ever have, and I am sorry that I have entangled you in this. I was not supposed to fall for you, and you were not supposed to want me to.”
Amelia smiled in her sleep, making his heart hurt all the more, worse than any lingering injury.
“Rest well,” he whispered, getting to his feet.
On weary legs, he left her alone in the bedchamber he would never share with her, wishing that things could be different, wishing that he had never come back from war at all.
“Good morning, My Lady!” Bea’s cheery voice pierced through the pleasant dream that Amelia had been having, of a picnic by a lake, where jeweled dragonflies had skittered across the crystal-clear water and vibrant butterflies had fluttered down to sip honey from the cakes she had been enjoying with her husband.
Amelia’s eyes flew open, her heart thudding in fright. “Goodness, you scared me!”
“Apologies, My Lady,” Bea said, blinking. “I didn’t realize you’d still be sleeping. It is already half an hour past the time that I usually wake you.”
Amelia frowned, glancing over at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. “How odd…”
