Page 53 of Magic and Matrimony

26

PIPER

Fire crackles and snaps in the fireplace. Ambrose and I are lounging in his library while rain still drizzles outside. It’s gloomy and gray beyond the walls of the house, but here in Ambrose’s library everything is glowing and warm. I’m curled into one corner of the couch and Ambrose is at the other end. His feet are in my lap and a soft blanket covers us.

After last night and this morning in Ambrose’s bed, I wasn’t sure if things would be awkward. I definitely tried to make things weird, because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I thought our agreement would keep me safe from Ambrose's magnetic pull. But I don’t think anything is going to keep my heart from falling for this man. He’s kind, funny, protective and currently looking for a way to break the hex my father put on me as a child.

He feels horrible about what happened earlier. Commanding me to have an orgasm, but for once in my life, my hex didn’t bother me one bit.

We’ve been searching through books for the last few hours, and I find myself nodding off every once in a while. Some ofthese books are dry as dirt, but I think it’s more that I feel so safe here. The room is chilly, but the fire gives off the perfect amount of heat. And Ambrose is near. I know that Tucker’s still out there and we have the challenges to face for the coven council, but right now, at this moment, I feel settled.

“Either that page has the most interesting thing you’ve ever read, or you’re falling asleep over there.” Ambrose nudges me with his foot.

I look down at my page and spot a spell for curing itchy feet. I hold the book up for Ambrose and he chuckles.

“Well, that’s not what I was expecting.”

I yawn, my mouth opening so wide I should be embarrassed.

“How about I make us some lunch? We’ll take a little break and then we’ll come back with fresh eyes.” Ambrose closes his book and rubs his eyes. He looks about ready to take a nap too. Maybe we could sleep for a bit and then get food.

A knock on the front door blasts through the peace I’m feeling.

“Did you secretly order lunch?” Ambrose chuckles as he gets off the couch.

When the person knocks on the door again, it’s harder. More frantic. The feeling of comfort and security slowly leaks away. Ambrose frowns, pausing in the doorway. “I’ll be right back. Just stay here.”

That knock didn’t sound like a friendly delivery person.

I stay on the couch while the fire burns in front of me, still bundled up under my blanket. The front door opens, and I hear Ambrose’s soft tone, along with sobbing. My stomach drops and I feel sick. I’m off the couch in an instant, my hand clutching the wood of the doorframe, but I can’t seem to walk past the threshold.

Ambrose’s words are still muffled, but the other voice, a woman’s, is growing louder. More agitated with every word. Ihead toward the front door, knowing with every step that I should turn away. But since when has hiding done me any good.

Stepping into the hall, my first sight is a woman hanging off Ambrose. He has his hands on her biceps, holding her away from his body. Tears track her mascara in rivulets down her cheeks.

“I’ve missed you so much. They tried to keep us apart, but I’m here now.”

I’m close enough now to hear her words. Ambrose’s forehead is creased, his mouth drawn in a flat line. I’m not even aware that I’ve made a noise, but Ambrose’s head snaps around in my direction. There’s anguish in his eyes as he looks at me.

This has to do with his curse.

“Does your family know you’re here?” Ambrose asks, turning back to the woman. He’s still holding her off him. It looks like she’s trying to throw herself into his arms, but she can’t free herself from his grip.

“Of course not. They’re the ones keeping us apart. But I’m here now. I love you.” She sounds so sad and desperate.

I must make a sound because the woman looks over at me, her eyes narrowing, and suddenly, she’s not fighting to get into Ambrose’s arms, but out of them.

“Who the fuck is she?” the woman screeches as she tries to lunge for me.

I step back, my shoulders colliding with the door frame.

“Piper, would you mind getting my phone for me?” Ambrose asks, instead of answering the woman’s question. “I left it in the library.”

Swallowing back all my feelings–hurt, embarrassment, even empathy for the woman–I rush back to the library. Is Ambrose sending me on a task to get me out of his hair, or does he actually need his phone?

With his phone gripped in my hand, I hurry back into the front hall.

Ambrose is calm but curt. “Please call Bethann on my phone.”

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