Page 28 of Zenith
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It was wellpast dawn when we reached Thornfield.
Edward and I had not spoken again, the silence stretching on and on as we got closer and closer to the old manor. His promise hovered in my heart, lodging itself there despite my efforts to distance myself. I could not deny the things I wanted, just as I could not deny my part in the wrongs we had committed to one another.
Depression had taken me as much as relief had, so when we at last arrived, Edward had to help me from the car lest I fall in a heap on the ground.
The air was crisp and cool, the sky brilliant blue. Summer had arrived on the moors, and if I had not been so depleted, I would have liked to linger in the garden and lay among the roses, the sun warming my pale skin. Life would be so simple if I could surrender myself to nature.
Edward’s arm was tight around my waist, his touch comforting yet confusing as he assisted me in our path toward the hotel. The driver carried my duffel and a sleek black overnight bag, which I assumed was the master’s, and overtook us, disappearing inside Thornfield. How long had he been in London searching for me?
The door did not have a chance of closing as a familiar person emerged into the sunlight.
“Jane!” Alice rushed toward us, pleased to see me once more, but as she approached, her hand flew to her mouth when she saw me fully, her eyes wide with shock. “My goodness! What has happened?”
I knew I must look a sight, bedraggled in my fine dress, smeared makeup, and a bruised neck. I hadn’t had a chance to behold myself in a mirror to see the damage Rivers had caused my flesh, but from the tenderness each movement bore, I was sure it was substantial.
No one replied to her question, but she did not complain.
I hugged Edward’s jacket tighter and cast my gaze to the ground, allowing him to lead me into the hotel.
“Is her room ready?” he asked as my eyes adjusted to the gloom of the gallery.
“Yes.” Alice handed him a set of keys. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Have the cook make some broth, and bring a jug of water.”
We moved again, this time ascending the staircase.
“Mr. Rochester?”
We halted, and I sank against his side, the events of the last months finally taking their complete toll upon my spirit.
“Rivers,” he said to Alice. “It was Rivers.” Then he scooped me up into his arms, my form seeming to weigh nothing more than a feather, and carried me through the hotel.
The door to the suite was unlocked, and as he guided me inside, I recognized it as the one closest to the east wing, far away from the haunted western hallways of Thornfield. I was glad, knowing these rooms were secure and held no hidden doorways.
Setting me down, Edward knelt and removed my shoes one by one, his fingers tracing the curve of my leg. If felt erotic to have a man such as he caress me so, but his touch had always conjured wicked thoughts. Rising, he stared down at me, his shoulders tense.
“May I?” he asked, laying his hand on my back.
My naked body was nothing he had not seen before, so I nodded, allowing him to unzip my dress. His touch was soft as he nudged the fabric from my body, exposing my bra and underwear. Then he retrieved something from the dresser and slipped a soft T-shirt over my head.
The fabric carried his scent, and I wondered if it was another of his games. Encapsulate my body with something of his to remind me of his affection, and soon enough, all would be forgiven…but I did not think him so foolish.
I did not react as I felt his fingers unhook the clasp of my bra through the material, ease the garment from my shoulders, and remove it from under the hem. Finally, he guided my arms through the sleeves.
“There,” he murmured. “Are you comfortable?”
I nodded and slid into bed, the cool sheets soothing my feverish skin. Propped up by the pillows, I watched him linger and realized he would not leave me alone so easily. He had called for broth, and I suppose he would see me consume it before retiring.
Edward sat beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight, and he placed his palm on the quilt. His fingers were thick, his nails bitten almost to the quick, and his forearm corded with muscle. His pure masculinity was one of the attributes which pleased me the most, along with his sharp mind. It was so sharp he had become a master at avoiding the truth. I was not sure what it said about me that I loved the very thing about him which had deceived me the most.
“I hardly know what to say now you are here with me,” he murmured, casting his gaze downward. “After all that has transpired, I am at a loss. Edward Rochester, devoid of words.” He shook his head gently and sighed.
I could not speak, either. The change in circumstances was completely surreal. In the space of one evening, I had been unveiled as the toast of the art world, and then I’d proceeded to be threatened, loved, attacked, saved, and returned to Thornfield. More had transpired in a twenty-four hour period than my whole life, and it had left me spinning out of control. Perhaps there was nothing to say, for our actions had said it all for us.
Tell me what’s in your heart, I thought to myself, unable to conjure the words into sound.
