The Ember In The Storm (undergoing editing)

Chapter 4: Affinity

   ELIZABETH lifted her head, meeting his still outstretched arm. "Do you perhaps wish on spending your night in the middle of the street?" He corked an eyebrow.

With his arm, she was able to get herself back up, staggering with a hiss at the sharp pain on her ankle. Jackson took hold of her waist immediately. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, just a small sprain. I will be fine," she tried walking, limping and teetering, nearly falling to her feet.

Jackson cursed under his breath and walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her torso and the back of her knees, he was able to balance her on Lara's right. Jackson mounted onto the horse, siting next to Elizabeth.

"Quite smart of you to not bring an overcoat for such a night," said he, wrapping his arms around her body for the reins.

"I don't own one that could go well with the gown." The trees moved past them as Lara trotted further away from the party. They used a much smaller route than that she remembered taking with the carriage before.

"Could Vaughn not give you any?" Jackson's eyes remained fixated ahead. Elizabeth turned her head up to analyze his features. This was the closest she had ever been to him. His scent, his half shaven beard, the flickering of his long lashes whilst his cinnamon eyes gazed ahead.

All of this, it felt overwhelming and yet intoxicating. Elizabeth loved it. She rested her head against his chest. He stiffened but relaxed in a second, moving closer to her.

"I did not want to cause her trouble," she finally responded, closing her eyes and taking in the deep scent of timber and raspberry.

Jackson did not respond, or maybe he did and she did not hear whatever it was, she was already halfway asleep and deep in slumber once they arrived the mansion.

A groom appeared and took hold of Lara's reins, stroking her mane as she came to a halt.

"We're here," Jackson looked down at Elizabeth, fighting the urge to stroke her cheek— as a way of waking her up, of course. Her eyes fluttered open and met his. "It is still as bad?" He got off the horse, helping her down to her feet.

"Yes, though I will be fi—"

"You said that half an hour ago. Let me carry you instead, it's faster,"  he snaked his arms around her body once more, taking her inside.

"I told you, I'm fine," she still insisted, her face heating up at the situation. She buried her face in his chest.

Jackson opened the door with his foot. "Prepare a bath," she heard him say. A small "yes, sir," followed before the sound of slippers quickly hitting against the floors.

"Please put me down, this is embarrassing. Everyone is watching," she continued. 

A low inhuman rumble vibrated across his chest and into her ear, whatever it meant, it was something close to no.

A few other steps more, finally Elizabeth was put back down, on the place she wanted to be most of all at that time; her bed.

Jackson backed from her, moving to his old book shelf whilst he took his evening coat off. His wife's eyes remained glued to his back body, watching him dawdle in releasing his ruffle shirt strings.

Just as Elizabeth inched closer in anticipation of he removing his shirt, he turned to face her, catching her ogling at him.

Quickly, she turned her attention to her heels, pulling them off her feet. From the periphery of her vision, she could see him walk to her, hesitantly and yet elegantly. He stopped besides her, kneeling and stopping his hand halfway to her chest once she backed away.