To Eternity by Daisy Banks

astonishment.
    â€œYes, miss. Mr. Johansson took the car over two hours ago. I thought you were with him. I thought it a little odd he didn’t say whether you’d be in to dine.”
    â€œYes,” she said, fighting off the catch in her throat. “It is a bit odd. I’m sure he’ll be back and we’ll…” She could hardly believe he’d gone out in the car. Would he be back this evening? “I’m going to take a hot shower. Would you please bring me a pot of tea upstairs?”
    â€œOf course, miss.”
    â€œThanks, Mrs. Tyson.” Certain the housekeeper would be aware she’d been crying, she hurried into the main hallway to the stairs. Magnus never left the house. She had to give him reason to go out, or offer the lure of entertainments to persuade him to venture into the world beyond Darnwell. Every time they’d gone anywhere, she’d always found the venue. She thumped up the stairs.
    Their room was spotless. The log fire burned steady, livid coals forming from the thick rack of wood. The hearth offered a comforting glow in the late afternoon gloom. Tyson would come up with her tea in a few minutes. The housekeeper would draw the drapes after she put down the tea tray, and then leave. The strangeness of having staff to wait on her, like in some kind of television drama, still struck her. Most days when Cook and Mrs. Tyson were here, there was at least one encounter when she waited for someone to call, “That’s a wrap.”
    She glanced around at the sumptuous splendor. Soon, she’d be alone with nothing but the carved wolves at the foot of the bed for company. She sighed, tugging off her muddy jeans and damp socks. Clutching the wet bundle, she went into the bathroom where she stuffed the grubby clothes into a large laundry hamper.
    The copper bath beckoned, offering her comfort and warmth. A long soak might make her feel better. She peeled off her shirt as the water ran. A shame he had no perfumed candles in here. At least she could have the lights a nice moody violet. She tipped some Ylang Ylang scented oil into the water.
    The bedroom door slammed. Concerned Mrs. Tyson might struggle with a tray, she went through to the bedroom.
    Magnus.
    She froze, staring into the gray eyes that bored into her.
    â€œWhere did you go?” he asked, his voice clipped. His tone sent a shiver through her.
    â€œTo the woods. I needed to think.”
    â€œI looked for you.” His voice grated like minced gravel.
    â€œBut you didn’t find me.”
    The corner of his mouth twitched. “No. You were lost to me.”
    She swallowed hard, blinking back a hot teary sting in her eyes.
    The tap at the door rang like a gunshot. Magnus snapped around to stare at the housekeeper.
    â€œI’ve brought up the tea for you, Miss Sian. There are two cups. I saw Mr. Johansson park the car.” Mrs. Tyson’s voice faltered as she looked to them both. She placed the tray on the side table by the hearth. “I’ll leave this here, sir. Do call down if there’s anything else you need.” Tyson backed away and whisked out the door.
    Magnus reached out. He touched the curls at the side of her face. “Your hair’s wet.”
    She shivered. “I know.”
    He rested his hand on her arm. “You’re cold, too.”
    â€œYes, Magnus. I’m wet, cold, and—” God damn it. She couldn’t stop her lips clamping together as she grimaced, fighting tears. A fresh shiver chased the first.
    â€œI didn’t mean to hurt you.” He slid his arm around her and urged her into his embrace. “Forgive me? Please?”
    She didn’t put her arms around him but remained motionless.
    He held her for a long, bleak time.
    â€œThe bath’s running,” she eventually said.
    â€œGo and bathe.” He released her from his embrace. “I’ll pour the tea. We’ll talk when you’re