The Debt Bride

Chapter Forty-Six

  As Sunday sunlight streamed through the window, Amy meticulously arranged her photos, the golden rays accentuating her every movement. She looked radiant, her presence dazzling in the natural light.

  Rhysand stood leaning against the door frame, his eyes tracing her form with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. She caught his gaze and raised her eyebrows in playful curiosity, breaking the trance.

  He sauntered over, drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and began sifting through the photos. His eyes landed on one of her in a uniform, and a slow, mischievous smile spread across his face.

"You look pretty," he remarked.

Amy blushed, brushing off his compliment. "I wasn't that pretty. Come on."

Rhysand's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I mean the uniform," he teased, his smile turning naughty.

  Rhysand moved closer, his presence overwhelming. Amy felt her heart race as he gently but firmly pinned her against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat between them. His fingers traced a path along her waist, sending shivers down her spine. The space between them vanished, his breath mingling with hers, creating an electric tension that crackled in the air.

  Her eyes, wide with surprise and something deeper, met his, and she saw a smoldering intensity that made her knees weak. His gaze flicked to her lips, lingering there, and she felt the world narrow down to just the two of them, every sound and movement outside this moment fading into oblivion.

  His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing against her skin, a touch so tender it belied the fire burning in his eyes.

  Amy's breath hitched, her pulse thundering in her ears. She could feel the strength in his grip, the restraint he was exercising not to pull her even closer. Her own hands, trembling slightly, rested against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. The connection between them was palpable, a magnetic force drawing them together, inch by torturous inch.

  Just as his lips were about to capture hers, the moment was broken by Claire's sudden entrance. The tension shattered like glass, leaving them both breathless and flushed. Rhysand's fingers lingered on her waist a moment longer before he reluctantly pulled away, his eyes never leaving hers. The intensity of the interrupted moment hung between them, a promise unspoken, as they struggled to return to the normalcy of their day.

Just as the world seemed to dissolve around them, Claire burst in, her voice breaking the spell.

"Bye, love birds! Have fun!" She said with a laugh, leaving just as quickly as she had arrived.

  Embarrassment flushed their faces, but the lingering tension crackled in the air, a promise of what was yet to come. Rhysand's eyes locked onto Amy's, a silent vow of the deepening connection between them, as Claire's departure left them alone once more in the tender stillness of the moment.

  As the day passed, Amy busied herself in the kitchen, the warm, homely scents of cooking filling the air. She had insisted on preparing the meal, questioning why the servants always had to handle the cooking. Rhysand had dismissed the servants for the evening, deciding to help her himself. He stood beside her, slicing vegetables with a precision that belied his usual demeanor. The kitchen, usually bustling with staff, felt intimate and cozy with just the two of them working side by side.

  Their interactions were peppered with light touches and shared smiles, a dance of affection that unfolded naturally. Rhysand would occasionally lean in close, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered a playful comment, making her laugh. At one point, as Amy reached for a spice jar on a high shelf, he came up behind her, his hands gently guiding her to it. The closeness, the shared task, all created a bubble of warmth and companionship around them.

  After the meal was prepared, Amy took a tray to her father-in-law's room, ensuring he took his medicine. The elderly man, though frail, had a sparkle in his eye as he looked at her.

"I've never seen Rhysand so happy," he said softly.

"He lights up when you're around. He told me about you the day he saw you at the café. He likes you so much." His words lingered in her heart, deepening her affection for Rhysand.

  Dinner was a quiet affair, the family gathered around the table, sharing not just food but also the warmth of togetherness.

  After the meal, Rhysand went to his father's room to say goodnight, only to find him lifeless. Panic surged through him as he called for Claire. She arrived quickly, checking for a pulse and finding none. The reality hit them both hard – he was gone. Rhysand's grief overwhelmed him, and he turned to Amy, burying his face in her shoulder.

She held him tightly, whispering reassurances, promising, "I'm here for you."

  That night, Rhysand couldn't bring himself to sleep alone. He clung to Amy, seeking solace in her presence. She brushed her fingers through his hair, murmuring soothing words as he lay between her arms, his sorrow raw and unguarded. Her heart ached for him, wishing she could take away his pain.

  The following morning was somber, the house shrouded in grief as the rituals were performed. Rhysand, stoic and silent, handled the ceremonies with a heavy heart. Amy stayed by his side, offering support and comfort. Her presence was a balm to his wounded spirit, her quiet strength helping him through the darkest moments. Throughout the day, she never left his side, her love and compassion providing a constant source of solace.