Spellbound

by Ophelia Silk

  “Jane.”

  Hearing Adelaide say her name sent a shiver up her spine. Everyone called her Jane, but Adelaide spoke it with the same reverence that she spoke the Old Words. Like her very existence was magic.

  Adelaide drew away, but just enough to catch Jane’s gaze with her own. Her dark eyes were solemn. “Honest. Remember?”

  A laugh startled from Jane’s lips. “Yes.” She took a deep breath, staring down at her lap. “I just… I can’t help but feel as though all of this is wrong. I was brought up to believe that magic is evil, that it means giving your soul to the beasts of the forest. I’ve been taught that my worth is contingent on me becoming a wife to a good man, giving him children. I know that it isn’t fair to you, to behave this way and then say all of that, but… but I’m so frightened, and…”

  She couldn’t dare to look, to see the look on Adelaide’s face. But then Adelaide’s fingertips were on her cheek, urging her face up. And it was not anguish or anger in her expression but simple understanding.

  “You’re listening too much to other voices,” Adelaide said. “What do you want, Jane? That is what matters most to me.”

  No one had ever truly cared what Jane wanted. Not even Jane herself. She bowed her head, leaning into Adelaide’s shoulder, trying to stop or at least hide the flush in her expression, the prickling in her eyes. “I want you,” she said, quietly. “I didn’t know what wanting was before you.”

  Adelaide held her, stroking her back. “Alright, then,” she said. “That’s good enough for me.”

  Jane pulled away, alarmed. “But what about you?”

  “What?”

  “What do you want?”

  Adelaide laughed gently, looking oddly bashful, as though she couldn’t believe that Jane was asking the question. Again, guilt washed over her. She would need to think more of Adelaide in all of this. Starting now.

  “I only want you if you want me,” Jane said, gentle. “I don’t want to be the one who uses you for my own pleasure and then throws you away when I’m done. I won’t be like the others who came to your doorstep in the night, Adelaide.”

  Adelaide pressed a palm to her cheek, her gaze soft and vulnerable. But she met Jane’s eyes as she spoke, quiet but firm. “You are nothing like them.”

  Jane wasn’t sure who started moving first. Only that suddenly the distance between them was disappearing. Their lips met, and it was no less thrilling than before, but beneath the heat and the longing there was also a solidity that Adelaide brought to her. Excitement was all well and good, but the fact remained that being in Adelaide’s arms felt like home.

  They pulled apart, foreheads resting against each other. Adelaide stroked Jane’s cheek. “You are nothing like them,” Adelaide said, soft and almost hoarse. “Because I want you to stay.”

  “Alright,” she said. “Then I’ll stay.”

  Silence reigned between them, soft and tender, for a long moment. Finally, Adelaide drew back, a small smile on her lips. “I don’t see why you even had to ask. I wasn’t particularly secretive about it. Complimenting your appearance, asking you if you liked women…”

  Heat rushed to Jane’s face as she ducked her head. “You didn’t just come right out and say it. For you, that’s subtle.”

  Adelaide laughed. “Fair point, dear.” She frowned a little, thoughtful. “No, that doesn’t suit you. Darling? Hm. Maybe sweetheart…”

  “You can just call me Jane,” she replied hurriedly. At Adelaide’s gaze, she dropped her head. “I… like the way you say my name.”

  Adelaide gave a smile that was positively impish. “Is that so?” She tilted her head to the side, eyes sparkling. A hand reached out and pushed Jane’s hair back, fingertips trailing along the top of her ear. She leaned forward, cheek brushing warm against Jane’s.

  When she whispered, it sent shivers all down Jane’s spine.

  “Jane.” She pressed a kiss to the skin just to the side of Jane’s ear. “Jane.” Another, this time tingling against her jawline. Jane grasped at the fabric of Adelaide’s dress. “Jane.” This kiss, pressed against the side of her neck, made her shiver. She felt Adelaide smile against her skin.

  “Adelaide,” she said, trying to put as much reverence in it as she could, trying to make it so that Adelaide could never, ever doubt her desire for her. She grabbed Adelaide’s face gently in her hands, tilting it up for another kiss.

  It was so strange, how natural this already felt. How much she wanted to keep doing it. Kissing Adelaide was so much more thrilling than kissing William. She wanted to do all of the things with Adelaide that she’d shuddered at the thought of doing with William.

  But perhaps it was too soon? Then again, this was already so far outside of the realm of propriety that she wasn’t sure what constituted “too soon.” There were no rules for this, no polite guidelines to follow. Part of her was frightened by that.

  But the part of her that relished being in Adelaide’s arms knew what the answer was. Still, she wanted to ask, wanted to hear it said out loud.

  “How will this work?” She pulled away, carding her fingers through Adelaide’s hair. “How will we work?”

  Adelaide raised an eyebrow, smiling. “However we want.”

  Something in Jane’s chest bloomed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A Dynamic Shifted

  BUT FOR ALL that, not much between them changed for the rest of the evening.

  Jane still cooked dinner and they still made conversation over it, easy and open and cheerful. Other than the kiss in thanks Adelaide gave when Jane gathered up the dishes to clean them, it could have been any other night.

  The two danced around each other, both wary of their boundaries, as evening fell into night. Jane stifled a yawn behind her hand.

  “Perhaps it’s time for bed,” Adelaide said, amusement clinging soft and fond to the edge of her voice.

  “Perhaps,” Jane said.

  Neither of them moved. And she realized that it was because neither of them particularly wanted to be apart from each other. Nor would they have to be.

  “Did you want to—“

  “Could we—“

  Their voices overlapped with each other, falling into laughter. Adelaide reached out and Jane went into her arms without hesitation.

  “I’m not sure if I’m ready for… what couples usually do in bed,” Jane admitted softly. “But I would like to share a bed with you.”

  Adelaide smiled against her temple. “I would like that, too. And as ravishing as you are, I am more than happy to wait for that, too.”

  “Truly?” Jane looked into her eyes, seeking. “I don’t wish to disappoint you.”

  Adelaide kissed her. “You could never disappoint me, Jane. Not for something like that.”

  Jane breathed out, letting go of a worry she hadn’t even realized she was holding onto. “Alright. Thank you.”

  She followed Adelaide down the hallway. She hadn’t had much occasion to be in Adelaide’s room, having mostly avoided it while cleaning out of politeness. She took a moment to take it in—the dark wooden walls and floor hidden beneath Adelaide’s usual clutter. A candle with wax dried in long drips sat on a dresser, and there was a notebook full of loose pages on an end table.

  “Can you sleep here, or will the clutter drive you mad?” Adelaide teased.

  Jane laughed. “I’ll manage.”

  “Good, because I don’t think the guest bed will fit both of us.”

  Adelaide’s bed was bigger than the one Jane had been sleeping in, but not by much. When they stripped to their shifts and laid next to each other, they still only had just enough room for both of them to lay facing each other, knees and elbows brushing.

  Jane’s heart thundered against her ribs. There was something incredibly intimate about laying like this, face to face, close enough for their noses to brush if she just leaned forward a little more. She laughed and tucked her head, burying it in Adelaide’s shoulder. “Sorry,” she breathed, “I’m just…
”

  “I understand,” Adelaide said, and Jane was surprised to hear some of her own nervousness reflected in the other woman’s voice. “I do. It’s… different, isn’t it?”

  “It is.” Despite her nerves, Jane couldn’t help feeling pleased. She really was different from the other women Adelaide had brought to bed. They’d laid together, but not like this.

  Even as Adelaide turned out the lights, Jane couldn’t relax. She felt hyper aware of Adelaide’s legs twining through her own, Adelaide’s arm curled around her waist, Adelaide’s shoulders beneath her palms, Adelaide’s breath in her hair. How could she sleep, why would she sleep, and deprive herself of the knowledge that Adelaide was here beside her?

  She didn’t know how long she laid there, reveling in the other woman’s presence, but eventually Adelaide’s voice cut through the silence. “You aren’t sleeping, are you?”

  Jane let out a breathless little laugh. “Neither are you.”

  “Hm. Guilty as charged.” There was a small shifting, secret and wonderful in the dark, as Adelaide’s hand found a more comfortable position, fingertips splayed carelessly across Jane’s ribs. “Perhaps we could find a better use of our time.”

  Jane’s heart raced. She’d be lying if she said that the warmth of Adelaide’s body beside her didn’t make her want to move closer, but it still felt too much, too fast.

  Perhaps she’d drawn away a little, or perhaps Adelaide simply guessed what she was thinking, because her voice cut through the dark again, quick and reassuring. “Talking! I meant talking. I—I heard what you said earlier, Jane. I take that very seriously, and I’d never want to push you to move faster than you are comfortable with.”

  “Oh.” Jane relaxed into Adelaide’s embrace. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I don’t know.” Adelaide’s laugh was silken in the darkness. “It’s just—I feel as though I know you, Jane, quite intimately. But for all that, I don’t know much about you. What you like, where you come from, how you spend your time—when you’re not cleaning up after me.” A light tease clung to the edge of her voice.

  Jane hummed. “You know—I come from town.”

  “Yes,” Adelaide responded, her tone neutral. Jane got the sense that she was letting her set the tone of the conversation.

  But why would she focus on the hard things, the things that Adelaide must already know or suspect? Laying here like this was far too pleasant.

  “Well,” she said. “I did spend a lot of time cleaning and sewing, even back there. I was never very good at the outdoor work at my parents’ farm—as much as I enjoy flowers aesthetically, I’m afraid that I don’t have much of a green thumb.”

  “Good thing you have me, then,” Adelaide teased, and the warmth of her voice seeped into the crown of Jane’s head all the way to her toes.

  “But I’ve always been good at—at looking at something and knowing where it ought to go. I like it when things are neat. Aesthetically pleasing. People, too.” Daring, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to Adelaide’s cheekbone in the dark. “Like you.”

  “You find me aesthetically pleasing?”

  “Very.”

  Adelaide laughed and tightened her grip on Jane. Jane decided she liked that.

  “What about you?”

  “Hm?”

  Jane couldn’t make out Adelaide’s face in the darkness, so she traced it with her fingertips instead. “I have things I’m curious about, too. I mean, I’ve heard stories of the witch in the woods since I was a little girl. But that couldn’t have been you all this time, could it have?”

  Her own boldness made her nervous. Maybe she should have kept it more vague. But she already knew what Adelaide liked—gardening and magic and speaking her mind. It was her past that was more of a mystery than Jane’s own must have been to her.

  Adelaide didn’t seem to take offense. Her voice went soft and fond. “No. It was not always me. The stories you heard as a child were probably of my mother.”

  Jane’s ran the soft, fine strands of Adelaide’s hair through her fingertips. “So you lived here with just your mother growing up? You mentioned that your father didn’t stay here…”

  Adelaide laughed softly, and it was only then that Jane realized that she hadn’t even been afraid of the woman’s reaction, even though the question was terribly risky. “That’s right, he’s a traveling witch. Kind enough, but I don’t consider him a father and he doesn’t consider me a daughter. Our relationship is far more casual than that.”

  “Oh.” Jane couldn’t help feeling a little awed. Such a casual arrangement was unheard of in town, but Adelaide made it sound like it were the most natural thing in the world. Then again, laying here in the dark beside Adelaide also felt natural.

  Maybe anything could be natural, as long as it was comfortable for all the parties involved.

  “Weren’t you lonely?” Jane asked. “Growing up with only your mother?”

  “Well, sometimes,” Adelaide said. “But I don’t feel particularly bereft. I’ve always been quite comfortable in my own company. The occasional bout of loneliness is worth being able to have been myself, unashamed, for as long as I’ve been alive.”

  Jane tried to imagine that. She had loved playing with other children in her childhood, back before expectations and responsibilities had become too stifling. Even now, she enjoyed parties and things of that nature, social events that let her speak with people and be among them. But was all that truly worth hiding herself, denying herself?

  “Even when my mother left, around four years ago,” Adelaide continued, “it wasn’t too difficult of an adjustment. I assured her as much when she asked if she should come home.”

  “Where is she?”

  “A coastal town,” Adelaide explained gently. “She travelled there to visit an old friend, but fell in love with a man there and decided she’d settle down with him for a time. I was eighteen by then, more than capable of taking care of myself. She still writes and comes to visit occasionally.”

  “And you never considered following her?”

  “I did, actually. Even stayed there for a few weeks to mull it over, and travelled a bit afterward to see if there was anywhere else I might like. But in the end, it was hardly a decision.” Adelaide’s voice was stark in its honesty, something akin to pride clinging to the edge of her voice. “I love this forest too much.”

  “Even though you get lonely sometimes?” Jane tried to imagine it—subsisting off of the attention of people who never stayed, silence day in and day out. It made her heart ache, a little, to think of Adelaide in such a situation.

  “Sometimes I do wish I could be around people more easily,” Adelaide admitted quietly. “But in the end, I’m just too happy here. It’s not perfect, I know that—but it’s mine, and I could no more live without it than I could live without my heart. It’s such a core part of who I am. I can’t imagine myself in any other context.”

  “I see,” Jane said. “It’s too bad that other people don’t appreciate it the way you do.”

  “It is. The forest is beautiful. Terrifying, yes. But there’s beauty in it, too.” Adelaide’s fingertips brushed against Jane’s temple. “I don’t blame you, if you don’t see it yet. But if you’re serious about staying… I’m sure that you’ll come to see it.”

  Jane smiled. “I am. And I will.”

  And although it took a few laughing, fumbling tries, she eventually managed to capture Adelaide’s lips in the darkness.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A Comfortable Walk

  WAKING IN ADELAIDE’S arms felt like the most precious gift.

  Jane curled into the sleeping woman’s shape slowly, syncing their breathing together. It was tempting to stay there, under the blankets, away from the slight bite of the morning air. But restless energy tugged at her, bid her to her feet.

  Adelaide made a small, discontented sound, clutching half-heartedly at Jane’s nightgown. Jane laughed softly, pushing her hair out of her face.
>
  “You can go back to sleep, Addy,” she said gently.

  Adelaide mumbled something, but relaxed her grip. Jane sat at the edge of the bed, watching her chest rise and fall, heart so full that she thought she might burst. It was amazing, how many different shades of affection could exist in one person. Part of her felt only a soft sort of fondness, light as a flower petal, gentle enough to float on air. Another part of her was awed and grateful, that such a woman would let herself be so vulnerable with her, would allow her to share her bed.

  And there was another sort of affection, something less like the warmth of sunlight and more like the heat of a fire, dangerous to touch. It stirred in her at the sight of Adelaide’s pale skin swelling at her chest, the hollow of her throat, the slight part of her lips.

  Jane had these feelings before, for women in town, but had never allowed herself to examine them in any great detail. They still made her nervous. But the idea of acting on them felt a little less frightening every time she acknowledged them.

  The sudden sound of Adelaide’s voice made her jump. “Was I dreaming,” she asked with her eyes closed, “or did you call me Addy?”

  Heat rushed to Jane’s cheeks. “I don’t have to do it again, if you don’t like it.”

  Adelaide let out a laugh, finally opening her eyes with a yawn. “You’re very cute. I don’t mind.” She sat up, fingertips brushing Jane’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”

  Jane threaded her fingers through Adelaide’s. “Happy,” she said, and meant it. As complicated as her emotions were, they were good emotions, a rich tapestry of happiness that unfurled in her chest like a many-petaled flower in bloom.

  “Good,” Adelaide said softly. “So am I.”

  They went through their morning routine much the same as they usually did, Adelaide putting together Jane’s medicine while Jane made breakfast for the two of them. But although their movements were the same, the energy in the room couldn’t have been more different. It was as though sleeping together had eroded some of the nervousness between them, allowing them to explore a new normal.