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From One Book to Another:
Chapter Six:
Anna-Marie Eyre felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her. She took a breath, the room smelt of burnt cloth.
"Rogue," a deep voice said.
She was slouched over in a chair, as her eyes fluttered open, to see the master of the house standing above her. Within a moment she recalled, he'd told her to wait for him here, in his bedroom. It was due to the fire she helped him extinguish and the culprit that may still have been lurking around the mansion.
But the sun was out now and she had spent the entire night sleeping in this very chair?!
"Lord Eisenhardt," she gasped alarmed as she moved to stand, but his hand on her shoulder kept her where she was, he was studying her, it seemed. "I have ta get back to my room, before Mrs. MacTaggart finds us!" she exclaimed, even as her face blushed in his presence.
"Forget all of that," he said, his voice laced with concern as he kneeled down in front of her. "It doesn't matter," he said as his free hand cupped her cheek.
"If she finds us, if anyone found me in your bedroom, you'd be forced to sack me," she said, trying to make him understand. All she saw was pity on his face. "You may be a man of considerable means, but I ain't, and I need this job, my lord. You have ta-" she said before he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was quick, chase, and merely served to stop her from rambling, it seemed. "Sir," she said, breathlessly, searching his gaze. He was filled with contradictions; his words and action unaligned. "A Lord such as yourself is not in the business of marrying his governess," she stated, but was cut off when a sad laugh escaped him and his hand tightened on her cheek.
"Rogue, I'd marry you in a heartbeat, if you'd have me in the real world," he said, pecking her lips again. "But as it stands, we're trapped in some sort of construct," he said, pulling back from her and helping her to her feet. She watched as he glanced around the room, like it was the first time he was seeing it. And what had he called her?
"Sir, are you unwell?" she asked, tentatively. "Do you know where you are?" she asked.
"Frankly, no," he answered dryly, still glancing around the room. "Anna-Marie?" he asked, the name more of a question on his lips, as if he was asking if that was her name.
"Yes, my lord?" she answered with a question of her own.
"Why don't you tell me, then," he ordered. "Where are we?" he asked before he sucked in a breath. "And who am I?" he added a note of facetiousness in his voice.
"You are Master Max Eisenhardt of Muir Island," she said and he let out an amused huff. "This is your home. I'm in your employ. Though it is heartening to hear that would wed a lowly governess. I would be honored, if you were in your right mind, sir. But ya clearly ain't," she finished dejectedly. "I'll go fetch, Mrs. MacTaggart," she said, moving to walk past him, to get to the door. He caught her wrist and pulled her to his side instead. "She'll call for the doctor and see to your health, my lord," she said barely above a whisper, unable to bring herself to glance at him, even as he moved her face closer to his.
"There is no person I would trust less to steward my affairs than Moira MacTaggart," he said, his tone openly bitter. "And never would I allow that woman the opportunity to meddle with my state of mind or the sanctity of my body," he explained as she felt his fingers curl under her chin, and lift it to meet his gaze.
"But she's your housekeeper," Anna-Marie commented, completely at a loss. A laugh left him at that, a balk of a laugh.
"Yes, and I'm curious why?" he asked as he released her chin and walked about the room. "Why would Farouk bring us here? What's the significance?" he asked, a rattling of questions as he glanced out the window, surveying his island.
"Far-...Who?" Anna-Marie asked. "Captain Fury brought me to these shores," she explained, trying to get him back to the present as she walked closer to him, wondering if she should use the moment to run for Mrs. MacTaggart. But given his new distrust for his housekeeper, she wasn't sure it would help any. "You trusted His Majesty's agent to chart my journey," she said.
"From where?" he asked, his gaze set out the window.
"It was a Savage place," she said dismissively, her gaze now on her shoes, not wishing to think of it.
"I recall hearing of Shadow King's attack on Charles and his X-Men at Muir Island," he said before she heard his head turn and looked up to see his startled gaze. "I didn't know you were there during his invasion," he said. "And all because I abandoned you when we disagreed on something as trivial as methodology," he said, disgust in his voice, disgust with his past actions, as he turned away from her again, glancing out the window.
"My Lord," she said, taking another step toward him. "Do not allow delusions to vex you," she implored, taking another step.
"Shadow King has learned from our previous encounters," he said, not listening to her, slipping further away from her. "He knows a head-on assault would net little yield for his efforts to control me and it seems," he said as he finally turned to look at her, "he's already utilized our attraction for one another to control you," he said. "We're trapped here within a mental construct designed with you in mind. How do we break out of your prison, Anna-Marie?" he asked her and she blinked.
"You're the master of this entire island, my lord. What do ya need to escape from?" she asked, trying still to talk some sense into him, not understanding what he meant about it being her prison. He sighed at that before putting his hand on her arm and pulling her closer to him. "My Lord, please," she said, even as she clung to his chest, her eyes on the door, afraid someone would come, would see.
"It's taboo for us to be alone because we're unwed. Have I understood that correctly?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord," she answered.
"Then will you marry me, Anna-Marie?" he asked and she gasped as she looked up at him. "I'd like to keep you close, until I work out how to keep us safe," he said, blatantly stating his intentions. "Until you remember who we truly are," he added.
Anna-Marie Eyre starred up into those hauntingly beautiful icy blue eyes of his and found a surprising amount of warmth within them.
"Ah- I will marry you," she answered. "And maybe I can help you remember," she said. A snort left him at that before he leaned in, kissing her.
They both were forced to look at the door as he was thrust open.
"What is the meaning of this, lass?" Mrs. MacTaggart shrieked from the doorway. Anna-Marie meant to pull away from him, but an arm around her shoulders anchored her to his side.
"Calm yourself, Moira," he reprimanded. "We're to be married. I will not be kept from my fiancé," he declared.
"But my lord, think of the scandal," she protested.
"Then as my housekeeper you'd better make haste in your station, and arrange the affair," he said, his tone dry. "I'll wed Miss-" he paused, faltering.
"Eyre," Anna-Marie supplied quickly, realizing he didn't know, and watched as his eyes flared in seeming comprehension. Perhaps this awful spell he seemed to be afflicted by was passing?
"As in Jane?" he asked in a whisper. "Hmm," he huffed to himself before turning back to the older woman. "I'll marry Miss. Eyre today if you're able to see to the arrangements. Keep it small, practical and call the Rabbi," he ordered.
"I think ya mean, priest, my lord," Mrs. MacTaggart corrected, in a prim, somewhat bewildered, tone.
"Priest?" he repeated with a somewhat bemused expression before looking down at her. "I wonder if it'll be Kurt," he mused for her ears only, as he lowered his hand from shoulder and instead took her hand in his.
"Who's Kurt?" Anna-Marie asked. He smiled as he lifted her hand up, and leaned his head down to kiss the back of it.
"I'll tell you downstairs," he said. "Do I have a library?" he asked in a whisper.
"Of course, my lord," she replied, her tone just as hushed.
"Wonderful," he smiled. "Once we've cleared the room, take the lead," he ordered. She nodded before he stood up straight and he started to walk toward the door, hand in hand with her. She trailed behind him until she passed Mrs. MacTaggart.
Anna-Marie Eyre sat in the library, a cup of tea in her hand as she tried to digest everything her lord fiancé had just disclosed.
"Max," she said hesitantly, her hands were stiff as she gripped the porcelain cup tightly. Not sipping her tea, merely holding it, to hold something.
His name still felt foreign on her lips. But during his explanation he had insisted, more than insisted, that she not view herself as lesser to him in any conceivable way. Calling him by his name seemed to be the best way forward in that endeavor. It was, by far, the least troubling piece of information he had imparted that morning. Everything else was…
"Anna-Marie," he replied, even as his gaze was away from hers. He was standing by the fireplace in the library, gazing into the fire as it crackled and burned. The room's walls were so covered in bookcases that there was simply no room for windows. And as such, the light from the fireplace and the few oil lamps throughout the room was needed to see anything at all. It hadn't stopped him from looking over the titles of each and every title of the numerous novel's in the rooms. Not that he'd found anything that held his interest. "You must remember who we are," he said, his tone gentle yet filled with urgency.
"I don't understand," she said, her head felt dizzy, like she couldn't order her thoughts. "We're something called mutants?"
"Yes," he answered as he picked up the iron fireside poker, he professed to be able to control with his mind, and stuck it into the hearth, disturbing the logs to give the fire more oxygen.
"Because we have powers. But we don't have access to our powers now, so ya can't prove what you're saying," she summarized.
"Because Farouk had trapped us within a telepathic construct," he said, poking at the fire some more. She thought he was doing so, if only to give himself something to do with his hands. As she was with the teacup "None of this is real, Anna-Marie," he said, turning to look at her.
"If that's true, if this Farouk is doing this to us, then why do you know that and I don't?" she asked. She watched him rank a hand through his hair.
"To torture us both, I'd imagine," he said. "Even now, you're considering telling Moira everything. Aren't you?" he asked, irritated in his tone, but not aimed at her. Anyone in their right mind would be skeptical. "For my own good," he added dryly before turning back to the fire, poking at it with the iron implement.
"Yes," she admitted meekly, that thought had been in the back of her mind.
"And here I stand, aware of what's occurred between Anna Karenina, The Greek Myths of Persephone and Hades, and now Jane Eyre," he said.
She blinked.
"I've read Jane Eyre," she commented.
"You have?" he asked. She took a breath as she quit the teacup, returning it to its saucer.
"Yeah, I had it during my journey here to Muir Island. Captain Fury took it from me. And I- I meant ta purchase a copy for myself with my wages, but ya haven't given me any of those yet," she said.
"How thoughtless of me," he said, returning the iron implement to its holder and marching forward to take her hand, lifting her out of the seat. "We'll settle the matter at once," he said before he pulled her along with him toward the door.
Some time later, Anna-Marie walked with Max, as they made their way down the long path that led to the docks. In his hand, he clung to a letter, one she had written herself with a message and part of her earnings to purchase a book. She didn't know when the next ship was due. She couldn't see one on the horizon, but better to get the message down sooner rather than miss their next chance.
The wind was blowing something fierce and she meant to walk beside Max, however-
"Stay behind me, Anna-Marie," Max said as he placed himself in front of her, guarding her from the wind and she tucked her head against his back. Her bonnet was threatening to fly from her head, even as she had it tied tightly beneath her chin and her cloak had taken on a life of its own. She hadn't bothered trying to keep it at her side for several minutes.
"Such a strong wind," she commented, feeling its bite even while being shielded by Lo-...Max.
"I wouldn't have expected Farouk to make this easy for us," he replied back, his tone grim.
'And I shouldn't have expected a sane response,' she sighed to herself, but kept her thoughts to herself. If this was what he needed to dismiss his delusions, to hold a simple book in his hands, then so be it. She would wait and once the time was right, she would help him heal. A part of her wondered if she should delay the wedding until after she'd gotten possession of the book. But he was so insistent it happened as quickly as possible. Mrs. MacTaggart was likely making arrangements as they walked.
But once in his right mind, would he feel cheated to have wed a governess during his period of insanity? Would he view it as an offense, or love her even more for nursing him back to reality?
'He should have the option of an annulment,' she thought before an idea occurred to her. "Max?' she called out, a little loud due to the wind.
"Yes?" he asked, as he took careful steps forward, his hand moving behind his back to take hold of her arm. She clung to his arm with both hands.
"I was thinkin'. We don't know how long it'll take Mrs. MacTaggart to organize everything for the wedding," she pointed out as she felt her face blushing, wondering how best to broach such a subject.
"Yes?" he repeated, knowing she was getting at something.
"And ah- even when she does, maybe we should hold off on-"
"Hold off on what?" he asked, as he turned to face her. He stood taller than her, his broad stance still shielding her from the wind, as she felt his gaze bearing down on her. "Consummate our marriage?" he asked, no doubt in response to the hue of her cheeks. "Anna-Marie, you don't know who you are," he said, cupping her face. "Do you honestly think I'd want to take advantage of you in such a vulnerable position?" he asked her. "The very most I'll ask of you is-" he said, before he stopped, his eyes darting away from hers a brief moment. "Oh, I see, because I'm the one who has succumbed to fantasy, you seek to protect me," he realized out loud.
"Ah-huh," she mumbled, afraid he would take offense. Instead his gaze softened.
"I'm grateful for your consideration," he said before kissing her forehead. "We won't consummate until after one of us has convinced the other. Agreed?" he asked.
"Yeah," she smiled before she lifted herself up to gently press her lips to his. Both of them kept the kiss chaste in nature; the peck was a promise of what wouldn't come, not until they were on the same page. She almost laughed at how easy they could work together even when each thought the other was utterly mad. "Thank you, Max," she muttered as she pulled back from his lips. He kissed her forehead again before pulling back so they could resume there- "There's a ship at the docks!" she announced gleefully.
"Is there really?" he asked intrigued, turning his head to look. That was queer; there had not been one prior.
"How didn't we spot 'em before?" she asked as they quickened their pace. Even with the wind blowing against them, he marched forward with a newfound urgency. She felt a bit, as if he was dragging her, but she tried to keep up.
"I imagine," he said, stopping to pull her into his arms, carrying her bridal status down the hill, resuming his brisk stride, "because it wasn't there prior to our agreement," he finished his thought.
"Max, ya can't really think-" she said, as she looked at the ship from under the hood of her bonnet, thankful the wind had finally died down and something about the ship seemed familiar.
"Anna-Marie, we've had a full view from our height-" he said before she gasped. "Can you, at least, admit my argument has merit?" he asked.
"Max, that's Captain Fury's ship!" she told him and his stride turned from brisk to an outright run. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight as he covered a large amount of distance as quickly as he could. It wasn't long before they were on the docks themselves, gazing up at a sea captain wearing an eyepatch.
"Captain Fury," Max said loudly as he lowered her feet back to the ground.
"Lord Eisenhardt," the captain replied, taking off his cap and dipping his head respectfully in their direction.
"What brings you to Muir Island?" Max asked.
"We visit your island routinely, my lord, there is nothing amiss about our presence," he answered.
'What a strange-' Anna-Marie thought as she shared a glance with Max before an elfin smile crossed her fiancé's face.
"Of course, there isn't," Max replied smoothly. "I apologize if my choice of words insinuated otherwise. What I should have asked, is how can I be of service to a captain in his majesty's fleet?"
"You serve your King well precisely where you stand, Lord Eisenhardt. There's no need for you to take any action," he answered.
"And were I to insist?" he asked.
"You would be disappointed," Captain Fury replied. Anna-Marie didn't understand why the captain was grinning as he was.
"Perhaps then, you might consider being of service to us. My fiancé spoke of a book she adored during her passage to my Island; Jane Eyre. Might you consider parting with the tome?"
"I'd have to obtain his majesty's permission," he replied.
"Naturally," Max quipped, his tone dry.
"The King may be persuaded to gift the novel to a pair of newlyweds," Captain Fury continued.
"I see," Max said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Then we'll return to the manor and leave you to your task," he said.
"That would be for the best, Lord Eisenhardt," he replied. Max's hand tightened against her shoulder, holding her protectively as they turned to leave.
"You read the book during your journey to Muir Island, correct?" Max asked in a hushed tone.
"Yes, cover to cover," she answered.
"Tell me what it's about," he demanded.
"It's-" she started to say before she drew a blank mentally. Her mind almost felt frozen as she tried to recall. She had read it. She knew she had. So why couldn't she recall the plot? "I'm sorry, I-" she broke off as she realized she was standing still, and hadn't realized it. What was happening to her?
She looked up at him, confused. His eyes softened, once again. "It's alright, Rogue, it's alright," he said, pulling her tightly to his side as he kissed her forehead again.
Anna-Marie walked a short distance with Max, back up the hill and she was glad that the wind had-
It had stopped, hadn't it? They didn't have any issue walking back up the path. Only down, only away from the mansion. Away from what Max has called and viewed as a prison.
She shook her head, at herself. It felt more correct to disregard thoughts like this. Something inside her seemed satisfied when she did. Such strange notions. They couldn't be fostered.
"You see it, don't you?" he asked, stopping, turning to face her, to stand directly before her. "That the elements themselves conspired against us," he said, his hands on her shoulders. "If it picked up now, Farouk, it will only add credence to my claim," he called out, as if to the sky itself.
As if on cue, a large gust of wind blew over the hillside, snapping her cloak with a vengeance similar to before, and Max's arms pulled her close. Anna-Marie craned her neck up to look at his face as he held her close. He seemed satisfied, as if he actually could control weather, and not supposedly the…what did he call it? Electromagnetic Spectrum? Her eyes widened as the wind continued.
"Which you don't seem to mind," he yelled out as she clung to his chest and the black coat he wore. "Do you see, Anna-Marie? Or would you claim this as a coincidence?" he asked her, his tone was adamant, he had a certain fire in his eyes as he tried to convince her.
"Maybe god's got a sense of humor," she muttered, mostly to herself as the wind died down again.
"No, he only thinks himself a god," he replied dryly as he pulled away, but just enough to wrap his arm around her again. "We'll wait. You'll see the truth. Or perhaps a headcount might be taken and our whereabouts questioned," he mused as they resumed walking.
'If he's right and this Farouk has control over your bodies, what makes him think such a malicious entity would leave anyone alive?'
"Wouldn't Farouk just use us to kill everyone else?" she asked aloud. Maybe if he saw how cruel his version of the truth was, maybe then he could accept reality? "Max?" she asked as she realized he stopped walking and looked up to see how white he face had become. "I'm sorry!" She apologized immediately. "I don't know why I said that. I just-"
"No, no, you're right," he said, his voice was humbled.
It was her turn to reach out to him. She threw her arms around his neck and his arms slipped around her sides completing the embrace. They clung to one another.
"It don't matter, Max. Whatever ya need, that's what we do. With Fury's help or without him," she said. She was confused when he started shaking, a soft groan left him and she couldn't quite tell if he was laughing or crying. She squeezed tighter. She wasn't letting him go. She wouldn't.
Seven days later, during the late afternoon, Anna-Marie walked the halls of the manor, on her way to the library to meet with Max, as they had done every day for the past week. She felt the weight of Mrs. MacTaggart's disapproving gaze as they planned to be alone together for hours on end.
She bypassed the housekeeper's frosty glances with an equally chilled back, and entered the library to find Max sitting on the couch. He was reading, a favored pastime and he had some of the men on staff moved into the room for their use. She eagerly joined him, sitting at his right side as he popped open a book, intent to read to her.
"Mrs. MacTaggart was watching me again," she reported as she laid down on the couch, resting her head on his lap; engrossed in the ritual they'd developed over the past few days.
"Let her. It's insignificant," he replied, as he always did, his fingers dancing along her neck. He continued to insist that none of the others were real. That only their actions mattered and as master of the house he'd have privacy.
Maybe, she shouldn't have asked him so much about what he called 'the real world.' But it wasn't like he hadn't done the same; asking about her Aunt, her past and everything that had occurred prior to her coming to his island. It wasn't Max's fault she had so much less to say; that he had years of memories; decades of experiences from the other world; that it hurt her head a little trying to recall details as easily as he seemed to conjure them.
Even though she engaged him during their engagement, that didn't mean he was right and she was the one suffering in an illusion. They were present in the here and now! Though that hadn't stopped her from asking about the other delusions he calmed they endured together prior to the island; Anna-Marie Karenina and their time in the jungle. His library had a copy of both Anna Karenina and the Greek myth of Persephone and Hades.
A couple of nights, she'd fallen asleep right here as he read to her. His smooth deep voice soothed her soul; her head upon his lap calmed her racing heart, his fingers in her hair and against her neck quickened it again. Such sweet torture.
Even if she couldn't convince him, even if he always suffered from his delusions, she'd stay by his side. She'd decided that. She wanted this, she wanted him, she wanted to be here on this island with him, for the rest of their lives.
And she knew he wanted her too. In his mind, they were already married in Anna-Marie Karenina and they'd already acted upon their feelings in the jungles. She didn't know whether to feel disturbed or faltered that he had strong intimate memories of them being together, kissing, touching, feeling…
"Tell me again," she muttered, her voice quiet, but in the enclosed room with only the sounds of the crackling fire, she knew he had heard her.
"Which part?" he asked.
"The waterfall," she answered and his hand stiffened against her skin.
"Anna-Marie," he said, his voice husky.
"I know," she said softly. "Tell me anyway," she said as she nuzzled her head against his lap and he sucked in a breath.
"The goddess of spring honored me with her trust within a dark cave hidden behind a waterfall," he recited as his hand massaged her neck. Her hand was on his knee and she was sort of rubbing, running little circles of her own against his knee.
"What did we do in that cave, Max?" she asked.
"What I'd like to do to you now," he answered with an earnest honesty she'd come to appreciate. She turned onto her back, staring up at him from his lap and his hand moved from her neck to her cheek.
"But we shouldn't," she reiterated their past discussions on the matter.
"No, we shouldn't," he said, even as his hand moved down her side, causing her to shutter as he moved his hand from her cheek to her waist. She put her hand over his, on her waist, their fingers entwining, as she stared up into his eyes. The more time they spent with one another, the more she wanted him.
"How soon until all of the arrangements are made?" she asked him.
"Two days time," he answered. "Your dress will be here tomorrow, Captain Fury is delivering it himself and hopefully the book as well," he said.
"What do ya think is gonna happen when we get our hands on it?" she asked him.
"I don't know, but the alternative is we'll remain here forever," he answered.
"Would that really be so bad?" she asked him.
"Rogue," he sighed happily as his fingers were tightening against hers. They were one movement away, one choice away from breaking the promises that had been made. A very large part of her wanted them to forsake what had been stated on a windy hillside. "Shall I read to you?" he asked instead.
"Ah-huh," she huffed, turning over, closing her eyes. Disappointed, but proud at the same time. Indulgence was what had allowed Farouk to take over their minds… according to Max's claims. Something in her wanted to call them delusions, but they were so detailed, so precise. She couldn't help but trust him, something small and quiet deep down inside of her felt satisfaction whenever she placed her trust in him. Better not to tempt fate and further their sins. Not until they were married. No sin involved for man and wife to be with one another. Of that, she was certain.
Two days later, Anna-Marie was wearing a bright white dress of silk and lace as she stood in front of a large mirror in her bedroom. Beside her was young, capable Hope Abbott and Mrs. MacTaggart as they fussed with her dress, helping her prepare for the ceremony.
"Only a few short hours away, lass," Mrs. MacTaggart said as she pinned her hair, getting it ready for the wedding bonnet of crisp white.
"It can't come soon enough," Anna-Marie beamed as she admired her reflection in the mirror. "We're meeting Max at the church, right?" she asked and watched a sort of disgruntled look pass of Mrs. MacTaggart's features.
"Yes, lass, we're ta meet Lord Eisenhardt at the church," she said, her tone conveying her disappointment at her familiarity with her master. Anna-Marie withheld the urge to roll her eyes. Max was her fiancé, of course, they would be more familiar with each other, that was only natural.
'They don't matter. They ain't even real,' she thought before she felt her eyes widened. 'According to Max's delusions,' she told herself as she took a deep breath. 'Girl, you're supposta be convince him it's all real, not the other way around,' she reprimanded herself as Mrs. MacTaggart pinned the veil to the small bonnet that held a great quantity of her curly hair. So much so that more than a few tendrils spilled out, and required pinning.
"Are ya ready, lass?" she asked.
"Yes," she said eagerly. The sooner they were married, the sooner they could be alone together, look at the book and then they could put all of this behind them. And then maybe they could both benefit from his delusions after she finally persuaded him of the truth.
Anna-Marie stood across from Max, hand-in-hand, in front of priest Wagner as read through the ceremony. She dismissed the Priest, though Max would claim him as her adopted brother. She'd never seen the man before and couldn't wait for this to be over. Vows had been exchanged and they were so close, so very close to being pronounced man and wife.
"If there are any who would object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace," the preset said, of formality at most, a simple part of the ritual that had to be adhered to. Surely no one would.
"I object!" a voice called out.
All eyes turned toward the door. There stood a heavy-set man. He was wearing an astonishingly tight, bright white suit that was made with a red shirt beneath. On his head he wore a flat-topped little conical red hat that matched his shirt. His eyes were covered by armless dark glasses that made it seem like she was staring into a shadow as she looked at the man who would deny her happiness. In his hands he held a cane; and he gripped it with both meaty palms he braced himself at the far end of the aisle.
"On what grounds, Farouk?" Max demanded of this stranger with a casual, derogatory familiarity. Anna-Marie moved forward, clinging to Max's chest, and he gathered her protectively as they faced the man Max claimed had imprisoned them both.
"Your heart belongs to another, Lord Eisenhardt," he informed them as he stalked forward, his large size didn't diminish his speed a whit. Their pastor was muttering about the absurd audacity of the foreign man. He was quickly upon them. "For you see, my pet, he is already married and cannot marry you," he said, as he gripped her left, ringless hand. He was grinning from ear to ear as he did, taking delight in her misery.
"But Magda's dead," Anna-Marie said quietly.
"Ah, so he has told you about her. And what of me, I wonder?" he asked and she found herself dumbstruck. "I am Dr. Amahl Farouk, his wife's doctor and it was by my prescription, I ordered that Magda must remain on Muir Island," he explained to her horror.
"Of my god," she muttered, the pieces of Max's delusions falling into place as she backed away from his chest. That was why Max couldn't leave. That was how Farouk had imprisoned him.
"Anna-Marie, listen to me," Max said, stepping forward, putting his hand on her shoulder and she stared up at him in shock. To think, she almost believed him.
"Now, my good lord Eisenhardt, I demand you show your young fiancé to your hiding spot behind the tapestry in the bedroom," he said.
"Fine, let's get this over with," Max acquiesced swiftly, his tone bitter, taking her hand he pulled at her, rushing past their supposed tormentor, and back down the aisle, utterly unwed.
Anna-Marie held tight to Max's hand, as he pulled her up the stairs, through the matter, into his bedroom, and up to the tapestry. He made short work of pulling the fabric from the wall, revealing a door.
Max released her hand, so he could pull open the door. Once open, Anna-Marie gasped with shock as she saw a woman sitting in the hidden room. Her hair was matted, her long black dress in tatters, her stance was whimsical as she twirled about the small room. At least it was until she saw Max. Then a look up pure hatred, passed her features.
"You monster!" she declared violently, throwing her fist up, hitting Max in the shoulder. "You killed my baby. You killed our innocent Anya!" she ranted, hitting him again and again. Max just- he stood there. Taking the beating, putting up no fight or opposition, he simply stood and was beaten by angry fists of a grieving mother.
"I did not start the fire," he said softly as he gestured for Anna-Marie to back out of the room, she did so without hesitation. "And I was not allowed to take action to save our child," he said softly as he hit again and again.
"But you're the mighty 'Master of Magnetism'." his first wife sneered at him, her hate illuminating her eyes. "Why was it not in your power to save her? If you had been better, if you had been more?" an accusatory shriek filled the room.
"And that will forever be my burden to bear," he said solemnly as he captured her wrist, stopping her from hitting him again. "I'm sorry, Magda, truly," as he pulled her toward the doorway, only to shove her back into the room and swiftly close the door. His hands pulled up against the wooden doors as Magda banged on them from her end. Anna-Marie took another few steps back, fighting the urge to flee the room entirely. "Farouk is never giving us that book," he said.
"It was his majesty who-"
"Farouk is the Shadow King," he interrupted. "This is all his doing. All of it," he said like a man possessed.
"Max, I-," she said faltering. "Lord Eisenhardt," she said and he turned to face her in a flash. His eyes were intense with rage.
"No, don't you pull away from me. Don't you listen to him," he said strongly, as he stepped toward her and she felt the need to back away.
"I'm sorry-" she said, fleeing from the room. She had to leave, to clear her mind.
Running through the halls, clad in white, she threw open the doors and ran from the manor. Ran and ran and ran. Her veil ripped from her bonnet, snagged on a tree branch, and she couldn't care less. The train of her long, lovely lacey dress, ripped a little further down the hill. Where she was running to, she didn't know. She only knew she needed to get as far away from Max as humanly possible. Away from his seductive voice, his warm hands and the delusions he spouted. Delusions she'd almost believed herself.
She ran and ran until she happened upon the docks. Yes, Captain Fury! His boat was still present. If she explained, maybe he would take pity on her and take her far away from here. She didn't have any of her possessions, but she couldn't stand to stay one more minute by his side, or else she would drown in the insanity that captured both Lord Eisenhardt and his Lady wife. She would not be this island's next victim.
Once on the docks she saw Captain Fury and was even more shocked to see Dr. Farouk standing beside him.
"Ah, the would-be bride," he said, with a toothy grin. "We have much to discuss," he dictated. She shot a glance at Captain Fury who was nodding along with the doctor. "Tea?" he asked.
Anna-Marie sat upon the boat, in a well-cushioned chair, in the Captain's quarters with Dr. Farouk, who had sent the Captain out of his own chambers after the tea and biscuits had been served. She held the tea with a shaking hand, as the boat lightly rocked the room they sat within.
"Tell me, pet, how far has his delusions swelled?" he asked her.
"He is utterly mad," she admitted with shame.
"Did he drive you to madness?" he asked.
"Nearly," she said, a tear running down her cheek, as she set the tea cup down. She had no desire to consume anything. She'd only picked it up out of politeness.
"Thank goodness I intervened," he said before he took a large sip from his cup. "Captain Fury petitioned his Majesty for permission to give that novel to Lord Eisenhardt and his new fiancé. I was present for the petition and accompanied Captain Fury to this island to save you from his debauchery," he said as he picked up and ate an entire biscuit in one bite.
"Thank you," she said meekly. Though that brought a question to mind, one she couldn't keep herself from asking. "Is the book here?" she asked.
"It holds significance to his Lord, I see," Farouk commented as he picked up another.
"It does," she said, nodding as he ate. "I've been waiting, hoping to get my hands on it. If I could show Max that it holds no powers, maybe then I could get him to let go of his insanity and come back to us," she said.
"You still wish to help him? After what he nearly did you to, engrossed you in sin?" he asked in disbelief. Tears were flowing freely now from her eyes. Her thoughts had turned to escape out of panic. Now, with the means to help Max within her reach, could she really abandon him?
"God help me, I love him," she realized, as she held her head in her hands.
"You poor creature," he said sadly and looked up to see him shaking his head. "I will give his Lord the book. Perhaps then he'll finally allow me to treat him," he stated.
"No," she exclaimed, looking up at him. "Ya don't understand, Dr. Farouk. He thinks you're the devil himself. Worse even. He thinks you've taken possession of our bodies. That he and I are the only real ones here. He would not so cruelly lock his wife away if he thought that she was made of authentic flesh and blood," she said.
How else could she explain? How could she make him understand that Max was not barbaric, he was tormented. Anna-Marie felt her breaths come fast as he produced the book. It was right there on the table, next to her, it was within reach.
"As he believes that you are unimaginary and the only one of substance in the whole of this world, I must give you the book and you must talk sense into him. You must save him from himself, Miss Eyre," he reasoned out loud.
"I'd like ta try," she said, her eyes on the novel as he picked it up and held it out to her. She eagerly took hold of it.
"He will not give up his fantasy with ease," he said, keeping his hand on his side of the book. "His Lord will attempt to pull you back. He will be so confident in his approach, he will try to ensnare you back into his delusions. You must resist, Miss Eyre, for both your sakes. Do you understand?" he asked.
"I do," she said, nodding.
"Then I wish you well, my pet," he said as he finally released the book. She was quick to stand, nodding respectfully at him, before turning to go. "Convince him, or I'll have set his majesty with a petition of my own," he said as she got to the door. She turned back to look at him. "One that would strip our good Lord of his status and send him and Lady Magda to my asylum, where I can finally treat them both," he said and something about the look on his face told her Dr. Farouk wanted such a thing to occur. Perhaps, Max's delusion of Dr. Farouk's cruelty stemmed from reality.
"I'll convince him," she promised before she fled the room. 'I'll save him,' she thought strongly as she hurried off the boat.
A few hours later, Anna-Marie stood outside of the library's door, holding a bag, within it was the novel 'Jane Eyre'. She hadn't been able to bring herself to open its pages, not without Max. She had washed up, repined her hair and changed into a black frock. Now, she was ready.
With a deep breath, she opened the door-
"Moira, for the last time I don't want tea," he yelled, his back to her. He had been pacing, it seemed; there was an obvious pathway to his trek. A series of books tumbled to the floor. His wedding jacket and cravat, flung haphazardly across a chair and desk. His hair was a disheveled mess.
"I don't want any tea either," she said softly in agreement, as he spun to face her, surprised to see her.
"I thought you'd gone," he said.
"I did," she said as she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her, locking herself in the darkened room. He didn't even have the oil lamps on, just the fireplace was lit with flaming logs. "I came back," she said, walking further into the room. She took her usual place on the couch and held her breath as he came to sit beside her. She let the bag drop to the floor, not ready to take out the book yet, wanting to lead up to it, ease him back to reality.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I love you, Max," she admitted out loud to him for the first time. He managed a smile at that, and something in his shoulders loosened.
"I love you too, Anna-Marie, I have for some time," he said.
"I think I've known that," she said before she took a breath. "It's strange," she muttered.
"What is?" he asked.
"That I-" she said, pausing as she felt her cheek blush. "That I kinda want you to be right," she admitted and watched as his eyes flared with emotion. "I wish nothing but me and you were real. It would make things so much less complicated," she huffed. With one movement, his grip tightened around her wrist and she was pulled back, onto his lap, her back against the arm of the couch as their lips met in a searing kiss. "Max," she moaned against his mouth as she pulled her arms up and around his neck, holding him close. His arms were around her back and on her waist. They both clung to the other as they deepened the kiss, their tongues dancing wildly together.
"Anna-Marie," he uttered as they came up for air. Both of their breathing was erratic as they clung to each other. She sat in his arms, wondering who would make the next move, who would succumb to desire first. She should pull out the book, she should show him.
"Max," she whispered as her eyes fell to his lips. She watched him breathe, watched him struggle not to do more.
"Rogue," he sighed happily before kissing her again. She moaned against him and relaxed in his arms. Even if she did wish his hand would slip lower and up beneath her petticoats, into a certain area between her legs he only told her he explored before. She was tempted to ask him, so tempted to tell him to take her as he had in his stories. From his perspective, he already had. What harm would once more do to them? Other than granting her a bliss she'd only been dreaming about since his confession of the cave.
"Max, please," she muttered, her hips thrusting in time with their breaths. He clung to her, his hands remaining where they were on her back and waist.
"Promises were made," he reminded her.
"But you keep calling me Rogue," she retorted. "If that's my true nature, then let me be a rogue for ya, sugar," she uttered, hardly aware of where the endearment had come from.
"Damn it all," he exclaimed under his breath as his hand slipped from his waist and up beneath her petticoats. She was shaking, shuttering as his hand snaked through the layers of her garments to slip beneath her legs. She spread them for him, her knees falling apart on the couch, allowing him access. It was then she felt something hard on him, poking her behind. She felt him pull at a bow and then, she sighed as she felt his fingers against her bare skin. "Are you certain, this is what you want?" he asked.
"Farouk already has us, right?" she asked as she moved her hips, up and down, pleased when it caused the tips of his fingers to rub against her opening. God, it felt good and she closed her eyes, resting her head against his cheek as her fingers ran through his hair. "He's torturing us, for his own amusement," she said, playing along with his delusion, just a little longer.
"Yes, he is," Max agreed.
"This anticipation, Max, it's- It's the sweetest torture of all," she admitted. "Please. End my torment," she begged him. 'And then I'll end yours,' she thought to herself. This would be the only time she could have him. She knew that. Once she showed him the book. Once he saw the truth, he'd devote himself to his wife with the same level of passion he'd given to her. Selfish as it was, she needed this.
"Rogue," he uttered before his fingers thrusted inside of her, filling her. She gasped, her eyes closing as he pressed his lips to her, his fingers pumping in and out of her. Her hips met his thrusts as he used his right hand to hold her hip tightly in place, ensuring when she met his thrust that she was rubbing up and down against the hard thing beneath her behind. They were both panting, as they kissed. Both nearly there. Both-
She threw her head back as she felt her muscle tense and felt a world of pleasure between her legs radiating up her body.
"Max," she moaned as she climaxed. He pulled her face closer to his, kissing her again before shifting her weight, she was soon startling his lap, her fabric of her skirt bunched up between them, not that kept him from unlacing his pants and she soon sliding her opening against his cock and- "Oh my god," she cried as he was inside of her, her arms returned to his neck. "I'm sorry," she muttered as she rode his cock. It felt amazing, even as she knew they'd-
"Don't apologize, I'm the one who should-" he groaned as they thrusted together in time, their lips pressed together in a kiss, silencing them both.
She was bouncing now, up and down his cock, emphatically, as he held her hips, helping in her efforts. He was grunting, groaning against her mouth as she tensed up again. Before he buckled beneath her. Both of them coming hard, screams of ecstasy escaping from them both as she clung to his neck, refusing to let him go.
"That was wonderful, Max," she smiled, sighing happily at the state of bliss they achieved together. "Now, I need ta show ya-" she said before she heard a chuckling come from further in the room, from the hearth itself.
Her eyes snapped open, staring up at Max before they both of their gaze turned toward the fireplace, watching as a shadow emerged from the hearth.
"What?" she asked, alarmed as the shadow grew, it was on the floor now, growing, taking shape, rising from the floor.
"I'm sorry, Rogue," Max apologized again as he held her close. "This is-" he said as the shadow continued to grow until she saw a heavy-set man materialize from the shadow.
"Oh my god," she muttered she stared at-
"Shadow King," Max hissed as he arms encased her, holding her to him protectively, she slowly reached down, not moving too fast as she reached her hand into the bag.
"Magnus," he replied, his eyes on Max, so she could grab the book.
"What do you want of us?" Max asked bitterly as she lifted up the book, as she pulled herself off of Max's lap, making it look as if she was pulling away from him out of shame.
"I'm concerned for your health, Lord Eisenhardt," he replied, his mouth forming into a toothy grin that revealed sharp white teeth as she sat beside Max, the book, hidden within the folds of her skirt. "Ah, my sweet Miss Eyre," he said, turning his attention to her. She froze momentarily, making no sudden movements. "Tell me, pet, how did fucking a married man help release his lord from his delusions?" he asked.
"What delusions?" she asked blankly.
"Oh, you poor creature. He's dragged you down with him, hasn't he?" the doctor asked, feigning concern. All she saw was that he thrived off of their discomfort. "I warned you of this, didn't I? Are you seeing things as well, things that aren't there?" he asked.
Her eyes darted back and forth at the implication. But Dr. Farouk, whether he was telling the truth or not, was clearly cruel. While Max, her Max, was kind beyond measure. That was real.
"Maybe, we are mad," she said as she grabbed Max's hand. She turned to look at him as she pulled his hand near her skirt and watched his eyes widened as the back of his hand brushed against the book. "But I'd rather be insane with you, then in my right mind alone," she said before they leaned in and kissed each other.
"How very touching," Farouk exclaimed mockingly as she pulled back. Max nodded at her and she threw down her skirt revealing the book in her lap. "How-What-" he said as they threw open the book together a strange white light emerging from its pages, engulfing them both.