The WAR: A Story of Family

Ivy and Will

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"We all have doors inside us that should never be opened."

A SHORT INTRODUCTION

Ivy Faxon-Heart had watched Avyanna Nobel with curious admiration.

Avyanna was stunningly beautiful. Her rich dark hair had half slipped from its coil, spilling over one shoulder, her blue eyes were filled with a quiet strength and curiosity, and as she got lost amid a group of women that she did not know those eyes had always searched for Alistair.

And Alistair's eyes never left Avyanna.

Ivy had hoped to catch his attention, but she guessed this was not the appropriate time. Not after the incident in the forest with his new wife.

But seeing Alistair had made Ivy anxious, making her aware that a time had passed without personal homage to the man she truly belonged to, and instead of heading to her home in Fenwick after leaving Kat she had ordered her coachman to take her to Hollyheed.

Ben, the Nobel's butler, was as always formal, yet tentative in his manner, his apprehension evident in his voice when he said, "Master Will has not yet returned tonight, Miss."

"That's fine, Ben. Then I'll wait."

This arrangement was not new to either of them.  And if this had been any other guest they would have been led to a sitting room to wait, but Ben could only take her cloak and gloves and step aside while Ivy headed alone to the North wing of the Nobel Manor, which was Will's side of the property.

She knew the house well, it was practically a second home.

She had all but grown up here; and then during University when the relationship had changed between her and Will into something dangerously intimate and all consuming, she had been here not only in the day but many nights too.

The manor was quiet as it always was, and Ivy pushed open his bedroom door.

She had been in here so many times.

And if things had worked out as planned then she and Will should have been married by now... except...

Her father had fallen out terribly with Carter Nobel, and she had been forbidden from associating with the family again.

Ivy had fought her father on the matter at first, but when Hector Faxon-Heart realized his daughter was unrelenting in her affections for Will Nobel, he had resorted to the only thing he thought could work, "If you continue to see this boy, Ivy, I will use all my power and my connections in government, and on the Council, and I will make sure he's shipped off to the farthest darkest reaches of the world."

"You can't!"

"I can and I will! It would be so he never sees you or Alcott again. Test me, try it, and you will regret it."

Things had gotten very complicated after that.

And she was not deterred by her father's threats. 

Ivy took off her boots and tossed her hat into an armchair before she got up onto Will's bed.

She had hoped she could stay awake until Will returned but her eyes closed soon after she lay down, and she fell asleep.

The day had ended with stormy weather, the rain had made long deep pools in the fields; wet roofs were like cold stone mirrors and Will had ridden through the city that seemed to contain a higher share of freezing dark sky and a much smaller one of solid comfortable earth.

By the time Will arrived at Hollyheed and home to the manor he was drenched to the bone and very irritable.

The heat in the manor was welcome and he headed to his part of the house, pulling his black leather gloves off as he did, his strides were long and purposeful. 

When he finally made his way into his bedroom Will halted at the door for a moment. 

He stared at the sleeping figure in his bed.

Ivy.

He had told her not to come here anymore, and yet on many occasions he came home to find her asleep in his room, in his bed.

He closed the door quietly.

They hardly spoke anymore and yet somehow this was the one habit she could not break. Finding her way to him in Hollyheed.

Ivy was curled up against the cold, her feet tucked under her gown, and Will went and stoked the wood in the grate to help warm the room.

He kicked off his boots and he didn't bother to unbutton his shirt he just pulled it up and over his head, the lean muscles in his back rippling, and he tossed the shirt aside.

He lay above the covers when he got on the bed, and he inhaled deeply and sighed in slight frustration before turning to glance at Ivy.

Her blonde hair fanned over the pillow; her red gown spread out around her like a pool of wine.

Will pressed both his palms into his eyes before he dropped his hands heavily by his sides.

Once upon a time he would have woken her up and buried himself inside her over and over again throughout the night.

Not now though, not anymore.

She shouldn't have come here.

Her wedding was only three – or was it four – months away.

He tried not to think of it.  He tried not to let it affect him. 

It took Will a long time to fall asleep. His mind was plagued, and his body was yearning. It was hours before he finally closed his eyes.

During the night they gravitated towards each other unconsciously, it was how they always slept, whether they were angry with each other or happy with each other, they found one another.

In the morning Ivy woke up practically buried under Will, and it was as natural and familiar as any other time she had woken up with him.

His weight on her was a great comfort and she breathed in the beautiful and familiar scent of his skin.

She felt torn by conflicting emotions, longing to wake him up and to be closer to him or leave him to sleep, knowing the kind of days that he had that required him to be alert and focused.

She wanted him, and that emotion was all consuming.  It chased away reason and rationality most times.

She lay still for a while, knowing that she also had to leave soon before her parents were aware that she had not come home after supposedly spending a long evening with Kat.

Ivy stretched out smoothly, and Will shifted unconsciously while she slid out gently from under him.

She sat up and looked down at him for a moment, brushing back his dark hair lightly off his forehead with her fingers.  She did this for a while, the tips of her fingers running softly through the silk of his hair, until Will suddenly caught her wrist and held her firmly.

His face was half buried in the sheets and his voice muffled, "You shouldn't be here, Ivy."

His grip was tight, but she didn't try to twist out of it, his touch however painful was like a balm, "Who says?"

"I say."

Ivy made an irritated sound and jerked her wrist out of his fingers, "Since when have I ever listened to you?"

"Maybe that's your problem." Will muttered and turned his face back into the sheets.

Ivy gazed down at him and after a while she realized he had fallen asleep again. 

Her eyes roamed over his bare back; she knew every scar on his body, old and new. Thankfully, there were none that were new.

She traced the longest scar, pale and thin, with her finger; a scar that went across his shoulders in a perfect straight line.

She frowned.

As quietly as she could, Ivy slipped out of the bed and put on her boots; she smoothed out her gown and then she slipped out of Will's room.

She forgot her hat lying in the armchair in his bedroom.