The Blackwood Conservatory

Two days later, the oppressive atmosphere in the manor reached a breaking point. Julian had ridden out to a neighboring town for business, leaving Eleanor alone with the encroaching, freezing fog.

Seeking a reprieve from the drafty halls, Eleanor decided to explore the rear of the estate. She remembered Julian’s warning about the Blackwood Conservatory, but the promise of greenery and sunlight beneath a glass dome was too tempting to resist.

She pushed open the heavy wrought-iron doors and stepped inside.

The conservatory was massive, but it was not the sunny haven she had hoped for. It was a terrifying, overgrown jungle of decaying exotic flora. Massive ferns with blackened, rotting fronds drooped over cracked stone pathways. Thick, thorny vines crawled up the iron lattice of the glass dome, blocking out the sun and casting the space in a sickly, green-tinged gloom.

Eleanor took a few steps inside, the damp, earthy smell overwhelming her senses.

* SLAM.*

The heavy wrought-iron doors behind her swung shut with a deafening crash.

Eleanor jumped, whirling around. She grabbed the iron handles and pulled, but they were locked tight.

Suddenly, the temperature inside the glass dome plummeted. It wasn't the slow, creeping chill of the hallways. It was an instant, lethal freeze.

The moisture in the humid air crystallized. The rotting ferns stiffened, encased in thick layers of white frost. The small fountains in the center of the conservatory froze mid-spurt. A thick, swirling blizzard of paranormal snow began to fall from the high glass ceiling, accompanied by the low, haunting whispers of a dozen angry voices echoing off the glass.

* Leave... impostor... loveless...* Eleanor wrapped her arms around herself, her teeth chattering violently. She backed away from the doors, but the cold was suffocating. It burned her lungs with every breath. Frost began to form on her eyelashes and the dark strands of her hair. She stumbled down a stone pathway, desperately looking for another exit, but the thorny, frozen vines blocked every path.

Her legs gave out. She collapsed onto a frozen stone bench, curling into a tight ball. The cold was making her terribly sleepy. The ancestors had trapped her. They were going to freeze her to death to purge the loveless bride from their bloodline.

"Eleanor!"

The shout was muffled, coming from the other side of the conservatory.

A moment later, the sound of shattering glass tore through the howling wind. Julian burst through a side panel of the dome, using a heavy iron garden spade to smash his way inside. He ignored the jagged shards that tore at his coat, his eyes frantically scanning the frozen jungle.

"Eleanor!" he screamed again.

"Julian," she croaked, her voice barely a whisper.

He found her on the bench. He threw the spade aside and fell to his knees, stripping off his heavy wool overcoat. Without a second thought, he wrapped it tightly around her shivering frame and pulled her against his chest, shielding her from the biting, paranormal wind.

Eleanor gasped, anticipating the explosive shockwave of the curse. If they touched without love, the glass above them would shatter, and the cold would worsen.

But the shockwave never came.

Instead, the moment Julian’s arms wrapped around her, a faint, pulsing warmth began to radiate from his chest, cutting through the freezing air like a beacon.

"You're freezing," Julian murmured frantically, pressing his warm cheek against the top of her icy head. "God, Eleanor, I told you not to come in here. They’re too strong here."

"Julian," Eleanor chattered, clinging to the lapels of his suit jacket. "The curse... we're touching..."

Julian squeezed his eyes shut. In the freezing, howling gloom of the conservatory, the absolute terror of losing her shattered the final, icy walls he had built around his heart.

"The curse punishes loveless contact, Eleanor," he said, his voice breaking, thick with raw, desperate emotion. "It doesn't punish me. Because I love you."

Eleanor froze, her heart stalling in her chest. She looked up at him, her lips blue, her eyes wide with shock. "What?"

"I have loved you for three years," Julian confessed, the words pouring out of him like a ruptured dam. "I saw you at a gala in London. You were standing in the corner, looking so bored and so fiercely intelligent. But I knew your family was proud. I knew you would never accept charity from a man like me. When I heard your father was facing bankruptcy, I arranged the marriage. I bought your debts so I could save you."

Tears welled in Eleanor’s eyes, freezing on her cheeks. "Then why... why the separate wings? Why keep me at a distance?"

Julian looked down at her, his dark eyes filled with absolute agony. "Because the curse requires *mutual* true love, Eleanor. I knew I loved you, but I knew you only married me for the money. You thought of yourself as a burden. You didn't love me. If I touched you, if I forced you to act the part of a loving wife when your heart wasn't in it, the ancestors would have struck you down. I kept my distance because it was the only way to keep you safe from my cursed bloodline."

He had played the part of the cold, brooding architect of a loveless marriage solely to protect her from the violence of his haunted house.

Eleanor stared at the man holding her. The insecurities, the fears of being a worthless burden, dissolved entirely in the overwhelming, staggering reality of his devotion. He loved her. He had always loved her.

"Julian..." she breathed, lifting a trembling, freezing hand to his cheek.

Before she could speak the words, a horrific, ear-splitting shriek echoed through the conservatory. The ancestors, enraged by the confession, surged.

"We have to go!" Julian yelled, scooping her up into his arms. He ran toward the shattered glass panel, shielding her body with his own as he carried her out of the lethal freeze of the greenhouse and back into the main manor.