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Lucie Herondale should be happy.
For the first time in over a year, everything was going well. They had defeated Belial and Tatiana. Her brother and her parabatai were happily married. Matthew had quit drinking and was beginning to heal. She and Grace had successfully returned Jesse back to life and convinced the Clave it was done by Belial, not by their own involvement in black magic. She still had her family, her friends, her Marks, and was learning more about her powers with the help of her Uncle Jem.
Yet there was still something missing.
Upon his return to life, the Clave - in an uncharacteristic act of generosity - had given Chiswick House to Jesse. For the past three months, he had holed himself up in the great stone pile, working to attempt to return the grand house to its former glory.
The first month after she and Grace brought Jesse back, Bridget had begrudgingly driven Lucie out to Chiswick House every day. She would bring all sorts of offerings - new books; freshly baked jam tarts; perfectly sharpened daggers and even a brand new sword, the blade stamped with a ring of thorns that matched the pattern on his locket, which she had ordered in from Idris. Jesse would always meet her at the front door, attempt to refuse the gift, finally accept and then bid her goodbye. That first month, he never once invited her in.
But Lucie Herondale was nothing if not persistent.
The second month, he continued his work on Chiswick House. One day, the carriage came to an abrupt stop in front of a newly installed wrought-iron gate. “Well, this is new,” Lucie heard Bridget drawl from the driver’s seat. Hopping down from the carriage, Lucie took in the new gate, black metal soaring up into the gray London sky. On the very top of the gate, curving bars formed the words ‘Blackthorn Hall.’
“I’ll walk up from here, Bridget,” Lucie called over, while quickly scribbling an open rune on the metal. Slipping through the gate, she made her way up the stone drive, her boots lightly crunching the rock under her foot.
Looking around, Lucie could tell that Jesse had already made wonderful progress with the house. The front lawn was manicured and free of the overgrown weeds that had overtaken the hedges along the drive. Despite it being a dreary day, the white stone facade of the house even seemed to shine brighter.
Lucie had made it to the door and before she could take the knocker in her hand, it swung open. Jesse stood on the threshold, black hair tumbling in front of his eyes. He was in shirtsleeves, as he nearly always was when Lucie visited. Lucie couldn't bring herself to be scandalized, since she had grown so used to seeing him in shirtsleeves in his ghostly form. He wore no tie and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, showing the entire curve of his throat and his un-Marked skin. “I was in the study and I saw you walking up the drive…” he began, and then wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. “Where’s your carriage?”
“At the front gate. Bridget and I stopped to admire the new gate you installed. ‘Blackthorn Hall?’” She asked, to which a blush rose up on his cheeks. It still startled her to see him with colour on his face.
With a small smile, he nodded, “yes. Do you like it?”
“I do,” she grinned and then held up the basket she had carried up. “I brought you scones.”
“Oh,” he said, flatly. Lucie’s smile fell, and he hurriedly added, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a scone.”
“You’ve never had a scone?” She exclaimed. “How can you even consider yourself an Englishman?”
He laughed - a beautiful, sonorous laugh - and then looked at her for a moment. “Would you like to come in for tea?” He finally asked.
“I would love that,” she smiled. Jesse stepped aside to let her and the scones into the house, closing the door behind her.
Jesse led her through the foyer and up the staircase, then down a hall and into a drawing room. Although the wallpaper and decor in the room were dated, the wood of the furniture was polished to a shine, and the dust that had previously coated the walls had been cleaned away. A fire was roaring in the hearth, battling away the dampness of the cool, November day. Above the mantle, the sword she had brought Jesse was balanced on two pegs.
“Oh,” she breathed when her eyes caught the blade. Noticing what she was looking at, a flush traveled up his exposed neck and settled on his cheeks. “I am so glad that you like it.”
“I-” he began and abruptly stopped, his face morphing into an expression she was unable to identify. “Maybe you should go,” he said suddenly. Lucie’s face scrunched up in confusion as he stepped back from her. “If anyone found out you were here, just the two of us… you would be ruined.”
Lucie huffed. “Not like there are hordes of men knocking down the doors of the Institute asking for my hand in marriage anyways, Jesse.”
Watching his shoes intently, he took another step backward. “Please, Lucie, just go.”
“Fine,” she replied sharply, dropping the basket of scones on the conversation table on her way out.
After that, Lucie did not return to Blackthorn Hall. She hadn’t heard from Jesse in nearly two months. Now, Lucie watched from across the ballroom as her parents greeted the families arriving for the annual Christmas ball. Faces seemed to blur by her - the Wentworths, the Townsends, the Pouncebys.
Then Jesse Blackthorn walked through the ballroom doors. Lucie was convinced her heart truly stopped beating. He was dressed immaculately; all his clothes were obviously new and flawlessly tailored. His dancing oxfords were unscuffed and the black of his tailcoat was balanced by the crisp white of his waistcoat. He was a perfect picture in black and white, the only color in the entire image being the green of his eyes - which were fixed on Lucie.
When their eyes met, Lucie’s heart restarted at triple-time. All but ignoring her parents’ greetings, he moved across the room to Lucie with purpose. Too fast and not soon enough, he was standing close enough for her to reach out and touch him. But the memory of the way he had told her to leave flickered in the back of her mind. “What are you doing here?” She asked, crossing her arms across the red bodice of her gown.
“Well, the entire Enclave is invited to the Christmas ball, and I am a member of the Enclave.” He pointed out, to which Lucie rolled her eyes. He took a small step closer to her and continued, “is there a place we can talk, privately?”
Lucie looked around. Many were watching them, as Jesse wasn’t exactly covert in making his way over to her. A small voice in her brain was screaming no, you will be absolutely ruined! You will never be married as is, you are only making it harder for yourself! But her heart was thumping out the sound of Jesse’s name. She nodded, “yes. Follow me.”
With a relieved smile, Jesse followed her down the same hall that led to the games room and into one of the lesser-used withdrawing rooms. A fire had not yet been started in the room and the air was frigid, causing goosebumps to rise up on Lucie’s arms. After closing the door, Jesse turned to face her. In the witchlight that illuminated the room, the green of his eyes was the same colour as the canopy of trees in Brocelind Forest. “I’m sorry,” he started, moving closer to her. “I am truly sorry for the way I acted these past few months, and especially the last time you came to visit me. May I be frank with you, Miss Herondale?”
Lucie swallowed and nodded, unable to form words.
He took another small step closer to her. “You have permeated every inch of my mind. I see the colour of your eyes in the sky and the curl of your hair in the branches of trees. I hear your voice narrating the books I read. When I try a new food, I find myself wondering if you like it. When I manage to sleep, I dream of you. That first month… every day you came to my door and it was all I could do to not gather you in my arms, to feel your warmth. You risked everything for me - you could’ve had your marks stripped! I am not worth what you could’ve lost.”
She stared up to him, blue eyes wide. “I knew exactly what could’ve happened to me and I chose to take the risk. Because I care about you. I care for you in a way I have never cared for anyone else.” Gathering her red skirts, she moved towards him. “I, of course, would have done the same thing for my family or my parabatai; but I feel for you in a different kind of way. I can’t explain it, but some part of me just longed to have you beside me - to be able to reach out and touch you.” Tentatively, Lucie extended her arm across what little space was left between them. Laying her hand gently over his shirt-clad chest, she felt his newfound warmth for the first time. She remembered how cold he had been when he had been a ghost. But now, the heat from his skin radiated from under his shirt, warming the chill from her skin in the frosty room. “Is this okay?” She asked, and he nodded slowly.
“Lucie…” He began, searching her blue eyes with his own green pair. “I just fear I will never be what you deserve. I am not a man with any sort of honor. I live in a house tainted by years of demonic activity. I cannot even bear marks like a real Shadowhunter.”
“It is not up to you to decide what I deserve,” she said. She meant to sound menacing, but her voice came out as barely above a whisper. Unblinking, Jesse reached up and caressed her cheek.
The heat from his hand on her cheekbone sent sparks of fire all the way down to her toes. Lucie let her eyes flutter close and leaned further into his touch. He was warm, so so warm, almost burning hot. She quickly forgot the lack of fire in the room. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, thumb drifting over her lips.
“Yes,” she breathed, and in an instant, she was gathered up in his arms. The hand that had been resting on her cheek moved to cup her neck, sending jolts of lightning down her spine. Jesse partially bent down and partially pulled her up to him, connecting their lips. Lucie’s mind whirred with the softness of Jesse’s lips on hers, his hand on her neck, his other hand grasping at the silk bodice of her dress. I can finally write the perfect kissing scene! She thought with joy, then realized, wait… am I supposed to be doing something?
Slowly, she lifted her arms up around Jesse’s neck, coming to rest at the edge of the collar of his tailcoat. Wisps of his black hair brushed against her fingers. She turned her head slightly, allowing herself better access to move her lips gently against Jesse’s without clacking their teeth together.
Raising herself further on her tip-toes, she brought herself closer to Jesse. His hand at her waist encircled her tighter, bringing her body flush against his. Every one of her nerves was alight with the feeling of him surrounding her. His scent, his warmth, his taste. Lucie had never even considered that you would taste the person you were kissing! She had never liked the flavor of mint tea before, but she loved the way it tasted on Jesse’s lips.
Unexpectedly, Jesse removed his lips from hers. Dipping his head down, he laid kisses along her exposed collarbone. “You are my shining light,” she felt him murmur against her skin, his breath hot and his body alive.
She squeezed her eyes shut. She thought if she tried hard enough, maybe she could just melt into his touch and completely lose herself in the warmth of his embrace.
A quick rap at the door of the withdrawing room caused them to spring apart from each other. “Lulu?” her father’s voice called from the other side of the door. “Are you in here?”
She looked to Jesse in panic and then quickly remembered that Jesse was very much visible to everyone now. However, if Will walked in and saw the state they were in, Jesse was very likely to return to his previous ghostly mode of being. “Yes, I’m here! I just came in to… fix my shoe.”
“ Cariad… ” He sighed, and she could picture her father pinching the bridge of his nose. “I saw you come back here with Jesse Blackthorn.”
“Jesse Blackthorn? I led him to the games room, you could see if he is there if you need him.”
The door handle jiggled. “Open this door or I will.”
Lucie looked to Jesse with a sheepish smile. He had an unreadable look on his face as he reached out to gently stroke her cheek before turning and moving towards the door. Lucie watched him brace himself as he pulled the door open, expecting to face the pure fury of William Herondale.
Instead, her father was grinning from ear to ear, with Tessa by his side. “See, Tess, I told you! She was not visiting Chiswick House every day just to ‘lend the support of the London Institute.’”
“Papa!” Lucie threw her hands up. Jesse looked as if he was about to faint.
Tessa rolled her eyes and waived off her husband. “Yes, yes. I always thought it would be Matthew, but you were right, as always.”
Lucie gaped at her parents. “Were you two betting on who I would marry?”
“Yes,” Will shrugged nonchalantly. Tessa nodded in agreement
Taking her husband by the arm, Tessa began to drag Will back towards the main ballroom. “Come along then, dear. I left Gabriel in charge of greeting the guests.”
Will looked at his wife, completely dismayed, and then the two dashed down the hall and back towards the ballroom.
Jesse turned to her, still frightfully pale. “Marry?”
Her mouth went dry. “I… I didn’t mean - I don’t expect -” she stammered, fidgeting under his green gaze.
Slowly, a smile spread across his face. “It would be my absolute honor.”