by Jaycee Clark
He sighed. “Emily, the weight of the world does not, regardless of what we may think, rest solely on our shoulders. Or on your shoulders alone. None of what happened was your fault. It was your mother’s, Merryweather’s, and your husband’s, hell the entire family for wanting to quiet an already scathing scandal instead of doing what was right.” He muttered something else. “You were innocent. Innocent. When I think of what you should have had. How your life should have been…” He stopped, let her go and raked his hands through his hair. “What you’ve been through would make many bitter, and hardened, but you are not like that. You are full of hope and promise and the future.”
Trying to get back on even ground, she said, “You’re just saying that because you’re biased.”
For a moment he only stared at her, no smile at her attempt at humor. “I’ve known women who have been at the hands of brutal husbands, and some of them only rot away into unhappy females, taking their pains out on all those around them, others whither into silent specters.” He grasped her hand. “You are not like that.”
Movement across the yard, through the thinning fog, showed Jason and Douglas walking.
He motioned toward them. “Have you told him any of this? Does he have any idea why you’re fighting so hard against him?”
She sighed. “Some he suspects, some I’ve mentioned.”
“Which means no. You should talk to him, as you have me. He doesn’t know what to think of you.”
“That’s just as well, as I don’t know what to think of him either.”
He smiled. That was at least something.
“Does Jason frighten you?” he asked.
For a moment she thought, then shaking her head, she said, “No. No. I know he would never hurt me. I’m not certain how I knew it even from the very beginning,” she whispered. “Just as I know neither would you nor Grandpapa would raise your hands in anger to a woman.” A small smile played at the edge of her mouth. “No, Jason is more likely to kiss a woman to compliance than force her to do anything.”
“I’m going to ignore that statement and what it means. I shouldn’t have an inkling of an idea of you and he…and kissing…and…” He cleared his throat and frowned. “I shouldn’t.”
She smiled, then sobered. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t fear him. Then what?”
“No, I don’t fear him. I know Jason is a good man, an honorable man. But I don’t know that I can have children and he’ll need an heir.”
“You had Mary,” he bit out. “You would have had another child if not for that…” He took a deep breath. Silence settled again between them. She glanced at him, saw the muscle bunch in his cheek. He was angry. “I believe the blame lies with your… husband,” he bit the word out between clenched teeth. “Expectant women should not have too much excitement, or so I’ve heard. I dare say your life with Theodore wasn’t peaceful.”
“No.”
He twisted, leaned against the back of the bench. With one hand, he reached out and ran a hand over her hair. “Life with Jason would be different, Em.”
“Yes, I know. I just don’t know if I can give him what he wants.” She frowned. “I swore I’d never again be at the mercy of any man. Never, ever again. But…”
“But?”
“But Jason makes me remember my dreams, my hopes.” She grinned, a small secret smile. “I don’t want to let Theodore rule my life any more than he already has. And I know if I never marry because of what he did, I let him win, don’t I? I want to move forward, but sometimes, even though I don’t want it to, fear creeps up and makes me question everything all over again.”
Rayne’s eyes narrowed. She lost sight of Jason and Douglas during this conversation. “No one wants to rush you into anything you don’t want to do, Em.”
“I know. I just wish I knew, understood what I should do.”
“Don’t we all? Life is rarely that easy. Perhaps you should ask yourself a simpler question.”
Her brows furrowed. “What is that?”
“What do you want to do? If life were perfect, what would you do?”
For a long moment, she just stared and then smiled. “I’d grab hold of the arrogant Marquess of Ravensworth and never let him go regardless of what I know or don’t know of love.”
“Thank God,” a droll voice said behind them.
Emily jumped. Rayne turned.
Jason stood there smiling. “I was beginning to doubt the influence of my charms on the fairer sex, Madam.” He sauntered toward them from under the shade of the tree. Stopping right behind Emily, he leaned down close and said quietly, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you all you need to know about love, my dear.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jason grinned down at her. For a moment, he thought it might not be the done thing to kiss her in front of her uncle, but then, when had he ever been known to do the done thing?
Her eyes widened just a fraction before he set his lips to hers. A chaste and simple kiss that left him wanting for more.
“Well, I’ll just see to some things,” Rayne mumbled.
Jason smiled at Emily before he straightened. “Yes, please do.” He turned and said, “Rayne?”
Her uncle stopped, turned.
“You will stand by me at the wedding, won’t you?” Jason asked.
Emily’s back stiffened under his hand. “And just who said there was going to be a wedding?”
“Why you did, my dear. And don’t think I’ll forget it.”
He glanced back up. Rayne narrowed his eyes at Jason. “You ever hurt her, and I’ll tear you apart.”
She looked from one to the other.
“That would be your right, Rayne.” Jason patted her shoulder, feeling her about to say something. “I would expect you to.” He turned his attention back to Emily, hearing the crunch of gravel as her uncle took himself off. Jason strode around the bench and sat beside Emily.
“What a beautiful, beautiful morning,” he said.
She sighed. He looked closer and saw her spiky eyelashes. “You’ve been crying.” The wadded handkerchief in her fist should have alerted him sooner.
When he cupped her cheek in his palm, she turned her face into it, and kissed his palm. He smiled. Progress.
“Why?”
“Why what?” she asked.
“Why were you crying?”
Her eyes, dark and soulful, studied him. “There are things I should probably tell you. Rayne thinks I should tell you, but I don’t know.” She looked down, but he nudged her chin until her eyes rose to meet his again. Emily licked her lips. “I hadn’t meant to tell him, actually, it just sort of blurted out. And once I said one thing…”
“The proverbial broken dam?” He wiped his thumb across the smooth silky skin of her cheek.
Her mouth tilted on her half grin. “Something like that.”
He wondered if she would confide in him. “If you don’t feel comfortable telling me, then don’t. I won’t ever force you to do anything, Emmy.” It was important that she know that. “But I would prefer your trust.”
“I know that. As I told Rayne, I’m sure you’ve other ways to get a woman to comply than to force her to do anything.”
He watched as she nibbled on her lower lip.
“And what might those ways be?” he asked quietly, grazing his thumb down along the quickened pulse just under her jaw.
One light brown brow cocked as she looked at him. “Like I must tell you. I won’t…”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Tell me.” He leaned closer until their lips were breaths apart.
“You’re more likely to…” She took a deep breath.
“Yes?” He eased his fingers along the back of her neck, felt her shiver.
“More likely to…” Her eyes dropped to his mouth.
“This?” He closed the distance between them, and kissed her. Kissed her as he wanted to just minutes before. Slowly, he teased her lips with
his tongue, smiled when she opened for him. Relief slid through him when she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him.
Her tongue danced with his. A slow sway of some forgotten adagio.
He waited, let her kiss him, let her pull away.
“Yes,” she whispered, “that.”
Jason smiled, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and traced the small curves. He loved her little shell-shaped ears. “Glad you understand me.”
She sat back, one hand on her lap, one hand in his.
“Now, tell me, my dear. What had you crying? Do I need to call Rayne out at dawn? Or perhaps we could just make it sunset here. I’ve always wondered why it must be dawn, but…”
“Oh, you are just…just…”
“Yes?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know what to think of you, or expect of you, or anything.” A frown of confusion crinkled her brow as she scrunched her nose. “Just when I think I understand something, you go and say something else that rearranges everything.”
He looked at her delightful morning gown, the thin light muslin doing little to hide what charms lay underneath.
“There is something I would like to rearrange.”
“What?”
He realized he’d spoken aloud. Well, hell’s bells. Then he thought about the situation and figured he’d see how far he could push her. “Your gown.”
So undeniably without vanity, she still looked down to her dress. “What’s the matter with my gown?”
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, his lips grazing the curves of skin. “Nothing. I’d just like to see you out of it.”
She turned so quickly to him, their noses bumped.
Her mouth, shaped into a little ‘o’, widened on an excited smile. “For shame.” A blush stole up her creamy cheeks. Yet her gaze ran the length of him.
Caressing the center of her palm, he asked, “Would you like to rearrange some of my clothing?”
This time she laughed. “You are impossible.” Her laughter, rich, full, and husky danced on the morning air.
“I would always see you laugh,” he told her.
She shook her head, a smile still on her lips, her gaze straight and direct. “Why do you want to marry me?”
He started to give some glib remark, but stopped. He looked down at the hand he held in his, the scars on her palm, light nicks on her fingers. He traced each one with his own. He shook his head. “I have no idea. None that will answer any of your questions anyway.” Jason looked back to her.
Emily cocked her head to the side.
“I could profess my undying love.”
“But it would be a lie and I don’t believe in love.”
No she probably didn’t. “That doesn’t mean it does not exist.”
“You believe in love?”
Did he? “Yes I do. Not for all, but for the fortunate. Your grandparents for one. My family believes in it and everyone is happy.”
She shrugged. “So you don’t love me, then what? Why should I marry you?”
It was said lightly, but still it grated on him. “I never said…” He took a breath. “I will give you all your heart desires.”
“Even you can’t do that.”
“Such a cynic. I cannot believe I want to marry a person more jaded than myself.”
She rolled her eyes, tried to pull her hand free, but he held on, still caressing, still tracing her fingers. He turned to her, laced his fingers through hers. “Is it really so very difficult to believe I want to marry you?”
“Yes.”
Jason shook his head. “Emmy, I hold a great deal of affection for you. I admire and respect you. I care for you and with time I know we’ll both feel more. I don’t want to lose you. You make me smile. Make me want to make you happy.”
The frown appeared between her brows.
“I think of the next time I’ll see you,” he admitted. “I want to shower you with gifts that other women covet, but I know would mean little or nothing to you. I find myself wondering what I can give you that would make a difference. I love the way the sun plays in all the colors of your hair.” The way it was doing now. He traced the furrow between her brows. “I love the way you get this crease right here when you’re thinking.”
The frown disappeared.
“Most of all I love your smile, and your laughter.” He looked deep in her eyes and wished he knew what she was thinking.
“What about Joy?” she asked.
“What about her? She likes you, you get along well with her.” He stopped, a thought occurring to him. “Do you have a problem with Joy?”
“What?” Emily shook her head. “No.”
She looked down at their hands. “You’re a good father, from what I’ve seen between the two of you. You deserve to have a large family and I don’t know that I can give you that.”
So that was it. He thought about what to tell her, how to make it better, but all would be empty promises. “No one knows what the future holds, m’dear. If we did, I dare say life would be very different.”
She looked back at him.
“And so bloody boring.” He cupped her face with both his hands. “Marry me, Emmaline. Please?”
If anyone had told him two months ago he’d beg a woman to be his wife, he’d have called them out. He searched her eyes and didn’t see a hint of an answer.
“I should tell you about Mary. And Timmy.”
Not saying a word, afraid to rock the boat off whatever course it was currently on, he only took her hand and waited.
“Mary was three as you know, when she died, but…” She took a deep breath. “She didn’t just fall.”
Slowly, jerkily she told him about her daughter, about the monster she’d lived with, about her mother and Neil. Anger pulsed hot and thick through him, yet he didn’t stop her, didn’t stand and pace as he suddenly felt the need to.
She told him too, of the day her daughter didn’t want the rest of her milk and the horror that followed.
God. The hand not holding hers fisted on his thigh.
“So you see, I don’t know if I can have…” She swallowed. He watched the way her throat moved, as if through will alone she could get past the emotions that he could feel swirling through her. “I loved being a mother, Jason, as I have never enjoyed anything before or since. I loved it. And I think I could be a good one to Joy. It’s—”
“You will be. She’d be blessed to have you as her mother.”
“But men of your station need heirs and—”
“Emily, do be quiet.” He leaned over and kissed her. Kissed her with all that was in him. Rage still clawed through him, but he leashed it and poured all his determination, all his conviction into that one kiss.
Finally, when she started to kiss him back, he broke away. “I will undoubtedly get angry with you, Emily.”
Wariness flickered in her eyes.
He tried not to see it. “But I’ve never raised my hand to any woman and any man who does is a coward.” Regardless of what she thought of her late husband, the man had been nothing but a bastard coward. “I won’t start with you.”
Her hand cupped his cheek. “I know.” She leaned up and kissed him, just a soft peck on the lips, but still a kiss. She’d kissed him, without his prompting it, or asking for it.
It was the most precious kiss he’d ever received.
“I know,” she repeated.
He didn’t have any ready words to help ease her fears.
“There are things I want to do,” she said.
“Like what?” He traced a line from her ear down her throat to stop at the edge of her gown.
“I want to learn things, do things.” Her serious eyes halted him.
“Such as?”
“I want to know how to protect myself. I don’t think you’d ever hurt me, but you might not always be near.”
He ran his tongue around his teeth.
“Like when De Fleur attacked me. I want to know that I can at least de
fend myself.” She frowned. “Even if it’s not the done thing.”
Jason figured he could teach her a few moves. The woman was correct. It wasn’t the done thing, but the thought of her not knowing what to do when in a precariously dangerous situation did not sit well. “I suppose it would be wise to instruct you in some things.”
“You will?”
He nodded, took her hand from his face and kissed the palm. “Anything else?” He smiled. “I feel like I should be writing up a marriage contract, so negotiate away.”
Her sigh huffed out. “I don’t want to just be another ton wife. From what I’ve seen, most women only worry about their next gathering where they can show off the latest fashion plate and spread gossip. I need more than that. I’m used to being out of doors.”
Jason wondered what her next request would be.
“I remember you riding your estate when I stayed with you. I know about crops and farming.” She shrugged. “It was one thing I could do well, I suppose.”
“Are you saying you want to help me manage my estates?”
Her eyes locked with his and the intensity of them did not waver. “I bowed before a man because I was forced to. I will never do that again. Nor will I be forgotten or left inside to sit pretty. I want a life, a purpose. More than bearing the perfect male child.” The bitterness in her voice shimmered through. “I don’t want to just be your wife. I want to be your partner. I will never again lie beneath another man’s foot.”
Jason took a deep breath, wishing there was something he could hit. Preferably the one who had hurt her so. Taking her hands in his, he said, “Emmy. I want you as my wife. My grandfather used to say that God took woman from man’s rib for a reason.”
“I’ve read the Bible. Could probably quote you any passage. Sometimes I don’t care for it because it brings back too many bad memories.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Interruption is rude. Hear me out. Grandfather used to laugh at the way my grandmother would ride astride, help him do things. She was his partner for life, he once said. When I asked what he meant, he said that God took the woman from a man’s rib. Not from his foot, so that he could tread over her, nor from his head so she could tread over him. But from his rib, a protection for the most vital of all life—the heart. And just as she protects the heart, he should protect her. Stand before her when danger arises, and hold her close as he was meant to. Grandfather believed a husband and wife should walk side by side.” He smiled, thinking back to his conversation with Aunt Elsie on how one woman was as good as the next.