“You shouldn't say things like that. In fact, you shouldn't be here at all! If Arthur knew--”
“Arthur...” Brittley scoffed the name. “He's such a spoilsport. I have nothing to fear from Arthur Rochefort. He's really just a weak little man... all bravado and nothing to back it up!”
“I-I don't even know why I let you in. I think you should go.”
Brittley crossed his arms. “I'm not leaving.”
“Please. Please. I want you to go!”
“I don't think you do.”
Emilia opened her mouth to reply, but it seemed they were at a standstill. Brittley didn't seem like the sort of man who would back down very easily. Now that he was inside her room, she had no idea how to dispose of him.
“Have you ever been kissed before?” Brittley asked.
“I...”
“Your hesitation tells me you haven't.” He lay on her bed and propped an arm behind his head, as if he intended to stay for quite some time. “You can trust me, Emilia. Tell me the truth.”
“I... haven't,” she confessed.
“And how old are you? Eighteen? How tragic. You should have had your first kiss by now,” Brittley said. “But your first kiss should be from a man, not some young lad who's still wet behind the ears.”
“Well, Mr. Christian...” Emilia could feel her heart fluttering, like a butterfly learning how to fly. In light of her epiphanies about Arthur, she felt even more inclined to flirt with Brittley. “You seem like a man with experience.”
“Indeed I am.” He held out his arms. “Come. Join me on the bed.”
Emilia gasped. “I will not! I cannot believe you would even suggest such a thing!” Emilia looked down at Mr. Fibbles, whose glowing eyes were peering at her from beneath the bed. For some reason, those yellow eyes seemed ominous.
“Then I shall come to you!” Brittley rose from the bed and went to Emilia's side. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him, crushing her against his chest. “Do you want to kiss me, Emilia?”
She pushed on his chest, but her struggle was feeble. “No.”
“Don't lie to me, Emilia. I know you want to kiss me.” He was so close to her, his whispered words fluttered a tendril of her hair. “Will you let me kiss you?”
“No.”
“No? Are you sure about that?” While his right arm encompassed her waist, he stroked her cheek with his left hand. “I see the way you look at me. It's undeniable.”
Emilia closed her eyes and wished, for a single moment, that it was Arthur saying these things to her. She tried to imagine how she would feel, how her heart would be soaring. But it was Brittley. Why did it have to be Brittley?!
She wanted to preserve her lips for Arthur, but she knew she was foolish for wanting such a thing. It wasn't as if Arthur would ever want to kiss her.
And Brittley could be very persuasive.
“V-very well,” she agreed. “You may kiss me... if you really want to.”
Brittley did not hesitate. He mashed his mouth against hers, claiming her lips. He suckled her bottom lip, tasted her tongue, and he couldn't stop his hands from wandering to her bottom. He gripped her rear end and lifted her off her feet, ignoring the fact that she was squealing and battering his head.
Emilia twisted her face away and yelled, “Brittley! Let go!”
She had turned her head, so he kissed her neck instead. “Come away with me...” he begged her. “Let me take you away from here.”
“No!” She swatted his head with the palm of her hand, but nothing seemed to deter him. “Let go of me! I'm very serious!”
“Stop denying your attraction to me. It will only slow us down.” As he held her aloft, Brittley flicked her earlobe with his tongue. “The sooner I can have you naked in my arms, the--”
“I'll scream!” Emilia threatened him. “I'll call for Arthur!”
“And what will you tell him, that you let me into your room? He'll think you're some sort of lightskirt.”
“That would be better than losing my honor to the likes of you!” Emilia mashed her elbow into his shoulder a few times, but that only made him hold on tighter. “ARTHUR!”
He clapped a hand over Emilia's mouth. “Quiet!”
“Mmmmfer!! Mmferrr!” She kept trying to cry out for Arthur, despite his silencing hand. Brittley tossed her over his shoulder and carried her to the window, which meant he had to uncover her mouth. So she screamed again, “HELP!”
Emilia kept flailing her feet, which made it difficult to get through the window. But once they were out, Brittley made a run for it. He located his horse, slung her over the saddle, and mounted up. With his captive in his arms, Brittley rode into the woods.
The worst had happened.
Emilia was kidnapped.
Chapter Twelve
Someone pounded on his door so hard, Arthur swore he saw his candle flicker. He dropped his quill into the inkwell and turned in his chair.
“Sir!” It was the voice of the young groom, which was easily identified by the fact that he was on the cusp of puberty. “Sir, I need to speak with you right away!”
Arthur ran to the door and threw it open. The fourteen-year-old groom's face was as white as an Easter lily. “What's going on? Are you alright?”
“I saw something!” exclaimed the young groom. Arthur laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, which encouraged him to take a deep breath. “When I was in the stables... I saw something!”
“What were you doing in the stables at such an hour? Surely you weren't working so late?”
“I went back to retrieve something I lost... that's when I saw it!” The boy took another deep breath. “I had to come get you straight away!”
“Calm down.” Arthur gave the boy's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Tell me what you saw.”
“It was Miss... I'm... I'm afraid I don't know her name.” The boy squinted his eyes as he tried to recall it, but nothing came to mind. “She's your sister's husband's sister.”
It took Arthur a few seconds to make the connection in his mind. “Emilia? Did something happen to Emilia?”
“I'm afraid so,” said the groom. “I saw her riding into the woods with a man... and against her will, I would reckon. She was kicking and screaming and the like.”
Arthur's jaw and fist were simultaneously clenched. “Are you certain that's what you saw?!”
“Aye. I'm quite certain.”
“Then we have to ride out right away! Assemble the footmen! Get every able-bodied man you can find!” As he issued orders to the groom, Arthur ran into his bedchamber and grabbed his boots. “We're going after her.”
* * *
“Mr. Christian!”
The stupid girl kept squirming, so Brittley gripped her waist even tighter. “Please. After everything we've been through, can we not dispense with the misters and the misses? Call me Brittley, for goodness sake!”
As they rode deeper into the forest, the crickets grew louder and louder. Their insect orchestra sounded so pleasant, Emilia swore they had to be against her. “Where are you taking me?!”
“To heaven.”
“Heaven?!” Emilia tried to unfasten his arms from her waist, but he overpowered her tenfold. “Are you taking me into the woods to kill me?!”
“Goodness, no. I'm taking you into the woods to pleasure you!”
“So you intend to steal my virtue?!” Emilia pummeled him with her elbow a few times, but no matter how vigorously she struggled, he wouldn't let go. “I didn't think you were that sort of man!”
“And why would you think that?”
“Because sometimes, I saw a shred of decency in you!”
“Well, you were wrong. I'm wicked, through and through.” As if to prove his point, Brittley leaned forward and kissed her neck a few times. His lips made her tingle, but in a way that was noxious, not pleasurable. “Didn't they warn you about me?”
“Who? Arthur?” Emilia frowned. “As a matter of fact, he did tell me to avoid you! I should
have listened!”
“Yes. Maybe you should have.” When they reached a clearing, Brittley dismounted his horse and dragged Emilia into his arms. She had stopped struggling—perhaps she realized it was fruitless? Keeping an arm around Emilia, he pulled his horse to a nearby tree and tied it to the trunk. “Tell me you want me, Emilia.”
Emilia stomped on his foot, to which he responded unfavorably: he swatted her cheek with his gloved hand. Emilia'a hand flew to her face, cradling the stinging skin.
“You hit me!” she gasped. “How dare you!”
“You needed to learn a lesson.” Brittley dragged her to the center of the clearing, where moonlight dripped between the trees, spotlighting the ground. “Now, tell me what I want to hear.”
Emilia pursed her lips. She refused to say anything to him!
“Say it!” Brittley pressed. His hand drifted down to her wrist; he squeezed her so hard, she winced. “Say it, Emilia.”
Tears were springing into her eyes, blurring her vision, which was already impaired by the darkness. Not long ago, she had been crying about her unrequited love for Arthur. Those tears seemed so pointless now. “Wh-what did you want me to say?”
“Tell me you want me,” Brittley begged her. “I know you do.”
“I do not!”
He gave her wrist another squeeze; this time, his grip would surely leave bruises. “Come on. Be a good girl.”
“I don't want to be here. I want to go home!” Emilia sniffled as she spoke.
“You sound like such a child. It almost makes me pity you, dear. Now, come...” Brittley brushed his fingers across her cheek, which he had previously slapped. “Just admit how much you want to lay with me...how much you want me to uncover your nakedness. It will make this much easier on both of us.”
“Help!” Emilia shrieked. She was sure she was beyond salvation at this point, but it didn't hurt to try. “Someone! Please!”
Brittley clutched her nape in his hand, pressed his fingers into her flesh. “I don't want to hurt you, Emilia. For goodness sake, just tell me what I want to hear!”
At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to have him release her. Everywhere he touched her, he was causing her pain. If lying to him was the only way to get him to relent, she had to say it. “Mr. Christian...”
“Brittley,” he corrected her.
“Brittley, I do want you.” He immediately released his grip on her neck and wrist, which had Emilia breathing a temporary sigh of relief. However, when he started dragging her to the ground, her pain was replaced by fear. “What are you doing?!”
“You want me, I want you...” Brittley pinned her to the ground and started tugging off his gloves. “So I'm taking what's rightfully mine.”
“Noooo!” Emilia wailed. “Brittley, no, please no!”
He pushed her knees apart and slid his hand under her dress. His fingers snaked along her calf, over her knee, along her thigh. “Your skin's so soft.”
“No!” Emilia clamped her knees together and scratched his face. “I won't let you do this!”
Brittley withdrew his hand and shoved her shoulders to the ground. He shook her violently, ripping the top of her dress. He tried to pull down her dress, so she crossed her arms over her chest, clutching the muslin to her body. She closed her eyes and wept, praying for a miracle to end her misery.
Her prayers were answered.
Arthur hoisted Brittley away from Emilia and plowed a fist into her attacker's jaw. He punched him again and again, blackening his eye and breaking his nose. When he had properly trounced him, and Brittley had been rendered unconscious, Arthur shoved him to the ground and motioned for his footmen to deal with the assailant.
Then he ran to Emilia's side. She was sobbing, clinging to her torn dress.
“Are you hurt?” Arthur whispered. He gently brushed her cheek with his knuckle, noting the warmth and the redness.
“I...” Emilia didn't know what to say. She was hurt and humiliated and would likely never recover from such an ordeal, but she didn't want to alarm him.
“Here...” Arthur wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. “I should get you back to Sanborne Hall.”
“Am I...” Emilia tried to speak, but her lips were trembling so hard, they defied her. As Arthur lifted her onto the back of his horse, she finally finished her question, “ruined?”
“Ruined?!” Arthur shook his head. “Of course not. Don't be silly.” He left her on the back of the horse for several seconds as he went to talk to the footmen. He instructed them to take Brittley to the magistrate, then he returned to Emilia and mounted the horse behind her.
“Arthur, I...” She tugged at the ripped sleeve of her dress. “I feel... shamed.”
“You're safe now.” When he slipped his arms around her waist, Emilia knew it was true.
Being in Arthur Rochefort's arms was safest place she would ever be.
Chapter Thirteen
“Are you unwell? You look flushed. Would you like some tea? Come give me a hug, dear.”
As she listened to her mother fuss over her, Emilia closed her eyes. Yesterday was the most humiliating day of her life; she just wanted to forget it ever happened. She lay in bed with the blankets pulled to her chin, wishing everything and everyone would just disappear. All she wanted was to lament in solace.
“I'm fine, Mother.”
“Are you sure? You're looking a bit wan. Would you like something to eat? Maybe that would perk you up, darling.”
“I'm not hungry.”
“Are you sure?!” Augusta squawked. “You are already so thin. If you start skipping meals over something like this, you'll be skin and bones in no time.”
“I'm not skipping meals. I'm just not hungry,” Emilia sighed.
“Ohhh... very well. Are you sure you won't want to talk to me, dear? Sharing a burden is often the greatest remedy for one's heart.”
When she closed her eyes, all she could see was Brittley's face. She could feel his hands diving into her dress, feel his breath on her neck. She did not want to share the revolting images with anyone else, so she shook her head.
“I should write to your brother. He would want to be here!”
“No!” Emilia sat up so fast, the blankets tumbled off her shoulders. “I don't want to burden him with this... nor do I want him fussing over me. Right now, Willow and Edward are as happy as they could possibly be, and I don't want to be the person who ruins their happiness!”
“You wouldn't ruin their happiness. They would be concerned!”
“Please, Mama, please!” Emilia insisted. “I don't want anyone else fretting over me! I am ashamed enough at it is!”
“Well, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
When she heard Arthur's voice, her heartbeat suffered a lapse. He was standing in the doorway with a plate in his hands.
“Brittley should be ashamed of his behavior, although I doubt he is,” Arthur said as he entered Emilia's room. He approached her tentatively, because he was a bit uncomfortable with the prospect of visiting her in her bedchamber. However, in light of the circumstances, her mother decided to make allowances. “I am sure he is in the gaol right now, looking as smug and self-satisfied as ever.”
Emilia retrieved the blankets and buried herself within them. “I should have listened to your warnings.”
Arthur shook his head. “I know you did nothing to provoke his behavior. That is simply the sort of man he is.”
Emilia almost confessed to opening the window for him, but she was terrified by the idea of losing Arthur's respect. “I am so sorry to trouble you, Arthur. I feel like you're always coming to my aid.”
“And I would come for you again and again!” Arthur vowed. “Although, I feel as if I failed you. I should have been there... to prevent it from happening.”
“You did prevent it! It could have been much worse!” Emilia exclaimed. In the corner of her eye, she could see her mother nodding in agreement.
“Be that as it m
ay, the fault is partially mine. I should have been more vigilant. I should have known what he was plotting!” As he scolded himself, Arthur presented her with a plate of sugary biscuits.
“The fault lies entirely with Mr. Christian,” Emilia insisted. She took one of Arthur's biscuits and nibbled around the edge. “Thank you for the biscuits.”
“My pleasure.” Arthur offered the plate to Augusta, who swiped three or four biscuits from the plate. “Whenever Willow was sad, I would always bring her biscuits. I find that treats are always effective at improving one's mood.”
“That's very kind of you. So am I to assume I'm getting the sisterly treatment?” As she asked her question, Emilia couldn't meet his gaze.
“I... suppose... you could think of it that way.”
Augusta cleared her throat. “Mr. Rochefort?”
“Hmm?”
“Now that you're here, do you think you could read to us?” Augusta held up the book in her lap. “I do so enjoy your reading voice, and since we'll be leaving tomorrow, I will have few opportunities to hear it.”
“Our families are united now, Augusta. I am sure our paths will frequently cross. Nevertheless...” Arthur took the book from her hand. “I would be happy to read to you... assuming, of course, Emilia would not prefer to be alone? You have had a very trying ordeal. If you do not want the company, I could excuse myself.”
Emilia shyly peered at him over the blankets. “I would not want to deprive my mother of her fun.”
“Very well...” Arthur seated himself at the end of Emilia's bed and opened the book. As his deep voice pronounced the words, Emilia could feel her ears tingling. Arthur was right—she had been through a trying ordeal, and his relaxing voice was just the thing she needed.
And it must have been what her mother needed as well. After the first few pages, her mother was asleep.
“Arthur...” Emilia whispered. When he looked up from his book, she pointed at her mother, who was slumbering and snoring in her chair.
“Sleeping already?!” Arthur chuckled quietly. “I did not realize my voice had such a somnolent effect.”
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