Chapter 16 #3
“Do you ever wonder where she is?” Emily said. “What she is doing? Would you ever want to see her again, if you could?”
“Sometimes,” he said. “I hope she found peace. Wherever she went. Whatever she made of the life after.” He looked at the fire. “I am not sure she would be proud of me if she saw me now. I am not sure I have turned out to be the kind of person that makes a mother proud.”
Emily turned to look at him.
She moved before she had decided to move. Her hand came up, and she touched his face, her fingers directly on his cheek, turning him gently toward her, so she could look him in the eye.
“Theodore, don't say that,” she insisted, her voice soft but fierce.
“You turned out to be a fine man. A man who took in a woman in distress so that she would not be ruined, and a child who had no claim on you. People do not do those things by accident, Theodore. You are not your father. You are not even close to your father. You are a fine man.”
A heavy silence descended upon them that made the candlelight seem to pulse.
Theodore didn't pull away. Instead, he reached up, placing his hand over hers where it rested against his cheek.
He squeezed her fingers, his thumb tracing the line of her knuckles as he peered into her eyes with so much intensity, it stripped away every bit of her resolve.
Emily felt the last of her caution slipping away.
She had spent weeks analyzing their partnership, building walls of logic, but in that moment, those walls were crumbling.
She wanted him. She wanted to know the taste of the unspoken words between them.
Her hand moved almost of its own accord, her fingers stroking the line of his cheekbone, tracing the tension in his jaw.
Theodore let out a low, shaky breath and leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut as he guided her hand with his own.
She had not expected his skin to be so soft.
As she traced the curve of his cheek, Theodore didn't just allow the touch; he surrendered to it, tilting his head and leaning his weight into her palm with a low, primal sort of gravity.
He moved with slow deliberateness, guiding her hand by the tilt of his face to ensure no inch of his skin was left without the comfort of her contact.
The shift in him was visceral; the sharp rhythm of his breathing faltered before smoothing out into a deep, jagged harmony that mirrored her own.
Each time he exhaled against her wrist, a frantic, electric tingle spiraled through her stomach, leaving her dizzy with the realization of how desperately he seemed to crave the very thing she was so afraid to give.
Slowly, Emily began to lean in. The distance between them vanished by degrees.
Their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling in the cool air.
She could see the slight tremor in his lips, the dark fan of his lashes.
She was seconds away from finally answering the question that had haunted her for a while now.
Theodore finally opened his eyes, looking up at her through the thick shadow of his eyelashes. In such close proximity, the world narrowed down to the ring of his irises and the heat radiating between them.
Emily felt a sudden, daring spark of courage.
Her finger drifted from his cheek, tracing a slow, trembling path until it grazed the center of his lower lip.
It was a fleeting, feather-light caress, but for a fraction of a second, she could have sworn he pressed a lingering, silent kiss against her fingertip before she pulled it away.
Theodore let out a low, ragged groan that was half-surrender and half-demand.
His other hand, which had been resting on the table, slid downward to find her lap.
He squeezed her thigh gently through the shimmering silk.
They were both leaning in now, the final fraction of an inch dissolving into nothing, their lips a hair's breadth from a collision that would change everything —
“Your Grace, are you still in here?”
The library doors burst open, the heavy oak thudding against the stone stops, shattering the silence. “Frederick has been asking for you. He had a nightmare about a giant frog, and I have tried —”
Theodore and Emily sprang apart as if the room had caught fire. Emily stumbled back against the table, her face flushing a deep, hot crimson as she smoothed her silk robe with trembling hands. Theodore frantically raked a hand through his hair, his expression shifting back to normal.
“Your Grace!” Peggy said to Theodore, as she came into view, shocked to find him in the room.
Frederick stood in front of her, rubbing his sleepy eyes and clutching a small wooden horse. He blinked, looking from Theodore’s half-unbuttoned shirt to Emily’s disheveled waves.
Then he walked over to Theodore’s side and hugged his leg.
“Why are you still awake, Frederick?” Theodore asked before scooping him up into his arms.
“I could not sleep,” Frederick said. “There’s a frog in my head.”
Theodore chuckled. “There is a frog in your head?”
Frederick nodded.
“All right. I think I can help get it out,” he said. Then he stopped and looked to Emily, who looked away immediately. “I will take him to bed. Good night.”
Theodore’s voice was steady, but there was a strained edge to it that Emily felt deep in her bones. As he led Frederick away, the silence of the library rushed back in, but it no longer felt intimate; it felt like a cold reminder of the lines they had nearly crossed.
Peggy, sensing the sudden drop in temperature, immediately hurried to Emily’s side.
“Oh, heavens, Your Grace, I am so sorry!” she whispered, her voice tripping over itself in her haste to apologize.
“I truly had no idea His Grace was in here. I wouldn't have dreamed of barging in if I’d known. I just thought you were still up brooding over those awful rumors, and Frederick was so upset and... can you ever forgive me?”
“It is fine, Peggy,” Emily said, though her heart was still hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
She couldn't even look her maid in the eye, her gaze fixed instead on the spot where Theodore had been standing moments before. “I’ll return to my chambers for the night. It seems Frederick would much rather prefer His Grace’s company. ”
As she walked toward her own chambers, panic began to swell in her chest, a cold tide that drowned out the lingering warmth of his touch.
What were you thinking, Emily? Where did you even learn to do that?
Her breath hitched. She couldn't understand how she had allowed herself to forget the rules they had established. The vulnerability he had shown about his father had invited her in, and she had walked through that door without a second thought.
Had she taken advantage of the situation?
Emily dug her fingers into her hair and pulled as she walked.
By the time she reached her bed, she was shivering.
She tucked the covers tightly around herself, staring up into the darkness of the ceiling, convinced that the tormenting thoughts were a divine punishment for daring to want something that wasn't part of the bargain.