Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“I’m fine.” Emily’s voice shook. “Really.” But when Wylder took her gloved hands within his own, she hissed in pain. “My wrist…”
Wylder gently turned her hands, concentrating on her left wrist and watching her expression carefully as she winced.
“You may have broken it. At the very least, you’ve sprained it.
Tell me what happened.” Letting her go, he quickly stripped off her riding glove, shoved it into the pocket of his coat, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, quickly unwound his cravat.
With efficient movements, he began wrapping the strip of silk snugly around her wrist, immobilizing it.
“It began raining, so I was headed back to the stables,” Emily explained softly.
“Sheba is not fond of storms, but I am well aware of that and was extra careful in handling her. When the wind picked up, I decided that it would be safer to dismount and walk her to the outbuilding by the orchard. I was gathering up the reins and preparing to slide off her back over when, all at once, a big boom of thunder sounded, and there was a crack of lightning which must have struck somewhere nearby. Sheba reared up. It was so sudden that it caught me unaware. I was thrown to the ground and landed against this tree as she bolted. I suppose I hurt my wrist while bracing myself in the fall, but it all happened so quickly.” A quick intake of breath revealed her pain as Wylder finished up.
“You should never have gone out in this weather in the first place. And certainly not on a horse you know to be terrified of storms,” Wylder stated fiercely, his emotions getting the better of him.
The thought that Emily could have been seriously injured was doing strange things to his insides.
He wanted to sweep her up into his arms and shelter her from both the drizzling rain and anything that could possibly harm her.
“It’s not Sheba’s fault,” Emily replied stubbornly, staring up at Wylder. “I’ve ridden her in the rain before and managed her quite well. This was a freak occurrence. An unforeseen mishap.”
“A mishap?” Wylder’s hands clenched to keep from shaking some sense into her.
“I saw you there on the ground, and I thought you were dead, Emily.” He took a deep breath to steady himself.
To tamp down the overwhelming sense of panic still fluttering about his belly.
“Do you understand? I thought you were dead!”
Emily’s teeth chattered from the chill of the rain. “Why on earth would you think such a thing? I’ve been thrown from a horse before and survived it.”
“Your riding habit, you stubborn, headstrong, foolish girl. It’s bright, fucking red. So red that I believed it to be blood, and for a goddamn, heart-stopping moment, I thought my life was over as well. Because how can I possibly live in a world without Emily Blackthorne in it?”
Emily’s blue eyes darkened with Wylder’s impassioned confession.
Raising her uninjured hand to his cheek, she peered into his eyes as if searching for something that had remained buried for far too long.
“Now we seem to share the same sentiment. Because I’ve long wondered how I would go on with my life if you were not a part of it.
” Her expression softened. “There is no need to fret, Wylder. A sprained wrist will not be the end of me.”
Frustration welled up inside Wylder. It was an ocean of want and need.
The desire to keep her safe. A craving to keep her for himself, no matter who objected or stood in their way.
He stared at her and imagined her being his…
truly his. And it was enough to shatter his carefully crafted wall until it was nothing more than a pile of rubble.
“But you will be the end of me, Emily. Can’t you understand that?
” he muttered. “You have ruined me forever, and it’s because of one simple, irrefutable fact.
I love you. I love you so goddamn much I find it impossible to breathe sometimes from the weight of it.
I love you past the point of madness, or reason, or anything that resembles sanity.
I love you, knowing full well that I am not the man you should be with.
And I love you despite anyone who thinks I have no right to call you my own.
” Wylder’s hands came up, cradling Emily’s face and holding her steady as she swayed into him, her expression now dazed with comprehension.
Lowering his voice, he spoke with a fierceness that shocked even him.
“I love you, Emily Blackthorne. I love you. I love you. I. Love. You.” Then his mouth swept over hers, claiming her soft, rain-dampened lips in a heated kiss.
He kissed her without mercy or tenderness, their tongues tangling in an unspoken battle until finally, a whimper of surrender came from Emily.
That tiny, breathy sound slammed Wylder back to some semblance of sanity.
What the hell am I doing? I should be carrying her to safety rather than kissing her senseless.
When he pulled away, their breaths mingling in the space between their bodies, Wylder saw Emily’s eyes were wet with unshed tears. His heart clenched with worry that he may have caused her pain, but she surprised him by raising up on her tiptoes and silently pressing a soft kiss to his bottom lip.
A thread of understanding passed between them, linking their hearts together in a manner that was foreign to Wylder but felt so damned right.
He kissed her brow, and a broken sob escaped her throat.
“Shhh, do not cry, minx. Everything will be well, I promise. Let us get you back to the house before they form a search party to look for you. You need a hot bath, a warm bed, and your father should call for the doctor to examine your wrist and check for any other injuries.” He paused, then brushed his lips tenderly across her furrowed brow.
“I will take care of anything that arises from my actions today.”
“What do you mean?” Emily asked, trembling even more violently.
“What must be taken care of? Oh, Wylder.” Her bottom lip wobbled as she apparently remembered the missing mare.
“Do you think Sheba is all right? Do you think she made it back home? She was so very frightened. She did not mean to throw me today.”
Her voice was softer now, and Wylder realized the heated rush previously running through her veins was seeping away.
He must get her home as quickly as possible before she slipped into a state of shock.
The threat of a head injury was a consideration, as well.
She needed to be carefully and closely observed for any sign of internal bleeding.
Sweeping her up into his arms, Wylder carried her to the gelding and settled her on the horse’s back so that she sat perched sideways.
He swung up behind her, making sure her injured wrist was cradled between their bodies.
As she snuggled against his broad chest, sighing in quiet contentment, Wylder’s resolve became firmly entrenched.
Emily was his. He would take care of her and damn anything or anyone that stood in his way.
Squeezing Emily gently, Wylder turned the gelding homeward.
“Leave everything to me, minx.”
She nodded, giving herself up to his strength as he carried her to safety. And it wasn’t until much later that Wylder realized Emily never declared her love for him.