Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

“Your Grace?” Genevieve called out softly, her voice a tentative whisper in the quiet night air. “Is everything all right?”

The carriage stood in the pale moonlight, its polished surface reflecting the silvery light that danced across the cobblestones. Wilhelm leaned against it, his expression veiled by the darkness.

“Get inside, Genevieve,” he commanded in a deep voice, not bothering to spare her a glance.

Genevieve’s heart sank. His voice was once again cold and distant, a stark contrast to the tenderness and affection she had felt during their dance.

She paused uncertainly at the carriage door and let one hand hover hesitantly over the handle. With a resigned sigh, she opened the door and climbed into the carriage as he had instructed. He followed closely behind and slammed the door shut behind him.

As the carriage drove them home, Wilhelm did his best to sit as far away from her as possible and pushed his tall frame into the corner of his seat. He jammed his fists in his pockets to avoid touching her hand.

“Why did we leave so abruptly?” she asked in a small voice, perplexed by the sudden turn of events.

“I had no intention of staying all evening,” he replied with a frosty calm.

“Oh…” Genevieve faltered, unsure how to respond. Her gaze dropped momentarily before she added softly, “I see.”

The disagreeable silence was only punctuated by the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestones and the occasional remark of their driver as he directed the horses.

Genevieve turned to face Wilhelm again, but he purposely turned his face away in the darkness of the cabin.

“But where…” she trailed off, but she collected herself and pressed on. “Where did you go with Lord Gaverton?”

He tapped a finger against the window, his gaze distant. “I had business to attend to.”

Genevieve squinted in the darkness and tried in vain to see his face. “Business? At a ball?”

He exhaled impatiently and turned in his seat to face her. “I thought we agreed about one particular term, wife,” he snapped. “You do not inquire about my business affairs. Ever.”

Genevieve glanced out the window before looking back at him. “Oh, my apologies, Your Grace,” she retorted in the same icy tone. “I was not aware that we had reverted to honorifics.”

Wilhelm remained still and said nothing.

“You left me alone,” she pointed out in a strained, squeaky voice.

“No.” He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “I left you with your friend. You decided to wander.”

His words struck her like a physical blow to the chest and sent her mind reeling.

Is he acting like this because of Alfred?

She turned back to peer into the dark, featureless night. Her thoughts spiraled as she struggled to reconcile his earlier warmth with the cold detachment he now displayed.

Finally, she spoke, her voice rising slightly as she turned to face him, her fists clenching around the fabric of her dress. “Whatever is the matter with you?”

Wilhelm’s gaze remained fixed on the passing scenery.

“Nothing,” he replied curtly, his voice devoid of emotion.

Genevieve’s frustration mounted. “Wilhelm, please,” she pleaded, wringing her hands in her lap. “Talk to me.”

He turned to face her in the darkness. “What would you have me say, Genevieve?”

“Well,” she began cautiously, her voice measured. “Perhaps you could provide me with an explanation as to why we departed so early and quickly.”

He closed his eyes briefly in exasperation. “I already told you, I had no intention of staying late,” he replied.

“Was it because I danced with Alfred?” she asked, apprehensive about his reply.

Wilhelm leaned across the bench until his face nearly touched hers. Even in the extreme darkness, she could see that his eyes burned fiercely with a green fire that made her stomach clench.

“Partially,” he admitted in a low growl.

Genevieve furrowed her brow, and her fingers nervously pulled at the hem of her dress.

“That is ridiculous, Wilhelm,” she said. “We shared a rather unpleasant dance, nothing more.”

Wilhelm tilted his head sharply and pressed his lips together into a thin line. He let out a sharp breath, the sound more similar to a scoff than a laugh.

“Just a dance?” he asked angrily as he again leaned close to her. She could see his incredulity in the depths of his green eyes. “He touched you, Genevieve.”

Her eyes narrowed, and her expression turned grim as she stared back at him. “You know very well that I did not dance with him out of affection,” she said firmly. “I only danced with him to maintain appearances, to be polite.”

Wilhelm’s breath was warm against her cheek. “He touched you,” he whispered, his voice a possessive growl. “Let me make this perfectly clear—I will not permit any man to touch you, Genevieve. No man but me.”

Genevieve’s heart pounded in her chest, and her stomach flipped. The possessive nature of his words, spoken with such power and an undercurrent of danger, sent a shudder of fear and excitement through her that made her senses reel.

She straightened and told herself not to lose her composure.

“You cannot tell me who I can or cannot dance with, Wilhelm,” she said staunchly, though her tenacity wavered beneath the force of his unyielding gaze.

Wilhelm’s lips curled into a predatory smile. “I can, and I will,” he asserted. “You are mine, Genevieve, and I will not share what is mine.”

A shiver coursed through her.

She opened her mouth to challenge his possessiveness when a sudden clap of thunder boomed through the night and drowned out her protest.

The carriage lurched violently, and the horses whinnied in fear as a torrential downpour began, the raindrops pounding against the roof like a thousand fists.

Genevieve bolted upright, her eyes wide with alarm as the storm raged around them.

The tempestuous symphony of thunder and lightning ripped off her veil of composure and awakened the dormant terror that had haunted her dreams for years. Her chest tightened, as though an invisible hand had squeezed all the air out of her lungs.

“Genevieve?” Wilhelm grabbed her shoulders and looked at her worriedly. “What is the matter?”

Her mind spun wildly, and she could not banish the images that now assailed her.

The storm had transported her back in time.

She heard her mother’s screams and the sickening thud of her father’s head hitting the roof. She saw her sisters lying motionless on the muddy ground. The rain soaked her to the bone and drowned out everything but the horror of it all⁠—

“Darling, breathe.” Wilhelm’s pleas reached her consciousness, but they were muffled and distant, as though she had been plunged into deep water.

Panic clawed at her throat, and her vision blurred as tears streamed down her face. She gasped for air as her body trembled uncontrollably, and the past drowned out the present.

Wilhelm cupped her face in his strong hands and spoke to her through her terror. “Genevieve,” he commanded, his voice a firm anchor in the storm, “look at me.”

His emerald-green eyes possessed a depth of concern that pierced through her panic. She met his gaze, her own wide and frantic, as tears blurred her vision.

“Breathe with me,” he instructed, his voice a steady rhythm against the cacophony of the storm. “In and out… In and out…”

Her ragged breaths gradually synchronized with his as her body responded to the calming cadence of his voice. The panic slowly subsided, replaced by a trembling defenselessness that left her exposed and raw.

She clung tightly to him and dug her fingers into his coat. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her sobs filled the carriage as she finally released the tremendous loss and pain that had been buried for far too long.

“Stop the carriage,” she begged desperately between sobs. “Please, make it stop.”

“Scott!” Wilhelm bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Find the nearest coaching inn. Now!”

The carriage lurched and swayed, and the horses struggled against the wind and rain as they veered off the main road and sought shelter from the tempest.

Genevieve buried her face in Wilhelm’s chest. His comforting, masculine scent gradually pulled her back into the present.

“It is going to be all right,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “It is all right. You are safe.”

His sincere, heartfelt words pierced through the remnants of her fear. She clung to his tear-stained shirt as her body trembled with relief.

“It’s all right,” he repeated, stroking her hair gently. “We are almost there.”

The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek was a peculiar comfort. The tears had stopped, but she was unable to shake off the lingering ache in her heart.

The carriage finally came to a halt, the sudden absence of movement a stark contrast to the raging storm outside.

Wilhelm gently pulled her back and gazed at her tenderly.

“Come, my darling,” he said softly, his voice a gentle caress. “Let us go inside.”