Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

T he dawn greeted Julian slowly. He had not slept all night. Could not sleep after his revelation to Emily the previous day. He had left Emily to sleep, not knowing if she would awake.

Part of him didn't want to leave her. For the reason that he had inflicted this fate upon her and, therefore, had a duty to watch over her. Part of the reason was her unquestionable and astonishing beauty. Such thoughts paraded through his mind when in her presence. It left him out of sorts, snapping at Molly who surely had not deserved such treatment. His entire body was taut as a bowstring. He could not read, sleep, or think. Except for thoughts of her. He stared broodingly from the window of his room which looked out over Epping Forest. There seemed no end to the trees, they reached the horizon, a green sea. It suited him. He could pretend the world did not exist.

Emily's reaction had been understandable. She had been disbelieving and seemed horrified in no small part. Who wouldn't be? He had told her that she was doomed to die, cursed by the very hands that had dragged her from the icy waters of the lake. She had looked at him as though thinking him a madman. He hoped that the seriousness of his expression had helped him.

But as the sky brightened and bird song filled the room, he knew that he had to see if the curse had worked its dark magic. And if not, then he must face his victim once more.

The idea excited him even as it repulsed him. He did not want to see such perfection, knowing that he had condemned her. How long had it taken for his brother to succumb? A matter of hours. Julian had never dared test the curse again. He had no right simply to satisfy his curiosity. On the night of Samuel's death, Julian had made a resolution never to touch another living thing. Years of growing up under the care of Doctor Hakesmere and his family in the Cumbrian hills had not changed that.

He held up his hands before him, turning them over, examining the pale skin that rarely saw the light of day.

Albert Hakesmere and his wife Elsbet had tried to persuade their young ward that the curse was nonsense. They had not forced him to the proof. They could have forcibly removed his gloves and placed his hands upon them. But they had been kind people and had stopped short of this.

To Julian, it was proof positive that their words were intended to comfort only. He had just lost his brother and been rejected by his father, cast out of Windermere, and disowned.

But their reassurances had been no more than empty words. They knew the truth in their hearts and so did Julian.

With a sigh, he picked up the black leather gloves that he had come to despise and pulled them on. He stood, straightening his waistcoat. Turning from the window, he went into his dressing room where Crammond had left a coat for him to wear, hanging on a wooden stand to avoid creasing the garment. It was supposed to be black but Julian thought he detected the deepest shade of blue.

That made him smile. Crammond thought that his master was surrounded by too much darkness and tried to bring some color into his life, by stealth if need be.

Suitably attired, he paused before the full-length mirror to check his appearance. Ordinarily, he would breakfast with a chin dark from stubble and hair a tangled mane falling from his temples to his shoulders. Hanging from a corner of the mirror, he saw the leather cord, another sign of Crammond's touch. Picking it up, he used it to tie back his long hair. The early beard growth that stained the lower half of his face could wait. As Julian walked the lonely, echoing halls of Theydon Mount, heading for the breakfast room, he experienced a curious mixture of trepidation and anticipation. He wanted to see her but dreaded seeing her at the same time. At the door to the room, he hesitated, hand lifted to touch the handle.

The act of hesitation made him angry. He turned the handle and strode into the room, determined to face his responsibilities come what may.

Emily was seated at the large, round breakfast table, situated in the east-facing bay window. Sunlight spilled across the table which was laden with food. He halted as she glanced up from a cup of tea. Her eyes, now that he saw them in the cold light of day, were a pale hazel. Her hair fell in curls to her shoulders, a cascade of dark fire. Did she look pale beyond what would be normal? There did seem to be a hint of pallor in her complexion which struck Julian with dismay. It reinforced his fears.

"Good morning, Emily," he said formally.

As she made to stand, he waved her back to her seat.

"No need for that," he said, taking his own seat opposite her.

"Good morning to you, Julian," Emily replied.

Julian experienced a momentary frisson at the sound of his name on her lips. His eyes were drawn to those lips. They were full and feminine, the lower slightly more shapely than the upper, giving her a pouting expression. Combined with those bright, expressive eyes, it did not seem petulant, as it would in some. Merely maddeningly seductive and alluring. It made Julian think of the fact that he had pressed his lips to hers, had touched those soft, lovely lips. He found himself regretting that it had been to deliver the breath of life and not to kiss.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, trying to keep anxiety from his voice.

"As though a cold is developing. But a minor one," Emily admitted.

Julian nodded sadly. She would discover the truth soon enough. He prayed it would be quick and painless, even though he hoped he would have more time to spend in her company. No, that was not fair. She should be spared suffering.

"Do you still maintain that I am cursed?" Emily asked, suddenly, putting down her tea cup.

Julian was startled from his reverie, taken aback by the directness of the question. "Yes, I… I do. I have seen the proof of it in the past and have no reason to doubt it now," he said, meeting candor with candor.

"And you will not be persuaded that it is nonsense? An old myth that you have been brought up to believe but which cannot have any basis in fact?" Emily persisted.

"No," Julian replied, somewhat coldly.

He did not like the insinuation that he was a gullible fool. Samuel had died after touching him. His mother had died. His father, eccentric and perhaps a little mad, had also been a devotee of the arcane and esoteric. In mystic apothecary, there was none in England to rival his knowledge. That was what made Julian firm in his belief.

"I have prepared a note to my parents. Could you arrange for it to be delivered? Assuming you are resolved to not allow me to leave," Emily stated, matching the frost that had been present in Julian's tone.

"Of course, Emily. It will be taken at once. But do not make it sound as though I am your jailor—"

"But you are," Emily interrupted.

"I know the curse will strike you down. I simply do not know precisely when. I cannot risk it happening when you are traveling back to your home. We are in the depths of Epping Forest here, miles from the nearest farm or shepherd's hut. You did not ask for this and I will not see you struck down on the road. You deserve better."

"I have thought about this for much of the night," Emily said, pouring another cup of tea and clearing her throat before coughing slightly.

The sound of that cough was like a knife to Julian's heart. He resisted the urge to wince, pouring himself a cup after her.

"I did not sleep much," Emily continued. "I realize that I am a single female with no authority over the few servants you have and no idea where I am geographically. I am a stranger to this part of England. I could wander in completely the wrong direction if I tried to leave on my own and I doubt your butler will furnish me with horse or trap."

Julian shook his head decisively.

"So, let us be truthful, I am your prisoner," Emily looked up and finished.

For a moment, Julian felt a thrill of such potency that shame followed hard on its heels. The words coming from Emily's mouth had conjured an image of her at his mercy, physically vulnerable to him and to any whim he wished. Even bound. He sipped the tea and hoped that his cheeks had not colored. He felt breathless at the staggering eroticism of the image. It was entirely inappropriate and shameful, but once lodged in his mind, he could not unsee it.

"I grant it is so," Julian eventually said, "by my orders and by the curse I have inflicted on you."

Emily's cheeks flamed bright and she buried her face in her teacup. When she replaced it, Julian noticed that the cup trembled against the saucer. She folded her hands in her lap.

"You have nothing to fear from me. I swear on my eternal soul. I will do no more harm to you than has already been done. You will be an honored guest and nothing will be denied to you," Julian put in, earnestly.

Emily smiled ruefully. "Except for my freedom."

Julian bit back anger, unused to being defied or questioned. He reminded himself that he was to blame and she had a right to defiance.

"As I have said, it is not for cruel reasons that I act this way."

"I have heard you, Julian," Emily murmured with a tremor in her voice to match that in her hands, "but you must understand that I have a history that has made me… wary of men. Almost to say afraid of them for the most part. So, I am not predisposed to trust."

Julian frowned at that, wondering at what she could be alluding to. It did not matter. It was not his business.

"Very well," Emily said, taking a deep breath and then coughing again, covering her mouth with a handkerchief. "I am powerless. I have explained in my letter that I am convalescing here after falling into the mere after losing my way. I had told my father that I was taking the post coach to Chigwell to shop for a new bonnet. It will seem plausible as he knows I have a love of walking. Do not fear that my note to him will expose you."

Julian nodded. "I am grateful for that. I would not have opened it nor had Crammond open it to see the contents. Even if you had brought a constable to my door."

"I will not try to leave, but may I request for something in return?" Emily said after a moment's breath.

"Of course. Ask and you will have it."

"That if your curse does not manifest… that if I recover from what I maintain is a cold and am well, that you will return me to my home?"

"I can make that promise and do so," Julian stated.

Emily actually smiled. It lit up her face, dimming the bright morning sun. Julian could not help but return that smile, it refused to be denied, though he felt that there was no reason to smile. This was a solemn agreement made with a dying woman. Only tragedy was ahead. Tragedy and grief.

"May I make another request?" she asked.

The tremor had left her hands and her voice was even now. She raised her chin as she had done the previous evening, giving her a sense of pride and dignity. In that moment, she was an eagle, and Julian found himself in awe of her self-possession.

"Name it."

"That while I am here, there is no further mention of curses? You maintain that these will be my last few days or weeks of life?"

Julian nodded curtly.

"Then allow me to enjoy them. I confess that with the thought of my parent's worrying for me dealt with—there are reasons for me wishing to be somewhere other than home."

Julian's frown deepened. He wanted to ask more questions, found himself insatiably curious about Emily. Her life. Her past. What she was truly dealing with that night.

But, he stopped himself.

She was clearly uncomfortable and must have reasons for hiding the truth or lying. He nodded and smiled as though the matter were of no import. He made a mental note not to talk of York—such conversation would be natural assuming that she knew the city well. But if she did not, then it would simply expose the lie and put her in an uncomfortable position.

"You shall have anything that makes you comfortable," he assured her finally.

Emily placed her teacup down on its saucer. "May we begin with a guided tour of this remarkable house?" she then asked brightly.