Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

G odric left Cedric alone in the drawing room to check on Emily. She'd looked decidedly pale and he was worried.

I'll read to her! She'll like that .

His eagerness surprised him, the temptation to abandon his friends and seek her out was great. But she probably needed some time alone—women often did; they were quite mysterious creatures. Knowing this didn't make him miss her any less. He snatched a book from his study and hurried upstairs.

On his way to her room he passed by a chamber he'd not entered in years. Strangely tempted, he opened the door. The nursery was a lovely room, even when muted by afternoon shadows and warm with its buttery yellow walls decorated by various painted scenes. Scenes painted by Godric's father a month before Godric was born.

He remembered his father pointing to a mighty frigate, guns blasting at a pirate vessel, deep voice rumbling as he spoke of age-old tales.

Godric's gaze fixed on another scene, one of a babe in a basket nestled against a wall of reeds as an Egyptian woman knelt to investigate her discovery. The tale of Moses—his mother's favorite story. A misplaced child loved by two mothers.

His throat tightened as he approached the empty crib. The faded blankets were perfectly folded, dust collecting on the crib's smooth edges. He ran a fingertip along the white wood, admiring the craftsmanship. His parents' ghosts were so alive in this room, in a way they hadn't been in a long time. Even though his father had lingered longer than his mother, Godric always felt his father died with her, at least on the inside.

The memories were bittersweet. How different his father became after losing her. The man whose talented hands had created such vivid dreams turned those hands to fists with which to pummel his only child.

No child should ever choose between wanting his father to leave and fearing actual abandonment. For half his life, a nightmare kept him trapped in a crumbling relationship with his only surviving parent.

Godric wondered whether he could recapture the soft magic of those early days, his mother still alive, his father's eyes joyful. Could those sacred hours of love and security return? It seemed impossible.

He couldn't erase the stark, empty plight of the days after his mother's death. He used to stare out the nursery window, waiting for his father to leave the distant grave. With the quiet patience of a frightened child, he lingered by his father's door each night, hoping for reassurance. A hug, a smile, any sign of affection, any sign he wasn't forgotten. A few months later, his father's indifference turned to violence.

Then Godric was desperate to hide, to pretend he never existed. It had been easy enough, living like a ghost in the lonely manor.

A vision burst before him, splitting the dark memories with its ray of light, the room lit by oil lamps. A lady with auburn hair peeked over the edge of the crib and cooed softly. She turned to face him, her violet eyes wide with wonder at the miracle of the babe before her. A miracle they'd brought to life together.

The vision faded. Emily and a child. A dream he might yet make real. He fingered the soft cotton of the baby blanket, hungry for the reality of the child he dreamed about. He would love it, whether boy or girl, cherish it and raise it to be perfect, just like its mother. The woman he loved. Loved.

He was in love with Emily.

The realization didn't shock him as he'd expected it would. Rather, his love grew the way seeds do, slowly, first planted the night he held her in his arms. Emily's laugh, her smiles, her dreams and soft touches, had nurtured it, until love covered his heart like a wealth of rich ivy. All these years he'd been convinced loving someone would leave him vulnerable. What a fool he'd been.

Love strengthened a person. It fortified their heart until they could defeat any enemy, survive any hardship, achieve any dream .

Godric tucked the baby blanket back into place and left the nursery, a look of joy on his face. He'd tell Emily right now. Confess his love and demand she stay and marry him, no matter the scandal. He had to have her, had to spend the rest of his life at the altar of her love, worshipping the woman who'd taught him to trust in himself and his heart.

He rapped his knuckles lightly on her door. It was half past three in the afternoon. Surely she'd slept, or at least rested, since lunch. He knocked louder when no one answered. Godric frowned, put his hand on the doorknob and turned it. Emily's door swung open, revealing a darkened room, curtains pulled shut. She looked to be buried deep into her covers. "Emily? Are you well?" Still no answer. "I thought I could read to you…" He rushed to her bed and tugged back the covers, his lips moving—"Emily?"—as his voice increased in volume.

The sight he beheld cooled his blood.

Someone—Emily—had lined up pillows beneath the covers, mimicking the presence of a body. She'd pinned a white piece of paper to the pillow. He picked it up with numb fingers, not even feeling the sting of the pin as it pricked his thumb. Godric blinked, opened the paper and read her letter.

Godric, I'm sorry to have left like this, but there was no other way. You must believe me. We are two different people, our lives worlds apart. I love you, but I cannot stay with you. I'm so sorry .

Emily was gone.

Rather than crumple the note in his fist, he set it down on the pillow. It was the last thing he had of hers, the last thing she touched in his world. He couldn't bear to destroy it and was too weak to remove the painful reminder.

He stumbled, faltering, as reality set in.

"Oh God…Emily!" She couldn't be gone… She couldn't have left him…

Cold rage engulfed him in icy flames, returning strength where love had rendered him weak.

Never again.

"Cedric, Charles!" he bellowed, wrath building in him. It crushed the despair that blackened his heart and gave him purpose.

Godric ran from the room and found his friends shooting up the stairs towards him.

"What? What's happened?" Cedric asked.

"Has anyone seen Emily?" He quivered with rage and, strangely, fear.

Charles shook his head. "No…"

"I haven't seen Penelope either…" added Cedric. "You don't think—"

Godric growled. "Find Simkins and Mrs. Downing! Tell them to have the servants search the manor from floor to ceiling. Charles, search the stables and the gardens. Cedric, you'll search the meadow with me. We'll take horses and go around the lake as well."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "And if we find her? "

"Subdue her by whatever means necessary. Cedric, bring the laudanum."

Charles balked. "But she hates—"

"I know. It was a mistake to grant her even one measure of freedom."

Godric scowled and neither man dared argue with him, not while fury lit his eyes like the fires of Hell.

Ten minutes later Godric and Cedric galloped across the meadow under a threatening sky. Cedric stopped well ahead of the wall and made to climb it, but Godric dug his heels into his horse's side. It cleared the wall entirely. He turned his horse to the left abruptly, as he'd seen Emily do, and spared himself another unpleasant dunking.

He didn't wait for Cedric.

His eyes scanned the ground for any sign of her passage.

Nothing… It was as though she had vanished into thin air.

Cedric studied the meadow. "Has she been planning this for a long while, do you think?"

"I do. I think she was biding her time for this moment, lulling me into a false sense of security."

"Then she fooled us all." Cedric's voice darkened with disappointment.

"What now?"

Godric raked a hand through his hair. "Where would she go?"

Cedric shrugged. "She could be anywhere. She must have quite a head start."

"No, she won't get far with a storm coming. We will find her, no matter how long it takes. I will track her down."

Cedric's voice was quiet. "Maybe you ought to let her go."

"Go?"

A tic worked in Cedric's jaw but he didn't back away. "You and I both know that clinging to things we don't deserve isn't healthy. Perhaps it is better this way."

"I don't care what is better!" Godric roared. "She is mine." He couldn't do without her. She was imprinted upon his heart, his soul. She had said she loved him. He wouldn't let her walk away.

When they returned to the manor, Charles appeared in the doorway, a flicker of apprehension crossed his features.

"No sign of her?"

Cedric frowned. "No. She wasn't in the gardens, I take it?"

Charles shook his head. "No. Nor the stables, and all the horses are accounted for."

They returned to the house, helping the servants search room by room. Rain lashed at the windows and lightning laced the skies with white fiery streaks. The clock in the hallway read half-past four. One more precious hour gone.

Godric stood on the landing, scowling as he gazed out the tall window to the view across the meadow, towards the lake.

"Why did you leave me?" His voice wavered. If he hadn't been in such pain, he would have laughed. The Duke of Essex had found his heart, only to have it broken.

Her leaving him was infinitely more painful than any blow his father ever struck.

His darling, sweet, innocent Emily had betrayed him. She was no different than Evangeline. Yet he would drag her back here and imprison her for as long as he liked. Society and law be damned. She'd wounded his pride, wounded his heart. She'd pay dearly for it.

"Your Grace?" Mrs. Downing cut through Godric's dark thoughts.

He spun to face his housekeeper at the foot of the stairs. One of the serving maids cowered behind her, avoiding Godric's glare. "What?"

"This young lady has information regarding Miss Parr." Mrs. Downing sidestepped and exposed the girl to Godric's wrath.

Godric descended the steps and grabbed the maid by the shoulders. "Speak, girl!"

The maid cast a furtive glance towards the housekeeper, seeking some aid.

Godric shook her. "Speak now, or you will find employment elsewhere."

"Sh-She's gone off with Jonathan Helprin to Blackbriar village. She wore my extra serving gown. She said your life was in dan—"

Godric released her. "Silence!" He turned to the others looking for his butler. "Simkins! Have the grooms ready three horses. Charles! Cedric!"

They emerged from the rooms they'd been searching.

Godric strode to the door. "She's gone to Blackbriar village. We leave immediately. If we ride hard we can be there in an hour." Godric slung himself up into the saddle. "I'm on your trail again, little fox." He was going to catch Emily Parr one last time, and she would never escape him again.

Jonathan stumbled backward, a hand to his jaw as Godric stormed into the room.

Emily scrambled off the bed, realizing how the situation must appear to Godric, she in her undergarments crying and Jonathan only half-dressed.

"What have you done to her? You bastard!" Godric threw himself at Jonathan.

Jonathan put up his hands. "Nothing! I've done nothing, I swear!"

Godric threw another vicious punch, and that was it.

Jonathan crumpled to the floor unconscious.

Penelope snarled at Godric, lunging for his Hessians as he turned on Emily. The little hound was determined to protect her mistress.

Cedric and Charles rushed into the room. Relief lightened their faces. "Emily, thank God we found you!" said Cedric

"Wait outside, and take that filthy hound with you and Penelope as well." Cedric scooped up the pup while Charles dragged out the valet.

Godric slammed the door behind them, turned the lock and faced her. Water streamed down his clothes, and his dark hair curled against the collar of his neck .

The world ceased to move. Stars winked out in the distant cosmos, the wind and rain outside paled into mist. Emerging from the gloom, Godric was her beacon of light, the shelter from her storms.

Emily realized she could never do without him, never leave him again. Without him she would have faded into a shadow of her true self. It had already begun before he'd found her.

Emily choked back a sob.

But she'd abandoned him. Despite her reasons, the love that drove her, the hope that carried her, he wouldn't forgive her now, perhaps ever. The pain in his eyes told her just what her departure had cost him.

All she had to do was explain. He'd listen, and maybe, if she was lucky, forgive her. He'd have to, once he knew what Evangeline had said.

He removed his cloak, overcoat and shirt, then took slow deep breaths as he stepped towards her. Emily's heart quickened. She saw the animal lust in his eyes, and she knew her own gaze answered his.

Without a second thought Emily flung herself at him, pressing tight against him, arms banding about his neck. But he didn't return her embrace. His arms hung at his sides. He was coiled tight, rigid and so impossibly cold.

"Godric, I'm so glad you're here, but…" Godric pried her arms from around his neck and set her firmly away from him, the distance between them a vast ocean, dark and bottomless. She needed to explain. There was no other option. "You shouldn't have come. I can't protect you like this. "

"Do. Not. Speak."

A rabbit trapped against a serpent's gaze, Emily stood mesmerized and unable to move. He backed her into a wall, pinning her shoulders with his palms.

"You left me. You lied to me."

"Listen to me! I had to."

"You abandoned me. So much for your love." His voice harsh, his teeth gritted.

"You don't understand, Blankenship was going to—"

He caught her chin with one hand and took her mouth with his. Took everything she offered. He left her no time for breath or thought. Emily gave in. The hard kiss turned soft and deep. His touch was full of tenderness as he stroked her body. He had forgiven her, he had to, otherwise he would not have been so gentle now.

Her breasts grew heavy, aching for his touch and the silken heat of his mouth. Everything she swore she could live without rushed back to her. No sooner could the moon abandon the earth than she could leave him. He would take her back, forgive her for breaking his heart. It was there in his kiss, that sweet emotion she craved.

"Godric, please… I need you." Her plea was an aching whisper against his neck.

His breath grew ragged as he dug at his breeches, freeing himself. He thrust a hand between her legs, finding the wetness that pooled there for him, and sank two fingers deep between her folds. Emily moaned. He pleasured her with his hand, and each time she tried to shut her eyes, he demanded she look at him, so she did. His face was dark with shadows.

"You left me. Your room was empty. Do you have any idea what that did to me?" The growls vibrated against her throat as he nuzzled her. "You are mine. Do you understand? I'll never let you go. Never."

Finally, when Emily was weak-kneed from desire, he snagged her left thigh and wrapped it around his hip. He was poised at her entrance, the tip of him barely inside. For one tense second, their breaths mingled, their eyes locked, and then he plunged inside. Emily cried out. Her head fell back against the wall and Godric fisted his free hand in her hair at the nape of her neck, holding her still. The fingers of his other hand sank into the skin of her thigh as he impaled her against the wall. He kissed her again, taking her lips, a conquering warrior.

Emily accepted it all, moving her hips into his, craving this new wildness. Her own hands scraped his back, marking him. Waves of pleasure rolled through her body as she neared her climax.

Emily raked a hand through his hair. Godric dragged his lips away from hers so he could bury his face in her neck. He pounded harder into her and his thrusts sent her careening over the edge of bliss. Crimson spirals of dark rapture flashed over her eyes. She whispered his name like a midnight prayer, weakening in his arms. With a roar of primal satisfaction, he came. His seed spilled deep into her.

Gasping for air, he sagged against her, keeping them both upright against the wall. Emily finally shut her eyes, stroking his hair, smoothing back the dark silky strands from his temples down to his neck, soothing him.

"God, I'm such a bloody fool." He shrank away from her. Emily's knees buckled and she braced against the wall for support.

"What do you mean?" His tone worried her and fear gnawed at her insides. He wasn't holding her, kissing her. This was not the reunion she'd imagined. Panic began to trickle through her, and her vision blurred with tears.

Godric was still muttering, not looking at her as he fixed his clothes. "You don't love me. You never have." The self-deprecating laugh which followed sent chills through her. "If you love someone, you don't abandon them. You don't hurt them."

"I didn't abandon you, Godric, but I had to leave. I'm so sorry about the note I—" He silenced her with a wave of his hand before tossing her clothes at her feet.

"But you're in danger!"

Godric ignored her. "Get dressed. We have to return home at once."

"But why?" Emily froze, gown half up her shaking calves. She had an eerie sensation of dread, as though she was climbing the stairs in the dark and thinking that there was a last step, her foot fell through the empty air, taking her body with it.

"I think perhaps your uncle and I finally agree on something. You've outlived your usefulness, and it is time I returned you to him."

A slap across her cheek would have hurt less.

I've outlived my usefulness?

His affections had been merely a momentary attraction built on nothing but lust, just as she'd feared. Now he'd destroy her in return by delivering her back to her uncle and the marriage that would seal her doom .

She blinked, dazed to find Godric holding a silver flask, no doubt filled with the water and laudanum she hated so much. The day couldn't worsen, of that she was sure.

"That won't be necessary I promise to come quietly." She stumbled. Thunder rattled the inn and lightning sparked outside the windows, a reflection of the turmoil in her heart.

Godric studied her before pocketing the flask. "Very well, though your promises mean little to me."

She finished dressing, hastily shoving buttons in all of the wrong slits, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. She'd lost him. What she'd believed had been forgiveness, had merely been a final goodbye. Her own stupid actions had destroyed her precarious grip on his affection.

An unfamiliar despair seized her in its grasp. Her lungs slowed, breath coming shorter and shorter. Black dots spotted her vision. She took a shaky step towards Godric, but the movement sent her vision spiraling out of control. Emily pitched forward as darkness descended and the floor rushed up to meet her.

Godric caught Emily a second before she hit the floor. He cradled her to his chest, savoring the feel of her in his arms, then chastised himself for doing so.

Her escape had proven her intentions well enough. Her whispered words of love were nothing more than lies, a clever ruse to lower his guard .

He retrieved Emily's small cloth bag where she'd set it down by the door. Her head lolled sideways, bumping into his chest. God, he was a fool.

He was even more a fool for threatening to return her. He knew what life awaited her there—marriage to Blankenship, a lifetime of misery. He wanted her to deserve that after what she'd done to him, but revenge seemed the farthest thing from his heart.

Emily needed to go. That was all. If she stayed, he'd do something he'd regret, like beg her to love him. He'd relive his boyhood all over again, seeking love, knowing it would never come. The self-loathing that coiled about him increased with every step as he finally opened the door and came out into the hall.

Cedric and Charles were there, Cedric holding the struggling pup and Charles holding up a groggy but conscious Jonathan Helprin. All three men looked at Emily with deep concern.

"Is she—" Charles began.

"She's fine. She fainted." A nasty bruise had already formed on Jonathan's jaw.

"Your Grace, I swear nothing happened to her."

"I will deal with you when we return to the manor." If he tried to talk to the man now, Godric would strangle him.

His friends followed him as he carried Emily down the inn's stairs, past the shocked guests, and back into the rain where Cedric held her until he mounted his horse. Once Emily was tucked into his arms, he relaxed, but only just .

As night fell, they rode back toward the manor, the thundering skies heralding their return.

When they arrived, Simkins took Jonathan and Penelope away to see to their care. Charles and Cedric followed Godric up to his bedchamber, where he lay Emily down. He stripped her of her wet dress and undergarments after the other two men stepped out into the corridor. He pulled back the covers and tucked her into his bed, then he called his friends back into the room.

"Check the windows, Cedric. Charles, you lock the adjoining door." They both scrambled to do this, no doubt fearing his black mood. Godric leaned down over Emily and tucked the blankets more firmly about her, right up to her chin. He gently brushed back the soft damp locks of her hair, then he motioned for his friends to leave with him. Time to deal with another traitor.

They returned to the drawing room where Simkins and Jonathan were waiting.

Godric turned to his butler. "Simkins, send someone to light a fire in my bedchamber. Not Libba." Simkins bowed and disappeared.

Charles started to edge towards the door. "Shall we…er…go too?"

"Stay. You might need to keep me from killing this bastard," Godric said as his gaze fixed on Jonathan. "But don't try too hard."

Jonathan stood up, defiant. "Nothing happened, Your Grace. She asked for my help. I gave it. We only took the room at the inn to avoid the rain. "

"You lie!" Godric's fingers dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. "She was half-naked, as were you!"

Jonathan kicked the chair between them away. "You want to kill me? Then kill me! If you think you can."

Cedric and Charles each took a step forward, ready to intervene.

"So be it!" Godric lunged for him and grabbed his shirt collar, shaking him.

"Unhand him at once!"

Godric and Jonathan stopped and turned, shocked to see who would dare address Godric that way. Simkins stood in the open doorway, as if he were the master of Essex House. When he had their attention, he returned to his usual self and added, "Your Grace."

Godric recovered himself. "Don't interfere. It is a matter of honor."

Simkins raised a pistol from under his coat and aimed the barrel at Godric's chest.

"You will step away from your half-brother, Your Grace," Simkins said, voice surprisingly calm.

"Brother?" Godric asked, letting go of Jonathan's shirt.

Simkins lowered the pistol. "I vowed to your father that no harm would befall him. It puts me in a difficult position. I will of course tender my resignation after this, but I am firm in my decision to protect Jonathan."

Jonathan glanced sharply at Godric as the news sank in. "I'm his what?"

Godric was not as surprised. Ever since Emily had mentioned it, he'd half suspected there was more to his valet's past than he knew. He'd even warmed to the idea, but that was before tonight. Tonight was bad timing. Right now he wanted Jonathan dead.

"I don't care if he's the king of England! If he harmed my Emily—"

"Then we will deal with that problem, but only if Miss Parr confirms your belief that he has, in fact, harmed her."

Godric groaned, his shoulders hunching forward as he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes so hard he saw stars. Right now he didn't even feel like the master of his own house. Not with his butler pointing a pistol at him.

"How…how are we brothers?" Jonathan demanded.

Simkins lowered the pistol but didn't put it away. "The late duke sought comfort in your mother's arms. He cared about her, as he did you. When he fell ill I vowed to care for you as I have His Grace."

"So I really am—"

"A bastard," Godric supplied.

"No. Jonathan is a legitimate son of the former Duke of Essex. He married her in secret ten months before Jonathan was born. His birth was recorded in the parish registry under your father's name, Your Grace."

"If I'm not a bastard why wasn't I raised alongside him?" Jonathan jabbed a finger in Godric's direction.

Heavy lines creased Simkins eyes. "The former duke told me, on his deathbed, to keep Godric an only child. He never wanted the truth of your heritage to be known, unless Godric died without an heir."

"Why would he do that?" Jonathan's anger began to overshadow Godric's. "Why would he take from me my right as a duke's son?"

"Your father realized he'd been terribly cruel to Godric and that admitting he'd found love with another would only make matters worse, and he feared Godric would be jealous of you."

Godric couldn't believe it. The stupid man! Godric would have preferred a brother over solitude. That his father chose to love a lady's maid made no difference, but to be denied his brother all these years did.

Jonathan looked to his brother, uncertain what to say. "Well then… Where does that leave us?"

Godric frowned. "You're still a bastard."

"If you think I'm ever polishing another boot of yours, you're mistaken. I am not a bastard and you cannot treat me like one."

"I didn't mean that kind of bastard, you imbecile. You're a bastard for touching my Emily!"

"Your Emily? Such devotion you must have instilled in her if the poor thing was crying her eyes out."

Charles sighed and leaned against the mantle. "Ah, brotherly love. Reminds me of home."

Cedric stifled a chuckle. "For you, perhaps. Didn't you challenge your own brother, to a duel over a woman?"

"Yes, bit of rotten luck that. Mother found us counting paces in the garden. That woman can still wield a switch to make a grown man cry."

"Well, Jonathan certainly has the St. Laurent temper, eh, Godric?"

How many times had Godric hated being an only child? Now he was blessed, or rather cursed, with a sibling, just like the rest of the League.

Godric and Jonathan shared murderous looks, but a sudden commotion outside scattered their attention.

"Godric!" someone yelled.

Lucien and Ashton burst into the drawing room, knocking Simkins out of the way in their haste. The pistol fell from his grasp and hit the floor, setting it off and shattering a vase not three feet from where Godric stood.

It took a moment for the panic everyone felt to subside and return to normal. If anything about today could be called normal.

"Godric!" Lucien noticed the butler and the weapon on the floor. "Why was Simkins holding a gun?"

Charles waved a hand for the newcomers to get comfortable. "My dear Lucien, it's just like you to start a conversation at the most boring part."

Ashton looked between Godric and Jonathan. "What? Boring?"

Godric threw a pointed look at Jonathan. "Ashton, Lucien… Meet my half-brother, Jonathan."

Lucien looked more than a little confused. "Brother?"

Ashton checked his pocket watch. "But we've only been gone one day…"

Cedric crossed his arms. "Lessons in recent ancestry can wait. Now what's happened with you two?"

Ashton said, "We were able to follow Evangeline in London. Blankenship hired her, Godric. She came here to spy on you, to make sure you did in fact have Emily. "

Hearing her name ripped Godric's gaze from his brother to Ashton.

"What? She was Blankenship's puppet?" Godric blinked in shock. It would explain everything. Her strange story, showing up at his home with a forged note. That crafty bastard.

Ashton nodded. "Not exactly. Say what you will of her, but I think we all know that woman is no one's puppet. Evangeline told Blankenship that she convinced Emily to escape or else Blankenship's men would show up and kill all of us to get to her. Emily must be stopped before she does something foolish."

Godric choked. "Too late…"

Christ, he'd done the worst thing possible. He'd hurt her for the crime of trying to save him. He had repaid her devotion by locking her in his bedchamber yet again. If there hadn't been a circle of hell reserved for him before, he'd just qualified for an entire realm.

The blood drained from Lucien's face. "What do you mean?"

"She made it to Blackbriar village with the aid of my brother. We've only just returned."

Ashton frowned. "And Emily?"

"Upstairs."

"Well, have her come down. We need to discuss what to do about Blankenship."

"That is not exactly possible," said Cedric. "He left her somewhat…indisposed upstairs."

"Oh, Lord," said Lucien.

Ashton pinched the bridge of his nose. "Godric, listen to me. She only left to protect you. She does not know how capable you are of defending yourself. She did it because she loved you and couldn't bear to see you hurt for her sake."

Charles and Cedric exchanged grim looks. Jonathan's face paled and he failed to meet Godric's eyes.

"It's too late, isn't it?" asked Ashton.

Godric nodded, and turned his back on them. "I've wounded her in a way she will never forgive." He couldn't forgive betrayal so how could she? Knowing she was lost to him forever, because he'd acted rashly, let his temper direct his actions, made the agony of her loss worse.

"Excuse me." He left the room and no one dared stop him.

Godric had barricaded himself in his study, and it was up to the others to take up the mantle of Emily's care and protection.

They found her in Godric's bed.

Emily shifted slightly, still asleep. All of them were as guilty of ruining and hurting Emily as Godric was. That would change.

Ashton turned to Lucien. "See to having a fresh pair of undergarments ready for her when she wakes."

Lucien nodded and left to find her clothes.

Ashton eased himself down on the edge of the bed and bent down to press his lips against her forehead. She felt feverish beneath his kiss. If she became ill… No, he mustn't think such thoughts .

He smoothed her hair back from her brow. "Sleep, dear Emily."

Lucien returned and took a position near the foot of the bed in a chair. The nearby fire crackled and sparked in the darkness.

The League had gone too far to satisfy its pride and lust.

Emily stirred, her breath shallow.

Heavy rocks lay on her chest. It was harder and harder to fill her lungs.

Panic surged through her, making her body shudder. Glass shards seemed to be embedded in her throat when she tried to swallow. She needed to cough, but no strength remained. The rasp of her indrawn breath sounded like an ominous death rattle.

"Emily!" A man's voice. Low, hoarse, and grating to her ears. She winced as she tried to swallow again, and finally managed a weak cough.

"Emily?" The voice was a familiar one, a warm hand on her forehead.

Where am I?

Sensations crept back on her, the soft slide of bed sheets beneath her bare skin, the aroma of sandalwood. Men were nearby. Who? Though she couldn't see it, she could feel the pulsing rhythm of a candle nearby.

"Quick, Charles, the water." Cedric, her mind finally recalled. She was at Godric's estate, in his bed. Once again a captive of the League of Rogues .

"Go…dric…"

Cedric shushed her, then raised a glass of water to her cracked lips. She drank, the cool water a balm to her parched throat. Her eyelids finally cracked open. She was in Godric's bedroom; Cedric and Charles hovered over her. She shivered and rubbed her naked arms—

She was naked.

Emily gasped, a dreadfully sick sound.

"There, there, love, You're safe," Charles said. Neither he nor Cedric seemed interested in her state of undress. She swallowed, which was still painful.

"How?"

"How?" The men shared a confused look.

"How—" but she couldn't finish.

Cedric took the glass from Charles and refilled it from a pitcher. "We brought you back from the inn in Blackbriar two days ago, kitten. You've been very ill."

He held the glass out to Emily. She reached for it, but her arms shook. Charles took it and sat down on the bed before he held it to her lips again. She emptied the glass.

"Two…days?"

Charles nodded and tucked a stray lock of hair tenderly behind her ear. "I should tickle you to death for all your foolishness."

Dark smudges beneath his grey eyes revealed his lack of sleep. Charles had always come across as the most immature, though only a year separated him from Godric and Cedric. But a lined, wearied expression was now fixed to the youthful earl's countenance. She reached up and touched his cheek. Charles shut his eyes, a tic working in his strong jaw. He caught her hand, kissed it and set it back beneath the covers where it was warm.

She looked to Cedric. He too seemed sick with worry, dark circles under his brown eyes as he hovered nearby.

"The others?"

"Ashton and Lucien are resting. We have been taking shifts to watch over you."

"And…Godric?" This was what she really wished to know. Where was he? She needed him.

"He—" Cedric paused, as though choosing his words carefully "—is not himself right now."

"Is he unwell?"

Did the others know what had happened at the inn? Did they know how she'd betrayed him? She remembered the choked sound he'd made when she tried to soothe him. A horrific sound. She'd wanted nothing more than to assure him that she loved him, that she'd only left him to protect him. But he hadn't given her the chance.

The… idiot . She was not sad, she was furious with him. All she'd needed to do was explain herself and he hadn't given her the chance. She wanted to slap him, then kiss him, and then slap him again. The damned fool.

"Take me to him now."

Cedric laid a palm on her shoulder. "He isn't at his best, kitten. He's—"

"I don't care! Take me to him." She could only manage a whisper that she followed with a forceful stare .

Cedric jumped up. "I'll go."

Charles nodded, pulled a pistol out from his waistband, and sat back on the bed, facing the door.

"A gun? He's…he's not gone mad, has he?" She reached for the pistol, but Charles pulled out of her reach.

Charles gave her a devil-may-care grin. "It isn't for Godric, Emily. Lucien and Ashton followed Evangeline Mirabeau to London. They learned that Blankenship hired her to find you, and what he has planned for us. Hence the weapons."

"Godric knows why I left?"

Charles nodded. "Not until after we returned to the manor. Lucien and Ashton were a bit late to the party, so to speak. Godric has had a rough couple of days. He lost you, tried to kill his brother, now he's done nothing but drink in his study. Only Simkins has managed see him without getting something thrown at his head. I nearly got beaned with the Bible he threw at me." Charles chuckled. "Don't mistake me, Emily, I quite enjoyed the irony. Reminded me of this one lady who threw a vial of holy water at me, expecting me to burn."

"In all fairness, you did smoke a little," said Ashton.

Charles scoffed. "It was winter and the water was warm."

Emily tried to smile but she was caught up by the more salient point.

"Brother?"

"Oh, of course. I suppose you've missed a lot of the fireworks. Godric tried to throttle Jonathan. Simkins pointed a gun at Godric and said he can't kill his half- brother. It turns out Jonathan is the son of the late duke and the lady's maid to Godric's mother."

Emily did smile then. She hadn't been mistaken about Jonathan after all. "I knew it."

Charles chucked her under the chin affectionately. "None of us saw it."

"You've known him for too long and simply gotten used to him, I suppose."

Cedric returned, looking pointedly at the floor. "It's as I feared. He's completely foxed. Trust me, kitten, you don't want to see him like this."

"I do and I will." She struggled to get up but remembered she was naked and clutched the sheet about her breasts. "Robe, please." Cedric hesitated but Emily's glare had him retrieve Godric's red velvet robe straight away. Emily studied Cedric and Charles, weighing who she trusted more to keep his hands to himself. Neither were good choices, but one was most certainly worse. She chose Cedric.

"You help me."

"Ahem," Cedric said to Charles, who waited outside with a huff.

Cedric averted his gaze as he pulled the covers back and then eased Emily's arms into the robe's sleeves. She wrapped it snugly about herself and tied the cord at her waist tight before getting out of bed. As grimy as she felt, the more important thing was to see Godric. She could bathe later. Emily took a deep breath and tried to stand.

She wavered and Cedric caught her up in his arms. "I'll help you, kitten. "

They must have been an odd sight, Emily in her oversized robe, barefoot, leaning against Cedric for support. Thankfully, no one saw them but Simkins, posted outside the door to Godric's study.

The butler's eyes widened. "Lord Sheridan, she shouldn't be out of bed!"

Emily held up a hand and pointed to the study door.

"Open it."

Simkins shook his head. "I'm afraid he's not fit to see anyone."

"I don't care." Emily growled.

"Very well, Miss Parr, but I will intervene if he grows violent." Simkins fumbled with his set of keys.

"Yes, he might shoot another vase," said Charles.

"What?" Emily gasped.

"It was an ugly vase, one his mother always hated. It won't be missed," said Simkins.

Godric shouted from the other side of the door. "Simkins, I told you to leave me be!"

"Silence, St. Laurent." Cedric's voice echoed, a boom that brought silence from the study. "Emily is here. Behave, you hear me?"

Simkins opened the door and Cedric stepped inside, Emily leaning against him. Godric was at the back of the study, facing the window with his back to them, the night outside was inky black. One candle lit the room.

"Help me to the couch," said Emily. "Then leave us."

"I'm staying, Emily."

She stroked his face as she had Charles's. "Thank you, Cedric, but I will be fine. "

He bent to kiss the top of her head before retreating. Simkins shut the door from the outside.

An agonizing moment of silence followed—Godric at the window, she on the couch, both still as statues. Could she make him understand that she hadn't betrayed him?

"Godric," she breathed.

Slowly he turned to face her. Her dark prince with shadows beneath his tortured emerald eyes with hair tangled as though he'd dug his fingers into it over and over again. How had it come to this?

Emily knew of the deadly calm before the storm, but she believed it was the calm afterwards which often proved worse, with century old trees ripped from the soil and birds lying dead upon the ground after being hurled through mighty winds. Everywhere lay destruction. In watching Godric's haunted eyes, she saw that same vast path of devastation.

She found a new strength in her voice. "Come to me."

He obeyed, feet dragging until he stood before her, gazing down at her, those long dark lashes fanning against his cheeks as he shut his eyes for a brief moment. His right hand was the closest thing she could reach. She caught his wrist, lifting it until she captured his palm and brought it to her lips. She kissed the inside of his hand, letting him feel her tenderness.

I love you.

Godric's legs buckled. Suddenly he was on his knees, burying his head on her lap, arms wrapping around her as he clung to her. Emily bent over him, kissing his hair, stroking his shoulders as he shook with violent silent sobs. He clenched her tight, as though he feared she'd vanish in his arms. She felt the tremors of his receding grief as he finally raised his head.

"Emily…"

She put a finger to his lips and shook her head.

"I forgive you." She found a smile, let it pull her lips up but this only made him cringe, his face that of a fallen angel. But her angel.

"I can't forgive myself…" He turned away from her.

Emily grabbed his chin, forcing his face back towards her and catching him in a violent kiss.

"You are a fool, Your Grace," she said then ravaged his mouth again, bruising him with her possession. He barely had time to kiss her back before she released him. Godric put a shaking hand to his mouth, startled as he felt his swollen, punished lips.

"I'm learning your way of kissing." Emily smiled at him, a wicked smile. The kiss had somehow breathed life into her.

Godric slowly got up off his knees and joined her on the couch. He leaned forward to kiss her. Emily braced herself for a return of the heated melding of mouths she'd given him, returning fire with more fire.

But she did not get it.

Godric barely kissed her at first, so faint was the pressure of his lips on hers. It was a dream of a kiss. But then he deepened it. His tongue slipped between her lips, with infinite tenderness as their lips began that slow ancient dance. Emotion flooded through that kiss. Godric had to tell her everything he felt—the relief, joy, guilt, passion, concern.

Emily Parr had to be some sort of angel. No mortal woman could forgive a man for such sins. He'd abused her trust and taken her up against the wall like some barbarian. He'd threatened to return her to her uncle and deliver her to an unhappy marriage to a man she despised. He'd terrified her to the point that she'd fainted and been senseless for two days.

Feel me, darling! Feel me. Know that I love you. This time, when the words rushed out in his mind, he welcomed them. It had to be love. Nothing could wound a soul like hurting the one you loved. How he wanted to say the words, but it felt wrong when he'd done nothing to prove it. No. He would not tell her that he loved her until he could prove it. He was too deep into his cups and would have been unable to get out the words she deserved. Bloody fool I am.

When their lips broke apart Emily's eyes were still closed. Godric trailed a fingertip down the upward curve of her nose and she opened her eyes to see him.

"Let me take you back upstairs to rest." He stood up and scooped her body into his arms when he realized she was naked beneath the robe. He almost laughed.

"Are you not wearing anything else?" Emily blushed and the sight relieved him. Her face had been too pale. "After all that I've done to you, you just keep rewarding me," he teased as he admired the way the velvet molded to her curves. Emily flashed him a mock scowl and he grinned, pressing his forehead against hers, gazing deep into her violet eyes.

"Will you promise to never escape again?"

"I was not escaping. I was saving your life. And you're still not safe. We must talk…"

"All right, my darling. When you're feeling better, we'll talk." He kissed her cheek and then opened the study door.

Charles, Cedric and Simkins all huddled about the door, faces pressed close to the frame, caught in the act of eavesdropping.

Out of the three of them only Simkins managed to maintain his dignified air.

"We were monitoring the corridor for security, Your Grace," he said.

"Security? I suppose those carpets do look most suspect, Simkins. Good idea, best to watch the paintings and statues. They could be working with our enemies." Godric hid a smile. "Now if you'll pardon us. I am just taking Emily back up to bed to rest." The three men watched him leave, no doubt wondered what on earth transpired to calm the tempest of his famous temper.

Once upstairs, Godric put Emily down on his bed and started to move to the empty chair nearby. Emily grabbed his arm, keeping him close.

"Stay." Her free hand patted the bed. Godric sat down on the edge of the bed, bent over and pulled his boots off and turned to join her. Emily snuggled deep into the covers.

Godric turned her face towards his. "Emily, about what happened in the inn—"

"Yes?"

"That should never have happened. It will never happen again." He brushed his lips against hers.

"Don't promise that. It was beyond anything I've ever experienced. Of course, at the time I thought you had forgiven me and had missed me terribly."

"Forgive you? Emily, I was not gentle with you. Why don't you hate me ?" Fearful confusion clouded his wide eyes.

"I could never hate you. Godric, I love you. Haven't I told you enough for you to believe me? As for not being gentle… I enjoyed it. Now stay. Sleep with me." Her voice was a command. "From what Cedric said, you've not had any rest."

Godric wanted to shout, to laugh. If this was the extent of her temper, she truly was an angel. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face into her neck, kissing the sensitive spot right behind her ear until her breath quickened.

"I don't deserve you, my darling."

"You certainly don't. Lucky for you, I seem to have developed a taste for rogues." She ran her fingers through his hair, teasing the nape of his neck.

"Rogues?" He flicked his tongue against her neck, eliciting a soft little moan. "As in more than one?"

"I've lived with five of you under the same roof. Suffice it to say I've found your little League quite—" She paused as he sucked her skin, and she flushed with heat.

"Yes?" He prompted.

"What were we talking about?" One of his hands slid under the gown of her robe and palmed her breast, caressing the pink bud that tightened beneath his fingertips.

"I believe we were talking about sleep," he murmured against her lips before he slid his tongue into her mouth, barely able to think straight himself.

"Sleep?"

"Sleep…yes…" He'd barely let himself rest, let alone sleep in the past two days. Now the drowsiness was starting to catch up with him. Godric drew in a slow deep breath, his body relaxing, but his heart and soul breathed, danced and rejoiced. Emily was back where she belonged, with him. He could rest. She was safe.

"Emily," he whispered against her neck.

"Yes?"

"I'm not like my father. I have his temper, but I am not like him."

"Godric. When you were angry you made love to me. That doesn't make you like your father." Emily's eyes twinkled as she ran a fingertip down his open shirt, skimming his bare chest. Godric groaned, wishing that fingertip would keep going down.

"Can we talk about Jonathan?"

"My brother? Wish I could kill him. Can't." He moaned. "He's a St. Laurent." Godric's words scattered apart as he struggled to fight his need for Emily. She needed to rest, not make love .

"He's a lot like you."

"Oh? In what way?" Godric's hand moved around to her back, caressing her underneath the velvet robe.

"He's a stubborn, green-eyed rogue who assumes every woman secretly wants him and just needs to be convinced of it." She giggled and twisted her body so that she lay on her back.

A smile escaped his lips and he bent down to kiss Emily again. "You're right, the devil does sound like me."

"You need to rest."

"So do you, darling." He settled her deeper into his embrace.

They were both quiet for a long moment. Godric drew in a deep breath. "Promise me you'll be here when I wake up." He brushed a hair from her face. "I know you will, but I need to hear it." Emily groggily looked at him, her brow crinkling in an adorable way.

"I promise I will be here. Godric, I'm so sorry I left. I can't image how it must have hurt you." She ran a fingertip along his jaw, tracing his face.

He leaned back and ran a hand over his eyes in an attempt to erase the memories. "I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. I thought I was dying, Emily. Christ, you have no idea what that's like." His eyes were those of a boy, one who'd seen years of abuse. "I swore that, after my father, no one would ever have the power to hurt me."

"When I realized I had to leave…I came back to my room and collapsed." Emily fought to control her voice. "I wanted nothing more than to run back down to the dining room and into your arms. But I had to protect yo u. I would do anything to protect you." She leaned up to brush a kiss on his brow before settling back down, resting her head on his chest. "I will be here tomorrow morning. I promise."

Relief filled his lungs. She was his world, his everything.

"Goodnight, Godric." Emily's voice was sleepy and soft. The intimacy of this moment was perfect. Life could have stolen everything else from him, but as long as he had Emily, he could survive.

"Goodnight, darling." He fell asleep with his lips pressed into her hair. Guilt still lingered, but Emily—angelic, loving Emily—had erased so much self-loathing.

How had he lived without her for all these years?