Page 39 of The Soldier
“You were defending me,” she said, withdrawing the little silver tin from her pocket. “And you meant well.”
“Was I yelling that loudly?” he asked, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“You were not,” she replied, fleeting humor in her eyes. “At first. Winnie forgot her carrot, though, so I was much closer to the terrace than I might have been otherwise, and Lord Amery was approaching from the hallway, so he heard you, too. You meant well.”
“Oh, famous. You will both see to it that on the tomb of my social ambitions, it is clearly engraved: He meant well.”
“It isn’t like you to pout.” She frowned at him and glanced at the tin of salve. She arched an eyebrow, and he nodded, shrugging out of his shirt.
“It never used to be like me to rant at trivialities, either,” he said, closing his eyes when her cool fingers went to work. “I was a steady fellow at university, quiet, bookish, and fond of horses.”
“Something happened,” Emmie commented, working the soothing cream over his back.
“Something, indeed. I do not sleep well. Until I got here, my appetite was indifferent. I drink my way through thunderstorms, and I cannot abide to be near harbors that use cannon for their signals. The gun I fired on Helmsley was the first one I’d aimed at a live target in more than two years, and my temper…”
She let her hand drift up to work gently over his nape.
“You and Winnie both,” she said thoughtfully. “You’ve just described her, you know. She wanders at all hours and feels much safer out in a storm than trapped inside. She has tantrums like a younger child, and all of her strong feelings tend to express themselves as anger. She is only now regaining the habit of sitting at table, but for two years after her mother died, she would not sit down to eat.”
“You describe an eccentric child,” he said, closing his eyes as she shifted to treat his face.
“An eccentric child trying to cope with too much, and without an adult to take an interest in her. She had a nurse, at first, but Helmsley did not pay consistent wages, and so Winnie became… feral.”
“And I am a feral earl, I suppose.” He opened his eyes. “I’m surprised you trust me after the way I behaved this morning.”
“I could have stopped you,” she said, handing him the tin. His arms, back, neck, and shoulders felt better, but he understood her trust went only so far. She stepped aside and cocked her head, and he applied salve to his own chest.
“You have no outward scars,” she remarked, taking a seat on his hassock. “At least not that I’ve seen.”
“I suffered no wounds worth the name, though I think you imply I am not yet recovered from my years of soldiering.”
“Do you think you are?”
“God, I hope not. I hope it is not my fate to rail at matrons for minor provocations, to leave my bed after two hours slumber and find memories rising up to trap me, seeming as real as the day I first experienced them.”
“Your memories haunt you.”
“I wouldn’t say haunt.” He frowned, putting the tin down and slumping back into the desk chair. “They are just too real, too powerful when they arise. Like the dreams you don’t initially realize are dreams.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her expression as bleak as he felt. “You talk about those children in Spain, robbed of a real childhood, but things have been taken from you, as well.”
He nodded, his throat abruptly constricting to the point where speech was too risky.
Seeming oblivious to his dilemma, Emmie went on. “I wanted to thank you for what you said to Lady Tosten, but also to let you know I don’t entirely disagree with her.”
“What do you mean?” He was immediately on guard, ready to reengage his anger to defeat her arguments.
She smiled. “At ease, Colonel. I do not want to say I warned you.” Her gaze ranged around the room.
“No, that is Douglas’s forte.”
“I did tell you I am not received in this little slice of Eden, and association with me will not benefit Winnie beyond a certain point.”
“Were I to take you from Winnie now, the child would be inconsolable. She would likely be wetting her drawers and sheets regularly, pitching tantrums at the table, and sleeping in the hay barn every chance she got. I have not even Douglas’s limited experience with parenting, Emmie, but I understand that for now, Winnie needs you.”
And I need you.While part of him conducted this very adult, necessary conversation with Emmaline Farnum, another part of him, part soldier, part orphan earl, part healthy man, wanted to haul her over to the bed and cover her body with his own. He wanted to bury his face against her shoulder and bury his cock in her soft, wet heat. Wanted to hear again those sweet, yearning sounds she made when aroused, wanted to feel her hands questing on his back for ways to be closer to him.
Those feelings, he told himself, were like many of his emotions, disproportionate to their cause. He’d shared a lovely kiss with Emmie, but that was all. And she wasn’t asking him to repeat the moment.
