Page 81 of The Viscount's Promise
Emily knew the moment Malcolm sensed her presence. He went still, every line of his body, backlit by the street lamps outside the carriage window, taut and thrumming. She felt her resolve falter for a moment. But she would not—or could not—back down now.
Her too new and extremely fragile confidence had taken a severe beating upon seeing him with Lady Morley. But his unexpected appearance at her brother’s town house had sparked a furious fire in her belly that had momentarily smothered her better judgment. Nothing would do but for her to tell him, then and there, exactly what she thought of him.
How she had managed to get down to the street, much less enter the carriage, without being detected, she would never know. Perhaps it was all those years of moving unobtrusively through life, all that practice in remaining unseen. Whatever the reason, she was here now, trying desperately to find the words she needed.
The carriage started off, the sudden jolt of it pulling on her already frayed nerves. She waited, watching him. He peered back, his eyes dark, gleaming like jet beads in the faint light. She cursed the shadows. While she had been happy enough to hide in them before, they hindered her ability to read his expression.
“Emily.”
The sound of his voice, so low, rumbling through the confines of the carriage with heartbreaking familiarity, sent a jolt of need tearing through her nerves. She nearly gasped from the pain of it. It told her more than anything that, no matter her wishes on the matter, no matter how she would harden her emotions against him, her heart still belonged fully and completely to him. The burn of anger returned then, fueling her outrage, giving voice to the jumbled thoughts crowding her brain.
“You have not treated me fairly, Malcolm,” she rasped.
“You are right.”
The admission took her aback. As she attempted to right her disarranged thoughts, the carriage made a turn and his face was fully illuminated in the moonlight.
For the first time since he entered the carriage, she could see his eyes. At the sight of them, she sucked in a sharp breath. Never had she seen such an expression, as if he were being burned from the inside out. There was pain and hope, tenderness and despair all wound tightly together like tangled threads. She had the sudden urge to go to him, to smooth her hand over his brow, to hold him close.
But no, she told herself firmly, she could not be soft now. She had to be stronger than she ever had been if she was to get through this.
“I was fine before you came along,” she began, her voice soft but growing stronger with each word. “I know you must have thought me a pathetic thing, frightened of my own shadow, with no hope for a future of my own. I know how you must have laughed at me, poor Lady Emily Masters and her ruined face and sad life.”
If anything, the fire behind his eyes blazed even hotter. “Don’t—” he started, his voice breaking.
She held up a hand in desperation, knowing if he stopped her she would never get the words out. “You may have thought that of me, but I was at least happy. Or, if not particularly happy, I was content.” She realized then with a sharp stab that she could never return to that life with even a semblance of happiness. She would forever be discontent with her lot, for she would always want him in it. The fury that had begun a slow burn in her flared hot for all she used to have, and all she had lost, and all she wanted now but would never have. In a burst of grief she reached across the space between them and, balling up her fist, hit him in the shoulder. Hard.
“How dare you,” she cried, sending her fists flying with each word. “How dare you make me love you. You have ruined my life!”
He sat still beneath her onslaught, taking every hit. Her words turned to sobs that broke over her in waves, stealing her words away. His arms came about her then, pulling her to his chest. For a second her spirit rallied and she struggled against his hold. But his arms were too strong, the pull of the comfort she could claim from them too potent. The anger drained from her, leaving heartache in its wake. She collapsed against his chest, spent, hating herself for her weakness.
For long minutes she lay exhausted and insensible, aware only of the warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart under her cheek. Soon, however, other truths began to intrude: the sway of the carriage, his breath stirring the hair at the top of her head, his voice rumbling beneath her ear. She forced herself to focus on his words.
“I’m so sorry. I cannot begin to say how sorry I am. If I could go back, to do it all again, I would.”
She struggled upright, pushing herself away from him. “Well, you cannot,” she rasped. She felt weary to her very bones. “I know you came to my brother’s home tonight to see me. But after what I witnessed at that ball, I think you can understand I would prefer it if you did not attempt to contact me again. Now, I have had my say, and so cannot have further reason to subject myself to your company. Please turn the carriage around and return me to my brother’s house.”
“No.”
Emily attempted to dredge up her outrage again at his effrontery. It was a pitiful thing at best. Exhausted almost beyond bearing, she looked him full in the eye and said, her voice broken, “Please, Malcolm. If you ever cared for me at all, you will leave me with my family and never try to see me again.”
“I will not because I cannot let you go without having my say as well.”
“You can have nothing to say to me that I have not already seen proof of in your actions.”
“My actions in the past were those of a fool.”
The harshness of his voice, the self-hatred that seemed to saturate it, took her aback. He must have taken her stunned silence for acquiescence, for he continued.
“When I first saw you again, what seems a lifetime ago on that first day at Willowhaven, I was a different man. There was nothing I wanted less than an emotional entanglement. I was more than happy to live the rest of my life with my heart cut off from the rest of humanity. In doing so, I need never worry that I would be betrayed again.”
Despite herself, Emily’s heart gave a twist at his words. Words that seemed as if they were being ripped from the very depths of his soul.
“But you did something to me from the first moment our eyes met.” His lips twisted ruefully. “You touched something inside me I thought long dead. Reawakened me to feelings I thought gone forever.”
He reached across the space separating them and took up her hand. His fingers were warm, surrounding her chill ones. Filling her with warmth. “You broke down every barrier I had erected,” he said gruffly, his gloved thumb rubbing over her knuckles. “And I am so very glad you did. You have given me a reason to live. And more joy than I have any right to.”
His words were wrapping around her heart, weaving and tangling until she feared she would never be able to free herself. Ah, but she wanted to believe him. More than anything in this world. With effort she thought of Lady Morley leaving him in the study at Willowhaven, both of them looking rumpled from an amorous embrace. And then tonight, of him with Lady Morley, the way his body had bent so intimately over her, the heated longing in that woman’s eyes. It mattered not that such a union could never be. What mattered were the feelings he no doubt still held for his former lover.
