Chapter Thirteen
Never had anything felt so right, Raff thought, as he nuzzled Lady Emily's hair, inhaling her intoxicating scent. She smelled like a garden after the rain; sweet, fresh, and lush; if Raff could have bottled her scent, he would, for it was more relaxing than laudanum.
In his arms, he felt her stir a little, and he tightened his arms around her, not willing—just yet—to let her go. There was something so soothing about the way he could feel her heart beating; a steady, even rhythm, that had helped his own heart to slow its galloping pace.
Thank goodness she had seen him, he thought, for he had been near collapse when she had reached out her hand to him. Her touch had anchored him, had gifted him the strength to take those final steps, and now it acted as a balm, soothing his frayed nerves.
He felt her sigh, a sad sound, like a lost kitten, and he looked down. Lady Emily's head was rested against his chest and on her porcelain cheek, he saw the glimmer of a tear.
"Don't cry," he whispered, lifting a hand so he could gently brush the tear away.
"I'm not crying," she protested, making to pull away from him, but his other hand still gripped her waist, and he wasn't letting go.
"What happened?" she asked, after a pause, turning her green eyes up to look at him, "I thought you were going to die for a moment."
"As did I," Raff conceded with a rueful smile, "T'was nothing, just a..."
"A...?" Emily asked persistently, her brow furrowed in an anxious frown.
"Since I returned from the war," Raff began, thinking that to explain he ought to start from the beginning, "I have suffered from strange attacks, which leave me feeling as though I cannot breathe. It mostly happens at night; I wake up from nightmares about battles, covered in sweat and struggling to catch my breath—but sometimes, a crowded place can set me off."
"You shouldn't have come tonight," Ava gently chided him, "If this is what happens—no ball is worth that."
"I wanted to—" Raff said, then paused. How could he admit that he had come for her, just to catch a glimpse of her? He let his sentence hang unfinished in the air, and instead, he pulled her closer to him again.
"You feel as though you belong in my arms," he said after a pause, giving her a sad smile, "Even though I know that you don't want it, it feels right."
"I know."