Page 56 of The Marquis' Game of Seduction
And yet, the truth of this felt stretched out between them, denying them both the other. What a ridiculous fact this was. Rose shivered.
But Rose’s words had caused the little girl in the room to lift her head. Her face twitched with curiosity when her eyes found Rose’s. But when they turned over to Colin’s, she sprung up and raced toward him. Her little string-bean arms wrapped around his thighs and she squealed, “You came to play! I knew you would.”
All the color drained from Colin’s face. He found Rose’s eyes for a moment. Then, he slid his hand across the little girl’s shining curls and lifted her beneath the armpits, making her squeal. He set her back in the center of the room, next to her toys. She stood up straight and drew back her shoulders. Then, her eyes darted back toward Rose.
With the air of a proper lady, the little girl said, “Good evening. My name is Emily. May I ask what you’re called?”
Then, she turned back toward Colin, as though she expected some kind of approval. He gave it, saying, “What remarkable manners. Thank you, Emily.”
“Emily, it’s good to meet you,” Rose said. She stepped a bit closer to the little girl. “My name is Rose.”
“Rose. That’s my favourite flower,” Emily breathed. “There’s an entire garden of them near the big house. Of course, they’re all quite dead now. But it’s my very favourite place to play—when I’m allowed.”
Colin leaned closer to the little girl and spoke softly. “Emily, you know that it’s quite late, don’t you?”
Emily batted her long lashes and said, “Colin, I don’t know what time it is. I know only that my doll wanted to play with me.”
Colin couldn’t suppress his smile. He beamed at Emily and then said, “Come on. Climb back in bed, Emily. You can take your doll with you. Doesn’t it seem like she’s growing more and more tired by the second?”
Emily considered this. Her eyes turned toward the doll in her arms. Still, Rose’s mind swirled with confusion. Who was this girl? Why was she there? And how was it that Colin could hardly speak with Duncan, yet found it easy to banter and play with her?
“Very well, Colin,” Emily said. She turned and bounded toward her beautifully decorated four-poster bed.
Colin walked toward her and helped her beneath the covers, then tucked her in tight. “Good night, little bean,” he said. He turned and walked back across the room, blowing out the candle as he went.
When he reached the door, he pressed his lips with his first finger and said, “Let’s go out the way we came. She needs her rest.”
Rose did as she was told, although she did, admittedly, half-resent this. She yearned to remain there, to pepper the little girl with questions. She didn’t yet trust Colin to deliver the truth.
Rose walked behind him, until they reached the little green door once more. He held it open for her and then they embarked into the winter chill of the yard between the tower and the gardens. Rose caught a few glimpses of Colin’s face just then—seemingly petrified, lost in thought. She had this feeling that he was struggling to find a way out of this, to cover it up with a lie. But there wasn’t a way around what she’d seen.
When they reached the back of the mansion, Colin drew open the door for Rose. She hustled in, rubbing her palms together. Her fingers ached with chill, ripe with pain. Before Rose knew what was happening, Colin wrapped his hands around her hands, warming them instantly. Her eyes held onto his.
After a long silence, Rose finally found her voice.
“Emily is a beautiful little girl,” she murmured.
Colin bowed his head. Still, his hands wrapped around hers. “It’s so difficult to explain.”
“I’m not tired,” Rose said. “In fact, I feel as though I could stay up all night listening. If you can find a way to tell the story.”
“I don’t want to do it here,” Colin said. He let out a low sigh.
“Perhaps in the study?” Rose asked.
“No. I’m quite tired of being in there. It’s become a prison of my own making. Come. If you don’t mind. My bedroom might suit.”
Anna had told Rose that Rose had actually been taken to Colin’s bedroom on the night of the accident. He’d removed her to avoid her own confusion, taking her to her own bed and her own bedroom. It was bizarre to Rose that she walked alongside Colin, her hand wrapped in his, back to this bed, this room she had no memory of.
When they reached it, Rose was surprised at its gorgeous detail: a four poster bed that seemed better-suited for a king, a thick oriental rug, a wardrobe that looked like it had been carved over two hundred years ago, with little animals tipped into the side. She inhaled softly, amazed at the grandeur.
Colin tugged her the rest of the way inside. He was clearly pleased at her reaction, although he didn’t say so. He closed the door and led her to the fireplace, which was nearly as regal as the one downstairs in the parlor, and gestured for her to sit. Rose did.
He gathered together a few logs for the fire and delicately placed them around the flickering flame, left over from a previous fire. Then, he added a bit of smaller kindler, allowing the fire to take off around it. The sound of crinkling was warm and inviting and nourishing to Rose’s soul.
He then poured himself a glass of scotch and perched across from her in a separate chair. Still, his knees were only a few inches from hers. She felt hungry to reach out and touch him. Instead, she brought her hands down toward the growing fire, flickering her fingers for warmth.
“It all started perhaps nine years ago,” Colin began.
