Page 117 of Wicked Designs
Emily’s long lashes fanned as she squeezed his hand.She gave a weak smile. Godric choked back a sob, ghostly reflections of her own pain shimmered in his eyes.
“What happened?” She fought to sit up. Pain radiated into every point of her being, but the pain proved her life—her presence.
“You don’t remember?” He squeezed her hand back. Godric sat on the edge of her bed.
“Stairs. I remember stairs?”
Godric’s eyes shut at this.
“You fell.”
Emily squeezed his hand again, unable to do more to comfort him. “And after?”
Godric looked at her and tucked a loose coil of her hair back behind her ear.
“Blankenship killed that other man, and then I killed Blankenship.”
Emily breathed a sigh of relief, only to wince from the pain. She was free of the dark specter of Blankenship forever.
“Was anyone else hurt?”
“Cedric got a broken nose, and a gash in his arm, but he’ll mend. He’s more upset he can’t ride or hunt for the next month.” Godric chuckled.
Emily’s shoulders sagged. She hadn’t realized she’d been so tense.
“Emily, I had my solicitor look into the matter of your inheritance. There is the possibility that if you reached out to the trustee there might be a way to get your father’s inheritance without marriage.”
Emily bit her bottom lip. What did this mean? Didhe want her to be free, or be free of her? In the darkness of her pain after she fell, she thought she heard him speak—declare his love. Had that been nothing more than a dying woman’s dream?
Godric began again uncertainly. “Emily, I know you won’t marry me. I know that. But I can’t live one more day without you. All I ask is that wherever you go, whatever you do, let me come with you. We can travel the world. Whatever you want, it will be yours. I just wish to be with you.” Godric moved closer, tightly clenching her hands. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”
“You would give up your place here?” she asked.
“Emily, for you I’d give up my soul.”
“What if I want your heart?”
“It’s already been stolen. You, my dear, are the better kidnapper.”
Godric openedthe bedroom door to find five chairs stationed in a semicircle outside, occupied by his friends and brother. They sat up as he stepped out into the hall.
“How is she?” asked Charles.
Godric shut the door behind him. “She woke for a few minutes but she’s asleep again. Ash, can you track down the bishop?” His words turned the men’s mood from relieved to anxious before he continued. “And see if we can still arrange for a ceremony in St. George’s? She’s agreed to marry me!”
His friends and brother all jumped up from theirchairs, shouting and cheering, slapping him on the back. A month ago, a marriage among them would have seemed to be a death sentence, but this was the best news they’d ever had. Emily Parr would be a part of their lives now, and not one man would have it otherwise.
Horatia came out into the hallway, with a tray of food. None of them had eaten or slept before now. “You’ll be waking the dead with your racket,” she said with a disapproving glare.
“Congratulations. I knew you’d be the first to get leg shackled!” Charles joked.
What a fool he’d been. Love had found him, saved him, and he would never let her go.
“Well, don’t just stand there, gentleman!” Horatia snapped at the men loitering about around her. “We have a wedding to plan! Ashton, you will arrange the church and the bishop. I’ll see to Emily’s wedding gown. Charles and Lucien, you must both get all of the families here for this. I want St. George’s filled with our loved ones. Jonathan, you ought to go and fetch Penelope, as Emily misses her terribly.
“Cedric, you will make sure Emily’s uncle gives his consent to the match. If he’s very nice about it, you can even invite him.” Horatia shooed the men away from the door so they wouldn’t wake Emily.
Cedric looked confused as they left. “When did she become in charge?”
