Page 58 of Emma & Edmund

"Oh posh, dear sister!" Jonathan patted William hard on the back. "You are accompanied by two of the finest men in England, what is there to worry about?"

"I seem to remember both of you fine men being in attendance for the first disaster," Emma retorted, staring into her brother's eyes, smugness oozing out of them, "and I was lost for two days. I do not want to imagine the cost of a second attempt."

"Onlynearlytwo days," Jonathon countered.

With a fresh, thinly veiled threat of a response already formed in her mind, Emma had only just barely parted her lips before her view was filled with raspberry, the color of William's coat.

Stepping between the squabbling siblings, he grasped either side of her shawl and drew it closely around her shoulders. Her heart quickened so loudly she was certain he could hear it. Smiling stiffly at him, Emma refused the urge to bat his hands away.

"Now now, Thompsons, let's not fight. When will there be a chance to have such an adventure again?”

Retort after retort rumbled through Emma's mind, but only the sheerest of will kept them at bay. Despite her objections, William was right. When again would she have the opportunity to spend this quality time with a suiter who isclearlythe best for her? The fact that the plan wasn't exactly comfortable shouldn't matter.

She kept telling herself it didn't matter when the small group began their foray into the trees, the house disappearing quickly behind them.

She kept silent as the path round farther and farther down the same ravine she fell in. For a brief moment, she wondered where the cabin was amongst the branches and leaves, only knowing where the equally twirling path from it ended on the Belmont lawn, not knowing if all roads led to Edmund.

She even kept silent as they passed through the same grove for a third time.

Before she knew it, the sun had long since dipped from its noontime height.

"William, dear boy," Jonathan stopped along the path, fists on his hips. "I do believe we are lost."

"Well, I was hoping you knew the way."

"How on God's green Earth would I know the way?" Jonathan's appall echoed through the trees.

Emma, caught somewhere between a scream of annoyance and vindication, bit her tongue hard enough to taste copper. She knew these woods held nothing good for the trio, but repeating so now would help no one.

Instead, she stuck close to a particularly broad tree trunk, a scowl pulling at her lips as she peered at the two men up the path, consulting each other on the best course of action. Although too far away to hear the specifics, it was clear an argument was forming.

"Quite the sight for sore eyes."

Emma almost yelped aloud, barely managing to keep it at bay with two hands slapped to her mouth. A chuckle came from just hind her shoulder, but Emma was already glaring at the speaker before the laugh came.

"What in God's name are you doing here?"

Not more than two arm lengths away, Edmund Lockhart had saddled himself closely to a particularly large trunk just off the dirt path.

Positioned perfectly to be exposed to her yet remain concealed from the men further along the way, his casual wide-necked shirt tucked into simple brown britches fluttered in the wind. Wrapped up in her coat and shawl as she was, the weather demanded he should be freezing to death, but there wasn't a single bump or shiver to be seen.

"I could ask you the same thing," he drawled, fiddling with something hidden between his fingers. With the flick of a thumb, a sliver of a woodchip fell from them, landing softly in the grass.

Casually whittling, as if his potential doom didn't lie just within earshot. Out of every soul she knew, William Tate would be the last person she would trust with the knowledge of Edmund.

"You're absolutely insane, what if they see you?"

She chose not to wonder about the deep, burning feeling ignited in her gut at Edmund's low chuckle.

"I have very little to fear in that regard, I think. Being discovered by those two? Bah!" He flicked out a hand in dismissal, the small knife catching the sunlight as he did so.

Studying him from the corner of her eye, she had to admit he had reason to believe himself. From head to toe, he did blend well with the colors of the woods. She could see - if he so chose - the browns and greens surrounding them would be natural camouflage.

"Do you often whittle in the woods?" Emma folded her arms over her chest, warding off the ever-increasing chill of late afternoon.

"There's little else to do when you're barred from your own home," he answered, chipping another piece off the block before nodding to the two men in the distance. "Are they with you?"

"Indeed," Emma sighed with resignation, "my brother is the one in blue."

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