“I’m afraid I do not understand. Please, Julian, will you explain to me clearly? What has you so grieved for me? You saved my life and I will be eternally grateful for that. I do not understand why you act as though I am in my grave.”
Julian met her gaze and she saw both sorrow and strength in his eyes. She found the strength admirable, it made her like him. He was feeling some kind of terrible despair and yet he was facing it with head held high, refusing even to turn away from her.
Ester cleared her throat and stood. She faced Julian eye to eye, meeting his strength with her own, facing her fear and refusing to give in to it. For some reason, it was terribly important to her at that moment that she show Julian her mettle. This was a strong man, both physically and in character. Ester could see that clearly, as though it were written across his face. She wondered briefly why it should feel so crucial that he see the same quality in her. That he think well of her. This man had openly stated that he was holding her prisoner and offered no reason. Why should she care for his opinion?
“I do not understand but I will face whatever you believe is coming. I have faced adversity before and I have not acquitted myself. You do not know me and I will not have you think me a weakling that needs to be protected. Will you tell me, straight out with no dissembling, what it is you fear for me?”
Julian watched her thoughtfully for a moment. Molly’s weeping became louder and a flash of irritation crossed his face.
“Molly, please remove yourself from the room,” he snapped.
Molly ran, hiding her face in her hands. Julian’s face creased with remorse and he half turned as though to go after her. Teeth gritted, he turned back to Ester. This was a man with a sharp bark, but was his bite of equal measure? A quick temper perhaps. Julian raised his hands to either side, fingers spread. He sighed.
“I wear these gloves for a reason. I suffer an affliction that renders my touch lethal to all. A curse, if you will. When I pulled you from the water, my gloves were removed. I could not find you in that black mere without the sense of touch. Once touched by my bare hands, the curse is upon you. You will die, I fear.”
CHAPTER SIX
The dawn greeted Julian slowly. He had not slept all night. Could not sleep after his revelation to Emily the previous day. He had left Emily to sleep, not knowing if she would awake.
Part of him didn’t want to leave her. For the reason that he had inflicted this fate upon her and, therefore, had a duty to watch over her. Part of the reason was her unquestionable and astonishing beauty. Such thoughts paraded through his mind when in her presence. It left him out of sorts, snapping at Molly who surely had not deserved such treatment. His entire body was taut as a bowstring. He could not read, sleep, or think. Except for thoughts of her. He stared broodingly from the window of his room which looked out over Epping Forest. There seemed no end to the trees, they reached the horizon, a green sea. It suited him. He could pretend the world did not exist.
Emily’s reaction had been understandable. She had been disbelieving and seemed horrified in no small part. Who wouldn’t be? He had told her that she was doomed to die, cursedby the very hands that had dragged her from the icy waters of the lake. She had looked at him as though thinking him a madman. He hoped that the seriousness of his expression had helped him.
But as the sky brightened and bird song filled the room, he knew that he had to see if the curse had worked its dark magic. And if not, then he must face his victim once more.
The idea excited him even as it repulsed him. He did not want to see such perfection, knowing that he had condemned her. How long had it taken for his brother to succumb? A matter of hours. Julian had never dared test the curse again. He had no right simply to satisfy his curiosity. On the night of Samuel’s death, Julian had made a resolution never to touch another living thing. Years of growing up under the care of Doctor Hakesmere and his family in the Cumbrian hills had not changed that.
He held up his hands before him, turning them over, examining the pale skin that rarely saw the light of day.
Albert Hakesmere and his wife Elsbet had tried to persuade their young ward that the curse was nonsense. They had not forced him to the proof. They could have forcibly removed his gloves and placed his hands upon them. But they had been kind people and had stopped short of this.
To Julian, it was proof positive that their words were intended to comfort only. He had just lost his brother and been rejected by his father, cast out of Windermere, and disowned.
But their reassurances had been no more than empty words. They knew the truth in their hearts and so did Julian.
With a sigh, he picked up the black leather gloves that he had come to despise and pulled them on. He stood, straightening his waistcoat. Turning from the window, he went into his dressing room where Crammond had left a coat for him to wear, hanging on a wooden stand to avoid creasing the garment. It was supposed to be black but Julian thought he detected the deepest shade of blue.
That made him smile. Crammond thought that his master was surrounded by too much darkness and tried to bring some color into his life, by stealth if need be.
Suitably attired, he paused before the full-length mirror to check his appearance. Ordinarily, he would breakfast with a chin dark from stubble and hair a tangled mane falling from his temples to his shoulders. Hanging from a corner of the mirror, he saw the leather cord, another sign of Crammond’s touch. Picking it up, he used it to tie back his long hair. The early beard growth that stained the lower half of his face could wait. As Julian walked the lonely, echoing halls of Theydon Mount, heading for the breakfast room, he experienced a curious mixture of trepidation and anticipation. He wanted to see her but dreaded seeing her at the same time. At the door to the room, he hesitated, hand lifted to touch the handle.
The act of hesitation made him angry. He turned the handle and strode into the room, determined to face his responsibilities come what may.
Emily was seated at the large, round breakfast table, situated in the east-facing bay window. Sunlight spilled across the table which was laden with food. He halted as she glanced up from a cup of tea. Her eyes, now that he saw them in the cold light of day, were a pale hazel. Her hair fell in curls to her shoulders, a cascade of dark fire. Did she look pale beyond what would be normal? There did seem to be a hint of pallor in her complexion which struck Julian with dismay. It reinforced his fears.
“Good morning, Emily,” he said formally.
As she made to stand, he waved her back to her seat.
“No need for that,” he said, taking his own seat opposite her.
“Good morning to you, Julian,” Emily replied.
Julian experienced a momentary frisson at the sound of his name on her lips. His eyes were drawn to those lips. They were full and feminine, the lower slightly more shapely than the upper, giving her a pouting expression. Combined with those bright, expressive eyes, it did not seem petulant, as it would in some. Merely maddeningly seductive and alluring. It made Julian think of the fact that he had pressed his lips to hers, had touched those soft, lovely lips. He found himself regretting that it had been to deliver the breath of life and not to kiss.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, trying to keep anxiety from his voice.
“As though a cold is developing. But a minor one,” Emily admitted.
