Would it not have been easier to let her drown? No, that would have condemned her immortal soul. Better that she die pure and unsullied. Innocent.
Behind him, the sound of footsteps scurried closer. “She is burning up with a fever. I have been applying cold cloths to try and bring it down. I’ve put out the fire and opened the windows, Your Grace,” Molly whispered. “I don’t know what else to do...”
Julian nodded sharply. The curtains behind him were gusting in and out of the room with each breath of wind. A deep chill had fallen over the room, and yet Julian could almost feel the heat of Emily’s skin. He looked around the room, saw a chair, and brought it over to the bedside.
“I will stay with her. Go about your duties,” he ordered.
“I don’t mind, Your Grace…”
“Go!” Julian snapped.
Molly jumped and hurriedly curtsied her way out of the room.
When Julian was alone, he scraped the chair a few inches forward and leaned in closer. “I am sincerely sorry to have brought you to this, Emily,” he whispered. “How I wish our paths could have crossed in less… harrowing circumstances. That I had taken more care when I pulled you from the lake. You are too precious to deserve such a fate.”
At the sound of his voice, her eyelids fluttered, and she slightly craned her neck. Julian found himself gazing into pale, hazel eyes.
“Your Grace… I mean, Julian… You are here,” she murmured.
“I am. I am sorry that I forgot myself yesterday. It was unforgivable.”
Emily shook her head gently. “No… I am sorry for my reaction. You did not take advantage...”
Julian wondered if she was delirious. It did not seem the kind of thing a gentlewoman would say. But then he could not talk of such things, he had behaved like the worst barbarian rogue.
He shook his head in turn. “Your reaction was the correct one. When a man takes liberty with a woman, it is entirely correct for her to fight against him.”
“No. That was not why I fought,” Emily whispered, “…good lord but I am thirsty. May I?” Her voice was breathy now and her eyes drifted to a jug of cold tea beside the basin.
Julian quickly poured some into a glass and made to hand it to her before realizing the act was futile. Instead, he helped her raise her head before tilting the glass before her lips. She greedily gulped down the entire drink before letting her head fall back to the pillow with a gasp.
“I… I fought because of a memory. The memory of another man,” she muttered, her spirit slowly returning to her as she stared at the ceiling with a frown.
“Another man?” Julian asked, despite himself.
A stab of jealousy cut him to the quick, though he had no right to such emotions. He had no claim on this woman after all. He barely knew her. Part of the reason he was so drawn to her, he had no doubt, was his lack of romantic experience. It was difficult to kindle a romantic relationship when touch was denied, except through the barrier of gloves.
Emily opened her mouth to speak, and then clamped her hand over it, eyes going wide. Julian got the distinct impression that she had said more than she wanted to. Perhaps the fever had loosened her tongue. He knew that such things could happen, rendering a person loquacious as though they had imbibed too much alcohol.
“You do not have to say more,” he said, reassuringly.
“But I want to... Though I fear your… judgment.”
“There will be no judgment. I swear on my soul. I am the last to judge.” Julian smiled wryly.
“Why?” Emily asked.
She tilted her head to look at him and he could see the glazing over her eyes. She seemed to be struggling to focus. The illness was indeed progressing quickly. How long would it be before her heart gave out, as Samuel’s had done?
“I am cursed, as I have told you before,” Julian said gently.
“Oh, yes,” Emily whispered. “But is that of your own doing? I do not see how it could be.”
Julian smiled bitterly, folding his arms on the edge of the bed, leaning forward until his forehead was cradled on them.
“Who can tell how such things come about? There is a library in my father’s house at Windermere which might provide the answer. He never told me so, but the Black Library of the Lakes is famous as a repository of mystic apothecary and esoteric knowledge. Famed the world over.”
“Have you never researched it to discover its cause and source?” Emily asked.
