Emelisse’s burst of rage and terror was now fading into a burst of tears. She was still fighting him, but now weeping, and he could feel her struggles lessen. Still, he didn’t let go. He was afraid to. The side of his head was against the back of hers and he could feel her heaving in his embrace, her soft and warm body lurching with sobs. Had he not been so concerned with calming her, he would have realized that the woman in his arms was about the best thing he’d ever experienced.
He’d never known anything like it.
“I realize this situation has pushed you beyond your endurance,” he said in his deep, soothing voice. “But throwing yourself from the window is not the answer. Hawkstone still needs you, my lady. Would you abandon your home so easily?”
Emelisse was weeping pitifully in his arms. “You do not know how I feel,” she hissed. “You do not know me at all. Let me go or I will hate you until I die.”
Caius couldn’t help it; he grinned. “If I have anything to say about it, that will be many years in the future,” he said. “Hate me if you must, but throwing yourself from the window is the coward’s way out. And it seems to me that you are no coward.”
She continued to lay there, sobbing, until he could feel her soft body eventually relax against him. Had the circumstances not been so dire, he would have enjoyed it. Her hair, that mass of spun gold, was splayed against his chest, his shoulders, and part of his face.
Soft…
He dared to inhale of its scent, closing his eyes to the beauty of it.
But she suddenly came alive again, sensing perhaps that he had relaxed his hold, and tried to bolt out of his embrace. His arms clamped down on her like a vise and threw a leg over her, effectively trapping her for all time should he so choose. Realizing that, she stopped fighting, but her hands were on him, gripping him, and from the way she gripped him, Caius began to feel something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Fear.
He could feel her fear. It radiated from her like heat radiated from a fire. Unrestrained, consuming. Caius had never considered himself an empathetic man. Understanding, aye, but not empathetic. But with Emelisse, he was sensing things.
Feelingthem.
That neutrality he was trying so hard to maintain was tipping.
As he lay there with her trapped in his embrace, the door to the chamber opened and he heard a gasp. Craning his head over his shoulder, he could see Lady de Wrenville and Hallamstanding there, looking horrified. Hallam actually moved in his direction, perhaps thinking they’d come upon Caius molesting the lady, but Caius stopped him.
“I have not attacked the lady,” he said evenly. “I told her of the coming arrival of Marius and she tried to throw herself from the window. What I am doing, I am doing to save her life.”
Hallam’s eyes widened and Lady de Wrenville gasped again. In fact, she came around the twist of limbs and bodies on the floor so she could look at Emelisse from the front. She crouched down, her silk skirts billowing.
“My lady?” she asked, greatly concerned. “Is this true?”
Emelisse was weeping, her eyes closed and her head laying awkwardly on the floor. But her eyes opened to Lady de Wrenville’s question.
“Tell him to release me,” she grunted. “He has no right to prevent me from doing what I want to do. I will not marry your bastard stepson, Lady de Wrenville, and you cannot force me. None of you can force to do anything I do not wish to do.”
Lady de Wrenville’s expression washed with sorrow as she realized the desperation of the woman. “I am sorry, my lady,” she said. “I will speak to my husband. Surely there is another alternative.”
Emelisse’s head came up. “Tell him to send me home,” she begged, her lower lip trembling. “I want to go home. I want to take my father home and bury him next to my mother. Your husband did that, my lady– he killed my father and now he wants to kill me by marrying me to his son. He wants to kill my entire family and we have never done him any harm. Please… help me.”
Lady de Wrenville closed her eyes tightly, with great remorse, and put her hand on Emelisse’s head in a gesture of comfort, of apology, of understanding. There were a great many things rolling through Lady de Wrenville’s expression, notthe least of which was the fact that two months into a hellish marriage, she found herself in a dismal situation. She hadn’t started it, but she was part of it nonetheless.
“I will do what I can,” she whispered. “But you must promise me that you will not try to jump from the window again or I will have Sir Caius restrain you until this urge leaves you. Promise me, my lady. Please.”
Emelisse closed her eyes in response, the tears returning in a silent river that trickled down her temples, her face, and onto the floor. Realizing she wasn’t going to receive an answer, Lady de Wrenville watched Emelisse with great sorrow before turning her attention to Caius.
“I have brought food and drink,” she said softly. “Mayhap you can get her off the floor in time and see that she eats. It might make her feel better.”
Caius silently acknowledged her as the woman stood up, wearily, and made her way to the door. As Caius listened, he could hear her speaking with Hallam.
“Where is my husband?” she asked.
“In the hall, my lady,” Hallam replied. He hesitated before continuing. “It would be better to wait to speak with him. In fact, you should let me speak with him. He will be angry at you for interfering.”
“Dear Hallam,” Lady de Wrenville said quietly. “Thank you for your offer, but it is my army he wishes to use in this dastardly deed to destroy this woman’s home. I will speak with him.”
Caius didn’t hear anything more after that except footsteps as Lady de Wrenville left the chamber. He knew Hallam was still there and he called the man over.
