She straightens. “It’s only that after you and Miss Rosen…well,after, we were hoping to see a change around the house.”
“After.”
She arches a brow. “You weren’t exactly discreet, Mr. Walker. And certainly Miss Rosen made it clear she was enjoying herself.”
I should be chagrined or embarrassed at the way Callie addresses me and my private business, but instead I’m taken joltingly back to that night, to how irresistible and beautiful Emma was, to how astoundingly pleasurable it was. I thought if it ever happened, it would be duty, obligation. Stiff and miserable and humiliating.
But it wasn’t. It was fire and passion and delirious want. She didn’t just lie there and let me do what needed to be done. She embraced every instant of it. She gave herself to me. She touched me with lavish appreciation. She fucked me.
And God—it’s taken everything in me not to think about it, to relive it, every moment of every day. Because when we were done, the regret in her face was unmistakable. And can I blame her? She thinks I’m a monster, and I am. For a moment, I glimpsed a future of passion and—am I stupid enough to think it?—love.
An illusion, and nothing more.
“Miss Rosen may have enjoyed herself,” I say to Callie, “but in the end, what transpired was nothing but a duty.”
Callie shakes her head at me. “Is that what you think, Mr. Walker?”
“Do you have reason to believe otherwise?”
Callie hesitates, but seems to overcome her reluctance. “I see the way she looks at you, when you deign to remain in a room with her for more than a moment.”
“Callie—”
“Mr. Walker, I am fully aware it’s not my place to say so. But Miss Rosen has been with us quite some time now, and the staff has taken to her. I like to think that to some extent, Iknowher. But you treat the girl as though she disgusts you.”
Disgusts me?I sit up straighter. “Now, that was never my intention—”
“Intention or not, you ripped that girl from her world and put her in this one. And Iknowit’s not my place, sir, but she has adapted quite nicely, and apart from one lapse has been the perfectguest. Seeing you cause her pain—well, Mr. Walker, it makes me guess at the kind of man I’ve always thought you to be.”
I’m a bit shocked by this confession, and by Callie’s brazenness. But Emma inspires this, doesn’t she, everywhere she goes? “And what would you have me do, to make her life easier?”
“Well, Mr. Walker. I do have a few ideas.”
* * *
“I hoped you would take to it.”
Emma, kneeling in the garden in outdoor clothes, leaps up when she sees me. “Malcom. I mean…” Her freckled cheeks color, and she drops her eyes. Her soft brown waves dance in the sea breeze. She looks precious and domestic with a gardening hat, boots, and gloves on. She looks like she isn’t just staying at Rosehill—but that she is its mistress. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” I slowly begin walking the path, and after a moment, she follows.
“Are you going away again?”
“Not now.”
She nods, idly touching blooms as we go.
“You’ve been here a long time,” I say. “You seem to have found some…peace, if not happiness.”
Emma stops abruptly. I face her, finding her eyes bright and determined. “What is it? You’ve ignored me for a week. And after…” Her blush deepens and she averts her eyes. “If there’s something you require of me, be clear.”
“I wanted to apologize.”
“Oh.” She jolts, lifting her perplexed gaze to meet mine. “For…?”
“I’ve been cold.”
She nods, pressing her lips together. “I guess I thought—well, that that was going to be the nature of our relationship. After all, we’re nottogether.”
