Emma itched to say something, but she worried that anything she said would only make this first meeting even worse. Better to hold her silence until later.
“We’ve been traveling for a long while,” Cormac said. “I think it’s best if I take Emma to our room to rest. We’ll see you at supper time.”
He escorted her away from his family, and Emma added, “It was nice meeting you.”
Her husband’s hand tightened upon her waist, and she knew he wanted nothing more than to escape. She wanted to say something to him, but he was walking too quickly.
“Seventeen steps and maybe thirty stairs,” he muttered beneath his breath. She was grateful that he continued estimating the distance for her sake. And when they reached the foot of the staircase, he guided her hand to the banister and walked beside her while she counted the remaining steps.
“Thirty-two,” she corrected. “A good guess.”
He didn’t answer, and she took his arm as he escorted her down another hallway. Beneath her hand, she could feel his tension and the unspoken anger. “Are you all right, Cormac?”
He took a deep breath. “I never imagined she wouldn’t want to see me. It wasn’t at all what I expected.”
“She sounded overprotective,” Emma responded. Beneath the woman’s words, there had been a strong note of worry. And she suspected that he’d neglected to tell his mother he’d been searching for a wife. “I suppose you never wrote to her to tell her about our marriage.”
“No, I didn’t.” There was a heaviness to his voice, and she couldn’t tell if he’d avoided the news on purpose. “I’m sorry she didn’t welcome you the way she should have.”
“I imagine our arrival was a surprise,” Emma answered. But she couldn’t deny her discomfort that Lady Dunmeath wouldn’t even speak to her. She’d always been uneasy about coming to Ireland, but now there was not only the challenge of behaving like a countess but also gaining his mother’s approval.
Every fear she’d pushed back during these weeks seemed to return. She still didn’t know what her responsibilities would be. Nor did she know anyone here, save Cormac. Part of her wanted to simply ignore this new life and isolate herself. It was clear that no one had been expecting him to marry. And the thought of being countess of such a vast household overwhelmed her.
But a voice inside her warned that it wasn’t right to give up without a single attempt. She could dosomethings, even if it wasn’t everything. She had to try, and she believed that Cormac would help her if she asked. Already they were friends, so he would want her to succeed. And if she somehow managed to be the wife he needed her to be, perhaps their marriage might shift into something more. Which was a secret hope she didn’t dare to voice or even fully imagine.
Cormac had made her promise not to fall in love. And yet, with every day at his side, she found another reason to smile or laugh. He’d given her so much—not only saving her father, but perhaps even savingherfrom the life she’d known.
If he died...
Emma closed her eyes, pushing back the thought. No. She couldn’t think of that right now or else she might start crying.
Instead, she would focus on the task at hand and ask him for assistance. “Now that I’m here, I’m going to need your help,” she confessed. “As your countess, I want to manage the household. If you could—”
“No,” he cut her off gently. “That’s not what I want. I wouldn’t ask that of you.”
His words caught her like an invisible blow she hadn’t been expecting. Although he probably thought he was easing her burden, instead it suggested that he didn’t think she was capable. It was the first time he’d refused to help her—and she hid the hurt it caused.
Confusion caught up within her while she walked alongside him to their room, and she ventured again. “Cormac, I really do want to try.” She needed to learn what was expected of her and the sooner, the better.
“It’s not necessary,” was his answer.
She didn’t understand why he would try to keep her from learning how to be his countess. It wasn’t like him at all. Cormac had always been supportive of teaching her. Whether it was dancing or archery, he’d never treated her as if she were helpless. But now that she was at his home, she wondered if all that was about to change. Already she could see him behaving like a different man, and the thought troubled her.
After twelve more steps, he opened the door to their bedchamber. The drapes were drawn, and sunlight filled the room with bright patches and shadows. The hearth was cold, but there was a coal hod nearby. The air smelled faintly stale, as if no one had opened the room in many months.
“Do you wish we hadn’t returned?” she asked. “Should we have stayed in London a little longer?”
“I would have preferred staying by the sea,” he admitted. “I enjoyed our holiday there together.”
She had to agree. During the past week, her new husband had drawn her into the center of his life. He’d made love to her at night as if he couldn’t get enough. He’d worshipped her body, giving her such fierce pleasure until she no longer knew where his body left off and hers began.
But a darker fear made her wonder if that had become her only role now. To share his bed and give him an heir—nothing more.
“I’ve duties to attend at Dunmeath that I’ve neglected,” he continued. “I won’t be able to spend as much time with you as I’d like.”
“I understand.” But she could tell that he was shouldering the burden alone. He likely didn’t have time to read ledgers to her or explain how to run the estate. Whether he knew it or not, she could feel the distance widening between them.
After a pause, he added, “I’ll arrange for you to meet the staff later when you’ve had the chance to rest.”
