“Weak,” he admitted. “But a little better.”
He walked alongside Emma, noticing her slight awkwardness around the servants. Even as they asked her where to put the hampers, she seemed uncomfortable giving orders. But he said nothing and let her continue.
Throughout the short carriage ride to the cottage, he studied his wife. Her dark hair was pulled up, and she wore a green morning gown. He hadn’t seen this one before, but it was plain and serviceable. Her face was pale, her eyes lined with such weariness, he wondered how much she had endured during the past few days.
The last thing he wanted was for her to be his nursemaid while he lay dying. It wasn’t fair to ask that of her. Although he knew she wanted to find reasons for his illness, he hated the fact that he could not control his body’s weaknesses.
After half an hour of traveling, the carriage stopped in front of the cottage. Cormac helped Emma out while the footmen unloaded their food into the tiny dwelling. The leaves were beginning to fall to the ground, and the air was so chilly, he could see his breath. Cormac studied the thatched roof, wondering if the weather truly would remain fine or whether they would find themselves huddled together during a downpour. And despite the sunshine, it was indeed quite cool, even when he followed his wife inside.
One of the footmen built a peat fire in the hearth, and Emma thanked him before she went to stand by it. Then, a few moments later, they were alone.
She was rubbing her arms, and the expression on her face held nervousness. Though it had been only days since she’d shared his bed, something between them had changed. His wife almost seemed uneasy.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
She shook her head. But neither did she offer conversation. It was almost as if she was starting to doubt the plans she’d made, and he wanted to set her at ease.
“Are you regretting your decision to kidnap me?” he teased. “Should I call the coachman back?”
That earned him a smile at least. “No. I just... suddenly feel uncertain. And I don’t even know why.”
He decided to offer a distraction. “Do you want to take a walk?”
She gave him a grateful smile. “That would be nice. But it’s colder than I thought it would be. Let me get my pelisse from the trunk. And will you be warm enough in your coat?”
He gave a nod. After she finished buttoning up the wool, he led her to walk outside, resting his hand against her spine. “Are you nervous around me, Emma?”
Her face turned crimson, but she put her arm in his. “No, not really. It’s just that... I—I’m not very good at kidnapping, I suppose.”
That wasn’t the reason at all, but it didn’t seem that she was ready to share whatever was bothering her. He decided to bide his time and wait for the answers.
They started walking along a woodland path. Old leaves crunched beneath their feet, and he admired the reds and yellows of the ones that were on the trees. It occurred to him that, although she had arranged this time together, she might mistakenly believe that lovemaking was all he wanted from her. He’d been honest in his desire for an heir, and though he’d been disappointed that their first efforts hadn’t worked, it wasn’t the only thing between them.
“I enjoyed our time together when we were by the sea,” he said.
“So did I.”
He slid his arm around her waist. “And it will be the same here. Unless it rains through the roof, perhaps.”
That coaxed a slight smile at least. “That would make this week less comfortable, I agree.” She leaned against him, but a moment later, her smile faded, replaced by an emotion that knotted her face.
“Emma, tell me what you’re thinking. For someone who went to a lot of trouble to plan this kidnapping, you seem as if you have regrets.”
She slowed her pace and said, “No, that’s not true. I did want to spend this time with you.”
“Then why are you so upset? Have I done something to make you angry?”
“No.” But she pulled her hand from his arm and stopped walking. “It’s just that... whenever I think about you becoming ill, it terrifies me.” Before he could try to soothe her fears with words, she added, “I’m afraid of losing you. You nearly died a few days ago. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”
He stopped walking and reached out to trace the outline of her face. “I never wanted you to see me like that.”
“I know. But I need to do something, to help you fight this. And this was the only thing I could think of. Spending time alone with you.” She covered his hand with her own. “I know my duty is to bear you a son. I know that’s why you married me. But if I can’t give you that, and if you die...”
Her words broke off, and he saw her tears slide down her cheeks. “That’s not the only reason I married you, Emma.”
He leaned in to kiss her, and she answered it, wrapping her arms around him. He pulled her body to fit against his, soothing her with his mouth. But when he ended the kiss, Emma stared back at him. “There’s also something else bothering me.”
He waited for her to continue and stroked her spine. She took a deep breath and added, “I don’t like the person I’m becoming around your mother. Helpless. Unable to do the things I need to do.” She closed her eyes, taking a breath. “I know you say that she can help me with my duties or the other servants can—but I hate it that I cannot be the countess you need. And if I cannot give you a child, what purpose do I even have?”
