He didn’t know what to tell her without sounding patronizing. And so, he answered, “We’ll keep trying.” He took her hand in his as they walked along the edge of a stream. But as they continued in silence, he didn’t know what he could do to help her rebuild her courage.
He might not be alive within a few more months. Empty words and false reassurances wouldn’t change that. It was better to face what lay ahead with honesty. He had no idea how much time he had left.
But he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he wanted to spend the remainder of that time with Emma.
Chapter Eleven
Emma wished she’dnever confessed her true feelings. Although Cormac had tried to be kind, she didn’t want him to pity her. But she’d blurted out everything without thinking, and now she wished she’d said nothing at all.
After they arrived back at the cottage, the space had warmed from the peat fire. She removed her pelisse and set it aside. Her mood had grown somber, and she stared into the flames. She’d allowed her near-blindness to interfere with her life in the past. Instead of reaching for what she wanted, she’d remained in the shadows, letting others decide the course of her life. And now, she was letting the shadows win once again. It wasn’t who she wanted to be anymore.
The melancholy was a wave that threatened to drown her. But then, Cormac’s hands moved to the buttons of her gown. He stood behind her, and his mouth lowered to the soft place between her throat and shoulder.
A thousand shivers erupted over her body, and she felt his hands against her skin as he unfastened the buttons, one by one.
What purpose do I even have?She wanted—no,neededto change. Although Cormac might say that being his wife was purpose enough, she wanted more. She wanted to cast aside the woman she’d been, the woman who couldn’t manage any of the responsibilities of a countess. And somehow, she wanted to find a way to be Lady of Dunmeath. To be the woman no one thought she could become.
The thought was a single thread that spun through her mind. Was it even possible to earn their respect, to transform herself?
Her gown fell away, and her husband began unlacing her stays. She grew distracted by his touch, and soon enough, she stood only in her chemise. Emma turned to face him, and she removed his coat and waistcoat. He cupped her breasts, stroking her nipples through the thin linen, and the familiar warmth of desire flooded through her. She suddenly craved her husband’s touch.
And instead of remaining passive, she reached for him. She undressed him, lifting his shirt away, and traced the outline of his chest. Cormac had lost weight during the past few days, but she still loved touching him. Her heart softened, and she pushed away the emotions she didn’t want to face. Better to lock it all away and simply live in the moment right now.
She explored his skin with her hands, the familiar strength of his shoulders. When she drew her hands down his ribs toward his waist, she heard the catch of his breath. Then when she touched his arms, her fingertips grazed a slight scar on his right wrist.
“What happened to you here?” she asked, bringing the scar to her mouth.
He froze a moment and then told her, “It’s a scar from when I was a boy. I was beaten by my tutor almost every day.”
Her words startled her, and she asked, “Why? Why would your father allow such a thing?” Something in his demeanor made her realize that they were more alike than he knew. She took a breath and admitted, “My governess struck me, too.”
“I couldn’t read until I was nearly ten,” Cormac said. “I hated every moment of it. And every time the words got mixed up or I lost my place, my tutor struck me.”
She drew his wrist to her mouth and kissed the scar again. “But you did learn.”
“In time. With the right tutor who read me stories I wanted to hear.” He expelled a half-laugh. “He would always stop at the most exciting part and close the book. I got so angry that after he left, I tried to read it myself. I didn’t realize at the time that he was doing it for that very reason.”
Emma smiled. “My governess gave up on me, eventually.”
He leaned in to steal a kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “It’s sorry I am that you had to endure that,a stór.”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“You won’t need to worry about reading,” he said. “I’ve sent for Hawkins. If he agrees to come, he’ll handle your correspondence.”
“I wish I could manage it myself,” she confessed. “I knew coming to Ireland would be hard, but I didn’t realize how difficult it would be. I know nothing about how to command an estate, much less where everything is.”
“You don’t have to worry about any of it,” he said. He removed her chemise and guided her to sit on the bed while he knelt before her. “Be a countess or don’t. Get to know my household or leave them alone. It’s your choice.”
Beneath his words, she heard his hidden message—Because it won’t last.
And something within her grew angry that he would give up like this. All her life, she’d had to fight to do the things others took for granted. How could he expect her not to fight now?
“I’m going to find out what’s happening to you,” she swore. “And I’m going to find a way to stop it. I promise you that.”
He touched her chin softly. “If thereareany answers to be had.”
“Don’t ask me to stand aside and let you die.” Emma’s hands curled into his hair. “I won’t do it.”
