James stepped forward and gathered her into his arms to hold her close. Her body trembled in his arms and he held her tighter, wishing he could take away whatever fear she had experienced.
“Emma,” he whispered against her hair. “I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head as she drew away from him. Out of his arms, taking her warmth with her, leaving him cold as she stepped back, back and away from him.
“I’m—I’m fine,” she said, metering her tone so that she no longer showed him all her emotions. “He was drunk and angry and…driven to punish us both for breaking whatever promise my father made to him.” Her hands shook and she balled them up at her sides. “Thank you for saving me.”
“It is my job to save you,” he said. “My greatest duty as your husband will be to protect you from all harm. I should have guessed Sir Archibald might be so foolish as to threaten you. I will never allow that to happen again, Emma. Once we are married I will ensure you are protected at all times.”
He expected her to smile at that claim. Perhaps even return to his arms for a kiss. But her face remained taut with dark emotion and pale as paper. She dropped her chin, refusing to hold his gaze.
“James,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I-I appreciate your desire to protect me. I do. But something has become very clear to me today.”
He wrinkled his brow. “Clear? And what is that?”
“I can’t marry you, James. I-I don’t want to.”
The words Emma had just forced from her trembling lips were the most difficult she had ever said, made even more difficult by James’s overwhelming presence in the tight space of the stable stall. He had swept in to rescue her, and it would be so easy to allow him to cradle and protect her forever.
But she wanted more than that. More from him. Not getting it would only result in ruin and despair in the future.
“Have you struck your head, Emma?” he asked at last, his tone filled with incredulity.
“Of course not.”
“Then what in the world can you mean that you don’t want to marry me?” he asked, his tone tense as a wire stretched to the breaking point.
The part of her that had always stood along the wall, the part of her that had lived in fear from the time she was old enough to know her father could ruin her, wanted to apologize to James. To bend to his will and say she was mistaken and step into the future of his design.
But there was another part of her now. A part that recognized her own worth. Ironically, it was a part that James, himself, had helped her find. And this was the part that told her to walk away from him.
“I saw you,” she said softly.
He swallowed hard. “Saw me?” he repeated.
She forced her gaze to lock with his and held there. “I saw you on the terrace. With Lady Montague.”
She expected him to react with shock and then to deny her claim. That was what her father would have done. Hell,haddone a dozen times or more, when her mother confronted him about his affairs over the years. Emma had witnessed those horrible rows. Her mother crying, her father offended at the accusations. Eventually her mother would capitulate. Eventually he would leave again.
It was a never-ending cycle.
Only James didn’t look shocked by her accusation, only grim. And to her surprise, he nodded. “I thought you might have seen us. Grimble said you went out to the terrace to find me and left the house shortly thereafter.”
She clenched her jaw. “I saw you talking.Flirting.”
He shook his head slowly, the denial she had been waiting for at last finding his lips. “I assure you, I was not flirting with Lady Montague.”
Anger swelled in her, hurt and betrayal that she knew she didn’t deserve to feel. James didn’t love her. He had never vowed that he did, nor that he would be faithful. Most men of his ilk were not.
But she still wanted that from him, foolish as she was. At the least, she wanted honesty from him.
“Isawit,” she repeated, her voice rising. “And I recognize it for what it is, James—don’t pretend I’m a fool. I watched my father play those same games all my life.”
“I am not your father,” he said softly, but there was no gentleness in his tone.
“Well, I have no wish to be my mother,” she snapped back. “Loving you and forgiving every lie you tell, like a fool.”
“I’m not your father,” he repeated, his tone harsher than even before. But then his face changed and he stared at her. “Did you just say you loved me?”
