I’m in shock, thinking of me and Emmett last spring, all our careful planning. We were so foolish. “So, I never needed to beg you to run away with me?”
He lets out a sharp laugh. “I thought I was going to have to beg you.”
He reaches down and trails his fingertip over the gold-and-pearl ring I wear on my pointer finger. He once wore it on his pinkie, before gifting it to me during my season. At first, I treasured it as evidence of his affection, but in the months since, I haven’t dared to take it off for fear of angering him. I wear it on the same hand as my rose-cut engagement ring and gold wedding band.
The seed pearl set in the middle of the gold glows softly in the moonlight.
My stomach drops. It’s all I can do to stay here, still and listening, when I want to run from the room and vomit my guts up.
“You’re saying this is—” I can’t complete the sentence.
Bram nods, as reverent as I’ve ever seen him. “It’s the pearl from your necklace. We’ve been connected this whole time.”
Bram doesn’t wait for me to say anything further. His eyes drop closed and he leans in to kiss me. His cool hand rests on the soft side of my neck.
Unable to take it, I spring from bed.
“Why now?” I ask him.
“Because you are mine,” he answers simply.
“I—” I scramble for an excuse. “I have a headache. Another night, please.”
Bram rises smoothly from my bed and dresses swiftly and in silence.
He walks to my door, his face unreadable, then plants a dry kiss on my cheek.
He takes a step back and looks at me, his eyes narrowed. “Of course. Sleep well.”
He shuts the door behind him, and I stand there, frozen, my pulse racing like a jackrabbit’s.
I want to call for a bath or new sheets, but that wouldn’t be very practical, so I grab an ice-blue quilt from the window seat and lie down on top of my covers.
Everything, even my own skin, feels contaminated by him.
Minutes go by, but sleep does not come.
Then there’s a knock on my door, so soft I think I might have imagined it. But then it comes a second time.
I fear it’s Bram again. Will he believe I’m asleep if I just ignore it?
“Psst, it’s me, Emmett.”
I wrap the quilt around my shoulders and rise from bed.
He’s standing at my threshold, not in his nightclothes, like he usually is, but in a plain white shirt and dark breeches.
He looks worried. “Are you all right? I heard what you said when I knocked earlier.”
I wave him quickly into my room. The relief I feel at his presence rushes through me.
“Bram came for a visit,” I explain.
Emmett’s brows knit together. “What did he want?”
“He asked me to explain what love was to him like he was some sort of child and then he tried to kiss me.”
A look of alarm comes over his face.
