The boy flinched.
Emmeline felt something protective and furious rise through her. “He understands more than you think.”
Rowan turned on her. “Do not encourage him to challenge me.”
“I am encouraging you to see him.”
“I see him perfectly.”
“No,” she said, the word tearing out of her. “You see danger. You see disrespect. You see everything except a child frightened that the people he loves are pulling away from one another.”
Rowan’s face went white.
Aaron looked between them, eyes wide, Biscuit pressing against his ankle as though even the puppy understood something had gone wrong.
Her vision blurred.
The heat rose first, sudden and sickening. Then the floor softened beneath her feet, the walls stretching too far away. Emmeline blinked, trying to steady herself.
“Emmeline?” Rowan’s voice changed at once.
There was real concern in it. How unfair that it should reach her now.
“I am…” she began, but the words slipped from her.
Her fingers opened. The gloves fell.
Aaron cried out.
The world tilted.
Rowan caught her before she struck the floor. She felt his arms close around her, hard and immediate, felt his body gather her against his chest. His voice sounded above her, roughened beyond recognition.
“Emmeline. Look at me.”
She tried.
His face hovered over hers, pale with fear, his gray eyes wide and unguarded. For one strange, floating second, all she could think was that this was the face he had tried so hard to hide from her.
Then he lifted her.
Her head fell against his shoulder as he carried her up the stairs, his heart pounding so violently beneath her cheek that even through the darkness gathering in her mind, she felt it.
“Send for the physician,” Rowan snapped, his voice shaking with command. “Now.”
Biscuit barked somewhere below. Aaron was crying. Juliet called her name.
But Emmeline heard only Rowan, felt only his arms, and then even he slipped away.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Do not close your eyes.” Rowan’s voice came out rougher than he intended, but Emmeline only stirred weakly against his shoulder as he carried her into her chamber, her head fallen against him, cheeks white as sheets.
He had never known fear could have a taste, but it was metal on his tongue, so sharp it made every breath feel like punishment.
“Emmeline,” he said again, lowering her carefully onto the bed. “Look at me.”
Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then finding him with an effort that seemed to cost her. Her lips parted, but no sound came.
