by Rose Gordon
“Emma?”
Her eyes flew to Marcus and she blushed fiercely. “Oh, sorry, I forgot you were still here.”
“I don't give a hang that you were discussing personal bathing in my presence,” he said. “I just wanted to offer a solution.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. What solution could he possibly offer? He wasn't a woman. He didn't have long hair to wash or a gown to get into. When he still hadn't shared his ill-suited solution, she asked, “Yes?”
“Stay here. If you stay here, you'll have an extra hour.”
Her eyes couldn't decide whether to blink at him or go wide and bulge out. In the end, they did a bit of both. “I can't stay here,” she burst out. “That is most improper. Everyone will think I'm a...a...strumpet.”
“Who exactly is everyone?” Marcus placed a throw pillow behind his head.
Her mind raced and she couldn't think. “Umm...Caroline. I'm supposed to be staying with her. She'll know I'm staying here. And don't forget Alex.” Her eyes grew larger. “All their guests will know, too.” She shook her head wildly. “I cannot have it so widely known that I've even been here so long without a proper chaperone as it is.” Panic filled her as she started thinking of all the guests at Caroline's party who had likely already arrived and might already be speculating on what she was doing. “I need to go. I'll be back in the morning before Drake drops his daughters off, I promise.” She snatched up her reticule and started for the door.
“Emma!” Marcus grunted as he pushed to a standing position and hobbled across the room. “Stop running,” he ground out as she flew down the hall. He was following her as fast as his leg would allow, which was surprisingly quick considering how pronounced his limp was.
“No, I really must be going,” she said over her shoulder, not slowing her pace.
“Emmaline Green, stop.” Marcus reached for her wrist. “You're not going anywhere. I doubt Caroline or Alex are going to care you've been gone so long. As for you continuing your stay at Ridge Water, I'll send them a discreet note letting them know you'll be acting as a temporary governess for Patrick's daughters. Don't worry, I'll conveniently leave off where you'll be staying, and naturally they'll assume you've gone to stay at Briar Creek. Will that suffice?”
She swallowed. “But what of all their guests?”
“Emma, since when have you ever cared what others thought of you?”
Inclining her chin, she said, “Since I accepted the post as governess to Drake's daughters. It might hurt my employment if everyone thinks I'm a fallen woman.” That was a lie. She'd started to care what others thought about her a split-second after Gregory had accused her of having inappropriate relations with Marcus, not that she'd ever tell Marcus that.
Marcus nodded. “I understand that. But nobody is going to know, I promise. I’ll send a discreet note to Watson Estate.” His voice softened to a near whisper. “Surely you know Caroline and Alex are not going to tell their guests where you're staying or what you're doing. Caroline cares too much about you to do that.”
“I know that,” she admitted. Caroline would never do anything to intentionally shame or embarrass anybody.
“Then who are you afraid of finding out? Her guests? By my guess, they’re all Alex’s cousins, which means you have nothing to worry about. That bunch is as scandalous as they come. And it’s not as if any of them are planning a trip here, so they’ll never know.”
“I know that, too,” she said, shifting her gaze. “But Drake will know I stayed here, and he’ll terminate my employment on the spot when he realizes I stayed the night alone with you.”
“No, he won’t,” Marcus said flippantly. “When he gets here tomorrow, he’s going to be so relieved to get those girls off his hands; he’s not going to want to sit around for tea and chitchat. He’s going to leave, and the last thing on his mind will be where you spent the night.”
She stared at him. Actually, staying here might be a good idea, after all. At least if she was here, she’d have a valid reason not to be attending any of the games, dinners, or other nonsense Caroline had planned. Nor would she have to have an uncomfortable conversation explaining where she was going and why if she were caught sneaking out of Watson Estate in the morning. Not to mention, and perhaps this was the most compelling reason, she’d get to spend time with the man she loved. “But I brought nothing with me,” she protested weakly.
A hint of a smile bent his lips. “And what exactly do you have over at Alex and Caroline’s that is so important you can’t live a day without it?”
Emma lowered her lashes and looked at the floor. There wasn’t anything at Watson Estate she couldn’t live the rest of her life without. The only things Louise had tossed into her reticule were miscellaneous vanity items and a few books. Fortunately, she’d always kept what she considered to be her most prized possessions in her reticule anyway. “I suppose I’ll stay.”
“Excellent. The bedchamber next to the one Caroline used to occupy is vacant and aired. I’ll go see if I can find you a brush and comb.” He turned to walk away before she could form another protest.
***
Marcus shook his head as he walked down the hall. This was proving to be more difficult than he originally thought. He'd known she was stubborn, but she seemed to be fighting him more now than ever before. He stepped into his study. In anticipation of Emma's stay at Ridge Water, he'd instructed one of the footmen to go up to the attic and bring down his grandmother's trunk. The clothes inside would be well out of fashion, but he knew a silver brush and comb set was also stored in that chest. He'd always kept it hidden away from Mother and Olivia. Who knew what they'd do with the contents if they knew how valuable they were.
He lifted the lid and pulled out a ball gown that had diamonds sewn into the netting overlay. Carefully, he laid it across an empty chair and pulled out the matching diamond encrusted slippers. Just one slipper alone was worth a small fortune. He dug deeper into the trunk to where he knew the vanity items had to be. He pulled out a silver brush and comb and placed them side by side on his desk, then turned his attention back to the inside of the chest.
Looking down, his eyes caught on the reflection of his face in the bottom of the trunk. He flinched and jerked his eyes away before pulling out the hand mirror that had so brutally shown him his mien. He knew what he looked like. His fingers told him when he touched his face. His skin reminded him when he used any of the muscles in his face to smile or laugh or frown or sneer or scowl or make any other facial expression. The tight skin would pull and he was once again reminded of his folly. He didn't need a mirror to tell him, and had long ago gotten rid of any and all of those dreaded objects in his path.
He set the offending mirror next to where the brush and comb were already resting on his desk before returning his eyes to the inside of the chest and searching for anything else Emma might like. He could have gone down the hall and borrowed the items from where his mother had kept extras for forgetful guests, but for a reason he couldn't explain, he didn't think community vanity items were good enough for Emma. To his mind, she deserved only the best, and he would make sure she had it.
Marcus found a few hair combs and set them aside. Down at the bottom was a little wooden box wrapped in what appeared to be a deteriorating chemise. Trying not to think of what the fabric was and where it had once been, he unwrapped the box and swallowed. It was a jewelry box. He set it down and used the edge of the trunk to help push himself back to standing position.
He scooped up the tarnished hair combs, brush, mirror, and large comb, and brought them to Molly for polishing.
Marcus waited while Molly went about her task. She offered to bring the things upstairs when she’d finished. Marcus declined her offer; he wanted to see Emma one more time before bed. He was only torturing himself by going to see her, but he just couldn't help it.
He climbed the stairs, grimacing in pain each time his booted foot made contact with yet another stone step. Though he'd actually broken hi
s left leg in two places at the time of his accident, his right leg could hurt just as badly, and sometimes worse, when climbing stairs. His right knee had been twisted in a painful, unnatural way causing lasting damage.
Reaching the outside of her door, he took a deep breath and softly knocked.
She didn't answer.
He tightened his grip on the freshly polished silver items in his hands. He didn't wish to just leave them on the floor outside her door, and she'd need them when she got up in the morning. She was probably asleep already. That wasn’t a problem. He’d just go in and set them on her vanity for her to find when she woke. He’d already learned she was a heavy sleeper. A smile took his lips. She'd been having one excellent dream earlier. Too bad he didn’t know what—or should he say who—she'd been dreaming about. His smile slipped at the thought, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts.
He stuffed the hair combs into the pocket of his coat and placed his hand on the doorknob. With a quick exhalation, he opened the door as slowly as he could so it wouldn't creak too much. As soon as he got the door open all the way, his eyes widened, his heart raced, and his throat worked convulsively.
“You can just put the towel on the stool,” Emma said, not turning to see who she was talking to.
Marcus’ brain tried to tell his hands to close the door and his feet to walk away, but they didn't listen. Instead, he stayed rooted to the floor with his eyes fixed on the Emma’s back as she leaned forward and continued to wash her shapely legs. Her long hair was pinned on top of her head, giving him an unobstructed view of her slim neck, flawless shoulders, and upper back.
He swallowed again. “Emma,” he whispered, making her freeze. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I knocked, but I didn't hear anything. I thought you might be asleep, so I opened the door and well, there you are.” He clamped his mouth shut. He was rambling. He cleared his throat. “I brought you up some things for your hair. I'll just leave them here outside the door.”
“No need. You can bring them in. Just put them on the vanity.” She still hadn't turned to face him, and she'd stayed leaning forward, blocking his view from anything he hadn't glimpsed already.
The vanity table was only ten feet away from where he stood at the door. He forced himself to walk over to it and set everything down for her. “I couldn't find any hairpins, but I'm sure we have some. If you'd like me to ask a maid to go look for some, I can.”
She shook her head. “I think I have enough. I carry extras in my reticule in case I lose some during the day.”
He nodded even though she wasn't looking at him. “All right. I'll leave you to your bath, then.”
“Marcus,” she called as his feet reached the threshold.
He paused. “Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome, Emma. Is there anything else you need?”
“No.”
He accepted her reply and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. A sharp bark of laughter passed his lips. He'd wanted one more glimpse of her before he went to bed. That's exactly what he'd gotten. The problem? Now he'd never be able to sleep.
Chapter 5
Marcus threaded his fingers together behind him and leaned his head back. The past two days had gone rather well, all things considered.
At Marcus’ suggestion, Emma worked with the girls on their letters and numbers on Thursday and Friday, only interrupted when Marcus took note of the girls’ glazed-over eyes at luncheon. He decided to rescue the girls from Taskmaster Green for a bit to play with a few old instruments. It was to everyone’s great relief that today was one of the days the girls would stay at Briar Creek. He shook his head ruefully. Those poor girls had no idea what their days would hold when they'd been bounded into their carriage those mornings. He'd be rather surprised to see them visit without their father again after next week.
During dinner last night, Marcus had told Emma he had two pieces of excellent news for her. The first, he'd found another cook to take over until Mrs. Masters returned; and she would begin her post on Sunday. The second, the village seamstress would be bringing patterns and material to Ridge Water in the next few days to fit Emma for her new gowns. He took a measure of satisfaction in the sweet smile that took her lips at the announcement. The dress she'd come wearing on Wednesday was very nice, but it wasn't hers. Neither were the ones she'd worn Thursday and Friday; they'd been borrowed from the housekeeper. It was time she wore her own.
A startled female shriek from the hall jolted Marcus from his thoughts. In search of a distraction, Marcus limped to the door of his study to poke his head out and see what was causing the commotion.
Peering down the hallway, Marcus’ breath caught and his lungs expelled nearly every bit of air they’d been holding.
“What happened?” he asked harshly, moving down the hall as fast as he could to where Emma was standing clad in a soaked chemise with a steady current of blood running down her leg.
Molly, who was standing next to Emma fanning herself with her hand, looked like she was about to faint. Emma's face flushed red as she continued to hold the front of her chemise away from her so the blood wouldn't stain it.
“I slipped,” she said weakly. “I went for a swim in the creek, and when I was getting out of the water, I didn't realize how slick the rocks were and I slipped.”
He nodded. He'd done that once or twice himself as a boy. Several of the large rocks surrounding the edge of the creek became very slick when they got wet. Marcus glanced at Molly. She was clearly in no condition to help Emma. “Molly, go get some strips of clean linen, a basin of fresh water, and the salve from the pantry, then bring it all to my room.” He turned to a wide-eyed Emma. “I want you to wrap your left arm around my neck, then when I pick you up, put your right one around me, too.”
“But your leg,” she exclaimed. “You can't carry me.”
“I assure you, I can.” Putting her left arm around his neck for her, then placing one of his arms around her lower back and the other around her knees, he lifted her up.
“Marcus, put me down,” she squealed, kicking her legs and squirming.
“Stop that,” he ground out. “If you keep doing that, I might drop you. Then you'll have a bruise on your derriere in addition to the cut on your leg.”
She turned her flaming face away from him, presumably because she was embarrassed at his words. “All I need is a wet cloth,” she said as he carried her down the hall. “It's just a small scrape, really. I would have gone in the servants’ entrance and straight to the kitchen, but it was locked.”
“A small scrape?” He raised his eyebrows and cast a glance to the lower half of her leg. It was covered in blood. “I shudder to think what you consider a major scrape. A lost limb, perhaps?”
“Stop teasing. It's truly not that bad. I don't know why you're making such a fuss.”
He reached the door to the downstairs room that had become his bedchamber for the past thirteen years. “Could you open the door, please.”
She shook her head. “No. If I open the door, then I'll have to let go of my chemise and it will fall in the blood.”
“And if you'd put your other arm around my neck like I instructed it would have already been ruined,” he retorted. “Just open the door. I'll buy you a new chemise.”
“It's not mine. It's Caroline's,” she said as if that explained everything.
“I'm sure Alex will buy her another one. Now open the door before I drop you.”
Reluctantly, she let go of her chemise and opened the door so he could carry her inside and put her on his bed. “No, not on the bed. I'll stain all the linens.”
“They're dark so it won't show.” He swiped the towel hanging over his dressing screen for good measure then walked back to her and positioned it under her legs the best he could without exposing more of her than he dared. “And if it does, believe it or not, I think I might have enough blunt to buy another set of sheets.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I've never doubted the state of your coffers.”
“That’s reassuring. Now stop worrying about them. I can afford to buy you a new chemise and another set of bed sheets if I must, in addition to your two new gowns.”
Frowning, Emma clenched her legs together. “Perhaps you should wait in your study while Molly attends me.”
He snorted. “Molly will not be attending you. Judging by her shriek and chalk-white face, I find it hard to imagine she's not passed out in the kitchen just now.”
“Then I'll just take care of it myself when the supplies you ordered are brought in. That's what I'd intended to do before you got involved.”
Shaking his head, Marcus went to the doorway and took the items he'd ordered from a shaking Molly. He turned back to Emma and carried the basin of water in one hand and the salve in the other, the strips of linen resting over his arm. “Dearest Emma, you'll not be taking care of yourself. Not in my house, anyway.” He placed the basin on the small table next to the bed. “As long as you're a guest at Ridge Water, you shall receive only the best care.”
Her green eyes didn't move or blink. “And who do you have in mind to tend to me if you just sent the only available female servant off? That awful cook of yours?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I will attend you.”
Now her eyes did do something. They bulged. So much so he was fairly certain they just might pop from their sockets. “I think not.” She crossed her ankles to hold her legs even tighter together.
Marcus dipped a cloth into the warm water and wrung out most of the excess water before bringing it to her legs. So much blood had trailed down her legs; he really didn't know exactly where the cut was or how large it was. “Emma,” he said softly. “You're going to have to trust me. Please.” He took the cloth and began to wipe the blood off the parts of her calves he could see. Gently, he grabbed her ankle that had crossed over the other and pulled it off so he could clean the inside of her calves. He dunked the cloth and squeezed it out again, tainting the water pink. This time her legs were relaxed and separated, allowing him easy access to wipe the blood off. Once they were clear of the dark red blood, he frowned. He'd assumed she'd gnashed the side of her knee judging by how much blood was on her calves.
