He shook his head, as the shape of Miss Pembleton against the rock became clearer. “What? Do not tell me I have finally rendered you speechless?”
Only silence greeted him.
It was as though a hand made of ice held his heart. He squinted towards the figure of Miss Pembleton. She was sitting up, leaning against a rock. No, that was not right. Why was her arm at that angle?
He moved closer, willing the figure in red to say something. Anything. And then he realised: she was not resting against the rock, but crumpled over it.
She must have been thrown from the horse and hit the- Damn it!“Curse me for a fool!” The reins fell from his hand as he realised just how wrong he had been.
“Miss Pembleton? Emily!” he was running towards her, all anger replaced by blind panic.
She did not answer. “Emily!” he shouted.
Time seemed to slow as he reached her. Her eyes were closed, her face deathly pale. He was at her side in an instant. “Wake up! Open your eyes.” He lifted her into his arms and kneeled.
“Come on! Glare at me, scream at me, antagonize me! What would life be if you didn’t bite back?” he pleaded with her, his thumb tracing circles against her cheekbone.
He inspected her, only just stopping himself from shaking her in his fear. She was cold, her body limp and at an odd angle. He shook his head, willing her to wake up.
He searched her face for some sign of life, and then he saw it. Shining against the rock, trickling down the pale skin of her face and neck.
Blood.
Chapter Thirteen
“Emily!” someone was yelling.
Why are they yelling?Emily’s head ached as did the rest of her body. She was not sure why the bed she was lying on felt like rocks, but she certainly did not appreciate it.
“Emily? Emily. Wake up!” the voice insisted.
“Five more minutes.” She tried to say, but her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth and she was unable to make words.
She tried again, but no luck.Why is it so cold? Why is my head wet?If Rose or Jane had poured water on her to wake her, she would be furious. She knew she was hard to wake, but that was unreasonable.
“Please, do not be dead.” The voice said and Emily frowned.
Whoever the voice belonged to was clearly mad, and Emily had no wish to be woken by a mad person. She tried to shoo the person away with a gesture of her hand but as she raised it, sharp pain shot through her left shoulder.
She gasped and her eyes flew open. The sun seemed impossibly bright, and it took her several moments to adjust to it. Her head was throbbing. She felt as though she might be sick.
“Emily!” A man’s face swam into focus as the blinding glare of the sun seemed to dissipate.
The voice caused a swirl of patterns. Deep yellow swipes, with crystal blue spikes.How pretty.She squinted up at the man. For a moment, she thought he must be some kind of angel.No man could be that handsome. No.He had piercing blue eyes, long dark hair. She was fairly certain she could smell amber and rich spices, and it reminded her of something. The thought lingered just out of reach.
“Do you understand what I am saying?” the angel asked, his voice reminding Emily of warm honey, rich and smooth.
“You are very handsome.” Emily thought, except that the words were somehow coming out of her mouth.
“If you are complimenting me, then truly things must be dire.” The man’s eyes were full of worry, but Emily thought she could see a small smile playing about his mouth.
“Luke Warren?” Emily frowned, the movement causing her to gasp in pain.
“I think you mean, Duke Warren.”
“What did I say?”
“Luke.” The Duke smiled. “Which is my name, not my title. Though perhaps your confusion is understandable.”
