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“Shhhhhhh... it's ok.” He whispered to her ear, hugging her tightly. The erection had gone away a fair while ago and he was glad for it to have gone.
“I just... can't believe...” she began to turn in his arms. “Can't believe she's...” she sniffled again, tears just beginning to develop in her eyes again. “I've got... nobody left.” She faced him, her forehead at his bare chest. His arms hugged her proper, hands stroking her back, and stroking her hair.
“You've got me, Emma. I'm here.” His head craned down, a kiss placed atop her head. “I'll do all that I can to help you.” The Duke whispered down to her, speaking slowly and clearly. “Every step of the way, I'll be here when you need help, I'll lead if you want me to, and I'll follow when you wish to take care of a matter personally.” She took in a slow, ragged breath, but her tensed body seemed to start to relax. First a little, and then it seemed like she gave way completely as she leaned into him.
“I'm... I'm glad I... have you.” She choked out. “I just wish... that mum... could have...” he felt the wetness on her tears mingle with his chest hair, and he hugged her close, petting and stroking her.
“Shhh... shhhhhhhhh.... shhhhhhhhh...” it was muffled among her weeps, but still he gave the comforting sound. “It's ok, it's ok... let it out. Everything will be alright.” Her small arms snaked around his torso, and it felt as though she hugged him even harder than he hugged her. “I love you, Emma. I'm here for you.” Still she wept.
“Uh-” she choked out at his chest, “... I...” difficulty breathing, “I luh-...” she could scarcely speak, “... luh... awww-haww-hawwwww!” The hopeless effort was abandoned.
“Close enough.”
Inevitably, hunger and the need to visit the water closet prevailed, and the cried-out daughter and her fiance had to abandon the comfy bed she'd had since childhood. What awful timing of it all, her first night sleeping with the man she'll be spending her life with was the first night she slept with the knowledge that she no longer had parents. It was mere robes for either of them that day, and all too soon, more wine. Much more wine. She didn't want to do anything, she didn't want to see anybody, it was just the two of them and his servant.
“Shall I have Gerard get the pistols?” He replied, having heard her mutter to herself how much she hates that horse while staring out the window at the stable.
“No. Perhaps another time.”
“Would you like to go for a meal later on?” It was noon, neither had yet washed, neither had yet dressed, she had not put on any make-up. She didn't even look at him from where her gaze rest on the table, the window abandoned, and merely gave her head a small shake to answer him.
He reached out and took a hand, which she let him have, though she still continued merely looked down.
“Emma...” he said softly, “I love you.” A gentle smile on his as of yet unshaven face. As she looked up, Gerard could be seen approaching the living room from the hall, a fresh bottle of wine in-hand. Still, that was merely in her peripherals, she let her gaze rest on his handsome face.
“I love you, too, Declan.” She did not smile, but he could hear how she meant it, how earnest and serious every word was. “This all means... so much to me.” The hand he held began to feel as though it held his as well.
“More wine?” The best-dressed of the room stood straight as a red-coated soldier of old, holding the wine bottle label-out.
“Leave it, please, Gerard.” He replied, and his smile broadened as her lips finally took on a slightly up-turned shape since he had spoken it without taking his eyes off her.
“Certainly, sir.” He put the bottle down on the table between the two glasses, and he chose that spot because it's what he was trained to do, unless of course that position proved inconvenient for those who would enjoy it. The observant fellow had picked up on the one and a half smiles before him, as they leaned heavily on the table, their gazes relatively low to its surface. It was an inconvenient place to put the bottle, for it blocked their sight slightly, which he understood, and the one and a half smiles became two as his hand carefully returned, slowly sliding the bottle aside a couple inches before retreating, the fiance's gazes never leaving one another.
“I like Gerard.” The Duke commented light-heartedly as the servant left the two.
“I do too.” She said with the first real smile since the car ride home after their date the other day. As he unfortunately suspected, it wasn't long before it faded, the two of them still in each other's eyes, holding hands, a ring on one of his fingers with one of two of hers.
“I want to go lie down.” He let his smile die as he nodded, going to pull his hand away. She wouldn't let him. “N-no, please? I want you to-” he had to suppress the desire to interrupt with a naughty joke, “-hold me.” He was glad that he did, as he brought back an earnest and soft smile, touched by her honesty. By the apparent fact that, in him, she found security and comfort.
“Certainly, ma'am.” He gave in a voice ever so slightly deeper and more gravelly than his natural tone, mimicking his servant that was a few decades their senior. She chuckled through her nose, her face taking on a look something a kin to sad humour.
“Declan, please...”
“Sorry... come.” He slowly began to rise, she too, as they headed for the hall hand-in-hand.
“Shhhh...”
“Mmh...” with his arms around her, her head pressed to his chest, his heavy arms felt reassuring as they wrapped around her. His head lowered, giving a kiss to the top of her head.
“I have no idea... how I would have coped... being alone in this house.” She whispered. “There are memories everywhere... good and bad.”
“Well, in this moment, I have little doubt that we're in the midst of a bad one. Hopefully my being here with you is helping to, if not lessen that negative burden on it, then at least give a tiny glimmer of good. A brightly coloured sea vessel, amidst the dark, churning and raging sea that is now.” His hand slowly stroked her hair, running down her back, sending shivers coarsing through her.
“That was...” she sniffled. “Thank you...” she hugged the man tightly, her moans of grief beginning to resurface anew.
“Shhhhhhh...” he whispered to her gently, holding her tight, though it weren't as tight as her modest arms that snaked around him. She held onto him as though she were a woman overboard clutching a lifesaver, lost in that black and raging sea that threatened to pummel her into the depths and suck the life out of her very lungs.
“Shhhhh...” the man's head nuzzled into the side of her face, tenderly kissing one of her cheeks, and her response was so quick as to seem just as much out of desperation as it was out of love. She took his lips with her own, kissing him hungrily, thankfully, tears streaming down her face making their matching lips taste faintly of salt. Just as they would have had she been tossed and thrown and bludgeoned in the waves of the angered ocean.
