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“He’s back,” she answered and without any further explanation, she lifted her skirts and sprinted out of the room.
She had so much to say, so much she wished to know, but most of all, she just wished to wrap her arms about him and hold her close. Was that still allowed?
She’d find out after she looked into his eyes…
Jacob rode slowly up the drive, every muscle in his body aching. The slash in his arm throbbed, likely because rather than rest and treat the gash, he’d been riding for the last two days. He’d hardly slept, he’d barely eaten.
But he’d needed to come back to Emily.
Touch her, hold her close, and know that she was all right. He’d told himself any number of times that she was fine. And logically, he believed the words. Nick would not allow anything to harm her, she was well protected behind his walls.
But still… He needed to see her for himself, watch out for her.
He knew the real villain now, and the fact that his mother and Tinderwell had teamed up against her…that frightened him half to death.
He’d never allow them to harm her. He understood he was repeating himself, annoyingly so, but it had become like a mantra in his head.
He’d protect Emily from the forces trying to harm her. If nothing else, her innocence should be preserved. What the hell good was all the darkness he’d endured if it didn’t use his knowledge to keep her safe?
His eyes drifted closed for a moment, a weight of tiredness pulling at his shoulders, so they slumped down, his chin dipping toward his chest.
By jove, he was tired. Bone-aching exhaustion that wouldn’t be cured until he slept for a week. The front door banged open and his chin jerked up.
Emily raced toward him, skirts high in her hands, slender ankles and calves on display as her chest heaved and her eyes sparkled with worry.
The tiredness was instantly forgotten as he swung down from his horse, just in time to catch her up into a hug, her scent wrapping about him as he held her body close to his, lifting her off the ground to hold her even closer.
His arm twinged again, and he stiffened for a moment before he ignored the sensation as he buried his nose into her rich, silky brown strands of hair.
“Jacob,” she gasped, pulling back. “What’s wrong?”
“Not a thing,” he said as he held her to his chest, refusing to let her go. “I’ve never been better.”
“You’re jesting,” she cried, her eyes scanning him. “You look…” Her gaze travelled lower, over the slice in his coat.
“Dreadful,” his friend’s voice rumbled from the top of the stairs. “Awful.”
Jacob kept his arms about Emily, his gaze meeting Nick’s. “It was an eventful few days.”
“Did you learn more?”
“A great deal,” he said, then his gaze found Emily’s again. “There is much to tell you but right this moment, I’m just glad just to see you looking well.”
A flush filled her cheeks as she looked away, her mouth pinching a bit. Had she not been well? Concern and the need to protect her welled up inside him. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing.” She looked at him again, her face softening. “I’m fine. You on the other hand,” her gaze slid down to the cut in his jacket, “need tending.”
He allowed her to pull him inside and then down to the kitchen where she settled him on a chair in a small room that was lit by nothing but a tiny window near the ceiling.
He looked back at the entrance half expecting his friend to have to followed or the duchess to enter, but as Emily pulled off his coat, untied his cravat, removed his vest, and tugged his shirt over his head, no one came.
The air was cool on his skin as Emily began running her warm hands all over his chest and arms, examining the slice from the knife and several bruises on his torso.
She was the picture of concentration as her brow knit and her lips pressed together, but he could hardly attend his own wounds. His attention was focused on her.
The way a shaft of light highlighted a smattering of faint freckles on her nose that he’d never noticed before.
The gold flecks in her brown eyes, the full plumpness of her bottom lip.
