"What sort of silly things," he pressed. She was drenched from head to toe, her dress clinging to her everywhere.

  Emma seemed to realize this a second later, pulling the wet fabric from her skin and wringing out the skirt. She hadn't thought about being wet, she only wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible. The way he looked at her made her stomach twist and it unnerved her.

  "Tell me one," he insisted.

  Emma hesitated. She really only ever dreamed of one thing – her future – and it was always the same dream, one that would never come true.

  "Please, Emma," he pressed. "I told you one of my secrets, now you tell me one of yours."

  "I dream of the future," she admitted, averting her eyes. She focused instead on wringing out the excess water from her dress.

  "And what do you dream about it?" he asked.

  "That will cost another secret, sir," she replied wryly.

  "Oliver, please," he corrected her. Her head snapped up in surprise. "I'd prefer you to call me Oliver."

  "Oh. Right. Sorry. Oliver."

  9.

  "Alright," he sighed, sitting down at the base of the tree. He laced his fingers together behind his head, relaxed. "Another secret. Let me think."

  Emma sat as well, leaning against a tree opposite him, still wringing out sections of her dress.

  "It'd be easier, you know, if you took it off," he told her casually.

  "I'd rather not," she replied.

  "Don't worry," he grinned. "I won't let you leave without it again." He laughed, imagining his wife crawling naked up the garden wall, leaning over it with her lovely round bottom in the air.

  "I'd just rather not," she said.

  She dropped the clump of fabric in her hand and pulled the skirt lower over her knees. The earl realized she was shy, self-conscious about her body. He crawled on his hands and knees over to Emma until his face was very close to hers. She blinked back at him with wide eyes.

  "I have a secret for you," he said softly. "I think you are magnificently beautiful," he said. "Especially without your clothes on," he whispered, grazing his lips across her cheek.

  "You don't have to lie to me," she said, her words like a smack in his face. "I'll do my duty as your wife. You don't have to pretend to woo me."

  "I'm not pretending," he said honestly. "And I'm not lying." His voice was firm and insistent, a fierce scowl on his face like he was mad at her.

  "I know I am not a beauty like my mother," she said. "I don't expect you to think otherwise. I'd rather like to be civil with each other, and I want us to be able to be honest with each other about things. Even the unpleasant things. So please, don't lie to me."

  "I told you," he swore fiercely. "I am not lying to you. You are beautiful, Emmalin. I don't know who made you think you are not, but they are cruel for doing so."

  "I am plain," she said.

  "You are lovely," he countered, kissing her cheek sweetly.

  "I am clumsy," she claimed.

  "I've witnessed the opposite," he retorted, leaning across her to kiss her other cheek.

  "I am too round," she declared. Oliver slid a hand around her waist and down over her bottom, nuzzling her neck fondly.

  "You are soft and wonderful," he breathed, pressing light kisses to her collarbone.

  Emma's breath hitched and the earl adjusted, sitting on the ground and pulling her into his lap with hungry, eager hands. One remained on her bottom, kneading and pushing her closer to him while the other snaked up her hip and along her waist to her breast, cupping it as he dipped his head to suckle the wet fabric that clung to her skin.

  She gave in for a moment, sighing in his arms and letting him fondle her. In the next moment, she pushed away his hands and darted from his lap, taking several quick steps away from him.

  "We should be heading back," she said weakly.

  "What did I do wrong now?" he demanded vehemently. She didn't answer him, already walking back in the direction of Montrellis. He followed after her, disappointed and frustrated.

  10.

  Emma was hiding. She and Lily were playing in the attic, exploring the dusty furniture and old trunks her mother kept up there. She encouraged Lily, telling her they were like pirates uncovering treasure. This made it all the more thrilling for the little girl. She opened every trunk and tried on some of the clothes they found inside. Emma played along, draping an old shawl around her shoulders, flipping it dramatically making Lily laugh.

  "Oh! Look at this one, Emmy!" she cried, pulling an old fashioned gown from one of the trunks.

  It was a rich burgundy color trimmed with black lace and gold cording. Small red jewels were sewn along the sloping neckline, shimmering in the weak light offered by the single window and the candelabra they brought with them.

  "Wow," Emma admired, touching the gemstones lightly like they would break if she pressed harder. "Quite the treasure you've found, Lily," she praised with a smile.

  "Who do you think it belongs to?" Lily asked curiously, peering into the rest of the trunk for a clue.

  There was a matching pair of shoes, studded with similar gemstones. Emma lifted them out of the trunk for Lily, who immediately kicked off her own shoes and tried them on, wobbling on the heels. Emma didn't find any hints of the trunk's owner inside, and reached for the lid, inspecting it for initials or a family crest. She rubbed away the dust and found initials scrawled into the front just above the lock.

  "V.F.L.," she said out loud, catching Lily's attention. "It's your mothers!"

  "This was Mama's?" Lily donned the pretty dress as well, though it was several sizes too big and dragged across the dirty floor as she teetered back to the trunk. "But it's so pretty!"

  "She isn't allowed to have pretty dresses?" Emma laughed. "They are from before she married your father," Emma said, tracing the L with her finger. Victoria Fiona Lummis. Not Killian.

  Lily bit her lip at the mention of her father. Lady Killian didn't talk about her late husband much, and Lily was always hungry for information about the father she never knew. Emma wished she could enlighten her, but she didn't have any memories of the man either.

  "Here you are," Lady Killian sighed, poking her head into the attic. "Oh! Lily!" she cried, her hands flying to her mouth and trembling. "Where did you find that?" she asked.

  "In there," Lily said, pointing to the trunk. "Was this really yours?" she asked curiously, swishing the large skirt around her.

  "It was," Lady Killian nodded, coming further into the room. "I wore it the day I married Killian," she said with a fond smile. She fingered the fabric in a daze.

  "This is your wedding dress?" Emma asked in surprise. Lily beamed, clearly excited to be wearing her mother's wedding gown.

  "Yes," Lady Killian smiled. "I felt so beautiful that day. Even your mother was jealous," she added playfully, looking at Emma. "Oh, that was a very long time ago," she sighed, turning away from them and back to the stairs. "Best put that all away and clean yourselves up," she advised. "They're looking for you downstairs, Emma," Lady Killian said.

  Emma moaned. That's what she was hoping to avoid. After she and Earl Garrick returned to Montrellis, she spent the rest of the night trying not to notice his large, warm presence in her bed. She rose early and snuck from the bedroom in order to avoid a confrontation. It didn't take long for Lily to find her and she took advantage of the little girl's presence to further avoid running into her new husband.

  "He can't be that bad," Lady Killian said, catching her niece's mood.

  Emma didn't respond, focusing instead on helping Lily out of the dress and repacking everything neatly the way they found them. She took her time, making extra effort to smooth out every wrinkle and arrange it just so. Lily already trounced downstairs again, impatient and hungry. Emma couldn't stall forever, however, and eventually followed.

  She didn't bother to change out of her plain dress, merely brushing off some of the dust and tucking away a few stray locks of hair behind her ear. He may as well see her as she really was and dispel any lingering ideas that she was some great beauty when she was not.

  She was genuine when she told him she wanted an honest marriage. She could have that much at least, even if she could never have love or happiness from their union. If he was going to prance around at the royal court with pretty mistresses and so forth, she would much rather they were both upfront about it than for her to remain ignorant and buried in lies, deceit, and false claims of affection.

  Her parents kept plenty of secrets from her; she didn't want to have to deal with it from her husband as well. At least at Montrellis she knew she could trust and depend on Lady Killian and Lily. At Demmroch, she would have no one.

  The footman at the entrance of the parlor was not from Montrellis and he eyed her and her raggedy dress doubtfully.

  "They are expecting me, I believe," she prompted, nodding at the closed doors behind him. He raised one eyebrow curiously, but knocked twice to announce her and opened the door to let her pass.

  The parlor was significantly fancier than she last saw it, with new sofas and a pretty marble table with a shining silver tea set. Everyone stared at her when she came in, her mother scowling disapprovingly at her state of dress.

  "Emma," she hissed in the most suitable tone she could manage. "You should go change, dear. We'll wait." She said it cordially, but Emma knew it was more of a command than kind request.

  "Nonsense," Earl Garrick said, crossing the room. He took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his elbow. "She looks fine," he said emphatically. He escorted her to a sofa and sat beside her. "Tea?" he asked her, gesturing to the tray before them. She nodded mutely. He leaned forward to pour, pausing with the sugar spoon in his hand. She held up two fingers and he nodded, stirring in two spoonfuls of sugar before handing the cup and saucer to her.

  "Thank you," she said.

  Whatever conversation they were having before ceased upon her entrance and not resumed, making Emma even more ill at ease. She'd have to get used to such meetings, she thought, in her new position. A countess would be expected to welcome and dine with her guests, not hide in attics and shirk her duties. The idea made her nauseous. She sipped her tea in hopes of calming her stomach, hoping someone would fill the silence soon.

  "It's not so very far to Demmroch, is it?" Lady Killian asked of the dowager countess.

  "No," the woman said. "Not very far."

  "Just over a day," Lord Farley spoke up. "We'll stop for a night in Vilkern to split the travel over two days. Less taxing for the ladies," he explained.

  "I haven't been to Vilkern in many years," the baron commented. "A small little town last I saw it."

  "It's not a grand city like the king's capital by any means," Farley replied, "but it has grown considerably in the last decade or so. The main road through the kingdom passes through it and so brings a lot of business to the town."

  "Lucky for them," the baron said. "I seem to remember a lively inn in Vilkern called The Thorn or something or other," he said. "Is it still there?"

  Lord Farley cleared his throat awkwardly, choosing his words carefully. "I believe I've heard of an establishment under a similar name," he answered. "We stay at Leeker's Inn, a fine establishment just off the main thoroughfare. In all my travels, I've found no better food or softer mattress. Except in the comfort of Demmroch, of course," he grinned, nodding respectfully at the dowager countess.

  "High praise from a well-travelled man such as yourself," the baron noted with a chuckle.

  "It is reassuring to hear such praise," Lady Killian commented. "It is good to know my niece will be in such high comfort while travelling. In my experience, travel can be an uncomfortable necessity."

  "I assure you, Lady Killian, I will keep Emma in the finest comforts," Earl Garrick said. Emma's aunt grinned appreciatively.

  "Be sure to write to us when you are settled," Lady Killian said to Emma. "Lily will miss you so much, as will the rest of us, and will look forward to hearing from you."

  "I promise to write as soon as I can," Emma said. "I am sad to leave Lily," she admitted. "But I look forward to meeting your sister," she said, turning to the earl, "And seeing the grandeur of Demmroch I've heard so many rumors about."

  "They can't compare to the real thing," Lord Farley told her with a smile.

  "I agree," the earl said. "Although my opinion is rather biased," he smirked.

  Another uncomfortable silence followed that lingered too long, finally broken by a comment from the baroness about allowing the travelers to rest a little before disembarking on their journey. Relieved, Emma immediately took her leave, followed by her husband as well as her new mother-in-law.

  "I hate small talk," Emma muttered under her breath once she reached the corridor.

  "I quite agree," the dowager countess replied, coming to walk beside her and surprising Emma. She didn't say anything else, however, and the two of them continued together upstairs in content silence. It comforted Emma a little to hear the woman had no more interest in the expected chit-chat of nobility than herself.

  Emma walked with the dowager to her bedroom door, nodding to each other with murmured pleasantries before parting ways. She turned back to her own bedroom, where she found her husband waiting for her, a smile on his face.

  "My mother likes you," he said.

  "She does?" Emma reached across him for the handle, sliding past him into the bedroom when he didn't move. His hands caught her waist and held her there.

  "She does," he confirmed. "I think she admires your...unorthodox ways," he smirked.

  "She hardly knows me," she protested. "What does she know of my ways?"

  "Well, you did show up late to morning tea in a servant's dress, covered in dust," he pointed out. "For one example."

  Emma tugged at his hand to free herself but he held her tight, though shifting enough and guiding them both into the room. He let go of her with one hand to do the latch behind them and Emma took the opportunity to escape his hold, retreating to the vanity seat. She didn't really care about her appearance, but busied her hand with re-braiding her hair nonetheless. From the corner of her eye, she saw her trunks sitting in her near-empty closet. Marie left behind only two dresses – one plain, the other a fine traveling suit in canary yellow satin her mother had ordered for her. The skirt was straight and paired with a looser bodice and light blue jacket. She was meant to wear the yellow dress upon their leave later that afternoon, though she would much rather wear the plain green cotton hanging next to it. She could save the yellow dress for the following day, perhaps, when they arrived at Demmroch. With her hair braided loosely down her back, she went to the closet to carefully pack away the yellow dress.

  "You won't wear it?" the earl asked her curiously.

  "Not today," she shook her head. "I thought it more appropriate for tomorrow, for our arrival," she said.

  "It will be beautiful on you whenever you wear it," he replied. "But my household will welcome you no matter what you wear."

  Emma appreciated the acceptance of her usual common garb despite his own fanciful tendencies. He wore navy silk breeches that day with an equally fine matching jacket with shiny gold buttons. He looked incredibly handsome and Emma forced herself to focus instead on carefully folding the yellow dress into the trunk.

  "There is still a few hours before we must leave," he said, leaning against the frame of the closet door, watching her. "Do you plan to take your mother's advice and rest?" Emma glanced up to scowl at him, catching the teasing grin on his face.

  "Of course not," she said adamantly.

  "I thought as much," he nodded. "What are you planning, then?" he inquired, lounging casually in the chair. "I'd like to talk about last night," he said more seriously.

  Emma ignored his last comment, answering instead his first question. "I intend to spend my time saying good-bye," she said. "To Lily, my aunt, Vinny, and the rest."

  "You have many friends at Montrellis," he commented.

  "Not really," she replied, closing the trunk and clicking the lock. She stepped back out into the main area of the bedroom, her husband's eyes following her movements, making her feel as nervous as Lady Killian. "Only my family and a few loyal servants."

  "They are more than loyal servants to you, though," he stated.

  "You may rest if you like," she said. "I'll be back before its time to leave."

  "You won't show me around Montrellis?" he asked.

  "I'd rather say good-bye alone," she said honestly. He nodded, and let her leave.

  11.

  Emma leaned over the rail of the goats' pen, petting the wiry gray hair fondly as she talked with Vinny, talking about anything but her new husband or her new position as countess or her new home of Demmroch.

  "I think Mimi over there is expecting," Vinny said, nodding to the beige goat.

  "Henry's always been more fond of her than Gina," Emma commented. "It's alright, Gina," she said to the gray goat she petted. "Men are nuisances anyway. You're better off without him."

  "I suppose the baron will sell the kids when they're old enough. Don't need any more goats around here."

  "Indeed not," Emma agreed. "Though you may persuade him to sell Gina," she suggested. "For a younger one. Henry might go for younger, then you'd have two mama goats next year."

  "Hah!" Vinny laughed."That is the last thing we need! One is enough for me!"

  "Ah, Mimi, are you really so terrible?" she grinned.

  "She is," Vinny said vehemently. "Will you be taking Yvette with you?" he asked, referring to her horse.

  "I hadn't thought on it," she admitted. "I suppose they'll have plenty of horses there," she shrugged. "I don't have to bring her. She loves these hills. I'd hate to take her from them."

  "She's been your ride since you turned fourteen," he said. "She'll hardly stand being ridden by anyone else."

  "Then I'll bring her with me," Emma smiled. "It might be good to have a friendly face around."

 

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