Becoming Countess, page 9
"Countess!" Farley sneered. "You never should have poked your nose into my business. I will always win."
"What did you tell him?" Emma demanded. "What lies did you tell the earl?"
"I told him the truth, my dear," he smirked. "That you attacked me. Quite unprovoked, I might add."
"Unprovoked! You were attacking that girl!" she shouted at him. "You cad! You dirty, rotten—"
Lord Farley smacked her across the face, a hot pain bubbling across her cheek.
"Insolent whore!" he bellowed. "I am a son of Demmroch! When I want something, I take it! I certainly won't let an insignificant peasant like you get in my way!"
"I was born into nobility same as you," she spat back at him with a scowl. "I am no whore! I am the countess of Demmroch!"
"You won't be for long," he growled. "I will personally see you hanged! I will tie the noose if his majesty lets me! I will dispose of you, you meddlesome wretch, and then dispose of your idiotic husband!"
Emma gasped. "You would kill your own nephew? Why would you—"
"For the title!" he shouted at her. "I take what I want," he repeated, leaning close to her with a wicked snarl. "And I intend to start with you."
Emma screamed as Farley grabbed for her skirt, hoisting it up to her waist. She kicked at him, trying to aim for the sensitive place between his legs, pulling fiercely at her tied wrists in order to get as far away from him as the ropes would allow. He slapped her again and dug his fingers into her thigh, making her scream again in pain as he groped at her underclothes. She kicked at him with her other leg, but he reached for the dagger on his belt and held it to her throat, shutting her up and making her go still.
"I will kill you here if I have to," he growled in her ear. "Your gullible husband believes anything I tell him. When I tell him you seduced me and then attacked me with my own dagger, he will believe me. I merely defended myself," he sneered. "Although-" he dragged the tip of the blade down her throat, between her breasts, and pressed it into her belly. "A thrust through the stomach may be a bit more believable."
"Kill me then," she hissed. If it was between death and being raped by Farley, she preferred death. "Go ahead. Do it," she taunted. "But you'll never have Demmroch! Oliver is ten times the man you will ever be!"
"Oliver is a fool!" Farley laughed. "He let himself get tricked into a sham wedding with the ugly daughter of a lowly baron! All for the sake of that silly, air-headed girl!" Emma frowned, not understanding him. "He didn't tell you?" Farley preened, delighted to be the one to tell her. "Your father blackmailed him. The baron got a tidy sum for it, too. I commend him, really, for being so clever. He got everything he wanted – he got money and got rid of you! I, myself, prefer more direct ways of getting what I want." He pressed the dagger a little harder into her belly and Emma held her breath, for once wishing she were wearing the thick protective layer of a corset. "Though I am immensely curious how he found about Juliana in the first place. I must remember to ask dear Ollie before I kill him."
Farley leaned closer, his putrid breath making Emma cough and sputter. The movement was enough to make the blade finally pierce the soft skin on her belly, warm blood rolling down her stomach and the tops of her thighs as another scream erupted from her lungs.
To his credit, it surprised Farley as much as it did Emma and he jumped back, pulling the blade away from her before it did any deep damage. Emma took advantage of the opportunity and kicked Farley as hard as she could. Already off balance, he stumbled back into the wall, the dagger falling from his slackened grip, clattering on the floor.
Emma knew she most likely just sealed her fate, but she didn't care. She screamed again, crying loudly for help, hoping the guards who were supposedly outside the door would hear her and come crashing through with a rescue. But the door didn't fly open as she hoped. She was on her own.
Farley stooped for the dagger and Emma kicked him again, but was too far away for a good shot, and her strength was waning quickly from her belly wound, which was still bleeding and dripping onto the floor. Farley only stumbled a little, glaring at her from all fours on the floor. His hand snaked out for the dagger, which was just beyond the reach of her extended foot, standing and attacking her again, the dagger held to her throat once more, his other hand pressing on her wound painfully. Emma screamed.
"You dirty bitch," he growled at her. "I was going to draw out your torture, make you squirm like that harlot Juliana, but you are getting on my nerves." He pressed the dagger harder, cutting a thin, shallow line under her chin. "I'm really going to enjoy killing you!"
His hand pressed harder into her belly wound but Emma's scream was silenced to a whimper by the blade at her throat.
Then Farley was pulled away from her in a sudden, swift movement and there was Ronny, punching Farley in the nose and then in the stomach. Farley fought back, brandishing the dagger at him, but Ronny caught his wrist, pushing him back to the wall and banging his hand against the wood several times until it fell again out of his grip. Ronny kicked it out of the way, back toward Emma then punched Farley again. Farley punched back, and Ronny stumbled backward allowing Farley to run from the room.
"Ronny!" Emma cried, then whimpered again. Ronny hurried over to her, scooping up the dagger and cutting the ropes from the posts. He whipped off his shirt and held it against her wound, helping her lay back against the bed. "What happened—" she winced. "to the guards?" she asked.
"Farley must have bribed them," Ronny replied. "They're nowhere in sight."
"Thank you," she whispered wearily. Everything weighed heavily on her, emotionally and physically, and she knew she was fading quickly. "Farley wants to kill Oliver," she breathed. "He's in danger."
"I thought it was the earl you were running from," Ronny frowned.
"He doesn't deserve to die," Emma sighed.
"You need a doctor!" Ronny insisted.
"No! Go after Farley! Save Oliver!" she gasped. She clutched Ronny's shirt to her stomach with more strength than she felt she had and urged Ronny to go. He hesitated a second, then hurried away.
23.
Emma must have blacked out because she woke up to the loud, angry voice of her husband. He was yelling at someone. Emma was relieved to hear he was alive. Farley hadn't gotten to him. Yet. She opened her eyes and struggled to sit up, but soft, gentle hands pushed her down again.
"Relax, Emma," Katy said. "You need to heal."
"Farley—" Emma started, her eyes pinned on her husband, who dropped his heated conversation with the guard he'd been talking to, turning hopeful, relieved eyes to her.
"He will be taken care of," the earl told her. "Ronny and Katy told me everything."
Emma looked curiously at Katy, who patted her on the shoulder gently, then rose from her chair, leaving along with the guard. Oliver and Emma were alone. Her husband took up Katy's place next to her.
"Ronny – did he find Farley?" she asked.
"Not exactly," he admitted. "He found me first, practically yelling at me about doctors and death threats. I wouldn't let him leave until he spilled the whole story."
"You let him get away!?" Emma cried, trying to sit up again in her distress. He pushed her back down against the pillows, although a little less gently than Katy.
"The guards are on it," he told her. "And a messenger has already been sent to Demmroch with the news."
"He's been lying to you," Emma said. "About everything. He wants your title. And will do anything to get it."
"Obviously," Oliver replied with a scowl, staring at the bandage on her neck.
Her hand raised self-consciously to it. She may have kept Lord Farley from doing some despicable things during her short time in his acquaintance, but it was clear after the attack that he was capable of so much more. He wasn't just a lusty man who didn't take no for an answer. He was truly evil, capable of murder, even! What other horrible things had he done to people? What had he done to Juliana? Farley had bragged about raping her – at least, that was how it sounded to Emma. Was that why Oliver had agreed to the baron's blackmail? Was it about Juliana? Did Oliver think she had willingly—Emma shivered. Oliver pulled the blanket higher around her, thinking she was cold.
"Juliana—" she started, pushing his hands away. "Is she the reason my father blackmailed you?" she asked. The look on his face was her answer. "What did my father tell you?" she asked. "Because Farley—"
The earl scowled. "What does my uncle have to do with Juliana?" he demanded.
"Farley raped her," Emma said. Oliver tightened his fists, murmuring threats under his breath. "He bragged about it to me, said he was going to do the same thing to me. Then I pissed him off and he decided he couldn't wait to kill me, then kill you to be earl. What did my father tell you?" she asked again.
"He knew about her real parents," he finally replied with a heavy sigh. "She's been raised as nobility, the charge of my father. There are vague stories that she is a distant relative of some kind," he shrugged. "But your father knew the truth. I don't know how."
"What is the truth?" Emma asked.
"Juliana is my sister," he answered. Emma's jaw dropped. "Half-sister," he corrected himself. "Her mother was a barmaid, one of my father's many affairs. Only one of them resulted in a child, however. The woman died and her grandmother came to Demmroch with the baby, begging my father to care for the child. I was a small boy at the time, but I remember how furious my mother was when he agreed and decided to raise her as a noble instead of his bastard. He knew it would mean a better life for Juliana. My father never knew I knew the truth, but he did confide in me before he died, making me promise to do everything in my power to protect her and care for her. She's my sister. How could I not?"
"So when my father threatened to reveal the truth," Emma murmured, understanding. "You agreed to do anything to make him keep his silence. Even marrying me."
"I had to," Oliver sighed. "For Juliana's sake. And now I find out she's been—" he slammed a fist onto the mattress, jostling Emma and making her wince as the wound in her belly pulled against the fresh stitches. "Sorry," he cringed. "Why didn't she tell me before?" he sighed.
"She probably didn't think you would believe her," Emma pointed out softly.
Lord Farley was right about one thing – Oliver had believed every word the man fed him. The earl practically worshipped Farley, the father figure he needed in the absence of his own. Juliana would've seen that respect and blind trust first hand and would've known better than to try to convince Oliver that his beloved uncle was actually a terrible human being.
"I deserve that," Oliver moaned. "I've been a blind fool."
"Blind, yes," Emma agreed. "But you aren't a fool." She thought of all the hateful things his uncle said about him. In comparison, her strained relationship with her mother felt like a blissful friendship.
"It took attempted murder for me to see the truth," the earl pointed out with another groan of self-hatred. "The last ten years of my life has been one huge lie!"
"Only your uncle's part in it," Emma said.
"You tried to tell me," Oliver sighed. "And I refused to listen! I'd call that a fool if there ever was one!" Emma didn't argue. "I feel absolutely rotten. You've been nothing but completely honest with me from the beginning and I doubted every word. I stood back and let all this happen—" he gestured to her wounded, prostrate form. "This is all my fault! I could've prevented all of this!" Again, Emma didn't attempt to argue. "Juliana probably hates me. You must despise me!"
"Juliana adores you," Emma scoffed. "A blind man could see that from across a room. And I don't despise you," she protested. "You're not my favorite person in the world..." she said honestly. "But I could name several people I hate more than you right now. Farley for one. My father for two. My mother is among those somewhere..." She shot him a teasing smile, and the earl chuckled a little.
"Ronny said when he found you, your only concern was my safety," he said, a small smile twitching one side of his mouth. "Even above your own. Is that true?"
"I'm no one special," Emma said shaking her head. "Your life is far more important than mine."
"You're wrong," Oliver whispered, raising his hand to stroke her cheek. She inhaled sharply, her skin still stinging where Farley slapped her. "Sorry," Oliver whispered, moving his hand lower to caress her jaw instead, his fingers trailing over her chin and then up and over her lips. "You are very special," he said adamantly. "I won't let anyone say different. Including you," he added with a teasing glare.
"Does this mean we can be friends, then?" Emma asked.
"No," he shook his head firmly. Emma's stomach twisted in disappointment. "I don't want to be your friend, Emmalin," he said, giving her a stern look. "I want to be much more than that. Much more." Oliver leaned down until his lips barely brushed against Emma's. "Does that hurt?" he asked.
"No," Emma whispered. "It doesn't hurt there," she assured him, breathless. He deepened the kiss, his hands caressing her, gliding across her shoulder and down her arm and then moving to her waist—
"Ah!" Emma hissed. "That hurts!" she groaned, grabbing his hand with her own and moving it to rest on the mattress beside her instead.
"Deepest apologies," the earl murmured, his face still hovering close above her. "I take it that's a no to the friends, then?" he grinned.
"Everything just doesn't just magically change, you know," she chided. "Just because you believe me now."
"I know."
"It's a long road," she warned. "Getting to know you. Learning to trust you. To love you."
"I know."
"There is still a lot that needs to be worked out," she continued. "With Farley on the loose, and Juliana, and the mess with my own family – there are a lot of tall hills to be conquered before –"
"Emmalin," Oliver said gruffly.
"I'm only being honest!" she defended. "It's not as if we are suddenly going to be bosom buddies! I mean, I only just met you a few days ago! And I don't even know if I can like you," she rambled, "I mean, like you that way," she explained. "It is still completely possible that we aren't meant to be more than just—"
"Emmalin." His tone was low and full of warning. Emma blinked at him, suddenly silent. "Stop worrying about all of that," he said. "As long as you are honest with me and I with you, we will be fine. We'll just take it one day at a time."
Emma smiled. "Complete honesty," she agreed with a nod. "One day at a time. I think I can do that."
24.
Once again, Emma was standing in a chapel for a wedding. Her husband stood with her at the altar as witnesses, along with the fifty or so other people sitting in the pews behind them, watching Katy and Ronny exchange their vows. Ronny looked at Katy with such adoration and love, it was hard for Emma to suppress her wide grin that stretched from ear to ear.
In the four months since the incident in Vilkren, Ronny had flourished as one of the earl's most loyal and hard-working men-at-arms. His testimony helped convict Lord Farley for attempted murder, putting the man in prison for the rest of his life. The earl was upset he wasn't sentenced to hang, but Emma was just glad to have the entire situation behind them all.
Katy, too, was working at Demmroch, insisting on earning her keep, and was a personal maid for the dowager countess. Emma's mother-in-law loved her and remarked once that she wasn't sure how she managed before Katy came to the castle. Now, finally, the two lovebirds were getting married and no one was more happy for them than Emma.
Trina, too, found happiness. She was becoming more convinced every day that Mickal had eyes for only her and not Miss Juliana as she believed. The boy couldn't get enough of the maid, and Emma delighted in letting her run off whenever she could to see him. The two of them were cuddled in a pew near the back trying not to giggle too loudly as Mickal peppered kisses on Trina's neck when he thought no one was looking.
A baby began to wail just behind them and Emma stole a glance at the red-faced baby boy in Analissa's arms. Christopher Rupert Whicke was born healthy and loud, always making his presence known. Analissa always seemed harried and tired, although Lord Whicke couldn't stop smiling and cooing at his son and didn't seem to notice the boy's strong lungs or the glares his wife continued to give him. While Emma sympathized with Analissa's plight, and often offered to take the child for several hours a day to give her a break, she couldn't help but laugh at Lord Whicke's obliviousness. Oliver, too, didn't seem to notice a problem with the baby's constant loud cries, remarking proudly how his nephew inherited the Garrick robustness.
Analissa frowned down at Christopher, bouncing him in her arms to try to get him to quiet during the wedding ceremony. When the bouncing didn't work, she rose and slid from the pew and out of the chapel.
"I now pronounce you man and wife," the priest declared. "You may kiss the bride."
Ronny kissed Katy passionately, very different from Emma's own wedding, which had been awkward and stiff at best. Beside her, her husband reached over to hold her hand, one of his favorite public displays of affection lately.
They were still taking their relationship one day at a time, but Emma had to admit she cared for the earl more than she ever thought she would. As his thumb rubbed little circles on the back of her hand, her stomach fluttered happily. Oliver was incredibly attentive and affectionate, but Emma insisted on taking the physical side of their relationship slowly. Oliver agreed to her terms, but not before vocalizing his immense displeasure about it.
Emma laced her fingers in Oliver's as they followed the bride and groom up the aisle and to the dining hall for the wedding feast. Everyone was in high spirits, including Emma. She laughed with her caring friends, dined with her new family, and danced with her doting husband and when the evening ended, she realized something. Emma was happy.
Oliver escorted his wife upstairs to her bedroom door, giving her his customary kiss before saying good-night and retiring to his own room. But that night Emma stopped him, tugging on his hand for him to follow her inside. A wide, silly grin stretched across the earl's face and Emma chuckled. Her nerves eased a little at her husband's familiar teasing. As he reached for her and her heart fluttered excitedly in her chest, she knew that her mother was wrong. Marriage was not misery. Marriage was bliss.
