The rain was pouring but Emma Swan was so numb she wasn't sure she even felt cold. She tugged the strings of her bonnet tighter to her neck as she trudged over the sodden field, her mud soaked skirts becoming heavier and heavier with every step. Finally she reached the shelter of an oak tree, the rain held back somewhat by its wide green leaves. But she could not appreciate the respite from the rain as she struggled to breathe.
Stays too tight, clothes sodden - lord, if she could have stripped down to her shimmy right then she would have. But even for Emma Swan -headstrong and impulsive as she was - that would be a step too far. Instead, she closed her eyes, counted to ten and tried to forget Lieutenant Killian Jones even existed.
/
"Emma, where have you been?"
She brushed away her mother's inquiry with a wave of her hand, marching straight to the kitchen where she knew a fire would be blazing. Sure enough it was, a large pot of stew cooking above it. She crouched down and stretched out her numb fingers. The heat radiating from the fireplace was burning hot, making her digits tingle as if they were being pricked by hundreds of tiny pins.
"You're late back from church."
It was Granny's voice, their cook-come-housekeeper who overlooked the few servants they employed. She had been with the family since before Emma had been born and nothing was overlooked by her.
"I decided to walk," she lied.
Well, it wasn't a lie. It was merely a half truth. She had walked, but it was not a decision to not take her parent's carriage home, but more a necessity caused by him.
"Hmmm," Granny hummed doubtfully, before Emma heard her pulling out a chair. "Come on, you need something warm inside you then to bed before you catch a cold."
There was little point in arguing. She stood, her skirts clinging to her legs, barely catching the cook's eye as she sat and let her place a bowl of the stew in front of her with a chunk of bread. Slowly, she ate.
"So how's that Lieutenant Jones then? And his brother- the Captain? I heard they were at the ball last night."
Emma swallowed hard. "Fine," she lied again, "Fine Granny."
/
She'd first seen him across the room at Taylor's Assembly Rooms.
He was wearing his naval uniform, starched and pressed. His head was held high and all in the room turned to look as he and his party entered.
A regiment stationed in Storyton was quite the excitement. The ladies chattered among themselves and gossiped and whispered about the handsome strangers.
But Emma only noticed one of their party: the blue eyed stranger who caught her eyes, staring at her for a long moment, leaving her utterly beguiled.
/
The night before
There were so many candles - dozens upon dozens - that even though outside the inky darkness had already enveloped the sky, inside it was as dazzling as the sun.
Emma Swan was wearing her best white silk gown - as were the rest of the assembled ladies. A formal ball was a great affair indeed. With her white silk gloves and the tiny tea roses that had been woven into her hair, she indeed felt magical, regal almost. Quite a change from her usual plain cotton dresses and well-worn boots.
She surveyed the room, hand on the arm of her dearest friend, Elsa.
"Do you think he is here?" Elsa whispered, craning her neck.
"Who?" Emma teased, knowing fair well that she meant Captain Liam Jones.
Elsa blushed wildly and picked up her fan, fluttering it to cool herself down. "You know fine well. He said he would be-"
The tentative courtship between her friend and the newest addition to Storyton's social circle was the subject of much discussion between the two friends. Besides three balls and the conversation that the dances therein provided, there had been little time for the general public to have garnered the affection that was growing between the pair. But Emma had never seen her friend look at anyone the way she did at the handsome captain. And she dared say that he looked at her with equal adoration. She hoped that tonight would provide the precious moments alone that the pair needed to cement their courtship.
"He will, relax," Emma soothed, pulling Elsa tighter to her side as she guided her to the punchbowl. "Here, calm your nerves, but take care not to spill any on that dress."
Elsa smiled as Emma handed her a small cup. "How about you, who do you have your eye on?"
"You ask me this at every ball."
"Aye," Elsa nodded, "As I wait for the man to turn your head. One day Emma-"
Emma smiled, bringing up her own fan to hide the small blush that was creeping up her own neck.
For across the ballroom, Lieutenant Killian Jones, errant brother of the aforementioned captain, was currently staring at her. His eyes boring beneath her skin, leaving her feeling exposed. The attraction she had tried to fight since they first met, bubbling to the surface as she looked away.
She had not revealed her predilection for the younger Jones to her friend. For it was fruitless to dwell on such matters. She did not plan to marry. Her lot was to inherit the small estate of her father and live her life as a respected dowager.
This had not always been the case. A previous engagement had ended when the man in question had jilted her for a woman of fortune. Her love for Mr. Cassidy had been young and pure. She had been heartbroken and sworn no man would ever be granted entrance to her heart again.
Elsa, in her boundless optimism, had insisted Emma just needed time to heal and learn to love again. But Emma knew her fragile heart was not strong enough. So when the lieutenant looked at her with such longing… she turned away and took a little of the pain that she had locked away back into her mind to remind herself why she could not encourage his affections.
/
The chill would not leave her bones, yet her skin was burning hot.
It hadn't taken long for her mother to discover her hiding place in the kitchen and then to fuss and bluster as she felt her daughter's forehead, banishing Emma to her room with a hot plate for her feet and a damp rag for her forehead.
The rest of the day was spent in this way. Her consciousness waning. Occasionally she awoke to the concerned looks of her mother or their maid, Ruby.
Her dreams were fractured, images, sounds, words, that didn't make sense. But one phrase kept repeating itself-
Marry me, Miss Swan.
/
At the ball
He held her a little stiffly as they danced. She was hardly any more relaxed.
"Thank you for agreeing to the waltz, Miss Swan."
She nodded, thankful for the break in the dance that separated them for a moment. Just how she had came to accept his proposal of a dance, she was unsure. She was, perhaps, a little distracted at the moment he had asked for the next. Still, it was too late to dwell on that. Here they were, him fine in his naval uniform, medals heavy on his chest. His handsome face only further enhanced by the way his hair was swept back and the light beard he had taken to wearing.
The sweeping, dazzling feeling of being led around the room by him was enough to make her head spin. They had spoken, of course, on numerous occasions. But this was the closest they had ever been - it was the first time he had touched her, even through a barrier of silk and lace. The feelings she tried to deny becoming stronger and stronger-
Then she thought of Elsa.
(Whilst also trying not to think how blue his eyes were, or how sharp was the cut of his jaw or how warm his hands felt even though the layers of her dress and corset.)
"Is your brother not present?" she asked.
He shook his head. "He was called to London on urgent business."
"Oh," she sighed, feeling all the disappointment her friend would when she relayed the news. "That is a pity."
"Indeed. But for the greater good. I have reason to expect that I may soon have a new sister."
Emma's heart began to race a little. A sister? Liam was to marry? Surely not-
Her heart thudded heavily.
"A sister? Who pray tell is the lucky woman?"
He gave her a curious look. "Madame Ursula de Mer. An old acquaintance of ours."
Emma knew of the de Mer family. Old money built on trade and shipping, they owned dozens of merchant vessels. Her fingers tightened against his wool jacket as she thought of Elsa's meager dowry. Of course Captain Jones would seek his fortune through marriage. That's what men did. "That would - he will be missed here then."
"Most certainly, not least to the regiment as he will most likely move to naval headquarters. But I spoke with him and encouraged it." Then he looked in her eyes. "Marriage would be good for him."
There seemed more to his words that she could fathom, yet all she wished to do now was to find Elsa, to find some way to tell her-
And the younger brother had encouraged it. The man she was engaged in a dance with had been a factor in the pain inflicted on her friend. The man she was drawn to. The man she now recoiled from.
"Aye, it would," she quipped. Then looked him in eye. "Yet I believe marriage for love to be more noble than marriage for riches."
"Miss Swan?" he asked, tilting his head as the small orchestra quietened.
The dance ended and they bowed, Emma immediately turning to leave-
"Miss Swan-perhaps another?"
She ignored his entreaties and disappeared into the crowd.
Perhaps she was a little relieved for the reason to dislike Killian Jones. It certainly made dousing the fire of her feelings for him a little easier.
/
The following day
The midday service having ended, Emma had taken the time to walk the church grounds with Elsa as her parents attended to business with the pastor. She was quite melancholy, as Emma has expected, but she bore it well, insisting that she would be fine. Emma only hoped that it was true.
The pair had found a small bench on which to sit and watch the storm clouds that were rolling in from across the small bay and natural harbour of Storyton.
"Miss Swan, there you are."
She was startled to see Lieutenant Killian Jones had appeared before them.
"Lieutenant Jones?" she asked, with a frown.
"Madame, may I speak with you?"
It was most, most unheard of for a man to request an audience in such a way, and Emma was about to decline when Elsa said. "Let me give you a moment."
Then she slipped past Lieutenant Jones on the pathway that led back to the church, only glancing back for a second to give her friend an apologetic look.
Emma reached out a futile hand, as if to stop her, but it was too late. Confusion marred her features as Lieutenant Jones first watched her friend leave - and then advanced the few steps to where she sat.
He wore his less formal uniform - blue and gold - but it was none the less striking and made his eyes look even darker than usual. He cut quite the figure. They'd all thought that when he and his brother had appeared at the meeting rooms some six months earlier. But the younger shipman was a much more enigmatic figure than the Captain. He was quiet, withdrawn almost. In fact, the ball the night before was the first in the dozen that he had attended that he even taken a partner in. In some way that was what had intrigued Miss Swan so much about him.
"Thank you, Miss Swan."
"Thank Miss Arendelle," she replied, shifting in her seat. "To what do you wish to speak of?"
He paused, tugging at his cravat for a second, shifting on his feet, his hands smoothing down his coat.
"It is a delicate matter."
She nodded, confused, just wanting to return to Elsa's side. "Then perhaps I am the wrong confidente. We are not much more than mere acquaintances."
His expression seemed to waver. "You are correct, Miss Swan. Something that I am most disappointed by."
Then he stepped even closer. Inappropriately close. She prayed no one walk over at that moment, for a gossip would ruin a woman's reputation with this simple scene. But rather than ask him to step away, she held her breath.
"Indeed, I have struggled in vain with my emotions. And I must tell you how much I admire you. And I I-love you."
His faltering voice, his earnest expression - he was serious? She felt her heart begin to race at the most unexpected confession. Her cheeks reddened. Her stomach began to tighten.
Surely he was mistaken-
"Marry me, Miss Swan?"
"Marry you?"
Looking back, she glanced over his shoulder. Where her dearest friend, who was stricken by heartbreak had disappeared.
This was all wrong. It was Elsa who should be receiving the courtship - not she. It was all wrong, wrong...
"Lieutenant Jones, I think you are mistaken, I am nobody of consequence. I have no dowry to speak of-"
She was talking not without really thinking. He mother had explained a dozen times how to let a man down politely should he propose. And she reeled off the list of reasons that she had prepared in advance.
"I care nothing for that. Only for you."
"But- but you said, about the Captain, that he should marry well-"
"This is correct-"
The lieutenant nodded.
"But he and Miss Arendelle- she cares for him, and he her? And you encouraged him to go-"
His expression fell, the hope she saw on his features disappearing. "I did not see a mutual affection. I told him I believed her indifferent."
Anger replaced disbelief. Emma pushed herself from the bench so they were toe to toe. "Indifferent? She's merely shy! She cares greatly for him. And you- you separated them?"
He seemed most surprised by the line of questioning but Emma was not to be deterred.
"My dearest friend is now bereft!"
"Miss Swan, please,I beg you, understand I bore no ill will- your friend is a most pleasant young lady."
"She is the best of women," Emma snapped.
He took the barest step closer, so close she could see the reddish tinge to his beard and the scar on his cheek in the clearest detail. She took in a small breath. "I-I-"he faltered, his brow crinkling.
Emma's heart was aching- this time for her friend.
"Lieutenant Jones, how can I even consider a man who has ruined my friend's happiness?"
"Miss Swan, please let me explain-"
She stepped away from him, snatching her gaze away and causing him to stop. Just then, a clap of thunder rumbled across the sky and announced that the storm had arrived. It was immediately followed by a downpour of icy rain.
Emma pulled her bonnet closer to her neck and turned to look at him.
"I am sorry sir, but even if I were the marrying kind, I could never be prevailed upon to marry one such as you."
The she turned on her heel and marched away.
/
The sun was shining when she awoke. Her fitful dreams began to fade. She felt a hand holding hers. When she opened her eyes, she saw it was Elsa.
"Elsa," she hummed, her voice unexpectedly hoarse.
"Oh my lord," her friend cried, "You're awake!"
Emma's eyelids fluttered. "Elsa…" she whispered.
Her friend was pressing her hand against her forehead. Emma looked at her, waiting for her eyes to focus; Elsa's eyes were rimmed red.
"Hush," Elsa said, a small smile lighting up her face, "You must rest your voice."
Nodding, Emma ran her tongue over her lips. They were dry and parched.
"You've been confined to bed for a fortnight now."
"A fortnight…" Emma repeated.
"Yes, your fever-" Elsa's voice cracked. Emma blinked until she could see clearly. Emma laid her hand on top of her friends and squeezed as tightly as she could in her weakened state. "But the physician advised us to wait. So… we have. Oh Emma."
Tossing her arms around her, Elsa held her friend, her breathing shuddering a little.
"I'm fine, I promise."
Next, Elsa took a wet rag and pressed it against her skin. The relief was palpable. "You're family are at church, I offered to remain with you."
"Thank you." With shaking arms, Emma began to push herself to sit up. Elsa tried to keep her lying down, but Emma shooed away her hands. As she rose, flashes of her feverish days peppered her vision. Being tangled in the linens of her bed. Hot skin and cool hands. Dark, light, dark. She wanted to push away those unpleasant memories. "What have I missed?" she smiled, "A fortnight is an age in terms of gossip."
The expression on her friend's face was most unexpected. "Oh, well…"
Elsa brought her chair a little closer to the edge of the bed.
"Emma… it's most wonderful. Captain Jones, well, he loves me. And he wants to marry."
Emma's heart felt fit to burst, "Oh Elsa, my dearest friend." She clutched her hands tightly. "How...when?"
Elsa's smile became wide and bright. "Last Sunday, when he returned from the city. He begged an audience after church and declared his affections. He wanted to ask my father for my hand immediately."
"And what did your father say? I imagine he was most agreeable to the idea." Elsa's father had always been the protective type when it came to his daughter. It came from his military background, an old colonel in the army who had retired with a peerage and much time on his hands.
"I asked him to wait. Until you were well. I wanted you to know first."
"Oh Elsa," Emma sighed, tears in her eyes. She was so happy for her friend. "Well I heartily give my approval."
There was a light giggle that pealed from her lips, that was quickly bit back by a serious expression. "There is more. News, I mean."
Emma pursed her lips.
"While you were sick. Oh Emma, he was so worried. He wanted to see you but of course it was out of the question. He visited every day - sometimes more than once. Oh Emma, if you could have seen his face…"
"Who? Who do you speak of?"
Taking her hand, Emma pressed it against her forehead to try and ward of the ache that she could feel threatening to come.
"Lieutenant Jones," Elsa exclaimed, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I've never seen a man so worried. I had no idea he had feelings for you."
Emma squirmed against the bedclothes. The idea that Killian Jones had been worried for her was unsettling. Not unwelcome, but strange and somewhat jarring.
But if it were time for confessions, perhaps she had one of her own.
"He proposed," Emma said flatly.
Elsa stared at her.
"In the church yard," Emma went on.
"And you…"
"I told him he was the last man I would ever consider marrying."
Elsa's shoulders slumped. "Oh Emma, I'm sure you can fix this. He really did seem most concerned for you."
"Probably guilt," Emma snapped, surprising herself with the bitterness in her words. "The reason I got caught in the rain was because of his unwanted proposal."
Shrinking back a little into her seat, Elsa nodded, "Perhaps?"
Emma began to tug the blankets further up her body, the aches that her fever had brought with them, suddenly apparent. "I think I should sleep. Please let my family know when they return."
Nodding, Elsa stood. She hesitated a moment as if she was going to say something, but then she changed her mind and quietly left the room.
/
It was another two days before the physician agreed that she could leave her bed. And another week before she was fit for company.
Elsa and Captain Jones' engagement was announced in time for Emma to attend a supper in their honour at Elsa's home. Representatives of the main families of Storyton were in attendance as, of course, were the officers. Emma sat stiffly beside her friend, coarsely aware of the burning gaze of Lieutenant Jones from across the table. Still a little weakened from her illness, Emma ate sparsely. Whilst genuinely happy for her friend, the presence of her would-be suitor had placed a fly in the ointment.
If truth were told, she was a little embarrassed.
Her words to him had been so hasty. Now coloured by the events that took place in her absence, they seemed even more foolish. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't bare the thought of what he thought of her now.
After dinner, she excused herself and explained that she wished to take in some fresh air. But she didn't head for the small garden at the rear of the house, instead she found herself entering the library where she sat on one of the old arm chairs where her and Elsa would wile away the winter evenings in front of the fire.
But that would all change now, she realised as the darkness enveloped her. By winter, her friend would be married. Perhaps she would even have moved to another posting, the regiment was prone to relocation at a moment's notice.
Loneliness enveloped her. It was a familiar emotion. One she wore well. She became lost in its tangible embrace even as the door to the library opened and she was joined by another.
"Miss Swan."
His soft, melodic voice pierced through her dark reverie.
She looked up, eyes wide. "Lieutenant," she whispered.
They both took a moment just to look at each other. She ashamed and miserable; his expression part hopeful and part resigned.
"May I have a moment of your time?"
She nodded. That was the least she could do, was it not? To redeem herself for the way she treated his proposal.
He walked through the shaft of moonlight that the tall windows allowed into the room, taking his place a respectful distance from her. Not sitting but standing stiffly, formally.
"I am glad you are well."
She nodded again. She wasn't quite sure what to say.
His eyes darted around the room.
"I am sorry that my words played a part in your illness, Miss Swan. I would never have expressed my feelings for you had I anticipated your reaction."
Emma sat a little straighter.
"I've ran that afternoon over and over in my mind so many times and how I wish I had gone after you. But I was a coward stung by the rejection. Even as I saw the rain begin to fall, I didn't think-"
His voice broke and Emma rose.
"You have no guilt to bear, Lieutenant. I chose to storm away so childishly." She looked him in the eye. "I was raised better than to treat a gentleman so." His expression softened, his mouth relaxing into it's usual pretty arrangement and the furrow in his brow fading away. "Therefore I believe it is I who needs to provide an apology."
Emma was suddenly aware of the ticking of the mantle clock and the muffled sounds of the ongoing dinner party. She allowed herself the indulgence of really looking at his face for a moment. His dark curling lashes. The scar on his cheek. This would no doubt be the last time she could be privy to such close inspection.
"I should return," she said, offering a small smile to him.
"Please don't," he replied. His voice so small that she would not have believed it to be his had he not been before her.
A thickening in her gut accompanied a heavy blush. He was staring at her. So intensely. So… longingly. He had this way of looking at her that no one else had ever managed.
(She was scared it might be love in his eyes-)
"I was so worried, Miss Swan. I worried that I may never see you again."
"You have made your apology-"
"No. Not to apologise." He sighed and looked down. "I feared I would never see your smile again. Or the way your eyes dance when you laugh. And that I would never again feel the way I do when in your presence."
Emma sucked in a dizzying breath of air.
"You told me that I was the last man you would ever consider marrying and I do not take that lightly. But- my brother, he tells me that a man is measured by his actions. So I am hereby pledging myself to prove that I am not the man who I have at first appeared to you."
It took a moment for her to understand.
"You told the Captain of our conversation. You united him and Elsa."
"I spoke of it. I apologise if those words were meant to be kept private but I see all has turned out for the best on that score. And I promise, for as long as it takes, to do all in my power to improve your opinion of me." He gave her an earnest look. He looked so noble and honest.
Boldly, she reached out and took his hand.
"My opinion of you is far better than you suspect."
It was true. It had been since she had first met him and seen the kindness that lingered beneath his formality.
"It is?"
"Why yes," she nodded, taking a step closer. "In fact, my dearest wish is that our last conversation be forgotten."
Then his face fell.
"Of course, Miss Swan, I never intended - I mean, I will not speak of my proposal again-"
"That's not what I mean." She grinned at his babbling. It suited him, this shyness. "I meant my reaction."
He tilted his head, as if her were assessing her words.
"Am I to take it that your reaction may differ should happenstance cause that situation to arise again?"
She surprised herself by nodding.
He surprised her by sinking to his knee.
"Miss Swan. Would you do me the honour of agreeing to marry me?"
Her heart raced.
"Marry me, Emma ?"
Her name sounded so good on his lips. Deliciously soft and loving. She wanted him to say it again. A thousand times.
"Yes," was her simple reply.
Tentatively, he rose, her hand in his, both staring at each other in wonder.
"This is a most unexpected turn of events."
She nodded, "Indeed, it is a dream."
He smiled and she lost another piece of her heart to him. Not that there was much left for him to take.
"There is a way to dispel notions that this is anything but reality."
"Oh," he whispered, his face so close that she was wrapped up in the blue of his eyes.
"A kiss," she suggested, her own eyes falling to his soft, pink lips.
"A kiss," he smiled.
Their kiss was certainly not a dream, though she felt as if she was floating on her air, her legs losing their traction as he pulled her into his arms. Brief though it was, she was left with no uncertainty of the passion of his feelings.
/
The rest of the evening was torture. His glances, both loving and heated both tormented and sustained her. That night she slept fitfully, dreaming of him. Of their kiss. Knowing that come the morning he would speak to her father. That sometime soon she would be Mrs Killian Jones.
And that sometimes a fragile heart can be healed by the gentlest kind of love.