A/N: This one is another shortie, but next up is the wedding, and I wanted to get this part over with and leave the wedding to its own chapter...
Emma shied away from his hand. "What do you mean, precisely, Mr. Knightley, that I will have patience from you?"
Knightley sighed. "Force goes against every fiber of my being, Emma, and I don't think I could even if I did wish to." He met her gaze very carefully. "But a false marriage also goes against all I believe. And so you must promise me—because it really is dependent on you—you must promise me that you are agreeing to a real—a consummated marriage." He looked at her encouragingly. "I know there will be much to work through, and I know that you are not in love with me, and I promise to bear with you, to walk alongside you. But," he took a deep breath, "you must try, and not give up. Marriage, I believe, is hard work for any couple; this will just be our own hardship in it."
Emma was silent as she thought. "I cannot imagine ever enjoying... that, Mr. Knightley."
He nodded. "I'm just asking you to try, and not give up."
Emma stood up and walked over to the window, looking out on the grounds of Donwell. "Mr. Knightley?"
"You really should begin to call me George," came the patient reply.
"Yes, well. I am not ready for that, I think!" She exclaimed. "At any rate. After the—the highwayman—you told me that I should tell my husband what happened... now that is to be you; I should tell you?" Emma's expression was tinged with horror. "But Mr. Knightley, oh, I don't know if I can recount the events to you of all people!"
"Shhh, Emma, don't distress yourself," he soothed. "Not now, at least. Our relationship is so very far removed from what I had hoped for in a marriage for you—I thought you would be lively and in love, and... but we do what we must." His voice grew softer still. "I know you trust me as a friend, but you have to trust me... physically... as well. In the meantime, though, Emma, you should not be ashamed of anything before me."
"What if I'm not, in fact, what you say... what if I'm not really untouched? I mean quite obviously I am not untouched, but what if—oh, Mr. Knightley; your questions of me that day were so kind and so vague! I loved the vagueness but now I hate it! I am so ignorant!"
"Emma, I would be a brute if I held anything that happened that day against you," he assured her.
"I have... I have scars, Mr. Knightley," she whispered. "I was terrified that Mr. Elton would see them and be repulsed, or, worse, assume that—"
"But I know the truth of it," he broke in. "It will be all right, Emma."
"It is not so much that I dislike you, you know," she babbled. "I had never thought to marry at all... and now... all there is is fear."
"I thought you rather enjoyed your moment with Frank Churchill," he pointed out, realizing to his chagrin that the question was a little colored by a newfound sense of jealousy.
"Well, yes," Emma hesitated, "but—I knew that had... limits."
"Limits?" Knightley asked.
"It was just a fun little flirtation, as you said... he showed an interest in me, and I was flattered."
"But you thought he was going to offer marriage," Knightley said in confusion.
"Everyone hated me!" She exclaimed. "And here was this handsome man professing adoration of me in front of everyone! It was a delightful feeling, Mr. Knightley. I was quite lost to it."
Knightley felt a chill run down his spine as he realized how badly he and Emma's other friends had blundered. "And the rest of us didn't make you feel that way," he said repentantly. "For all that we felt sorry for you and pitied you, we didn't act, in front of the world, like you had nothing to be ashamed of."
She nodded.
"Oh, Emma, I am so sorry," he said. "I'm glad—in an absurd way—I'm glad Churchill was so forthright with his immoral intentions for you. I imagine, as your only source of validation, that if he had been less openly ill-mannered... well, I imagine it would have been easy for him to make you his mark. We should have seen," his face was solemn, "and we should have been more gratuitously kind to you ourselves, as he was, even at risk to our own reputations. We ostracized you in our own way, and I am sorry."
"Mr. Knightley, don't castigate yourself so," Emma urged him. "It was all my fault for jumping out of the carriage with Mr. Elton. I should have controlled my emotions. You've been telling me so since I was a girl."
"His proposal was the poorest timing, Emma. And John never should have put you in that carriage—! There are reasons for conventions."
"Speaking of which, I suppose I've been in your library unchaperoned quite long enough!" Emma exclaimed.
"Indeed," Knightley affirmed. "You should go. Before you do, however—" his breath caught at his audacity, but watching her there in the sunlight streaming in from the window, making a golden halo around her hair, he grew bold, "Emma, may I kiss you before you go?"
She froze. "You kissed me here once before," she reminded him.
"Out of anger, and exasperation," he explained. "And—I must be honest—I am beginning to see you as a bit more than a mere friend, Emma, and, although I didn't realize it myself at the time... well, suffice it to say, I promise this would be a very different, very small, very chaste kiss."
Emma licked her lips, an expression of dismay still on her face. "I don't want to, Mr. Knightley," she said at last.
"You promised me you would try," he reminded her.
"A very tiny kiss?"
"Very tiny," he agreed, stepping toward her.
Every muscle in her body grew rigid and chill, her expression carefully clear. She shut her eyes. Knightley stopped, inches away from her face, and looked down at her. He frowned at her icy demeanor, but put his fingers under her chin nonetheless, gently turning it up towards his, and very softly kissed her lips. Then he let go, and quickly stepped away.
"Was that so horrible?" He asked quietly.
Emma opened her eyes, willing the tears not to fall. "I'm sorry, Mr. Knightley," she told him. "I'm going to make a horrible wife."
"You could never be that, dearest Emma," Knightley said. "But please make an effort to call me George."
Then he bowed slightly and left her alone in the library.
