Part Four
The evening air did not provide the reprieve Killian had been hoping for. Desperate to find a measure of escape from the stifling stares and weighted whispers following him around the ballroom, Killian had retreated to the garden terrace, but instead of a cooling breeze, he was met with the stagnant atmosphere that had been choking Misthaven most of the day.
A day that had begun in shrewd negotiations at Spencer's solicitor's office, of which he had come out the victor, having acquired the property he sought, even though it's future purpose was still very much in question. Upon leaving the solicitor's office, a new challenge had presented itself with the publication of the latest Candlewyck pamphlet. Whether it was pure speculation, an attempt to control the narrative the author had been crafting all season long, or actual knowledge of the pending petition, Killian could not say. All he knew was when he read the vague assertion that a proposal that would stun the ton would be forthcoming, Killian's stomach had fallen away. He'd hurried to the Viscount's home, intent on confronting Lord Nolan, only to be summarily dismissed by the butler. The man had at least confirmed no other callers had been received that morning, and that, so far as he knew, the Viscount would be escorting Miss Swan to the Camelot Ball that evening.
The not so furtive glances and speculative comments that had murmured through the ballroom when he'd entered earlier, left little doubt in Killian's mind that all of Society had inferred as he had, that the proposal in question would be directed toward his Swan. The only question that remained, posed to him through inquisitive looks and curious stares, was whose knee would be doing the bending.
The whole of the ton knew of Cassidy's interest in the Viscount's ward. Indeed, it had become fodder in a number of Candlewyck's publications, which only seemed to spur the man on in his futile pursuit. The turmoil Killian was currently seeking refuge from was not any concern that Emma might say yes to the man if he was foolish enough to ask, but that the proposal would be done with such spectacle, it would only serve to embarrass Emma and further strengthen her resolve against such a proposition.
A proposition he hoped she might consider from him once she learned of his acquisition and expectations. To say nothing of the hope that her opinion on the subject might already be wavering if she took his previous propositions into consideration last night. A prospect that had been simmering in his blood all day, leaving him half hard as he fought against the images he himself had indulged in during those same dark hours, which was another reason as to why he'd withdrawn from the ball, determined to get control over his longings before Emma arrived.
He should have been working on gaining control of other impulses, however. Perhaps then the sight of Neal Cassidy marching towards him from around the corner of the terrace would not have had him balling his hands into fists, ready to exhaust his frustrations with a different sort of exertion.
"I am surprised to find you out here, Hook," the man said ill-temperedly. "I expected you to be awaiting my arrival with your usual smug and contemptuous countenance."
Killian's head cocked to one side in confusion, brows furrowing as he released the tension in his hands. "Whatever are you talking about, Cassidy?"
The man puffed out his chest and thrust his chin forward in challenge as he accused, "Do you think I am unaware that the Viscount's refusal to accept my betrothal petition on Miss Swan's behalf is entirely because of you?"
Slipping his hands into his pockets, Killian rocked back onto his heels and quipped, "Or… it is because Lord Nolan knows Miss Swan would never consider a proposal from you and has acted in his sister's best interest."
Cassidy snorted a derisive sort of sound and rolled his eyes. "Since when is the business of marriage about the woman's best interest? Lord Nolan's refusal of me is about advancing his own societal standing, which would be elevated further if your two houses were to become joined." The man practically stamped his foot when his demeanor shifted, all but erupting in a full blown tantrum. "You're a duke. You already have the money, the title, the lands. You can have any woman you want, so why can you not just let me have this one?"
"Let you have…" Killian wasn't even sure how to finish that statement, too dumbstruck and infuriated by the man's words to form any sort of response for several moments. "She is not mine to barter with Cassidy, much as I might wish to call her my own."
"Why, then, have you not asked for her hand? Why have you not already proposed?" Cassidy's demanding expression faltered and a look of dawning comprehension spread over his features as he considered, "Unless you have already had her."
"I beg your pardon?" Killian responded through clenched teeth, taking a menacing step forward; the threat which Cassidy did not seem to fathom as he continued to contemplate this newfound revelation.
"If you have, you must tell me," the man prattled on. "For if she is already damaged and no longer intact, then I should not want-"
"Enough!" Killian snarled down at Cassidy, who finally had sense enough to cower in the irate Duke's presence. "I shall not have you question the lady's honor again without demanding satisfaction, do you hear me?"
"Yes. Of course," Cassidy replied. His trepidation shook his voice even as he tried to regain his composure. "That is all I had hoped to hear."
Killian sneered disgustedly at the man then took a step back, intent on returning to the ballroom before his rage got the better of him. "You do not deserve to tread the same ground as her."
"And you do?" Cassidy challenged. His bravado had returned now that Killian was several steps away. Steps that were halted by the man's barb. "I have heard of your many exploits, Hook. The gambling, the drinking, that man's wife."
Turning, Killian tucked his thumb into his belt and shifted his weight into a casual yet dominating stance, a smirk playing at his lips as he quipped. "I've had many a man's wife."
Undeterred by Killian's projected air of boredom and indifference, Cassidy continued to spew his vitriol. "You still attend those… repulsive parties I hear rumors of, consorting with all manner of unsuitable persons, doing God only knows what, and you think it is I who am unworthy of Miss Swan's affections?"
It was only the sounds drifting out from the nearby ballroom, reminding Killian of the crowd amassed within that kept his hands at his sides and not around the miserable man's neck.
"I think," he began in a hushed and hardened tone, "only Miss Swan is qualified to determine who is and is not worthy of her time and affections, Cassidy."
Cassidy's brow lifted and his lips pursed together in consideration. "I quite agree," he acquiesced. "Perhaps we ought to leave it up to the lady to decide."
Before Killian could respond, Cassidy spun around and marched back towards the ballroom. He knew he should go after him, but he did not trust himself to not make a scene, thereby creating a scandal. Running a hand through his hair, he gripped the strands at the back of his head tightly, urging the sharp pain to ebb the flow of fury currently coursing through his veins. Killian understood himself well enough to know he could not risk being in Emma's presence in such a condition. His emotions were too close to the surface, too unstable and unpredictable in their potentially volatile release should provocation of any sort be applied to his tenuous condition. He had no choice but to retreat further into the gardens. With luck, the evening air might still provide him the solace he had originally sought, and he would be able to return to the ball, in full command of himself once more, before his Swan arrived.
~/~
Emma's inside were positively churning with a mixture of trepidations and turmoils she hoped none of the keen-eyed ladies of the ton could discern as she entered the ballroom on her brother's arm. Immediately, she began searching for Killian, knowing the only way she'd be able to thwart any idiotic romantic gestures from an equally idiotic man would be to remain at either the Duke's or her brother's side throughout the evening.
It was a wonder her jaw was not still littering the floor given the way it had fallen in response to her brother's pronouncement over breakfast that Mr. Cassidy had issued a petition for her hand. Mary Margaret had immediately seen to it that no callers be given entrance when David had further told them he'd refused to accept on Emma's behalf, not realizing his words had left open the possibility of the man issuing the request to her directly, and given his penchant for dramatics, most likely in full view of the gentry. Something she was determined to avoid at all costs.
Emma had no qualms turning the man down flat, but she was not about to be made a spectacle for the ton's amusement yet again. She'd already endured enough notoriety within the bounds of propriety, thanks to Lady Candlewyck, and wished to complete the Season without incurring even more. It was clear, based on the latest edition of the gossip rag, that their infamous author was hell bent on obtaining a scoop and Emma would be damned if she would play into the writer's hands.
She'd much rather spend the evening in Killian's. A thought that made her cheeks flush when she considered the fresh implications that statement carried, beyond that of the respectable reference towards dancing. To say nothing of how such physical responses prompted emotional ones she had been trying to bury with all her might since they had made themselves known. Strong feelings of love and devotion, affection and fidelity she had no idea whether Killian shared, and was not sure she was willing to risk what they had together, nor the plans she had made for herself by confirming such reciprocations.
That didn't mean she did not long for his presence, though. Especially now when it could at least reassure her she wouldn't have to endure Mr. Cassidy on her own.
While scanning the room, and finding no hue of forget-me-not blue staring back at her, Emma panicked when the muddied brown of Mr. Cassidy's eyes set their sights on her the moment he entered the ballroom from the garden terrace. A determined look firmly snapped into place and he began to maneuver his way towards her. Thankfully, a friendly face came into view first as Lord Hatterling stepped up to greet her and her brother before requesting the pleasure of a dance.
"The pleasure would be mine," Emma replied with a bright smile, accepting Lord Hatterling's hand.
The man seemed to know the exact nature of Emma's plight, promising to deposit her on the far side of the ballroom from Cassidy, once their dance was concluded.
"Unless, of course, you were hoping to entertain us all with a soul crushing rejection to his preposterous and presumptuous proposal."
"Certainly not," Emma replied with a terse click of her tongue.
"I suppose that is for the best," Hatterling lamented with an overly dramatic sigh. "Hook would hate to miss such a display, I imagine."
"Speaking of His Grace-"
"I have not seen him since he went out into the gardens some time ago," the lord informed her with a knowing smirk. "Whose doors we just so happen to be making our way towards."
Try as she might, Emma couldn't quite stifle the pull of a smile that twitched at her lips.
"Thank you for the dance, Lord Hatterling," Emma said, ending their quadrille with the expected curtsey as he reciprocated his own appreciation before ushering her towards the terrace.
No sooner had she cleared the threshold when an urgent "Miss Swan!" was called out from the throng, causing her to groan. She thought she had successfully eluded Mr. Cassidy by retreating to the garden terrace, which she frustratingly found empty. Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she knew she would not be able to enter back into the ballroom without having to face him, so instead chose to hasten her way further into the gardens, hoping to hide from him in the shadows.
Except there were no shadows to be found in the safety of the terrace, which forced her to move deeper within the rows of hedges and away from the protective boundary she ought to be keeping to.
"Miss Swan!" Mr. Cassidy called out again. "Are you out here?"
Frantically, Emma wove her way past topiaries and under vine scrawled archways, praying the man would not catch up to her. She shuddered to think what would happen if she were caught out here alone with him and cursed herself for being foolish enough to wander so far from safety. She could scarcely hear her pursuer's footfalls next to the thundering of her own heart, which nearly seized within her chest when she came to a dead end in the hedge row she'd ducked down.
Panic made her breaths erratic. She was trapped. At any moment, Neal Cassidy would round the corner and her reputation would be completely at his mercy. Tears stung her eyes and a sob was about to break free from the constricted confines of her throat when a hand shot out from a narrow space within the shrubbery, grasped her arm, and yanked her through the foliage.
A large, calloused hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream as an arm wound around her waist, pulling her flush to a firm chest.
"Relax, love. It's me," Killian whispered into her ear.
Her body immediately went slack with relief, but it was short lived. On the other side of the brambles, Emma could hear Mr. Cassidy approaching. A shadowed silhouette paused in front of them with only a few twining branches, blanketed with leaves, separating her from potential ruin. She and Killian both held their breaths as Cassidy spun on the spot, calling out her name once more before trekking back in the direction from whence he came.
Emma's shoulders slumped and a heavy sigh whooshed from her lungs when the Duke removed his hand. Though their position was cramped, Emma turned to offer her thanks.
"I cannot tell you how grateful I am that y-"
Her words were cut off by his mouth, descending upon hers with a frenzied sort of desperation she felt would surely leave a bruise upon her lips. Not that she minded. What she did mind was the way he reared back, breaking off the kiss before she had even had a chance to fully enjoy it.
"My most abject apologies, Miss Swan," he murmured, breathlessly.
His tongue swept over his lips, his eyes displaying none of the remorse his words were meant to convey, and before Emma could stop herself, she wrapped her fingers around the lapels of his jacket and pulled him to her once more.
His response was nearly instantaneous, inhaling in unison with her before crushing her to his chest and flicking his tongue to the seam of her lips. A gasp escaped her when she opened her mouth, the feel of his tongue courting hers making her head spin and her knees weak. Another gasp, this one throaty and sounding a bit more wanton than the first, found its way past her lips as his traveled along her jaw and began working the flesh along the column of her throat.
"Did you do as I suggested last night, Swan?" he murmured into her skin, his hands wandering over the length of her body, leaving a searing trail of desire and anticipation in their wake. "Did you touch yourself?"
"Y-Yes," Emma exhaled, swearing she heard a growl rumble in his chest.
"Good girl," he praised darkly before asking, "and what did you think about?" The question, mixed with the hot vapor of his breath against her neck, made her feel even more flushed. His tongue fluttered in the hollow of her throat, his teeth grazed her collarbone, drawing out another moan from her. "Tell me," he insisted, dipping his tongue into the valley between her breasts.
"You," she panted, running her fingers through his hair with one hand while the other held onto his bicep for dear life. "I thought of you."
Surging upward, his mouth was on hers once more, unyielding in its demand to claim every groan, gasp, and whimper emitted from her own. His hand slid down her back, cupping the back of her thigh and lifting her leg to hitch over the top of his before it made its way back up to palm her breast. His head returned to the exposed skin of her decolletage and her own fell back, giving him unfettered access as his fingers nimbly moved over her corset, attempting to breach the cinching barricade her flesh was already mutinying against.
When his other hand began working up her skirts, Emma knew she should put an end to things before they lost themselves to temptation completely, but when the heat of his hand scorched the inside of her thigh, inching closer to where she was desperate for his touch she found herself incapable of forming words.
"Gods, you're so wet," he groaned, his fingers dipping into the folds of her sex, nearly causing her legs to collapse out from under her even as he assured, "I have you, my darling."
It felt nothing like it had when she'd touched herself the night before. There was nothing tentative in his action, no fumbling or hesitations, just blessed relief to the ache that had been only partially satisfied by her own inexperienced hand, requiring a more practiced and expert touch which was quickly driving her to the brink of ruin as he rubbed and circled the sensitive spot she'd only become aware of not twenty-four hours prior.
His mouth covered hers when she shattered, swallowing down her cries and replacing them with his own moans. A quake of trembling coursed through her, but Killian kept her steady as he removed his hand from between her legs.
"That was…" Killian rasped, easing her leg off his hip and swiping his tongue over his swollen lips which were still hovering over her own.
The sound of a twig snapping off in the distance jolted Emma back to reality, forcing her to hastily declare, "A one time thing." The severity of what they had just done, of what might have happened if they had been caught, came crashing down upon her and she wriggled out of his embrace.
"Swan," Killian said, grabbing her arm when she tried to back away from him.
"Miss Swan," she corrected, pulling her arm from him. "You forget yourself, Your Grace. As have I. I must go before we are-"
"Marry me."
Emma froze. The air rushed from her lungs, leaving her with only a scant amount of exhilarated breath. "What?"
"I have compromised you," he replied in a tone of self-reproach. "I swear it was not my intention, but in light of what we have done, it is only right that I do what is honorable."
"Honorable?" The word practically slapped Emma across the face. He was only issuing a proposal out of a sense of duty? No. That made no sense at all, because... "Where was your honor when you refused to issue a proposal to Ruby?"
"That situation was entirely different."
"I agree," Emma replied, her armour of self-preservation snapping into place, serving to mask her hurt and humiliation as much as it attempted to protect her from any further anguish her own folly might cause. "Our indiscretion was not discovered, so there is no need to concern yourself with your honor or my reputation."
"Emma, you cannot-"
"Do not tell me what I can or cannot do," she snapped, her sorrow stinging the corners of her eyes where treacherous tears were beginning to form. "I will not be forced to marry simply so you can appease your conscience, especially when you have told me on numerous occasions how you abhor the idea of having yet another duty thrust upon you."
"Swan-"
Emma held up her hand to stay his words. "We have thus far avoided disaster. I suggest we both return to the ball before we are missed. I, back this way through the arches, and you, through the fissure in the hedges from whence you rescued me." Picking up her skirts, she fled back towards the house, choking back the sob that had started to work its way up her throat.
Somehow she managed to keep her composure. Entering the ballroom she was met by a group of her friends, all desperate to know whether a proposal had been issued.
"A… what?" Emma nearly shrieked in half panic.
"Candlewyck hinted a proposal was forthcoming," Belle reminded her. "We've been on pins and needles wondering if that's where you've been. Especially since the Duke and Mr. Cassidy have been absent as well. So? Did one of them propose?"
"I…" Words caught in the back of her throat, her entire body frozen in the expectant and excited gazes of her friends. "I… need to find my brother."
"Emma?" Ruby inquired, scrutinizing her with a practiced eye. "Is everything all right?"
"Everything is fine," Emma assured, waving off her concern and forcing a smile to her lips. "I just… I am overly tired and not feeling well. I think it best I go home and rest."
"You do look rather flushed," Anna stated. "And a bit clammy."
Those astute observations deepened Emma's mortification and she quickly extracted herself from the group, moving with determined steps towards her brother.
"I am ready to leave," she told him while threading her arm through his and pulling him towards the foyer.
"Now? But we've only just arrived."
"I know, but I… I'm not feeling well. I'd like to…"
Her words trailed off, her body stiffening once again as she caught sight of Killian returning from the gardens. David followed her gaze then flicked his eyes back to Emma, taking in whatever expression she'd let slip onto her face before returning a steely glance to the Duke.
"What happened?" David demanded under his breath.
"Nothing," Emma clipped out, snapping her attention back to her brother.
"Emma, if that man has done something to you, then I-"
"Nothing has happened. Nothing's been done. I just want to go home. Please."
Emma looked back once more at the Duke who was still hovering at the terrace doors, his forget-me-not eyes pleading with her from across the room. Biting down onto her bottom lip, she turned and told her brother she would wait for him in the foyer, completely missing the way the two men regarded one another.
David, eyes narrowed in speculation and accusation, stared Killian down as the Duke took in a deep breath, Adam's apple bobbing as a look of contrition shadowed his features. Their parting glances held a world of meaning, a declaration that whatever had occurred that evening would be dealt with in due course.
~/~
The club was nearly deserted when Killian arrived, as he expected it would be. Most of the men would still be at the Camelot Ball for many hours yet, allowing Killian time to fortify himself in relative peace for the conversation he would later have with the Viscount. There was not a doubt in his mind that the look Lord Nolan had given him before he and Emma had departed the ball meant the Viscount suspected something untoward had occurred and that a reckoning was unavoidable.
Having decided the matter could not wait until morning, Killian was simply allowing the Viscount time to return home and settle into the remainder of his evening before he arrived and blew the man's night to hell. To say nothing of the hope Emma would already be abed and fast asleep by then, protecting her from any ire her brother might throw at her in the heat of his temper, determined to take the full measure of the man's fury upon himself.
Polishing off the dram he'd been nursing for the better part of an hour, Killian stood and made his way back towards the club entrance. It was time to face the Viscount, and accept whatever consequence the lord would demand. Although, given the fact Killian had already issued a proposal, one Emma had refused, and seeing as there had been no witness to their indiscretion that might force her hand, the only recourse left to settle the matter of honor Killian had disparaged, was to do so over pistols at dawn. Unless, of course, the Viscount was able to persuade Emma into reconsidering marriage.
As Killian waited for the steward to bring him his overcoat, a faint rumble of laughter in the next room drew his attention. He wasn't sure how long it took before he registered who the muffled voice belonged to or to fully comprehend the tale it was spinning, but once he did, Killian marched into the room to find Cassidy regaling two of his friends with the story of how he'd witnessed a tawdry scene between the Duke and Miss Swan in the gardens of Camelot.
"If I had known she was so liberal with her favors, I would not have spent the money on flowers or bothered with the propriety of courting," Cassidy chortled.
Killian grasped the man's shoulder, spinning him around as he reared back his arm. The satisfying crunch of bone resonated from the man's nose when Killian's left hook, one Robin would have been proud of, landed, splaying the man upon the floor.
"My apologies for not having my gloves on me so as to issue my challenge properly," Killian seethed over Cassidy's prone form.
"Challenge?" the man sputtered, wiping away the trickle of blood spilling from his nose. "What challenge?"
"I told you I would demand satisfaction if you ever again slandered my intended's unimpeachable character."
"Your intended?" Cassidy scoffed, scathingly, as he was assisted up off the floor. "Who do you think you're fooling, Hook? We both know there's no betrothal contract between you. No engagement announcement has been issued."
"An announcement will appear in the weekend papers," Killian declared. As much as it pained Killian to go against Emma's wishes, they had no choice in the matter now. Her reputation would be ruined if the ton discovered their dalliance without news of an impending wedding to help diminish the scandal. "Miss Swan and I were, perhaps, a bit presumptuous this evening, wishing to celebrate the decision in private, but make no mistake… Miss Swan will be my wife, and you have caused me a great offense with your slander of her good name."
Cassidy raised himself to full height and puffed out his chest. "Very well. I shall send you the name of my second and choice of location within the hour."
"And I shall procure a doctor and provide the pistols," Killian replied through clenched teeth. "I shall see you at dawn."
It was well past midnight by the time Killian arrived at the Nolan house. He'd chosen to wait until he had everything in place for his dawn appointment before appearing at the Viscount's doorstep. It took some convincing, but eventually he managed to persuade the butler in allowing him entrance. Anxiously, he waited in the imposing foyer while the butler went to seek out the Viscount, however, it was not Lord Nolan who descended the grand staircase moments after the servant had disappeared around the corner.
"What are you doing here?" Emma hissed in a whispered tone.
It took Killian a moment to find his tongue, too distracted by the sight of his Swan in nothing but her dressing gown with her golden hair freely flowing over her shoulders. "I, uh… I came to talk with your brother about what happened between us at the Camelot Ball."
"Are you mad?" Emma exclaimed. "Do you have any idea what he'll do once he finds out? There is absolutely no reason my brother ever need know what-"
"Cassidy saw us, Swan," Killian said. The news of that made her balk, but he pressed on before she could otherwise respond. "He saw us and has told others. I just came from the club where he was telling two of his mates about…"
"About what?" David demanded, coming down the stairs with a determined and intimidating gait. "What exactly did Cassidy witness between you and my sister?"
"Lord Nolan." Killian bowed his head in reverence then swallowed heavily before meeting the man's already hardened gaze "I regret to inform you that Miss Swan and I shared an… indiscretion. One that has, unfortunately, left her compromised. I have issued a proposal and hope, given the circumstances, you will see fit to approve the match."
Killian made no attempt to block the punch the Viscount aimed at his face, taking the blow he knew he deserved.
"I ought to call you out, you bastard," Lord Nolan shouted, his face turning red with anger as a vein began to throb at his temple. "I almost believed you when you said your intentions towards Emma were honorable."
"They are," Killian insisted, tonguing the corner of his mouth to check for blood. "I am here to do the honorable thing. You have every right to demand satisfaction for your sister's honor. Unfortunately, I cannot meet you at dawn as I am already obligated to meet Cassidy upon the dueling field."
"What?" Emma's face paled and her hand flew to her chest, covering her heart.
The Viscount appeared equally as stunned. "You… you are dueling Cassidy?"
Grinding his teeth together, Killian fisted his hands at his sides in order to maintain his composure. "After what he said about Emma…" The muscle at his jaw flickered and he had to take in a deep breath before continuing. "I could not let such an insult stand."
"She is my sister." Nolan stepped forward, posture proud and resolute. "If her honor needs to be protected then it ought to be me-"
"Well, if I fail to fell him you can call him out immediately after, seeing as I'd hoped you would be there as my second."
"You want me to stand with you?" Killian might have gotten a good laugh at the Viscount's incredulous expression if it were not for the seriousness of the situation. "Are you sure you would not rather have one of your other… mates?"
"Robin is prepared to step in if necessary," Killian told him. "He has already procured the doctor and informed him of the location. I thought it only proper to offer the role to you first, however. As Emma's brother, it is your right."
A look of awed respect flickered in the Viscount's eyes before he thrust his hand forward, accepting the position of Killian's second and promising to fulfill the duty with honor.
"This is madness!" Emma erupted beside them, drawing the men's attention as she marched up to them, focusing all her anger onto Killian. "You cannot duel Neal Cassidy! It is illegal."
"Cassidy must be held accountable for his words," Nolan insisted, his tone barring any argument. "And so long as both men fire wide or up into the air, and no actual damage is done, it will be impossible for the authorities to prove a duel ever happened."
"You did not hear what Cassidy said, mate," Killian replied darkly. "I do not relish the idea of throwing away my shot."
"Well, you must," Nolan asserted, firmly. "Because immediately afterward you will have to obtain a special license so the two of you can be married at once."
"No," Emma clipped out, crossing her arms over her chest as her chin defiantly thrust forward. "I will not be forced to marry simply because-"
"Do you not understand how precarious the situation is, Swan?" Killian interrupted exasperatedly. "How close to ruin you are? Cassidy is already talking, which means it is only a matter of time before Candlewyck gets wind of our dalliance." Killian cupped her face in his hands, the shimmer of tears pooling in her eyes making his chest constrict painfully. "We must resolve this before the scandal has a chance to spread through the ton. My challenge to Cassidy will settle the matter of your honor, but only our marriage can salvage your reputation, love."
Tears slipped past her lashes and down her cheeks. Closing her eyes, Emma's chin began to quiver and Killian felt certain she had finally come to see reason.
A certainty that proved false with Emma's words when her eyes flicked open with a fresh, stubborn resolve burning in their green depths. "Then all I can do is pray Cassidy does not throw away his shot. After all, I can't be forced to marry a corpse or a fugitive."
"You do not mean that, Emma."
"I mean every word!" she shouted, stepping away and out of his grasp with an expression of accusation and betrayal upon her features. "You knew I did not wish to marry and yet you proceeded to take liberties."
"Who was it that tried to save you from being trapped with Neal Cassidy in the secluded parts of Camelot's gardens?" Killian shot back with a tone of indignation. Bloody infuriating woman. "What the bloody hell were you thinking going out in those gardens with him chasing after you anyway?"
"What were you doing out there alone in the dark hedges?" she countered. Her posture straightened, her back stiffening with an obstinance Killian well recognized. "Why must I justify my actions while you are free to skulk about the gardens at night?"
"Enough!" the Viscount shouted, causing them both to flinch. "I realize this is not an ideal situation for any of us, but we have no choice in the matter." Rounding on his sister, Nolan dictated, "Emma, go to bed. Killian and I must prepare to meet Cassidy at dawn." Emma's mouth popped open, but the Viscount stayed her incensed reply with the raise of his hand. "We will accomplish nothing else tonight whilst tempers are high, so I suggest rest in the hopes calmer heads prevail tomorrow."
"Demure and compliant heads you mean," she quipped venomously as more tears streamed down her cheeks. "You will have to drag me to that altar."
"If the Duke manages to keep himself from killing Cassidy while also surviving the encounter himself, then that is exactly what I'll do. Kicking and screaming if that is how you choose to arrive."
Emma shook her head in frustration and shot Killian a scathing look of despair that tore apart his insides before she sprinted from the foyer, back up the stairs towards her bedroom where a door could be heard slamming against its frame moments later. Despite the Viscount's assurances she would come around, especially once his wife had a chance to talk sense into her, Killian could not stop the guilt and anguish eating away at his soul. For weeks he had convinced himself he could change Swan's mind about marriage, woo her and court her until he held a place in her heart as she did in his. Now, he wasn't sure he would ever win her heart. Not when by her own admission, she would rather he die than have to marry him.
Perhaps Cassidy's bullet would prove true and save them both the heartache.
~/~
The mantle clock had ticked away the long hours of the night while Emma fought to find some measure of rest. The mocking rhythm of each passing second seemed to stretch out forever as anger and indignation ebbed into anguish and contrition.
She'd been furious when she first entered her room. The lingering pain of Killian's forced proposal had already begun to fester when he'd arrived. Add to that the knowledge that Neal Cassidy had not only witnessed their intimately shared moment but had not the decency to hold his tongue, coupled with her brother's imperious attitude regarding what was to be done, had sent her spiraling into a full blown fit of fury. Now that she had spent many hours tossing and turning, finally giving up the futility of sleep and pacing to the tempo of the clock's hand, Emma had exhausted her anger towards the men who would see her coerced into marriage and was now overcome with new torments at a fresh target.
Herself.
How could she have told Killian she wished him dead? How could she lay the blame solely at his feet when she was just as culpable for the mess they were in. She did not fault him for his outrage, and was amazed at the lack of resentment he seemed to hold towards her. Though, she supposed, the full measure of his resentment may well come later, when he found himself forever bound to a woman he'd been obligated to marry out of a sense of honor and not choice. For Emma could no longer deny the inevitable. She and the Duke had to marry. It was the only way to salvage their reputations, as well as her brother's and sister-in-law's. Emma knew there was no way her infamy would not adversely affect David and Mary Margaret's standing within the ton, and could very well haunt her soon-to-be born niece or nephew. To say nothing of the fact that no one would entrust her with care of orphans if her reputation lay in ruins, thereby crushing the dream that had her forgoing the option of marriage in the first place.
...what sort of happiness could two people ever find in a marriage where one of them was forced to enter? This was the question now plaguing Emma as the mantle clock chimed.
Killian may not love her as she had only just come to realize she did him the night prior, but that did not mean they could not find happiness with one another someday. They shared friendship and affection, and there was clearly passion between them that would aid in the necessities of marriage in the effort to produce an heir. Many marriages were built on far less.
Where earlier, Emma had been convinced the night would never come to an end, time now seemed to be speeding up with the predawn hour tolling in the distance, reminding her Killian's life may well become forfeit when dawn crested the dueling field. She could not let him face the barrel of Cassidy's pistol with her anger filled words ringing in his ears, thinking his death would be preferable to her than marriage. She could not bear the thought of him becoming injured or worse because he was compelled to defend her honor in order to satisfy ridiculous traditions of duty and good form. But mostly… she did not want to lose him.
Emma refused to stand idly by, she would not let those words be the last Killian heard from her. With no solid plan in mind of how she would manage to stop a duel, Emma's main focus was to disguise herself in her brother's old clothes and make her way on horseback to the only person who knew where the duel would be taking place, who was not to be among the assembly.
"Are you daft?" Robin scolded her. "Do you have any idea what Hook would do to me if he learned I gave you the location of the duel rather than take you straight back home?"
"If you will not help me, then I will have no other choice but to search every secluded field on the outskirts of town."
Emma turned on her heel and began marching back towards the gym doors. She'd been relieved to find him there already, but his staunch refusal to assist her had not at all been what she'd hoped for. Chewing her lip, she fought back tears, daunted by the prospect of riding aimlessly through the city streets and out into the countryside in the hopes she might happen upon the correct site by chance.
"Hold on," Robin said, grasping her arm and swinging her back around. "It is a wonder you managed to get here without incident, I cannot, in good conscience, let you go back out there unescorted."
"Then come with me and take me to the location yourself, because I will not relent until I have put an end to this madness."
Robin stared her down, but Emma did not cower under his scrutiny as he gauged the seriousness of her statement. A heavy exhale left his lungs once his assessment was complete. "Hook said you were headstrong, but I think I would classify it as bull-headed." Casting an exasperated look to the side, he slid a hand down his face and muttered, "You two are bloody perfect for each other."
"Does that mean you'll help me?" Emma held her breath while awaiting Robin's reply, which came in the form of him punching a heavy laden sack hanging from a hook before telling her he would saddle his horse with haste.
Her horse flew beneath her as it kept pace with Robin's, it's hooves thundering in time with her heart as it pounded in her chest. The soft rays of dawn began to creep over the horizon as the cobbled city streets turned to dirt lanes, the fields of tall grasses and orchards glowing in the light of which Emma desperately wished to slow the stretch. When dark figures, standing out in stark contrast to the flaxen stalks of the field, came into view, Emma urged her mare on, passing Robin as she sprinted towards the men who were already pacing off.
Her mouth opened to scream at them to stop, but the words caught in her throat. Focused as they were on the severity of the ritual in which they were partaking, none of them seemed to notice her and Robin's approach.
Her brother's count hit her ears when he called the final paces...
Killian and Neal turned to face one another...
David commanded them Ready…
Take Aim…
Cassidy's pistol erupted before David could shout Fire, and Emma screamed Killian's name when she saw the bullet hit him, felling him just as she and Robin reached the other horses, tethered off to the side. She practically jumped from her horse, calling out Killian's name on a fear choked sob as she raced to his side.
No! No, no, no, no. Please, no!
"You bastard!" Robin shouted at Neal from behind her, he and her brother both calling the man out for his cowardice and underhanded cheating, firing early.
Emma pushed past her brother who only just now seemed to notice her presence. Her breaths were shallow and frantic, her heart lodged in her throat, her eyes stinging with tears that blurred her vision as she finally reached the spot where Killian was being attended to by the physician.
"Swan?" she heard him croak in pain. "What the bloody hell-Ah!"
Blood seeped from beneath his fingers as he held his shoulder, and the doctor pried his hand away to take a closer look.
"A nasty graze," the doctor informed them, and Emma felt the pressure in her chest release as she expelled the breath she'd been holding. "Fortunate. Another few inches the other way and the bullet would have lodged in your chest."
"Emma?"
Killian's strained tone prompted her eyes to snap to his. Pale and pinched in pain, his face displayed his aggravation tinged confusion at her sudden presence. The sweat beading along his brow as he winced in response to the doctor's administrations, joined with the continued shouts happening behind her, had Emma's vision swimming as red as the blood that continued to flow from Killian's wound. Loosely gripped in his hand was the unfired pistol, and before she could fully form her intent, Emma knelt beside him and took the firearm from his hand.
"Swan, what are you… Emma don't!"
Killian grabbed her arm and jerked it far to the right, mercifully causing the shot to go wide and miss her intended target. Wrenching the pistol from her hand, Killian tossed it aside and pulled her towards him, cupping her face as he searched her gaze.
"It's alright, love," he assured her. "I'm alright, and Cassidy will pay for his cowardice with his reputation. Your brother and I will see to that."
Emma had never before felt such terror fueled rage. The flood of it left her numb and unable to process what was happening around her. All she could seem to focus on was Killian's forget-me-not eyes and worried expression as his thumb caressed the apple of her cheek.
"Swan, say something," he pleaded, his fingers digging into the side of her neck from the tension filling the air around them.
"Will you be well enough to obtain a special license later today?" she blurted out, snapping the gathered heads of the doctor, her brother, and Robin in her direction.
"Aye…" Killian drawled with furrowed brows, until a hope filled expression took over his features. "Emma," he breathed. "Does that mean…?"
"I will see you at the altar, Your Grace."