Chapter 6

Emma stopped in front of the study, taking in a deep breath as she smoothed her hands down her dress. She didn't know what Killian wanted to talk about, and she felt a small ball of dread sinking into her stomach.

A fortnight had passed since she'd kissed him, and she'd hardly seen him since. She'd opted on sleeping in the adjacent bedchamber since she wasn't needed to sleep in bed with her husband if they hadn't had intercourse, but she wondered if he'd taken her up on her offer and had resumed his visits to his mistress, ignoring the ache she felt in her heart. She couldn't be jealous, she had no right to be jealous. She might be his wife, but she couldn't give him yet what she promised to, so it shouldn't hurt that he was probably seeking his pleasures in another woman's bed. It wasn't as if she really wanted him in her bed, she still dreaded to consummate the marriage with him, but nonetheless the thought of him in bed with another woman lodged a shard of pain into her heart.

"Can I help you, Your Grace?"

The butler's voice jerked her out of her reveries, and she shook her head, telling him silently she didn't need his services at the moment, and she waited until the butler disappeared around the corner before she lifted her hand and knocked at the door, stepping in with her heart in her throat when she heard the silent 'Come in'.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

Her husband looked up from the documents he'd been perusing, sending her a crooked smile that caused a tingle to run down her spine, her knees suddenly feeling weak – as if they couldn't carry her weight. She didn't know that feeling, and wondered why a smile of his had such an effect on her, as he stood up and gestured to the settee in front of the fireplace.

"Aye, milady. Have a seat, please."

She sat down slowly, watching him walk towards her, her fingers trembling slightly as he took a seat beside her and turned around to face her.

"It's about Henry."

Her heart plummeted into her stomach, her chest constricting painfully as she imagined what might have happened to her son.

"Did something happen to him?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I just saw him an hour ago, and he was fine. "

"No, the lad is alright," her husband assured her immediately, reaching for her hand and closing his fingers around it, the warmth of his hand and his words soothing her frightened mind in an instant. "That's not why I asked you here."

"Then what do you want to talk about?"

"I think he should have a governess. He might be a little too young for a tutor, but he is a smart child and already bombards everyone in his reach with questions."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace. If he bothers you I can ..."

"Killian."

"Pardon me?" Emma stared at their intertwined hands, following the movement of his thumb over the back of her hand with her eyes, wondering how such a soft touch could make her whole body relax.

"My name is Killian," he replied softly, and the tender tone in his voice made her look up to meet his gaze, her heart fluttering in her chest as she was greeted by a lopsided smirk on his handsome face. "I think it's time that we call each other by our given names, shall we?"

"If you wish, Your ..." His fingers squeezed her hand gently, one eyebrow shooting up as his smile broadened, and a soft chuckle slipped over her lips as she inclined her head and called him by his given name, "Killian."

"That's much better … Emma."

His mouth was still tilted up into a lopsided grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement and suddenly she felt the urge to lean forward and press her lips against the corner of his mouth, wanted to feel his lips move against hers. But before she could act upon the sudden need, he started to speak again, "So what do you think? Should I hire a governess for Henry?"

It took her a few seconds to find her voice, her heart warming as she realized how much he cared about her son if he was giving thought to his education, and her voice only quivered slightly as she said, "That's an excellent idea. Thank you … Killian."

The fire was burning low in the fireplace and Emma reached for the candelabra standing beside her on the table, shifting it so that the light of the candles illuminated the book in her hand better. It was an atlas, one of the few books she could enjoy since it didn't involve much reading.

She'd started to flip through some books after she'd watched Henry with his governess, her son eager to learn everything Mrs. Hawthorn could teach him, and she'd felt tears of gratitude towards her husband prick the back of her eyes when she'd seen how much Henry was enjoying his lessons.

Somehow seeing her son learn how to read and write had made her wallow in self-pity for just a moment before she'd chided herself. She could always do something against it; after all her husband seemed to be a very nice man, and maybe he wouldn't be opposed to Emma having lessons of her own.

A smile crept onto her face as she remembered this morning when she'd come down to breakfast and found her husband bent over a paper Henry was showing him, her son beaming with pride that he was able to write Killian's name, and a jolt had run through her when Killian looked up and saw her standing in the doorway, his mouth curling up into one of those lopsided smirks that always managed to make her mind stumble. She was still lost in thoughts about her husband when the door opened with a creak and her husband stepped into the room.

"Oh, excuse me. I didn't know you were in here. I don't want to disturb you, I just ..."

"Stay!" she said firmly before he could disappear again. "I wanted to go to bed soon anyways."

"You don't have to leave on my account, Emma."

She watched him a few seconds to see if he meant it, and the warm smile he sent her way convinced her that he really didn't mind, so she curled up on the settee again and turned the page. She heard him walk around, the clink of glass as he poured himself a drink before silence settled over the room again. After a few minutes Emma got curious about what her husband was doing, and she looked up from the book in her lap, finding him standing at the fireplace and staring into the flames. Something about his posture made her stand up from the settee immediately and join him.

"Something wrong, Killian?"

She stepped beside him, laying one hand on his forearm, feeling the need to soothe his obvious worries – whatever they might be.

"I ..." She felt him shiver under her touch, her heart aching as his eyes met hers and she saw bottomless pain in them. "I miss my brother. Especially today. He died three years ago."

Somehow she thought telling him she was sorry wouldn't be enough, so she closed her fingers around his arm and lifted it up, slipping under it and wrapping her arms around his waist. She felt him hesitate only for a brief moment before his arm came to rest on her shoulder, and then his grip tightened as he pulled her even closer.

"Tell me about him," she whispered against his chest, hoping talking about his brother might help.

"He was the typical big brother," Killian spoke softly, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "Always teasing me, but also very protective. My childhood would have been very lonely without him. He was always there when I needed him. He was ten years older than I and ..."

His broken voice made a lump form in her throat, and she had to gulp hard before she could speak again. "You adored him."

"Aye, I did. Since our mother died in childbirth when I was only two, and our father was too occupied with his obligations to care about what his sons might need despite food and lodgings … it was Liam who was there when I scraped my knee, or fell from a horse. It was he who taught me how to fight like a gentleman, it was he who encouraged me to join the navy. He was the best brother one can wish for and … I never told him how much I loved him."

"I'm sure he knew."

Emma didn't know how long they kept standing there, embracing each other, but she felt safe in his arms, her heart swelling with emotions, knowing that she could give him the comfort he needed right now. She didn't want to leave the warmth of his embrace, but eventually they had to move, and she had to step out of his embrace.

"You should go to bed," he breathed, his knuckles brushing over her cheek. "I'll walk you to your room."

They didn't say anything on their way up the stairs, and when he opened the door to her room, she stepped inside and turned around to him, not wanting him to just leave yet.

"Goodnight, Emma," he spoke before she could say something, and then his lips ghosted over her cheek. "And thank you for listening."

"You're welcome."

The door closed behind him, and it took Emma a few seconds to name the feeling that swept over her. She was disappointed. For one moment she'd wished he would stay with her and she could fall asleep in his arms.

Killian stared down at the letter in his hand, wondering if this was all just a bad dream, because he couldn't believe what he'd just read. His eyes flickered back to the words, as if reading them over and over again would change their meaning.

Neal Gold was Milah's son; Milah had given birth to him after having an affair with Richard Gold in Ireland, probably hoping he would marry her and take her with him to London, what he obviously hadn't done.

The truth was like a punch in the stomach, leaving him slightly dazed and thankful that he hadn't visited her after he'd married Emma. Milah's connection to Neal was definitely complicating things, because he knew that she would fight for her son's heritage, no matter what. She was a very proud woman, and she loved living in splendor. He might not have giving it much thought before, but he wondered now if the late Earl of Manton had financed her until now. She seemed to live in more splendor than she could afford, so if she had gotten money from the late Earl she might conspire with her son to keep it flowing.

He was still deep in thought when the door suddenly burst opened, startling him and he pushed the letter under a stack of papers as Henry rushed towards him.

"Killy, Killy!" Henry stumbled against his chair, thrusting a sheet of paper under his nose. "Look what I made for you."

Welcoming the distraction, he pulled Henry in his lap before looking at the drawing the lad made for him. Of course it was no master piece; crude stick figures and something he thought was supposed to be a horse, but the present warmed his heart, and he listened attentively to the lad's babbling as he told him about what his governess was teaching him, jumping from topic to topic so fast that Killian could hardly follow. But apparently talking so much had exhausted the lad, and he suddenly stopped talking and snuggled against him, being asleep in a blink of an eye.

Killian shifted carefully to not wake the boy until he could stand up with him in his arms and carry him over to the settee, lying him down tenderly. He brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, smiling softly when Henry curled up into himself without waking up. He was still looking down at the boy when the door burst open again, and Emma rushed in.

"Have you seen Henry?" she asked with a frantic voice. "I can't find him anywhere."

"Sorry, love." Killian stepped aside so that she could see Henry lying on the settee. "I should have let you know that the lad is with me."

"Thank God," she whispered, hurrying over and leaning over the boy, probably to make sure that he was alright.

She sat down beside Henry and maneuvered carefully until the lad's head was in her lap, a soft smile playing over her lips as she skimmed her fingers over his hair, humming a lullaby under her breath, and Killian walked back to his chair behind his desk, his eyes coming back to his wife and her son as he settled into the leather.

Watching Emma with her son conjured up a yearning he'd never felt before. He wanted to have a family of his own, and he wanted it with Emma. He leaned back in his chair, feeling slightly blindsided by the realization. He didn't know when it had happened; the feeling had apparently snuck up on him without him noticing it. But looking at his wife now he realized that he'd fallen in love with her, and her son. They'd healed the wound the loss of his brother had left in his heart, and he sent a silent prayer up heavenwards, thanking whoever was listening for sending Emma to his doorsteps in the first place.

Killian knew that she didn't love him, knew that her scars might never heal, but he was determined to help her in any way he could, and maybe – some day – she'd be able to let him in her bed and her heart.

"Killy?" Henry's voice snapped him back into the presence, and he smiled as he looked at the lad, his eyes still heavy from sleep.

"Yes, Henry?"

"When can I go riding?"

He chuckled and pushed himself up from the chair, wandering over to the settee, contemplating when it would be possible to give Henry his first riding lesson as a sudden idea struck him.

"Tell you what … how about we go to my estate for a while? My stable master will be happy to teach you."

"Yes!" Henry cried, throwing himself into Killian's arms for a moment before scrambling to be released back to the ground, and off he was through the door, stomping up to his room.

"Aehm," Killian looked slightly baffled to Emma for an explanation to Henry's sudden departure.

"I guess he is already starting to pack."

"Ah, I see."

"Thank you." Her eyes softened as she smiled at him, but then her face fell and a furrow appeared between her brows. "Don't you have to be here in London for Parliament?"

"The estate isn't that far away," Killian replied, determined to spend some time away from the Londoner ton and the wrath of his former mistress and her son, and maybe being in the country would also bring Emma and him closer together. "I'll manage."

"Emma?" Killian's voice sounded from the adjacent room, and she couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"In here, Killian."

She turned to the door the moment he stepped through it with a small parcel in his hands.

"I see you're already ready to go?" he asked, gesturing towards the open and already full trunks on the floor.

"Yes, I am."

He grinned at her then, a grin that melted her heart, and held out the package to her.

"I have something for you."

"What is it?" Emma asked as she started to unpack it carefully.

"A book from a new author – a woman," Killian told her, a slight blush on his cheek as he lifted his hand and scratched behind his ear. "Her name is Jane Austen, and I was told that women love her books, so I thought you might enjoy it, too. It's called Pride and Prejudice. See?"

Emma looked down at the book in her hands, deciphering the two words with some difficulty, a lump forming in her throat as she met her husband's gaze. "Thank you, Killian."

"Maybe you can start reading it on the carriage ride after Henry has fallen asleep," he told her with an eager expression on his face that reminded her of Henry when he was excited about something.

"You won't come with us?"

"I need to stay a few days longer, but I'll join you as soon as possible." He leaned forward and pressed his lips on her cheeks for a brief kiss. "Have a nice trip, Emma."

Emma could hold it together until he'd left the room before she slumped down on the bed and the tears started to fall. It was such a considerate present, one that was meant to bring her pleasure. But Killian had no idea that she wasn't able to enjoy it.

Pressing the book against her chest, she bit her tongue to keep herself from weeping out loud. She might not be able to read it, but it was the first real present she'd ever received - one where the giver had put actual thought into what she might like.

Her vision was still blurry when she laid the book into her lap, her fingers skimming over the letters on the front, her heart aching with the need to open it and read it. She wanted to follow the story, wanted to submerge into another universe, like she'd seen Killian do from time to time.

But there was only one way she could achieve that goal – she needed to finally learn how to read properly. Maybe she could join Henry in his lessons with his governess – in the country it might actually be possible. Or maybe it was time to tell her husband about her problem, and ask him for help. So far he'd surprised her on a constant basis, showed her time and time again that she could trust him, that he cared about her and her son's wellbeing, so maybe it was time to trust him with another secret.

For your information:

I'm taking some creative liberty with the books, plays, sonnets, poems etc. I mention in this story. Though they've all been published in the 19th century or earlier, they might not have been well known at the time in which this story is set (mid 19th century), or not yet published, or the identity of the author was not known at that time.

For example – in the case of Jane Austen (1775-1817) – Pride and Prejudice wasn't her first published novel, and her name was never attached to any of her published novels during her lifetime. On the title page of P&P it was only mentioned that it has been written by the author of 'Sense and Sensibility' (her first published novel), which was published in 1811 under the pseudonym 'By A Lady'. She started to write the first draft of P&P already back in 1796 and gave it the title 'First Impressions', revising it 1812 and publishing it under the title 'Pride and Prejudice' in 1813.

P&P is just my personal favorite, so I used that novel for my story.