Page 28 of The Snow Witch

Afterwards, Emory dressed in the tiny cottage, knowing that Meg was watching him. He looked down at her upturned face, the bruise on her cheek darkening, and felt an overwhelming hatred for the men who had done it – and for his so-called brother. Charles had caused it. He and Alice together, with her selfish behaviour. Meg was not to blame. It was not fair that Meggie had to suffer. He tried to smile at her but knew that he scowled instead. ‘I hate to leave you.’

‘I feel better now,’ she said. ‘You should go.’

He leant down and kissed her. ‘But I hate to go and leave you here.’

‘You need to go. Before he starts to search for you.’

Emory’s stomach churned again. He would make some enquiries about that incident at the church, regardless. He couldn’t help it; he had to ask again. ‘As I said, tell me their names and⁠—’

‘No.’ She pulled herself into a sitting position in the bed. ‘Because then you will try to get revenge for me. I know how you think.’

‘Please Meg! If I find out who it was⁠—’

‘And that is why I do not want you to know. And do not try to find out. I am warning you.’ There was something dangerous that flickered in her eyes, something shadowy and unreadable that had nothing to do with the flames licking the fireplace reflected in her pupils and it sent a shiver of fear up Emory’s spine. Meggie was deadly serious.

He had built the fire back up and the tiny cottage glowed in the warmth now as the snow fell thickly past the windows and the evening darkened outside. The marks on her body were hidden in the shadows, but he knew they were there, and he’d been gentle with her, especially with the fact she was with child. His movements were tender and considered, rather than desperate and passionate as usual. It was difficult to hold himself back when he desired her so badly, when he had done nothing but think of her in the few days he’d been away. But he knew instinctively she just wanted deliberate, careful touches and the safety of slow love-making tonight.

‘Very well. If I cannot persuade you to come to Milburn Hall with me, to allow me to dress you in silks and velvet, I suppose I must take my leave. Unless we leave Newbrough together and elope to a different place – where nobody knows who either of us are?’

‘I cannot go to Milburn Hall so long as Charles Milburn draws breath,’ she said quietly and dangerously. Another chill shivered up Emory’s spine as Meg’s eyes locked on his. ‘And I never think of being anywhere else. I suspect I should always be here, somehow. I cannot leave Coventina. I cannot leave here.’

Emory knew when to leave it.

‘Very well. I shall see you soon, Meg Noble.’

‘Goodbye for now, Emory Milburn.’

Emory kissed her once more, then walked out of the cottage. He looked up at the gloomy, cloud-ridden sky and shuddered. Rime had already formed on the windowsills and on the roof of her cottage and he knew the logs he had put on the fire wouldn’t last the night. He’d quickly get some out of her wood store and take them in for her. It would save her from coming outside again tonight.

He picked up an armful and shouldered the door open back into the cottage. ‘Meggie, I brought some⁠—’

He stopped as he saw her kneeling on the floor, a flagstone lifted and pushed across the floor. She was holding something in her hands – a book, if he wasn’t mistaken. A look of guilt and terror flashed across her face, but it cleared as she realised it was him.

She replaced the book in the gap and dragged the flagstone over it. ‘Pay me no mind,’ she said. ‘I was looking for a recipe.’

Cookbooks were not usually found in gaps under the flagstones, but Emory wasn’t going to argue with her.

‘I see.’

‘Yes.’ She sat back on her heels, gloriously naked, her body displaying the new curves of pregnancy that he felt so protective over. ‘I must remember to bolt the door in future.’

‘You must.’ He raised his arms, showing her the logs. ‘As I said, I brought these in for you.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him and he felt his desire rise again. But he knew she would be exhausted and he did not want to take advantage of her.

But God, he loved her more than his own life.

However, he could not stay. He put the logs in the basket by the fire, and she stood up and came over to him. He kissed her goodbye again, and gently draped a blanket around her shoulders.

‘Bolt the door!’ he said as he walked out.

‘I shall.’ He stood outside until he heard it slide across and he was satisfied.

As he walked back across the fields to Milburn Hall, he thought about her and about that dagger he had seen in her cottage.

He shivered, but he was glad she had some protection at hand.

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