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Something he could not afford to allow her.
‘No,’ he said, keeping his tone gentle.
‘You wanted me to be honest with you. And I feel... Wonderful, but... Unsatisfied.’
He could relate.
‘It is of no consequence what you feel. You will learn to wait. And you will learn to wait until I tell you that you may have more. You must prove that you are able. You will prove your strength by waiting.’
‘I have always known I was strong,’ she said. ‘It is others who have assumed that I am weak.’
‘Then prove it. Prove to me that you are strong enough. To wait. And take whatever I have in store for you.’
‘Yes, Your Grace.’
* * *
When she woke the first thing she became conscious of was the smell of bacon.
She opened her eyes slowly and looked to see a tray beside the bed. A massive tray. Absolutely laden, not just with bacon, but with a near mountain of pastries that exceeded her every expectation, and certainly her every request.
The second thing she became conscious of was the fact that this meant he had kept his end of the bargain.
And that meant...
That meant the rest would be coming too. The rest. She still didn’t know what all of it was. But he said that he would explain it to her.
A rush of giddy joy filled her as she sat up in bed and reached out for the bacon.
She felt both lighter and more carefree, and more mature than she ever had in her life. What had happened last night had been a fantasy brought to earth. The sort of garden she had found escape in as a girl.
She had now found true desire there as a woman. Had found the truth of dreams fashioned into reality.
A need created in her, and satisfied so thoroughly she would never be able to forget either.
He was giving her what she wanted. He was. This was a real life. This life with Briggs.
It was hardly like Emma.
Okay, perhaps not. Perhaps it was not like Emma at all. He was, of course, an older man who had known her for quite some time, but there was no... It was not love, this thing between them.
And she would not claim to have had great expectations of love, not in her life. Not when she had spent so much of it being so desperately aware that she was broken.
There were some similarities of course, between the novel and her life. In that Briggs was a long-time friend of her family, and several years her senior.
But... She could not help but think about all the qualities that she had always liked about Mr Knightley. He was assured in his authority. And that was what she liked about Briggs.
His certainty. His authority. It had been what had always drawn her to him. Like a magnet. It was not simply that he was the best-looking man that she had ever seen, though he was. It was more.
A strange sort of twist happened low in her stomach.
It was an odd thing, what he’d said to her last night. That he liked to give out pain.
But then, she supposed she liked to receive it, and if th
ere was a person in the world who seemed made to receive pain, ought there not to be someone who enjoyed giving it?
It was as if they were two halves of a whole. Though that she and Briggs were each other’s half seemed...
