Winter's End (18 page)

“That’s where we
disagree, son,” Henry Winston said, equally stern.

“Will you stop it? The
both of you,” interfered Gloria Winston. She pulled her husband to the side.
“Henry, please, for god sakes. It’s been three weeks since Robert’s visited. So
no arguments. Not tonight. If you carry on like this, I’m afraid he will never
come back.”

Henry growled softly.
“Well, then my dear, I must have another drink to
halven
my wit and keep up the strength to endure your asinine beliefs.”

Emma watched them uneasily
from the corner of her eye. “Is everything alright?” she asked Robert.

“It's fine,” Robert
replied. “Let me just check on my mother to see if she’s okay.”

Emma nodded, watching
him console his teary-eyed mother in the distance. She walked slowly towards
Richard who was seated alone on a long Victorian couch. “Can I join you?”

Richard remained
quiet.

She fiddled slightly
with her fingers before finally deciding to sit beside him. “You don
‎
’t call by anymore.”

He caressed his glass
gently, refusing to speak for a long while. “I have been busy,” he said at
last. “But so have you. It's surprising that you missed me at all.”

Emma gave him a small
half-smile. “You’re my best friend, Richard. And I do miss you
 
when you decide to drop out my life for no
cause or reason.”

Richard glared at
her. “I told you I was busy.”

“You’ve always been
busy but you also always had the time for me.”

“And say if I did
call on you, how would you be able to schedule me around your dates with Robert,
Emma?”

Emma reddened. “Must
I choose between you two? Robert is just as much a friend of mine as you are,
Richard. I know that you’ve had your past differences in business with your
brother but must that affect our friendship? Besides you could at least show
some leniency towards Robert. He needs it. It isn’t fair that he is continually
castigated by his father and brother for having an opinion.”

“Opinion? Is that
what he calls it?” he scoffed. “He’s challenged our integrity, our ethics, our
way of living, how we’ve run the family business for generations to the point
where we’ve had to severe his relations with it. Doesn't that affect me or my
father? How do you think he feels? How my mother feels to see her son rarely
because of the decisions he makes? But Robert does more than that. He decides
that the one way in which he can display his displeasure over my siding with my
father is by…by…” His eyes softened as it gently roamed the contours of her
face.

“There you are,” said
Robert, walking towards them. “Don’t you go running away like that, Emma. I
don’t want my older brother stealing you away, right?” he smirked at Richard.

A nerve throbbed in
Richard’s temple. “It is not I who is in the habit of stealing,” he said
harshly and with one jerky movement, he had risen abruptly from his chair,
edging towards Robert.

Emma stood up quickly,
shielding Robert from Richard.

He looked at Emma,
his eyes welling with sadness. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “You
better go. It seems you’ve made your choice.”

“Richard,..,” she
protested.

“I am drunk as a lord,
Emma. Right now, I am impaired of both rationality and reason. Another day,
Emma. When I’m more sober. We will talk. But not today. Definitely, not today,”
he mumbled, as he staggered away.

*****

“Emma,” said Richard,
walking swiftly into the library. “What are you doing here? At this hour? Are
you okay? Are the children okay?”

“Yes, yes,” she
smiled. “We’re fine. I just… needed to talk to you.”

He reached for her
and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. “Is it urgent? Can it wait?
It’s so good to see you here. This is truly a pleasant surprise. I never
imagined you would come.”

She put her head
against his chest, resting in the warmth of his protective embrace. A sob
escaped her lips and then another, until she was crying softly into his shirt.

He lifted her chin.
“What’s the matter,
Em
?” he asked, looking worriedly
into her eyes.

“I…missed you,” she
blurted.

He smiled. “I did
too. But I could have told you that over the phone, only if you would answer it
once in a while.”

She chuckled between
her sniffles. She bent her head to look at how her fingers looked against his
hand as she entwined them with his. “Richard, I need to know…”

Richard watched her
silently.

“I need to know…,”
she tried again. “When you came to Skye, something happened. I felt it. I know
that you did too. What I want to ask is,” she hesitated, biting her lips. “Do
you…love me?”

He lifted her chin so
he could peer into her eyes. “Darling, I loved you from the very first moment I
laid eyes on you. Was I so obscure that you didn’t see that at all?”

“I was confused
because you kept pushing me away.”

“And you kept siding
with Robert. I thought you were in love with him.”

“I fell in love with
Robert far much later. After I was convinced you didn’t want me anymore.”

Richard pursed his
lips tightly. “Emma, I have always loved you. I still do. How can I make it
more clearer to you than that?” he said slowly, his breaths growing raspy as he
leaned closer to her.

She closed her eyes
and felt his lips touch hers. A tear drifted down her cheeks as he kissed her.
His arms tightened at her waist, drawing her close to him, her breasts crushing
against his chest. His lips hungrily tasted hers. She relented freely, allowing
him to explore her lips with his own.

His tongue thrust
deeply and fiercely in their wild intimacy. Her body shuddered, arching towards
him in a mute appeal for more and when he answered her with a thick groan, she
let out a long, sweet sound of female pleasure.

“Oh, Emma,” he
breathed hoarsely against her lips. “How I’ve craved for this moment. I wanted
you so much.”

“Marry me,” she moaned
through an unsteady gasp.

He stopped, suddenly
growing tense. “What?”

“Marry me,” she repeated
softly.

He cupped her face
with his hands. His body was still yearning for more of her warmth. “What
brought that on?” he said, inclining his head to kiss her again.

But she pulled back. “Well,
are you?” Her spine stiffened, her face paled in realisation that she would not
like his answer.

“Emma, that’s …so
sudden. There are things we need to consider.”

“What is there to consider? The children love you.”

“I know. And I do too. But I am their uncle also. You married my
brother, for god sakes.”

“Yes. But he’s not here now, is he? There is no law that states we can’t
marry.”

“It’s not easy, Emma. How are we to face Sarah and Julia? What about my
associates and employees? What do I tell them? There’s a whole world out there,
Emma, that will want an explanation for our relationship.”

Her body quivered from her growing fury. “So how did you think you were
going to carry out this relationship, Richard? Under wraps? Is that why you
were beginning to think that Skye wasn’t such a bad idea after all?” Her voiced
raised slightly, her eyes glowered with rage.

“Emma,” Richard protested, trying to pull her back to him.

She shoved his hands roughly away, tears pouring down her face.

He’s never fought to make you his,
she recalled, the
meaning of Ethel’s words dawning upon her.

“You’ve never fought for me,” she said in a frazzled mumble.

“What?” Richard said, unsure of what he heard. “Emma…”

She withdrew hastily and bolted out of the library.

“Mr. Winston,” she heard the butler call for him. “Mr. Frank Waldorf’s on
the phone.”

“I’ll be right there,” she heard him say.

The patter of rain against the windows told her that it was pouring. She
raced out, uncaring of the rain, anxious to flee from the large house. She
heard Richard call out for her but she had already run too far to turn back.

Rain dripped from her body, soaking her clothes. Her feet squelched
against the paved, water logged driveway.

He’s never fought for you,
she repeated. No, Richard
had never fought to make her his.

Chris showered and changed into a fresh set of clothes. His stomach
began to rumble from hunger and he remembered that the last meal he had was his
lunch. He made a quick call to Theodore to check on his grandmother’s health.
She was fine, he reported.

Ending his call, he made his way to the connecting door between his and
Emma’s room.

“Emma,” he said, determined to be a little more cordial. “Emma,” he
repeated, knocking slightly louder than he did earlier. She didn’t respond. He
turned the door knob. It was unlocked.

He stepped into the room. It was empty. There were no sounds from the
bathroom either to indicate she was there. He peered inside albeit carefully.
But he needn’t have to. She wasn’t there. Instead the shower was dry and clean
showing no trace of her ever using it.

His heart began to pace, anger streaming into him and through his veins.
He strode quickly back to the bedroom. Her bag was resting at the foot of her
bed, unopened.

He didn’t know where she had gone. He wondered if she was already in
contact with Richard Winston. His temples throbbed with chagrin. He didn’t know
which riled him more- that she had left quietly or that she was probably in the
arms of Richard Winston.

He sat for almost two hours waiting for her in her room. Impatience
overwhelming him, he rose to see if he could find her at the Winston residence.
He knew the address. He was to take her there tomorrow.

He heard the swipe of a key card at the door. The knob turned slowly and
she stepped inside, wet and dripping to her core.

“Where were you!” he roared, the nerves in his body almost snapping with
anger.

She raised her eyes slowly and shivering. It was then he realised they
were red and swollen.

She bit her lips trying to hold back the tears welling in her eyes. But
they escaped, rolling down her cheeks.

“Emma,” he said. His chest tightened, his anger immediately melting into
concern. “Are you okay?”

She began whimpering slowly. And when he rushed up to hold her in his
arms, she fell against him into racking sobs.

“Emma,” he said.

But she wouldn’t speak, crying uncontrollably against him.

He held her quietly, his arms closed protectively around her, waiting
for her patiently to release her pain.

It took her a long while to settle. He waited for her as she took a
shower. Now changed into her nightdress, she ambled into the room.

“What happened?” he asked, watching her carefully.

“I’ll marry you,” she said quietly, her face still swollen from her
weeping. He knew she had cried in the shower as well.

He hesitated to press her for reasons. His hands in his pocket, he
strolled to the windows, watching the rain continue to pour over gloomy London.

“It can’t be love,” he heard her say. He turned to her.

“When you don’t fight for what you love, it means you don’t really love
it, right? You just think you do,” she said. Her eyes were downcast. Though she
was clutching tightly onto a soft white towel, his eyes caught the slight
quaver of her hands.

He remained quiet, contemplating her words.

She turned away and sat at the dresser stool, towel drying her long,
auburn hair.

*****

Emma picked up the
last of Jai’s clothes strewn on his floor.

“Are you crazy?”
she recalled Lisa
exclaim with shock when she told her of the marriage ten days ago.
“But you
hate the man, Emma. How can you possibly think of marrying him?”

“He’s not all bad.”

“You’ve got to be
joking! The man is outrageous. Don’t you remember how he treated you during the
dance?”

“I...I…,” Emma
stammered. “Ethel believes he may be the right man for me,” she blurted.

“Give me a break.
That woman is just as kooky as her grandson. She’s been looking for a bride for
him for ages. Only no one in their right mind in Skye will have him.”

Emma remained quiet.

Lisa watched her, worriedly.
“Hon, arranged marriages of this sort either happens in the past or in books.
Get out of it while you can.”