(no subject)
She watched him intently, careful to remain silent behind the trunk of the ancient tree. Her palms were wet with perspiration, her lips pursed tightly in a taut line. Her slippered feet throbbed beneath the hem of her dress. She guessed that her slippers were probably tattered and torn by now, caked with blood and dirt. How long had it been before he realized she was missing? She swallowed thickly, her eyes stinging with indignation and defeat. How foolish of her to think she could actually break free of him. How stupid. How utterly absurd and hopeless.
The look on his face was wild and unreadable, his dark eyes flashing when he heard the snap of a twig beneath her right foot. With a sudden burst of force and energy, he was before her, grabbing her roughly by her shoulders. His voice came out in an anguished flood, ragged and broken . "Foolish woman! ! If it were anyone other than me, madam--" He raised his hand, and she cowered away from him, shielding her face as if she expected him to strike her.
The touch that followed, however, was largely unexpected. His large hand rested on the side of her pale face, his thumb grazing her hot cheek, flushed pink with shame and embarrassment. "Emmaline, why do you run? Why are you frightened?" His voice was a soft murmur. His brows furrowed as he waited for her reply. This was the first time in their acquaintance that he had used her given name. It felt like a caress to hear her name on his lips.
She had no answer to give him. She knew not why she ran. She had no logical explanation for being frightened. She merely bit her lip, dutifully bowing her head. He tilted her chin to meet his gaze, his black eyes probing. A tight smile formed on his lips, and he released his grip on her arm, moving to stand beside her.
" You wish to not speak and leave me to a game of guessing."
The look on his face was wild and unreadable, his dark eyes flashing when he heard the snap of a twig beneath her right foot. With a sudden burst of force and energy, he was before her, grabbing her roughly by her shoulders. His voice came out in an anguished flood, ragged and broken . "Foolish woman! ! If it were anyone other than me, madam--" He raised his hand, and she cowered away from him, shielding her face as if she expected him to strike her.
The touch that followed, however, was largely unexpected. His large hand rested on the side of her pale face, his thumb grazing her hot cheek, flushed pink with shame and embarrassment. "Emmaline, why do you run? Why are you frightened?" His voice was a soft murmur. His brows furrowed as he waited for her reply. This was the first time in their acquaintance that he had used her given name. It felt like a caress to hear her name on his lips.
She had no answer to give him. She knew not why she ran. She had no logical explanation for being frightened. She merely bit her lip, dutifully bowing her head. He tilted her chin to meet his gaze, his black eyes probing. A tight smile formed on his lips, and he released his grip on her arm, moving to stand beside her.
" You wish to not speak and leave me to a game of guessing."