Whenever his pain abated, she knew he would regain his strength and strangle the life from her. She kicked at him. He grabbed her foot and cursed some more. She tried to kick him with her other foot but could not quite reach him. How could she get away from his deathly grasp? She was no match for him in strength.
Minutes passed. His curses trailed off as his pain subsided. Her heart drummed. He's going to kill me now.
Still digging his fingers into her foot, he sat up. His green eyes bore into hers as he moved toward her. He then did a most peculiar thing. He straddled her as if she were a horse.
His hands closed around her throat. "You will tell me who else knows." His grip tightened.
She felt as if her windpipe collapsed. "I'll not tell you," she croaked.
He squeezed harder. "I think you will."
She felt as if she could not breathe. Panic set in. She shook her head rapidly.
"Tell me who else knows. Does your husband's brother know? That fellow who rules the Exchange?"
Nick. She had nothing to lose. He would kill her if she did not tell him, and he'd kill her if she did. She probably couldn't answer because her throat was so restricted, but she wasn't about to try.
Her only consolation in death was the knowledge that the Birminghams would hunt him down like a mangy dog.
She flashed a defiant gaze at him.
"Why, you . . . " His hands choked her harder.
Now she really could not breath. Involuntarily, her eyes closed, and she felt as if she were falling into a dark well.
From far off she heard Adam's voice. "Get your foul hands off my wife!"
* * *
Adam raced toward Ashburnham and leveled a kick right in the man's face. The clerk went sailing backward, curse words spouting.
"I'll take care of him," William yelled. "See to Emma."
Her eyes closed, she looked as if she were dead. The imprint of Ashburnham's fingers whitened against the blue of her neck. Blinding rage filled Adam. I'll kill him.
Tears spilling from his eyes, he lifted her into his arms and cradled her, weeping. "Please don't die." He kissed her hair, kissed her cheeks, and finally drew a gasping breath and pressed his lips to her blue mouth.
They were warm. She wasn't dead! "My God, Emma, I can't lose you. I love you!" His breath hitched. "I love you with all my aching heart."
Her lids fluttered. She mumbled, "I was dying to hear those words."
He held her tighter. And wept.
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later . . .
The bloody circles around her wrists no longer bled. The blue circle around her neck was fading. James Ashburnham was in Newgate Prison charged with murder. But still her husband had not returned to his bank. He refused to leave her side.
Not that she minded. She never tired of being with him, never tired of being cherished by this man she loved more than life.
This was the first day he had allowed her out of their house since the day James Ashburnham had nearly killed her. Adam's ministrations on her behalf were growing tedious. As much as she basked in his love and as much as she admired their beautiful house, she needed to get away, and so did he.
They sat close in the carriage, each of them touching and feeling and kissing the other. She would never tire of these actions.
As the coach rattled over the busy streets of the Capital, she reflected on that horrid day James Ashburnham tried to kill her. She was quite sure she was almost dead when she heard Adam declare his love for her. From the edge of oblivion, she clawed back. Because of Adam. Because of his love for her.
"I have a confession," she said.
He pulled her closer. "And what might that be?"
She drew a deep breath. "Since the day I married you, I've been in love with you."
He smiled. "That's hardly a confession. A confession's a revelation about something wicked." Drawing her even closer, he growled, "Unless you're admitting you've always had wicked thoughts about me."
She playfully swatted at him. "I didn't know about wickedness until you introduced me to it."
He kissed her hungrily and splayed his hand over her breast. "In this way?"
Her breath was coming fast. "You're very wicked."
"I have a confession, too."
She raised her brows.
"Nick told me I had never married because I'd not met The One." He paused. Swallowed. "You are The One."
Her eyes moist, the former Miss Emma Hastings was speechless.
He drew her into his arms. "Where is it you're taking us today, love?"