Rhys didn't respond. He simply waited. It would be a difficult story to tell and a difficult one to hear. His body tensed, almost as if for a blow.
Without preamble, he leaned forward and refilled their glasses. He had never pressed Michael before, for the simple fact was he hadn't truly wanted to know. He could no longer afford to ignore past tragedies if future tragedies were to be averted.
The silence stretched on for several moments before he began to speak. Michael, normally so glib and loquacious, was somber and subdued. His grief was still tightly reined.
"You know of course that she had suffered terrible wounds to her head and those wounds truly were what ended her life. What I never told you was that those wounds were not the only injury she suffered. When I found her, her clothing was... she was exposed, and whoever had done this had used her brutally."
"She was raped."
The very idea of it left him reeling. His mother and the servants had known. They had prepared her body for her burial; they would have seen evidence of her injuries. Michael had lived with it for all of those years, had borne that horror alone.
Michael continued, “Yes and there was a ribbon about her neck, and bruises. Whoever had done this had tried to strangle her before simply bashing in her skull."
His gut clenched, and his blood went cold. The knowledge seeped into him and left him shaken. She had been a child. He certainly understood that there were men and women for whom that was arousing. It sickened him in general, but learning that his sister had suffered, had lost her life at the hands of such a monster was unbearable. The grief that he had buried so deep inside intensified, flaring and igniting a fury like nothing he had ever known.
Michael met his gaze. His jaw was tightly clenched and his voice was pitched low, filled with grief and anger, but buried within his words was also his guilt. “When I found her, she begged me to cover her, not to let anyone else see. She was ashamed, and it was never my intent to conceal things that would hurt you, only to honor her request."
"Ellersleigh, I will say this once and only once. No one in this family has ever blamed you or held you responsible in anyway. If nothing else, it has always been a relief to me that she did not die alone. She loved no one else in this world the way that she loved you. I actually pitied you for having been the one to discover her, for I know how you loved her and as for keeping those secrets, they were kept for the best of reasons, which was to protect us."
Michael's head dropped forward, and Rhys did not acknowledge the tears that burned in his friend's eyes. Just as he ignored those that burned his own. Melisande did not need their tears. She needed their focus and skill.
Emme awoke the following morning. Rhys was beside her. He hadn't made love to her during the night, an unusual occurrence. He had come into their chamber in the wee hours of the morning and had climbed naked into the bed. She could feel the comforting weight of his arm around her and feel his hair-roughened leg against hers. She looked at him over her shoulder. His face was relaxed in sleep, making him appear younger. His dark lashes fanned against his tanned cheek, and would have been the envy of any woman she knew. Dark stubble shadowed his cheeks and chin, and his hair fell across his forehead, giving him a boyish appearance. There was nothing about him that she would alter.
As if feeling her eyes on him, his own eyes opened and he smiled at her. He tugged her closer. “Good morning. Don't get up yet. I enjoy holding you."
She sighed and snuggled closer. “Only for a few minutes. We have much to do today."
He kissed her shoulder. “I know and it will get done, but for now, the bed is warm and so are you."
Emme allowed herself to enjoy his embrace but his hands began to roam. “I don't think holding me is all you have in mind."
He grinned. “When you are this close to me I find that my good intentions carry little weight."
He cupped her breast, measuring the weight in his hand, and teasing the nipple into a turgid peak.
She placed her hand over his, stilling the movement.
He sighed. “What pressing engagements do we have this morning?” he asked.
"You are going to tell me what Michael is doing here and do not attempt to convince me that he is simply here to enjoy a holiday."
Rhys rolled onto his back and stared up at the wooden canopy of the bed. “He liberated a journal from one of Elise's compatriots. And he told me the truth about Melisande's murder."
Emme rolled over and placed her hands on his chest. “Liberated?"
Rhys chuckled. “Ellersleigh is not above seducing the enemy."
"Is that an effective technique?” she asked, moving her hands.
What was she about, he wondered? He let it go for a moment, enjoying the gentle slide of her hands over his skin. Finally, he asked, “And what favor are you attempting to seduce from me?"