Page 51 of Beneath the Flames
Brie let out a nervous sigh. “Thank you but no. I’ll be okay.”
“I’ll start a pot of tea going, then. Sir Davis suggested the two of us should talk afterward.”
Brie smiled at her, grateful for Sir’s thoughtfulness. “That would be wonderful, Celestia.”
Taking Brie’s hands, she squeezed them in encouragement. “I’m so grateful you came, Brianna. I’ll be on my knees, praying for you both.”
Encouraged, Brie watched her head to the kitchen. And then, taking a deep breath, she walked up to thestudy door. Knocking once, she didn’t wait for Marquis to respond before opening it and stepping inside.
Chills coursed through her body the moment she entered the room. The lights were off and the fire was out, leaving the room cold and dark in both temperature and ambiance. Brie rubbed her arms to stave off the sudden shiver she felt.
“Why are you here?” she heard Marquis Gray call out in the dark.
“I had to come, Asher.”
“Why?” he demanded, his voice a force not to be denied.
Brie hesitated, challenged by the strength behind that voice. “I…I felt an urgent need to come that I could not deny.”
She heard his startled intake of breath, and then the most terrifying sound she could imagine—his tortured sobs.
Brie made her way to him in the dark and knelt on the floor beside his chair. She was hesitant to touch Marquis because she did not have his permission, but the pain she felt radiating from him demanded a response.
Trusting her instincts, Brie bowed, pressing her forehead against his feet.
“Don’t…” he choked out.
Even though she heard his command, she felt even more conviction when she kissed the leather of his shoes in an act of reverence and respect.
His grief-stricken cry broke the silence, shattering Brie’s heart.
She remained still until she felt Marquis Gray’s handon the back of her head.
“Look at me, pearl,” he commanded in a hoarse voice.
Lifting her head up, she stared at him in the dim light filtering through the curtained windows.
His words gutted her when he spoke again. “I have been fighting against God. I am broken and can no longer be trusted…”
Marquis’s voice was gruff with emotion when he confessed, “And then you come and bow at my feet in supplication.” Reaching down, he grasped her chin, tilted her head up, and asked in a tortured voice, “Why would you do that?”
“I had to,” she answered, her bottom lip trembling. “The urge was so strong, I couldn’t ignore it.”
“But to kiss my feet when I forbade it?”
Breathless with fear, she confessed, “I felt even more conviction in doing it.”
Marquis let her chin go.
Sighing deeply, he slowly pushed himself up from his chair and went to start a fire. As the flames engulfed the wood in the fireplace, the light from it illuminated the room.
Once the fire was blazing, he returned to Brie and held out his hand to her. When Brie grasped it, he helped her to her feet and gestured for her to sit in the chair beside him.
Brie obediently sat down, keeping her gaze lowered.
“As you know, I have been facing a crisis of faith,” Marquis stated in a low, pained voice. “I am questioning everything I know and believe and…I find myself lacking in both areas.”
Brie glanced up, looking at him with sympathy. “I can’t begin to imagine how painful that must be for a man with strong beliefs.” When she finally met his gaze, she was confronted with the depths of his internal suffering and realized it was beyond anything in her limited experience.
