Page 110 of Emma & Edmund

"I look forward to it." Edmund smiled broadly, the skin near his eyes crinkling under her fingers.

Her heart felt like bursting, only held together by the strength and love wrapped around her in the form of thick, mossy arms. But even in their shared bliss, her gut filled with nerves.

She needed one thing from Edmund – to be his bride. And there was only one way she could be properly, unashamed.

"Edmund." Emma tried to capture his hazy eyes, groaning as he ground himself slowly within her, his hips beginning to rock again. "In exchange for a lifetime by your side, I need you to do something."

"Anything, my love."

Her heart skipped a beat, wanting to hear him call her such a name until her final days. Those days may not even be too far off, given her request.

"I need you to come to London."

Epilogue

Edmund carefully avoided the neatly laid tassels of the carpet as he paced back and forth in the small drawing room, gloved hands wringing together. His long cloak swept the marred floorboards and well-worn rug, eyes darting behind his mask from portrait to painting, window to window, unable to focus on any of them.

On the other side of the room, heavy double doors shut off Mr. Thompson's study, where Emma had slipped through almost a full hour ago. The slowly, loudly ticking grandfather clock seemed to mock him with the fact.

When she had pulled him through the front door with a wide smile and introduced him to a hovering, but warm, Heidi, Edmund’s confidence bolstered. Although she had remarked on his mask, she showed no discomfort at his covered form, far too wrapped up in gushing over Emma’s arrival. Maybe Gerald Thompson would do the same.

He was to meet her father and, God permitting, gain his blessing. His face would never match the other men around her, but Emma had loved him, nonetheless. He had to believe her family would too.

And should they not, an escape route had been planned weeks ago, painstakingly plotted by Anthony as he poured over maps of London and beyond, coming up with at least three different strategies.

None of that succeeded in fully calming Edmund’s nerves. His future bride stood alone just beyond the oak, preparing her father for what was surely to be the shock of a lifetime.

He hadn't been as nervous since the moment he saw her awake for the first time, in his cottage, hardly noticing her sickness around how anxious he was for her to see him - the first outsider.

All Edmund's worldly wealth, all his family's inherent influence, meant nothing. The elder Mr. Thompson could very well take one look at him and send a mob to find the monster. It certainly wouldn't help that Emma had already promised him her hand, and her devotion could send them both as the prize in the chase.

Yet, the very thought of her twinkling grey eyes, alight with a tease, or how her cheeks flushed with each bit of praise he paid her made it all worthwhile. He would face endless mobs for her.

Even if that meant that for the rest of time, as their story was told, he would be nothing but the monster that stole her from her home. As long as she wanted to be by his side, he would fight to remain by hers.

He had let her slip through his fingers once but it would take an act of God for him to do so a second time. He had waited his whole life for someone to look at him like she did.

Emma loved him, laid with him, kissed him, and wanted to marry him despite the fact of his heritage, and he would die before he let that go.

"You're actually going through with this?"

Edmund suppressed a growl when Molek's shrill voice penetrated his mind. It often had over the last few months, ever since the night the demon had first appeared, belittling and doubting Edmund at every turn.

"Of course." He didn't need to speak aloud for Molek to hear him. And God only knew where Molek himself even was, Edmund not seeing his form or shadow lingering in the room.

"You're going to outlive her, you know? You will watch the love of your life grow old and die, all while you hardly change."

The thought of an older Emma crossed his mind. Her hair a silvery grey, her hands weathered and creased, and her voice raspy with age. He still couldn't imagine anyone more beautiful, more worthy of his loyalty.

If he was honest with himself, he had been devoted since the moment she demanded Anthony take her to him, her entire being alight with excitement, pledging her assistance.

When she ran from him with hateful words, he had waited for her to return, not out of any earnest hope, but knowing no one could ever take her rightful place by his side. As such, he had no choice but to wait, even as anger boiled, and ended up doing so for far less time than he imagined.

He couldn't believe how quickly his anger dissipated, only feeling the need to hold her again.

"You still have time to run. Escape while you can. She already left you once, what's to stop her a second time?"

For a long moment, Edmund couldn't answer. It was true, the same beauty that had laid beneath him, offering herself openly and lovingly, had - just a short while ago - stabbed him through the heart.

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