Barons Always Win Wagers by Catherine Mayfair

Author:Catherine Mayfair
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2020-06-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Goodbye was such a simple word, and Michael whispered it again as he closed the door that would separate him from Emma forever. It angered him that she was leaving, but he could not force her to stay. In fact, her going was the best thing for her, for she would only succumb to his failures if she remained. She was much too perfect to be forced to endure such a life.

“You are a fool,” he whispered to himself. “Why would a woman such as she ever consider a man like you?” He made a fist and drove it into the door, sending pain shooting up his arm. He ignored it.

She had called him a friend, and though it meant much, a new feeling tore at his heart.

“Love is for fools!” he growled. “You cannot allow yourself such luxuries, for you are not worthy!” He struck the door again.

If the notion of love was for fools, why did her face appear in his mind each time he said the word?

As he stood with his face pressed against the door, he paused. He was going mad, there was no doubt, for he thought he heard Emma call out his name. Yet no, it was nothing more than an illusion taunting him to watch her walk away. She had made her wishes clear. She was to leave and her farewell was forever.

He turned away from the door. What a fool to have imagined that she had called out to him. Did all men suffer delusions in such a manner?

Yet…it would not hurt to peek outside once more. If she happened to ride past the door on horseback, he could say he was simply looking at the sky to see if the weather was due to change again. It made little sense, but he could not stop his legs from returning to the door or his hand from turning the doorknob.

Peering out toward the stables, he searched the snow for her footprints, or the hoofprints of her horse saying she was already on her way home. There were none. He had no idea how long he assaulted the door, but it could not have been long. Then he looked at the bottom of the steps and gave a choked cry. There lay Emma, face down in the snow and not moving.

“Emma?” When she did not respond, he hurried down the steps, ignoring the cold of his bare feet. “Emma!” he shouted, his breath vapors leaving his lips.

Rolling her over, he was relieved to see her chest rise and fall, and he placed a hand to her forehead. “You are burning with fever!”

And as he had done before, Michael scooped her into his arms and picked her up, grunting as he did so. With slow steps, he made his way back into the house and down the hallway, placing her on the couch in the parlor.

Quickly removing her boots, coat, and scarf, he threw them into a pile. He would hang them to dry later.

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