Emma

Chapter Thirty-One.

The fire crippling in the chimney warms me up and the towel I am wrapped in is so soft I could live in it.

"How are you feeling?"

I turn my head to Thomas who just sat on the couch behind me. I nod. "Much better. Thank you," Thomas lays his eyes on me. My lips stretch in a small shy smile before I turn my head back to the chimney.

I look around the room, as I have never been in here, and notice a few paintings on the wall. One of them is a portrait of Thomas on his black horse and the other is just him, standing. In both of the paintings, he has this very grave expression and I have the sensation he is staring at me. His eyes are very disturbing.

"What did John tell you?" Asks Thomas.

"You said you didn't know anything. And the way you looked at us; at me, you were fucking disgusted"

It breaks my heart to know that John felt this, felt the way I was looking at him. I never wanted to express any repulsion toward him, I never wanted him to feel this way.

"He said you wanted to keep me to yourself," I reply, still having my gaze on the fire. "Why is that?"

"What?"

"Why do you want to keep me to yourself?" I ask. This time, I turn my head to look at Thomas.

He looks down to his glass and sigh. Tommy takes a sip of his drink and remains silent for a few more minutes. I never thought I would hate silence that much one day. But I do, right now. I want to know why he is feeling the need to keep me to himself, to imagine that I am pure and innocent. Which I am not, never was and never will be.

"When we met," starts Thomas. "You said you didn't know me, and you didn't even ask who I was. You saved me that night without having the slightest idea of who I was. And even when I told you my name, you didn't care. You never cared"

It's true. I never paid much attention to who Thomas is, I never actually wanted to know who he was. Except if he said it himself.

"And even when I invited you to dinner, you kept on saying no. You didn't want me in your house, you didn't want me to stay the night. You didn't want anything to do with me. You weren't scared, nor impressed. You were everything but impressed," sighs Thomas.

Once again, it is very true. I still remember his stubbornness to try and get me to dine with him. It never worked. Did we have dinner together? Technically, we did dine together with Amsia and her husband when they were here. But we never had a private diner just him and me. We travelled to London, of course, but somehow I have the feeling that we never got to have this dinner he insisted on having.

"Why did you think I was innocent?" I ask, curious.

"I just said it. You didn't know who I was"

"Is that why you never wanted to tell me the truth?" I demand.

I stand up and walk to the couch. I sit on it, next to Thomas, and keep my eyes focused on his face. He still looks at his glass.

"I wanted you to know," replies Thomas. "I was going to tell you, at the party. But the priest got to you first"

He was going to tell me? Is this true? Why would he lie about it? Maybe to ease my suspicions. No, I don't think he would do it. He knows how much I hated that he lied.

"Does that mean that, if Father Hughes didn't come to me, you would've told me the truth? That night," Thomas nods. "In that case, why didn't you tell me when I woke up?"

He scoffs. "Because of the way you reacted. You looked at me with horror"

I should really control my gaze. "It wasn't my intention"

"But you still did," replies Thomas, laying his gaze on mine.

He's right. I did not want him to feel like that, but I did look at him with repulsion. I did have this look on my face, I looked at him like that. And I can't change it now. He will always remember the way I looked at him that night. Nothing will ever be able to change that.

"I am sorry. I regret that I was not able to control my emotions"

Thomas puts his glass on the table before turning to face me. "It's alright"

"I wish I could go back and change that," I say.

"I don't," he replies. "Because if you didn't look at me like that, that night, you wouldn't be looking at me like that right now"

"Like what?" I ask, confused.

Thomas doesn't answer. Instead, he just stands up and offers me his hand. I accept it and when I stand up, alongside him, he leads me to another room. A bedroom. I was never here either, it's not the bedroom we ever shared.

This one is much bigger, the big windows behind the bed give us a glimpse of the full moon. And the bed, in the middle of the room, is much bigger and looks warmer. This bedroom feels warmer.

"It's beautiful," I sigh when I see the windows.

I leave Thomas' hand to go stand behind the bed to look at the moon. I was in awe. This is delightful. I could stay here for hours, maybe even forever.

Tommy comes to stand behind me and a sensation of pleasure envelops me as his arms encircle my waist and his head rests on my shoulder. At first, I am like stunned. I can't move, I can't breathe, but as time go by, it feels comfortable. It feels right.

I put my hands on Thomas' and just completely relax. I let my body completely fall against his and his grip is stronger, he holds me. He holds me in a way that I could never be hurt not betrayed again.

"I can treat you better," he whispers in my ear.

My smile gets bigger. "I don't need you to treat me better," I turn my head to look at his eyes. "I just need you to be you"

Thomas looks away from my eyes and lays his gaze on the window.

"It's true," I whisper. "I never wanted you to be anything else than you. I just want you to be yourself, nothing else"

"You don't want me to be me," he retorts.

"I do," I free myself from Thomas grip in order to fully face him. My body pressed against his, I put my hands on his cheeks and let my gaze lose itself into his. "When we were in London, the night you saved me, I only had one thought. I didn't care who you were, I remember thinking that you could be a thief, I wouldn't care. And I still don't. I thought I cared when I discovered the truth, but the reality is, I don't Thomas. I will never care. I just want you to be honest and to be you"

"The true me is horrendous"

"So is the true me," I reply. "And yet, here I am, in your arms. Believe me, Thomas, I want you to show me the real you"

When Thomas closes his eyes, I know he won't do as I say. How can I convince him?

"Show me who you are and I'll show you who I am"

Tommy's eyes open up, and by the sparkle in it, I know he understood what I meant. I can see a flame in his gaze, something powerful and deep into desire. He is hesitant, he is not sure whether to accept or not.

"I can't touch you," he whispers. "Not now, not like that"

I close my eyes and take a step back. I walk away from Thomas, and stand across from him, at the end of the bed. I turn around to face him, and he does the same. I look down at the towel wrapping my body and take a deep breath. My hands on the towel, I make my decision quickly. Once the towel in on the floor, Thomas' gaze is like changed.

He walks up to me, taking off his jacket. I notice the gun holster on his shirt, but Thomas takes it off too. He puts the gun down on a piece of furniture before leaving his shirt on the floor. Once he does the same with his trouser, and we are both left with our true self, Tommy wraps my bust with his arms and hold me tight against his body. I let my head rest on his chest and sigh, finally having a feeling of being home and warm.

"I'll show you," whispers Thomas. "I promise, I'll show you who I am"