It was good to finally be free.

For it would give him time to hunt for her.

Perhaps she was somewhere aboveground enjoying the fruits of her labor.

Where, though, was the question.

Her estate was abandoned with no traces of where she went.

"Who are you looking for, exactly?" his closest friend and fellow Leaguer asked.

"The woman who nearly got me killed, of course. We find her and we get enough evidence to find the man behind all this," he replied. "I have to go back aboveground myself."

"Which woman? You mean Ellie?"

"I see you have gotten acquainted."

"Well, yes, of course. She has been belowground."

"Of course, she was. I brought her here. And she left me here thinking I'll die."

"No, she returned while you were in prison."

-Above and Below

*****

"Whatever you are planning, Emma, it is leading nowhere," Wynne said, voice filled with warning. The way her determined face looked back at him made him feel scared. Bloody hell, yes, of course he was scared for he knew what he would do if she kept this on—and kept her clothes off. "From the very start, what we started never promised a very good destination. And that is one destination I never planned."

Wynne watched as Emma placed her hands on her hips and pretended to think. He swallowed. She was handling this pretty well. "I am not convinced."

His eyes narrowed. He had to think fast. He assessed the situation. She was in a state of undress, the door was locked—she made certain of that. His butler could be somewhere. He could shout for anyone and the door would be kicked open. But she had him trapped. That single dress on the floor was trapping him in this bloody room.

Frustration raged within. It was being laced by a growing fire of desire. She was in her undergarments and it did not require a lot of imagination to make his body react.

"I have promised never to marry, but I shall make you an exemption," Emma said, stepping out of the pool of dress around her feet. She kicked off her riding shoes.

Wynne took a lungful of air and without looking anywhere but her face, he gritted out, "We have both fooled each other. I knew early on you knew who I was. Everything you did, I suspected. I played you as you played me. Whyever would you be so utterly stupid as to propose marriage?"

She shrugged. "Everything you did, I suspected as well. Yet there were also things you did that you kept secret and they were the things that matters most. We fooled each other long enough to know we can never win. From the beginning, we both knew that somehow, there was something else."

She took one bold step toward him. "You tried to seduce me," she whispered as she drew closer. When she was finally within reach, Wynne realized he was holding his breath. And as Emma's emerald eyes looked up at him, her dark hair framing her face, his hands tightened even more into fists. "You tried to be my friend. Could you say now you regretted it?"

His jaw tightened.

"Can you not see me as your friend?" she asked, her eyes flickering along with her tiny smile. "For I see you as one. And I can see you as more," she added, voice breaking.

Wynne was about to give in. Hearing the pain in her voice reminded him of the same feelings he was hiding inside. She was everything he wanted but could never find the courage to claim. Here she was, offering herself freely and he was a coward to have her.

But someone had to be courageous enough to protect them both and everyone around them. He had to be that someone.

He looked down at her, slowly getting lost in a pool of emerald green. "We have fooled each other," he repeated. He had to remind himself of that fact. From the very beginning, there was nothing true between them.

"Yes, we did."

But there was something there, a tiny voice in his head whispered. Something grew and he fostered it, stupid and crazy that he was.

He stood frozen as her words echoed in his head.

Are you in love with me?

Because I am.

She was bloody in love with him. She, Emma Everard, was in love with a bloody Trilby.

"We played a very dangerous game, Emma," he said, no longer intent on pushing her away. She would not allow him to do that. Should he surrender then?

"Yes," Emma said with a nod. She stepped closer.

He could hear her breathing as clearly as his own racing heart.

She was the bravest woman he had ever had the chance to encounter. She came here with no weapon but her wit and self.

It just dawned on him that she was here. And that she was here for this.

She did not have to say it. He did not have to ask. It was clear now. She did not care he was a Trilby. She did not care of what he did. She did come here for his own accounts of the events prior to this moment for she came here for him.

"Yet you are still here," Wynne said, barely a whisper.

Emma smiled at him. "Because we both lost the game."

Wynne did not notice his own hands unfolding and reaching out for her. And he did not even remember what he was thinking before he pulled her against him, the thin fabric of her undergarments and his shirt the only things between them. All he could suddenly think about was her and nothing more. Her, being here and nowhere else.

His lips hovered over hers, his chest heaving as his heart pounded hard against his chest.

God, he wanted this woman. He craved for her.

Yet sanity told him it could not be. It could not work.

He could live with her being an Everard. But could she accept him when her family could not? She may now, but sooner or later, she was bound to question this moment and this impetuous decision.

But a part of him questioned his logic. Emma Everard was never the impetuous one. She had thought this through. Whyever she thought this could work was only known to her.

As always, she read his thoughts. She looked him squarely in the eyes and pressed closer against him. "Wynne, it is time we surrender."

Before Wynne could respond, Emma rose on her toes and kissed him.

At the feel of her lips against his, Wynne was undone.

Every time she was this close, his mind would shatter to a million pieces and it was impossible for him to collect them once more and take control. There was no room for thoughts when even the overwhelming sensation of having this woman in his arms was too much to bear.

He turned, carrying her with him, toward the bed. In a matter of seconds, he had her under him, hungrily claiming her mouth, controlling the kiss, stealing her breath to give himself life. His hands searched under her drawers, tracing skin and igniting both their senses.

She squirmed beneath him as his mouth traced her neck and his hands explored higher up her waist.

A whimper escaped her when his mouth covered the tip of one breast over the thin fabric of her chemise.

She was Emma Everard and she was not bound to simply be worshiped. Her hands roamed in equal hunger over his back, pulling his shirt free from his breeches. Her legs bent, framing his hips as he ground it against hers, the fabric of their clothing both stimulating and a hindrance.

His hands grabbed hers, pushing them over her head as his mouth returned to hers, hungry for the intoxicating taste of her.

He wanted to bury himself deep inside her, to free himself of this hunger, but he also knew that he would be insatiable. Once would never be enough.

And so he stopped.

Breathing fire at the side of her face, Wynne willed himself to fight the urges, the excruciating desire.

"Emma, please," he begged. His voice sounded like a whimper, a cry for help. "Please, not today."

She stiffened beneath him. "Why? Are you hurting?" she asked.

God, yes, he was hurting. He was in pain. And he was not merely talking about his bloody groin.

He let go of her hand and wrapped his arms around her. He turned to the side, carrying her with him, not quite ready to let her go.

He turned his head to look into her beautiful emerald eyes.

He wanted to believe she was for him. She was everything. She was existence.

And she would never be that if she chose him.

He was intent on leaving with no destination in mind. He would have no home to offer, no manor to keep her safe and warm.

He had no family.

Cupping her face in one hand, Wynne gave her a long, lingering kiss.

"Wynne—"

"Perhaps we can stay like this for a while," he whispered against her mouth. "Just like this, yes?"

Her eyes narrowed. She squirmed against him and Wynne fought for control. "Just for a while?"

He nodded, kissing her once more. "Just for a while longer."

*****

Emma stirred.

But before she even opened her eyes, she knew.

She knew that she woke up to an empty space beside her.

When she finally took the courage to open her eyes, a single drop of tear rolled down her cheek.

Coward.

That was the first word that came to mind.

But was he?

Was he a coward to leave her and chase his own dreams?

She sat in bed, her eyes searching. His luggage was gone.

That was cruel of him, Emma thought, as her eyes roamed the room.

She scrambled over the mattress when she saw a folded piece of paper on the table by the bed.

With shaking hands, Emma opened the note.

Samuel is never the man for you.

Nor am I.

With every love in my heart, I wish that you can find someone you can trust and freely love. Find the one who can offer you a home and a family.

Go home, Emma. Your family awaits.

Someday, you will thank me for this.

Emma crumpled the paper in one hand as anger flared inside her.

Who was he to tell her he loved her and then wish for her to find someone else?

As the words in his letter echoed in her head, Emma shook her head.

No, he was not being a coward.

He was being stoic as he always was.

How he even managed to do so was beyond her. How could he have endured all this without showing weakness?

Emma shook her head in disbelief.

She took one last look around the room and took a long breath and sighed.

Very well, she thought as she slipped out of bed to get dressed, if Wynne was too utterly shallow to think that she could not be with him, then perhaps she ought to show him how this fight ought to be done.

This one was harder that she had anticipated.

It was time for a new strategy.

*****

Emma spent the next two days in the Town Registry, befriending the man who still adored Samuel to the core and gave her a free pass to the thousands of files he was tasked to look after. He initially had many questions, which Emma merely answered by saying, "You will learn about this research in one of the articles of the Blower." It was enough to keep the man excited and respectful of her research.

He could be of help finding the documents she needed, but Emma was doing this on her own, she thought with determination.

Maxwell had maintained his silence. He, neither their mother, asked Emma what happened when she came home that fateful day.

But it was Ysabella who took the courage to finally ask Emma what she had been doing to win the man she loved. She did so just as when Emma was returning from her trip to the Registry.

"You did not have to tell me that you were planning to get him," Ysabella said, looking at Emma. "But what happened is something I do not know."

Emma sighed. She realized she could no longer shed a tear over what happened. "Oh, he vanished two days ago. I am not certain where is."

Ysabella frowned. "You mean he left you?"

"I am afraid so."

"Does he love you?"

"I believe he does," Emma said with a nod.

"But he must be thinking he is a Trilby and you an Everard."

"Among other stupid things," Emma said, rolling her eyes.

Ysabella appeared thoughtful. "Did you try to seduce him?"

Emma nodded. "And made a fool of myself, I tell you."

"Oh," Ysabella said with disappointment.

"He is too determined to leave." She then told Ysabella everything she knew about Wynne, what he did for their nieces and Samuel. And what his family did for him for these things.

"That is rather brave of him," Ysabella commented. "Not at all what I expected."

"Of course. He had been painting himself differently that you will most definitely find it difficult to even see him as anything else."

Ysabella stared at her with curious eyes. "Who else knows?"

"Max and Mother," Emma said.

"The others?"

"Good God, no. Not yet," Emma said, almost in panic. "Not when I have not yet leg-shackled the man."

Ysabella scoffed in amusement. "Leg-shackle? Emma, you have come a long way from the woman who always insisted never to marry!"

"Well, that bastard did this to me," Emma retorted with frustration. She brushed her fingers through her hair and looked out the window.

"Knowing you, you must have a plan?"

"Of course," Emma said. "Just a few more days and I will be ready."

"Ready? For what?"

Emma sighed and looked at her sister. "The only thing keeping me from him is his bloody family. He must believe I cannot be with him because of them. He is being careful."

"And perhaps you should, too. Look what they can do to their own kind—what they did to him. They could very well do the same to you, Emma."

Emma shook her head. "No, not when I have something against them."

"Something like what?"

"Themselves," Emma said with a grin.

Ysabella blinked in confusion. "I'm afraid I do not follow."

Emma's smile widened. "Ysa, the Trilbys are known to be very secretive of their true identity. We do not know who they truly are."

"Whatever do you mean, Emma?"

Emma shrugged. "I have to know who I am up against. I am building the bloody Trilby family tree, Ysa."

"You are what!"

"Because of Samuel, I realized it is possible if you simply know where to look and where to start." Her eyes glimmered with excitement as she added, "I did just that. And I stumbled upon something really unexpected."

"What?"

"Something tragic and evil. Something the Trilbys would want to stay buried in the Registry forever."