"You are wicked.", she uttered, turning away from him. He looked at her shivering body and tenderly held her from behind.
"I am not, my angel. I am just a fool in love.", he uttered into her ear, just as a log of wood burst into pieces in the fireplace. Emilie flinched and decidedly turned around, pushing him away from her. "A fool most definitely you are.", she hissed and walked over to the table. Holding up a letter she read:"Dearest Elisabeth, It pleases me to hear of your amiable thoughts of me. I am yours and yours only. Do not think badly of me; for I only need to court my cousin to satisfy my thirst for russian Blood for a while. With uttermost love- your Anatole Dikilov."
Breathing heavily, he ran a hand through his hair. "I shall not bother you then, harlot." Emilie swallowed and threw the letter into the fire and stepped closer to Anatole. "I never needed you, Monsieur Dikilov. Never.", she whispered and flared her nostrils in anger. "I do not care if you want Mademoiselle Elisabeth in your Bedchambers or not. But for our Lord and Saviour's sake, keep me out of your romances. All you ever did was making me sad, but you shall not be the death of me; no, cousin, never." She stepped back again and rushed out of the salon, through the marble halls.
