Reaching over with his free hand, he cupped Emma’s rosy cheek. “Pet, it’s time to wake. We need to get you home.”
“Hmm…” Emma rolled over, pulling the bedlinens with her. In the struggle to free herself of the tangled sheet, her bare bottom nudged his hip. Shooting up to a sitting position, Emma blinked and looked about the room until her gaze fell upon him. “Blimey, wot time is it?”
A pretty pink blush colored her cheeks. His breath caught in his chest. Resisting the temptation to reach out and remove the blasted cotton sheet himself, he massaged his arm that tingled with pain. Blood rushed back into his fingertips, and his gaze wandered back to Emma.
She tugged the sheet up to her chin and stared back at him. “Is it still early morn?” The corner of her mouth twitched as her gaze raked over his bare chest.
Christopher shifted to loom over her. He slowly bent his head, but it was Emma who reached out and drew his lips to hers.
Yes. This is exactly how he wished to spend every morn.
Tearing his mouth away from hers, he ground out, “We need to agree upon a date.”
“A date for wot?” Emma pulled back and frowned at him.
“Our wedding.”
She rubbed her eyes and narrowed her gaze. “Did I say I’d marry ye?”
“You agreed to my terms.”
“But we didn’t…” She lifted up the sheet and looked about. Sheet raised back up to her chin, she repeated, “But we didn’t…” Emma wagged her prettily shaped eyebrows at him.
“I clearly stated that if you shared my bed for the eve, we were to be married.”
“Nay.” She shook her head and then, with a fierce look of determination, said, “We were to wed only if ye took me innocence.”
“I don’t believe that is what I said.” He tilted her chin up so he could stare directly into her eyes. “Shall we agree to two weeks from today?”
She raised up onto an elbow and muttered something that sounded like bloomin’ brilliant barrister, but he couldn’t be sure for his attention was focused on rose-colored nipples that peeked over the edge of the sheet. She tugged at the linens once more.
“I never said I’d marry ye.” Emma scooted away and jumped down from the bed. She wrapped the fine white bed linen tightly about her and searched the room for her garments.
“I’ll tell you where your clothes are as soon as you give me an acceptable date.”
“I told ye I’d help ye pick out a suitable wife.”
“I want you.”
“Why?”
It was a valid question. But how was he to explain what he instinctually knew was right?
He was a bloody barrister. He was supposed to be able to come up with arguments at a moment’s notice. Instead of a carefully crafted proposition, he spoke from the heart. “Because from the moment you bumped into me dashing away from Landon’s townhouse, my mind and body have been drawn to you. It’s as if you dislodged something within me.”
Emma stilled and turned. A small grin appeared before she crossed her arms and let out a loud Hmph.
She was pleased with his answer, despite her body language. He pressed on. “And there is the added benefit that if you marry me, you can enact the clause in Hereford’s will that enables you to decline the rather large settlement he has generously provided for you.”
Emma’s eyes grew wide. Her hands dropped to her sides then were firmly planted on her perfectly rounded hips. “Ye’re sayin’ I can refuse the blunt if I git hitched.”
He nodded. “Aye.”
She tilted her head and stared at him for a moment. “Hmph.” She slowly spun in a circle. A small grin appeared. “Where did ye put me clothes?”
He nodded in the direction of the connecting room. “I hung your dress in my changing chamber.”
She walked soundlessly to the dark room.
He wanted to follow her, but he was struggling to formulate an articulate answer as to why she should marry him. Christopher hopped from the bed and began to pace. He needed her to agree to wed him. He wanted to have her back in his bed. He was going about matters all wrong. Why should she marry? She was independent and resourceful. She had no need for a man except that the only place she had appeared at peace was lying naked next to him.
He was a reasonable man. If she needed more time to recognize the benefits of becoming his wife, he’d be patient. He’d court her and show her how they complemented each other. Mayhap he’d draft provisions in the marriage agreements for her to retain control over her own funds. Damnation. He wouldn’t be able to lawyer his way into marriage. His stomach clenched. He needed her. He’d have to convince her of their suitability. He didn’t want her leaving his house without having her word that she’d marry him. His desire for her as wife was more than pure lust. He just didn’t know what to name this burning desire to have her near at all times.
A few minutes later Emma reappeared, dressed, her hair held back by one of his blue silk cravats and wearing a look of pure determination. She had made up her mind. His heart pounded with anticipation.
She marched to stand before him and rested her hands on his waist. Head tilted up, she said, “I’ll be busy fillin’ orders for Bronwyn’s ball this week. And I need another two to be ready. Will ye agree to three weeks?”
Why was she agreeing?
Uncertain if he wanted the answer, he said, “Yes. I shall visit your father today and have the license and agreements drawn up immediately.” He reached out to cup her face. “I promise to be a good husband.”
“Shall we seal our agreement with a kiss?”
Her wicked grin tempted him like nothing else. He replied, “I can’t wait to make you mine.”
Her hands slid up his chest, dislodging his hands from her face. Rolling up onto her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck. With her soft curves pressed into him, Christopher ran a hand down her spine until it came to rest on the curve of her bottom while his other hand threaded through her hair and guided her mouth to his. He kissed her softly.
Emma released a moan and opened for him as his tongue poked out to taste her. Pulling back for air, she inhaled deeply. She rested her forehead upon his chest. She whispered, “I best be off.”
He didn’t want her to leave him, but he’d garnered her promise to marry. He released his hold on her. She stepped back and gave him a wink. “Me dad comes to me shop every day around a quarter to eight.” Swiveling on her heel, she made her way to the door.
He followed behind but pressed a hand against the door, delaying her departure. “I know. But I intend to obtain his blessing this morn.” He waited until she turned to face him and then added, “Let me see you home.”
“Are ye mad? I’ll not have the Network gossipin’ before ye speak to me dad.”
Christopher was well aware of how very efficiently the Network spread information. Even Landon and Bronwyn hadn’t managed to keep the news of the babe a secret. But he wanted to see Emma home safe. “The watch will be switching out soon, and you don’t have the cover of darkness to help you go undetected.”
“Ha. Ye have much to learn.” She reached between her legs and pulled up her skirts, revealing her nicely shaped calves. Rather than exiting through the door, she marched to the window and peeked through the center slit in the curtains.
“You can’t be serious. We are three stories up from the ground.” He rushed to the window, but the woman was already out on a tree limb. He poked his head out and caught a glimpse of her small form shimmying down the tree and then ducking to skirt the low wall that led to the mews. Damn, she was fast and silent—and utterly remarkable. He turned to see the watchmen engaged in conversation, oblivious to Emma’s departure.
“Is something amiss this morn, my lord?” Christopher jumped at Cannon’s voice right behind him. Emma must have unlocked the door.
“No. I have a very important meeting this morn.” He ran a hand over his roughened jaw. “A good, clean shave today, Cannon.”
A wide, knowi
ng smile formed on his usually reserved valet’s face. “Aye. I’ll go fetch the strop.”
Perhaps Emma hadn’t been successful at escaping detection. He’d soon find out when he visited his future father-in-law.
Chapter Seventeen
Emma crept up the back stairs of her parents’ home, making her way past the bedroom she used to share with her half-siblings. She had grown used to sleeping alone. Her first month living away from the security of her parent’s roof had been filled with nights of restless sleep—waking at every little creak of the shop. Emma rubbed her upper arms. It was cold most nights sleeping all alone, but last night in Christopher’s arms, she had slept like a babe. Emma halted in front of her parents’ chambers, wringing her hands. Her mind raced. Inhaling, she raised her hand to rap on the door. The thin wood door swung open before her knuckles hit.
“Emma.” Her mum, already dressed for the day, quickly pulled Emma into the room. “Wot’re ye doin’ here?”
When dealing with her mum, it was best not to mince words. “I’m gettin’ married in three weeks.”
Her mum popped her head out of the doorway and peered down the hallway. Closing the door as softly as possible, she leaned against the door and squinted at Emma. Her mum’s gaze narrowed at the sight of Christopher’s cravat that Emma had tied around her wayward tresses. Without a brush, it was the best solution she could manage at the time. No. She had wanted to take a little token from his closet, proof she hadn’t dreamt it all up.
Her mum ran a finger over her cheek and then tilted Emma’s chin up, forcing her to meet her mum’s gaze. “Child, ye best explain. Start with who are ye marrying.”
“Mr. Neale.” Emma looked about the room. “Where is Dad?” Her dad always broke his fast with the family. A trickle of dread ran down her spine.
“He’s been waitin’ for ye at yer shop. If ye didn’t see him, where have ye been all night?” Her mum grabbed her hands and squeezed. “Did the scoundrel seduce ye?”
Christopher was no rogue. She really should ensure the Network reports were revised. Emma shook her head. “No, Mum.”
“But ye were in his bed?”
“Aye.” Emma rushed to explain. “But Christopher was a complete gentleman. I’ll say his sheets and mattress were rather fine. I slept like a babe.”
Her mum released her hands and crossed her arms. “Hmph. Do ye want to marry him?”
With conviction, she answered, “Aye. I do.”
“I thought you believed him to be a total louse, given his apparent lack of interest in his duties as a PORF. Wot changed yer mind?”
She certainly wasn’t about to confess to her mum his kisses had anything to do with her agreeing to marry. Nor would she mention the details of Hereford’s will. There was only one reason that would cease her mum’s questions. “I fell in love with him.” As the words tumbled from her mouth, the truth stuck her—she loved Christopher.
Her mum sat upon the bed and patted the mattress. “Mr. Neale is a handsome fella, I’ll not deny, but are ye sure its love?”
“How can I be sure?” Emma obediently sat on the bed that wasn’t as plush as Christopher’s, but it was clean and familiar. With her forefinger, Emma traced the long stitches forming a simple floral design and waited for her mum to answer.
“It’s difficult to say.” Nothing rattled Emma’s mum. Yet the woman she admired most in the world was nervously pleating the hem of the apron she wore. “When yer not with him, do ye fink of Mr. Neale?”
“Aye.” Emma admitted and then added, “Sometimes I fink of his eyes, but mostly of his words and the clever little ditties he hums when he’s concentrating.”
“Ditties, you say.” Her mum’s gaze bored into her. “Wot d’ye feel when yer near him?”
Emma’s cheeks heated. “Well, he makes me tummy all jittery, and I’m never cold when he’s about.”
“Hmm. Are ye able to chat with him?”
Emma smiled. This was an easy question to answer. “Aye, with as much ease as I can with ye.”
Her mum wrapped Emma up in a hug. She pulled back, and her mum rested her hands upon Emma’s shoulders. “He makes ye happy then.” Her mum gave her a gentle squeeze and smiled. “Yer muscles are not all knotted. Tis good. He’s good for ye.”
“Oh, aye. Mr. Neale can do wonders for me with his fingers.”
Her mum’s eyes went wide at her comment.
Emma ignored the strange reaction and said, “He used oils that smelt like roses and rubbed…” She pounded on her mum’s back as she sputtered and coughed. “Mum, are ye all right?”
“Aye, ye need not tell me more. Ye shall marry Mr. Neale.”
“Ye approve then?” Emma turned to hug her mum.
“If ye want him, I’ll give him me blessin’.”
Emma didn’t understand what had caused her mum’s cheeks to turn ruby red, but she nodded and said, “Thank ye, Mum. I fink Christopher will make a fine husband.”
After a moment, her mum’s coloring returned to normal, and in all seriousness, she pinched Emma’s chin and said, “I’ll not call him son until he receives the mark. Oh, luv, yer gonna be a PORF.”
The truth of her mum’s words sunk in. She was to marry a bloomin’ PORF and, in turn, become one herself. Blimey.
Emma said, “I’ll git the mark, but naught else will change. I’ll still be yer daughter, and I’ll remain…”
“Child. Wot are ye thinkin’.” Her mum gave her a solid shake by the shoulders. “Everythin’ must change.”
Emma’s body shuddered from excitement or from fear; she wasn’t sure which. A mere two weeks ago, she would have welcomed a change, but she hadn’t imagined a difference in her life of this magnitude. “Everythin’? Why?”
Her mum looked at her like she was addled. “Wot do ye mean why?”
“I don’t see how becomin’ a PORF changes anythin’. I can still run me shop. Christopher ain’t no lord.”
“The Hadfield PORF duties are to seek and provide information to ensure the safety of the Crown; ye know this. Hadfields for generations have borne this responsibility. Once yer husband and ye receive the mark, Lord Hadfield is at liberty to send the two of ye on assignments. Ye can’t be sittin’ on the floor of yer shop sewing. Ye’ll have other responsibilities. Not to mention ye’re expected to produce a babe or two.”
Emma saw stars. Her independence, her desires, her goals, all gone with a single night in the arms of a charming man. She loved him, yes, but she also loved her life, and the thought of choosing one over the other tore her very heart in two. Swallowing hard and blinking back tears, she whispered, “What have I done?”
Her mum withdrew a hankie from her pockets and handed it to Emma. “When I heard of Lord Hadfield’s order for Mr. Neale to begin seeing ye, I told yer dad I was sure ye would fall for the handsome devil upon sight.” Her mum smiled with a hint of pride. “But ye didn’t. And by the reports from his staff and guards, ye have caused Mr. Neale to skip a few meals and nights of sleep. He’s not had an easy time staying away from ye.”
This was all new information to Emma. She took little comfort he had suffered during their time apart. The Network’s methods of protection were, at times, wayward. Someone should have told her. She gave the unused hankie back to her mum.
Returning the clean material to her pocket, her mum said, “If me instincts are right, he’s more aware than the Network gives him credit for.”
Emma suspected the same. “What makes ye say that?”
“Hadfields are notorious for being able to charm the most jaded of souls. It is by no fair coincidence their lot are bred to be attractive to the eye and of a keen mind, and Mr. Neale is a Hadfield through and through.”
Christopher was indeed enchanting—the man scattered her thoughts as soon as he appeared. “Do ye fink I made a mistake?”
“Matters naught wot I think. Does he know he must apply to the Council for yer hand?”
Emma groaned. “I forgot to mention it to him.”
Emma followed her mum below stairs to the kitchens. She slowed at the patter of small feet behind her. Her siblings still had yet to master the art of moving about silently.
“Em, are ye goin’ to invite us to the weddin’?”
She turned and knelt to face her youngest sibling, Thomas. The bloomin’ walls of her family home were extremely thin, and her brother had mastered the skill of eavesdropping. “Ye will have to dress up fancy. Have a clean face, and ye’d have to be on yer best behavior.”
Bouncing on his toes, Thomas said, “I promise to be good. I won’t make a noise. I’ve been practicin’.”
“Have ye now?” Emma asked.
Thomas gave a solemn nod and revealed his missing front teeth with a wide smile.
She had left the house to live at the shop when Thomas was born eight years ago, yet he remained the sibling she was closest to. “I see ye lost another tooth.”
“Aye. Last week. Ye missed it.” The small frown was a stab to her heart. Her brother was rarely ever cross with her, but her missing this milestone had obviously upset him. “If ye marry, will ye not come round no more?”
“Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll still come visit.” The promise slipped from her lips before she thought better of it.
“Are ye sure?” Thomas had learned another talent, arching a single eyebrow. “Coz since Mr. Neale started a-courtin’ ye, we ain’t seen much of ye.”
“I’m sorry, Tom. Nothing will change. I’ll still come have supper once a week.”
Dubious, he stuck out his pinky finger. She wrapped hers about his little finger and nodded solemnly.
Smiling once more, he wrapped his arms around her neck. “Em, I’ve missed ye. Everyone else always treats me like a babe. Yer the only one who tells me the truth.”
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