He quirked one dark brow. “I trust Lady Langdon’s revelations did not shock you too much?”
Langdon, also being a gentleman, did not discuss his wife or his marriage bed with any of his friends. But the contentment of the Langdons’ marriage was obvious for all to see. Based, Adam did not doubt, upon the couple’s enviable physical compatibility.
The same compatibility Adam hoped to find with his own wife, with Emma, during their afternoons of sexual exploration together.
“What pleasure did you decide upon?” Adam prompted huskily.
“Well.” The color deepened in Emma’s cheeks. “Felicia… Lady Langdon… She explained the particular enjoyment of having a man return the intimacy we shared yesterday.”
Adam’s mouth salivated at the very thought of baring Emma’s pussy before licking and sucking her there until she climaxed and her juices gushed onto his tongue and lips and down his throat. “You wish to have my mouth on your clit and cunny?”
She swallowed. “If those are other names for my—my lady parts, then yes, that is what I should like.”
Dear God, her lady parts!
Emma was very young, Adam reminded himself.
Too damned young for someone as jaded and autocratic as himself?
Perhaps.
But he was too deeply enamored with her already to change his mind about marrying her, even if he could. It would ruin Emma utterly in Society if, having made her an offer of marriage, the Duke of Hawkwood then withdrew that offer.
But there was no need for them to rush these afternoons together of getting to know each other better. Alexander was attending a sale of horseflesh this afternoon, and Adam had every intention of taking his time, of gorging himself by kissing Emma’s delectable lips before any further intimacies took place between them.
“Say the words as you did yesterday, Emma,” he instructed huskily.
She blinked. “Clit and cunny.”
“And do you know exactly what they are?”
She winced. “No, not really.”
“Your clit is the hard little nubbin hidden amongst the curls on your mound, and cunny is another name for your pussy. Both of which I shall be licking and sucking today.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “You will?”
“Definitely.”
She watched as Hawkwood—Adam—crossed the room with what appeared to her to be predatory steps. “Perhaps we might have tea first?” she said hastily.
“I do not care for tea,” he dismissed softly as he came to a halt in front of her. “You have very sensual lips.” His fingertips brushed across them lightly
Conversing with Felicia on the subject was one thing. Actually putting the details of that conversation into practice with Adam was something else entirely.
Chapter 5
Emma certainly was not prepared when Adam’s lips claimed hers. Not in the demanding or fierce way she might have expected, but with a gentle exploration that took her breath away.
It was a long and sensual kiss, his lips caressing lightly over hers, the soft rasp of his tongue parting those lips to stroke inside her heat, igniting pleasure and responsive nerve endings Emma had not realized existed until now.
It was a slow and relentless kiss that caused Emma’s legs to tremble so badly she was forced to cling to Adam’s wide shoulders in order to stop herself from crumpling at his feet.
“You taste utterly delicious,” Adam murmured as his lips now trailed down the sensitive length of her throat. “Of strawberries and cream enjoyed in summertime.”
Again Hawkwood surprised her. His demeanor was usually so austere, bordering on bored arrogance, she would never have thought him a fanciful or romantic man. But it was surely both those things to imagine she tasted of anything other than herself.
“Your skin is as soft as silk,” he added appreciatively, having pushed the gown from her shoulders to allow his lips to explore the warm flesh beneath.
If it was Adam’s intent to seduce her, then Emma feared he had already succeeded!
No, she did not fear it at all, she realized, as a sudden sense of exhilaration expanded in her chest.
If she was to learn about physical pleasure, then she could not think of any other man she would have chosen to be her tutor.
“Your breasts are delectable.” Those firm lips now trailed across the swell bared to him above the scooped neckline of Emma’s gown. “Are your nipples as juicy, I wonder?” His eyes darkened as he pulled the front of the gown far enough down to allow her bared breasts to topple free, exposing her nipples. “They very much look to be,” he groaned, his hands firm on her hips to hold her unmoving as he lowered his head.
Emma stopped breathing altogether the moment she looked down to watch as Adam’s moist tongue rasped across one of her engorged nipples. It sent a wicked quiver of pleasure down her spine and then settled at her heated core.
“And so very responsive,” he added achingly as he lavished that same attention on her other nipple. He parted his lips wider to take that engorged berry fully into the heat of his mouth, then suckled deeply. One of his hands moved up to cup and squeeze her other breast, assured fingers tweaking and pulling on the nipple.
Emma’s breath left her in a whoosh, her neck arching, fingers tightly gripping the material of Adam’s jacket at the sheer ecstasy of the pleasure coursing through her body.
A pressure built deep inside her the longer Adam suckled and teased her nipples, and there was now a slickness between her thighs along with that increasing heat.
She felt lost in wonder at the knowledge it was Adam who was giving her this pleasure. The aristocratic and remote Adam Stirling, the Duke of Hawkwood, lavishing the attention of his mouth and hands upon her breasts.
It was glorious.
Utterly and wickedly glorious.
Even if it was not specifically the pleasure she had asked for or prepared herself to expect.
This was better, and so much more than she had asked for.
She bit her bottom lip so as not to groan lewdly at the depth of the passion that held her as firmly in its grip as Adam’s steadying hand upon her hip. She—
“Good God!”
Adam had been too engrossed in pleasuring Emma to be aware of the approach of footsteps. Nor, he realized belatedly, had he remembered to lock the door of his sitting room today. None of the staff would dare enter without his permission, and he had believed Alexander otherwise occupied.
Except his brother now stood in the open doorway, his face frozen in an expression of openmouthed shock as he stared at the two of them together.
A glance at Emma showed she was too devastated at being found in such a compromising position to have even thought to hide her naked breasts from Alexander’s curious gaze.
“Straighten your clothing,” Adam instructed as he stepped in front of Emma and allowed her the privacy to adjust her gown. “What are you doing here, Alex?” he demanded icily.
His brother’s expression turned to one of bewilderment. “What the hell is going on, Adam?”
“Your Gr— Adam,” Emma spoke in a small voice behind him. “Perhaps I might go to the ladies’ retiring room to—to tidy my appearance?”
He turned to lightly grasp her arms, gaze narrowed as he easily noted the pallor of her face and the devastation of her expression. He nodded as he released her. “It is the second door on the right down the hallway.” He waited until Emma had left the room, her head bowed to avoid Alex’s gaze, then turned his attention to his brother. “I thought you were spending the afternoon at Tattersalls?”
Alexander gave a slow shake of his head. “There was nothing there I considered worth my time or money. Which is perhaps as well,” he added harshly. “This is the second afternoon in a row I have chanced upon you and Miss Harris alone together.”
“Your point being?”
“I am not sure there is a point. Yet.”
“Do not talk in riddles, Alex,” Adam bit out.
Instead of an
swering, his brother crossed the sitting room to where a decanter and glasses sat on a side table. He poured some of the amber liquid into a glass, threw it to the back of his throat before refilling the glass.
“Whatever your point is, I do not believe it warrants becoming inebriated in the middle of the afternoon,” Adam rebuked as he watched his brother down the second glass of brandy. Alex held up the decanter questioningly toward Adam. “No, thank you.”
His brother scowled as he poured yet more brandy into his glass. “My point is, does this sudden interest in Emma Harris have anything to do with the fact your thirty-fifth birthday is fast approaching?”
“I am well aware of what age I shall be on my next birthday,” Adam snapped.
“Well?”
He sighed. “The reasons for my interest in Miss Harris are none of your concern.”
Alexander gave a disgusted snort. “They are very much my concern if you are thinking of sacrificing yourself on the sword of matrimony with a young woman who cannot possibly hold your interest beyond the first bedding, simply because our father added a codicil to his will stating you shall not inherit the Hawkwood fortune if you reach the age of five and thirty unmarried. We have talked about this, Adam, and Father was wrong to do such a thing—” He broke off at the sound of a breathy gasp.
Adam turned to see a white-faced Emma standing in the doorway, tears of humiliation glistening in her accusing eyes. She turned abruptly and ran down the hallway as if the devil himself were snapping at her heels.
“You fool!” Adam gave his brother a furious glare. “You utter bloody fool!” he rasped before striding purposefully from the room in pursuit of Emma.
The devil snapping at her heels.
“This letter was just delivered for you, Miss Emma.”
Emma raised her aching head slowly from the pillow to glance across her bedchamber to where the family butler stood in the doorway, a silver tray balanced on one palm. “Just leave it on the dressing table, Silver,” she instructed wearily. “I will read it later.” After hours of crying, Emma not only had a headache but she felt exhausted. She was certainly in no mood to read a letter from one of her friends. In all probability, it was from Felicia, possibly containing an adage to their conversation yesterday.
Fresh tears stung the soreness of Emma’s eyes at the memory of that conversation. Of how excited she had been to experience some of the pleasures with Adam today that Felicia had described to her so avidly.
Suspecting Hawkwood’s reason for offering for her, and having that suspicion so bluntly confirmed when Emma overheard his conversation with his brother, now left her in no doubt as to why the duke wished to marry her.
He needed to take a wife before his thirty-fifth birthday if he was to inherit the vast Hawkwood fortune.
Any wife.
But preferably, Emma had no doubt, one whom he might impregnate, after which he would expect her not to interfere too much in his personal life. A young woman of little means who would simply be grateful to become the Duchess of Hawkwood and produce his heirs.
One such as the impoverished Miss Emma Harris.
Utterly humiliated, Emma had run from Hawkwood House without collecting her cloak and bonnet or her maid from below stairs. She had kept running until she found herself in a park she did not recognize. Unable to run anymore, she had sat down upon a bench beside the pond to sob in earnest.
If she had received any curious looks, Emma was unaware of them, could only feel the pain in her chest and the utter humiliation as she remembered how eagerly she had responded to Hawkwood’s lovemaking.
And at the realization she was falling in love with him.
Only to learn she had been nothing but a means to an end for him, so that he might take a wife and inherit the Hawkwood fortune.
Thankfully, her father had been nowhere in sight when Emma returned home, and so he had no idea of the devastation of her emotions. Her maid had returned in the interim, however, bringing Emma’s bonnet and cloak with her. Emma had no explanation to offer for her tardiness and had dismissed her maid in order to be alone in her bedchamber.
How she was to tell her father of her decision not to marry Hawkwood, she still had no idea. Marriages of convenience were not unusual amongst the ton. In fact, they were more often the norm, and marriage to a duke was beyond anything Emma or her father might ever have imagined for her. But it would utterly destroy Emma to marry a man she knew herself to be falling in love with when his only interest in marrying her was so that he might inherit the family fortune.
Fresh tears fell unchecked down her cheeks.
“I was instructed to inform you to read the letter immediately, Miss Emma.”
She frowned her irritation as she saw Silver was still standing in the doorway of her bedchamber. “Instructed by whom?”
“The young gentleman who delivered the letter announced himself as being a footman in the household of His Grace, the Duke of Hawkwood.”
Hawkwood had written her a letter?
How could he?
How dare he?
Emma sat up and turned to place her bare feet on the rug beside her bed. “You will leave the letter on the dressing table, Silver,” she repeated evenly, watching as he did so. “Now you may consider your duty done,” she added with light dismissal.
She remained seated on the bed long after the butler had gone, but was unable to stop herself from glancing constantly at that folded piece of parchment.
Why on earth had Hawkwood written to her?
To explain?
Apologize?
Because there was no explanation he might give, no excuse for the manner in which he had intended to use her for his own selfish ends. Nor would an apology suffice to lessen the humiliation Emma felt at learning of his deliberate manipulation of her innocence in order to attain that end.
Nothing Hawkwood could do or say would ever convince Emma he was not a conniving and coldly controlling bastard.
Her curiosity finally got the better of her, however, and she rose slowly to her feet to cross the room and pick up the missive. Only her name was written on the front in a large and confident script she would have known belonged to Hawkwood even if Silver had not already informed her he was the sender. The writing was so very much like the man himself, both bold and arrogant.
Emma’s fingers shook slightly as she broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
It was not an apology or an explanation for his despicable behavior toward her.
The letter consisted of a very few but precise words.
Emma,
Attend the Harpers’ musical soiree this evening.
Hawkwood
The postscript was equally as terse.
Do not even think of disobeying me.
Chapter 6
“I wish to apologize for any hurt or insult I might have caused you earlier today.” A voice spoke softly behind Emma as she perused the sheets of music on the piano in the Harpers’ large and ornate reception room. The other guests had gone into another room to enjoy refreshment during a short break in the evening’s entertainment.
Emma’s spine stiffened when she recognized that voice, and she drew in several steadying breaths to prepare for turning to face Lord Alexander Stirling. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she recalled that earlier today, he could not have helped but see her exposed breasts as his brother made love to her.
To add to her discomfort, Alexander looked far too much like his older, impossibly arrogant brother this evening, in his black evening clothes.
Emma had been speechless with anger earlier after reading the abruptness of Hawkwood’s letter. She’d then been rendered equally furious by the arrogance of his postscript.
As if Emma had any reason—any reason at all—for obeying that autocratic gentleman.
Admittedly, she had decided to attend the Harpers’ musical soiree, after all. But that had been to placate her father rather than because of anything Hawkwood might have written to
her. She had yet to tell her parent of her decision not to accept the duke’s proposal.
At least that was the excuse Emma had given herself earlier this evening as she bathed and dressed for going out. If she also had the opportunity this evening to tell Hawkwood exactly what she thought of his duplicity and those arrogant instructions in his letter, then all the better.
If he attended the soiree, of course. His instruction for her to attend did not mean that he also intended to be here. The man was arrogant enough to feel a perverse pleasure in ensuring she did as he instructed, without feeling the necessity to attend himself.
Emma certainly had not anticipated, nor had any intention of, engaging in conversation with Hawkwood’s brother. “On the contrary, my lord, I believe I should thank you for having alerted me to the real reason for your brother’s recent interest in me,” she dismissed with a coolness she inwardly congratulated herself in achieving.
“You are kind as well as beautiful.” Stirling picked up her hand and placed a light kiss upon the back of it, flirtatious green gaze deliberately rising to meet hers. “My brother, on the other hand, has made no secret of the displeasure he feels about my untimely interruption.”
“The duke is neither kind nor beautiful,” she came back tartly.
And not altogether truthfully, Emma admonished inwardly. Hawkwood possessed a wholly masculine beauty it was impossible to ignore.
Stirling chuckled. “Kindness was definitely not the emotion he demonstrated after my interruption earlier today.”
Emma’s smile lacked humor. “I have no interest in anything to do with your brother, but most especially his feelings regarding having had his duplicitous behavior exposed.”
“Until two evenings ago, I had believed one was presumed innocent until proven guilty,” Hawkwood observed behind her.
Emma gave Alexander Stirling an accusing glare as she turned to face the duke, sure Stirling must have known of his brother’s presence this evening. The two might even have traveled here in the same carriage.
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