She pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t. Don’t say anything. Neither of us needs to say anything. We know what’s happening, but it’s impossible. It hasn’t any future. Let’s just enjoy it. Enjoy it for today.”
Their eyes locked and her smile faltered. “I can’t go through with it. I can’t marry Nicholas.” She pushed up onto her elbow and stared down at him. “I don’t know why, but I know you’re the key to my freedom. Or am I just a fool?”
Relief rushed through him at the same time as desperation ripped at his soul. He would give anything to stop the wedding going ahead—he would ensure it—but like a wounded man who needed healing, he had to know if she felt for him what he did for her. Was she fighting it as much as he was?
He’d survived most of his life under a cloak of invisibility, not letting anyone close enough to see inside or hurt him. Known around Bristol as a chameleon, yet he came to Bath and met a woman who tossed aside his masquerade like it was nothing, leaving him naked and hers for the taking.
He closed his eyes, dropping a curtain over his thoughts. “No, you’re not a fool.”
“You know him. There is something so rotten between you, I smell it emanating between you whenever you are in the same room. You can close your eyes, but you can’t hide from me. I am not going anywhere until I know everything.” Her breath hitched. “Please. You have to help me.”
Will’s eyes snapped open and his heart lurched violently to see her eyes glistening with tears in the sunlight. “God, don’t cry.” He shook his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You cry and I’ll come undone.”
She swiped at her eyes. “Please. Tell me how you know him.”
Milne’s face crashed once more into Will’s world like a cannonball, destroying and maiming everything in its path. Fire roared in his gut and he desperately tried to douse it. He swallowed the heat in his throat. “I can’t. I will tell you everything but not yet. The time is not now. You have to trust me.”
She rolled onto her back. “Even you. Even you won’t help me.”
“I will. I will do everything in my power to help you.” He touched his fingers to her chin and moved her head until their eyes met. “Trust me.”
“How can I? Nicholas is two different people most of the time and now you. I don’t know who you are, or who you’re pretending to be. I have two men in my life who I don’t truly know or trust.”
Will rolled onto his back, clasped her hand that lay between them. The sky was azure blue with only one or two wispy white clouds breaking its perfection. “The less you know right now, the better.”
“Why?”
His mother’s face appeared above him and anger once more assaulted Will’s senses. “Milne has ruined enough lives. He will not ruin yours. If he suspects you know anything that could be the undoing of him and his fortune, God only knows what he will do to you. I will not risk that happening.”
Reluctantly, Will met her gaze, knowing full well his suppressed rage would be evident in his eyes.
“I feel as though I’ve known you my entire life. The trouble is, I want to know you for the rest of it, too.”
Fear and loathing pumped through his veins. Fear he couldn’t resist her, loathing he could never have her. Cupid’s arrow had shot across an auction room and struck him straight in the heart the second she winked at him. Should he tell her? Confess he approached her as a playing piece in his plan for Milne’s ruin? Feeling like the biggest fraudster in the world and hating the irony of it, Will kept his gaze steady with hers.
“I want to know you. Every single part of you. I have feelings for you, Emily. Real feelings.”
A blush covered her face and her eyes danced. “You have feelings for me? Truly?”
He smiled, his heart aching. “Yes.”
She looked deep into his eyes. “And I you, but no matter what we feel for each other, it is silly to think anything will ever come of it. Even though I want to find a way out of marrying Nicholas, another part of me is bound by loyalty to my father’s lifework. We have to find a way to honor him or else I fear I will never be free.”
“Your father does not want this marriage to go ahead any more than you do.”
“He is dying and desperation has him grasping at anything to save me from an unhappy life. This is a contract he made with his oldest friend. He doesn’t really want to go back on it. How could he face Nicholas’s father in heaven when he is not to blame for his son’s behavior? If Nicholas were a decent man—”
“He’s not.” Will tightened his jaw. “He doesn’t deserve you.”
She cupped his jaw and Will turned his lips to her palm. He met her eyes and she smiled. “So what will we do, Mr. Samson?” She lifted her eyebrows. “And will we do it before or after you find your elusive nephew?”
He hesitated before hanging his head. “Ah.”
She laughed. “Yes, ah.”
He blew out a defeated breath. “Fine. That I can tell you. The nephew does not exist.”
“I knew it!”
“I needed an excuse.”
“An excuse? To move into my home?”
He grimaced. “I wanted to see you again but had no idea how.” “So you invented a nephew and lodged a room?”
He nodded. “Sorry.”
She burst into laughter, her eyes shining. “Don’t you dare be sorry. It’s ingenious . . . and incurably romantic.”
Smiling, he tucked a fallen lock of hair behind her ear. “Then kiss me, Miss Darson. Kiss me until you cannot kiss me anymore.”
Chapter Fifteen
Emily could not remember feeling happier. She and Will walked hand in hand along the dirt track toward a secluded farmhouse. Carrington, shaken but unharmed, followed on behind. Having abandoned the broken gig in the ditch, Emily smiled when Will reassured Carrington all would be well.
He was indeed a wonderful and kindhearted man. Inhaling a shaky breath, she could’ve flown as free as the birds soaring overhead. She never wanted it to stop. Her father came into Emily’s mind and guilt knotted her heart. If it was not for her beloved papa and the doubtless state of worry he was in, she would not care when they returned home. Or if they did at all. She didn’t want to think of anything else but the feel of Will’s hand around hers. She was twenty years old and behaving with the irrational immaturity of a twelve-year-old child.
“Your dress is ruined.”
She looked at the mud-streaked fabric of what had been her favorite foulard day dress and laughed. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
He laughed. “Is it?”
“Yes.” She grinned. “I have never ruined a dress in my life. And quite frankly, I feel cheated.”
“You’re mad.”
She squeezed his hand tighter and waved her other hand in the air. “It’s so freeing. For one blessed afternoon, I feel like me instead of a lady or Oliver Darson’s daughter.”
“As much as it pleases me to hear you say that, Annie is likely to have a heart attack when she sees it.”
She arched an eyebrow. “If I know Annie, she will forget the dress and instead demand I tell her all about what we did today.”
He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Will you tell her you were fornicating in the grass with me? Or invent a more acceptable explanation?”
Emily playfully swatted his arm as her stomach shot into a frenzy of illicit excitement. “William Samson . . .” She winked. “The fornication will be discussed most definitely. Scandal and romance are what Annie lives for and I would hate to disappoint her.”
He laughed and dropped Carrington’s bridle to grip her waist. Feeling so small within the splay of his hands, Emily suddenly longed to know how it would feel to have him hold her that way without stays and petticoats, strings and material barriers separating them. He stared into her eyes and she gripped the wide breadth of his biceps.
“I don’t want to go home. I want to stay out here in the middle of nowhere forever.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. “If I coul
d make that happen, I would but you know it’s impossible.”
His blue eyes darkened with longing and Emily’s heart swelled. How had this happened between them? So quickly and cruelly. She’d never felt happier or more wanted. She wanted Will to show her . . . everything. Her mouth dried.
“If we can’t have forever, we could at least have tonight.”
He stiffened beneath her fingers. “Meaning?”
Heat seared her cheeks. “You make me feel as though I could conquer the world. You make me laugh and feel beautiful. Please. I want you . . . to show me everything.”
His Adam’s apple shifted. “You want to stay out here all night?”
The look of shock in his eyes confused her, shamed her. He must think her a harlot. Tears pricked her eyes and she looked away from his questioning and unwavering gaze. “Forgive me. I don’t know what I was thinking—”
“If you’re certain that’s what you want, there is nothing that would make me happier. You are all I need.”
She turned her gaze to his once more. Her mind battled with reason and rationality versus insanity and danger. “If Nicholas were to discover—”
“He won’t.” His fingers tightened on her waist and he pulled her forward, pressing a firm and branding kiss to her mouth. “If you really want to spend the night with me, I will make it happen.” He glanced down the road, his eyes narrowed against the late afternoon sun. “We could ask for a bed at that farmhouse. Pose as husband and wife.” He faced her and grinned, his eyes burning with passion and fire.
Emily trembled in his grasp as longing filled her soul. She dragged her gaze from him toward the farmhouse. “I have no ring. We will be discovered and the damage to my reputation will be irreparable.” She shook her head. “No. This is madness. We cannot. How will we explain not going home? We have Carrington. Why would we not ride him?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Do you really think your father would be happy to have you riding all the way back to Royal Crescent, in front of me on a horse bereft of a saddle? For all of society to see Miss Emily Darson, a lady no less, riding roughshod with a mere commoner?”
Emily frowned. “Well, yes, as long as I was returned safely—”
“My thoughts exactly. No lady should be seen in such a manner. Not ever. So, I elect to maintain your decorum by sending a message for Malcolm to come and collect us in the family carriage at first light.”
Emily smiled. “You are a wicked, wicked man, Will Samson.”
He grinned and tipped her a wink. “What do you think? Yes? No? Would such an excuse work on your wily father or will he see straight through it?”
Emily laughed. “Who cares? By the time he receives the message, the night will be over. The question is, how do we get a message to him?”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You leave that to me, my love. The most important thing is if you are the slightest bit unsure, I will take you home right now.” He rubbed his thumb over her cheek.
She stared into his sincere gaze. “I don’t want that. Not yet.”
“Say what you want and we’ll do it. Just promise me this won’t be a moment you look back on with regret. You should not be living a life riddled with ifs and maybes. You are a doer, Emily. A woman who wants to make changes for your children. This isn’t about what I want but what you want. I understand that. I love that. If there is any doubt in your mind . . .”
Torment washed over his features and loss twisted in her stomach. He was right. She refused to regret not being with him for the rest of her life.
She smiled as excitement churned deep in her belly. “We stay.”
His mouth covered hers. Emily closed her eyes, taking what he offered like a starving woman without further chance of food. The sensation of his lips and tongue against hers was exhilarating, strengthening. She’d let him take every part of her without resistance. She no longer had any choice. She was his.
The intimate place between her legs pulsed with need, her bosom ached, and her heart soared. She was in love for the very first time and even though Will promised to help her break her tie to Nicholas, she could not silence the nagging voice in her head telling her there was little either of them could do. At least for the time they were away from Bath, she would be his.
She eased him back. “Shall we go?”
He took her hand and pointed in the direction of the farmhouse. “Forward march, Miss Darson. Forward march.”
Laughing, she clutched his hand with both of hers and he led her into delightful disgrace. They had barely walked more than a few hundred yards when a lone horseman appeared ahead. Will raised his free hand at the same time as he executed an ear-splitting whistle.
“What are you doing?” Panic shot through her. “The fewer people that notice us, the better.”
“You want your father to know you are safe, don’t you?”
She stopped and turned toward the rider coming closer. “Of course, but—”
“Then I will ask this boy to take a message to him.” He let out another whistle.
The rider waved his hand in acknowledgment and, a moment later, drew to a stop beside them. No older than fifteen or sixteen, he frowned. “Can I help you, sir?”
Will patted the lad’s horse. “Are you going into town?”
“Yes, sir. I have a message to deliver at The Circus.”
Emily’s heart leapt. The Circus was a circle of houses a stone’s throw from the Crescent. “Oh, but that’s perfect.”
The boy turned. “It is?”
“Would you mind taking a message to my father?” Emily smiled. “He lives at number 24 Royal Crescent.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t delay, ma’am. I have to deliver my message and get home. It will be getting dark by the time—”
Will coughed, interrupting him. “Wouldn’t your parents be pleased if you brought back some additional money for the family pot?”
The boy turned. “You’re willing to pay me? Well, that changes everything, sir.”
Will smiled. “I thought it might. Here.” He reached inside his waistcoat and produced some coins. “This is yours if we can rest secure in the knowledge our message will be delivered to Miss Darson’s father.”
The boy eagerly eyed the money. “You have my word, sir.”
Will dropped the coins into his outstretched hand. “You are to go to number 24, Royal Crescent, and tell them you have a message for Mr. Oliver Darson regarding his daughter. Tell them she is safe and well and with me, Will Samson. Understand?”
He nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Tell them we have had an accident and the gig is in tatters but we have found lodging for the night. They need to send someone to collect us first thing in the morning as we have sought shelter with a kindly farmer and his wife.” He turned and pointed to the farmhouse. “All being well, that’s where we’ll be. Are you able to leave directions how our saviors can find us.”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir.” The boy smiled and glanced to the house. “Old Mrs. Lancaster will see you right for the night, sir. She puts on the face of a angry dog, but she’s got the heart of a kitten.”
Will gave a curt nod. “Good. Now, all I need is your name.”
“My name, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Charlie Canton, sir.”
“Right, then, Charlie. Look sharp. Now that I have your name, I know that if we are not picked up in the morning, our message hasn’t been delivered and I will be forced to come looking for you. The result will not be pretty.”
The boy’s cheeks reddened and his prepubescent Adam’s apple shifted. “There will be no need to find me, sir. Your message is as good as delivered.”
Will smiled. “Good. Now, off you go then.”
Emily shook her head as the boy cantered away. “You almost gave him a heart attack threatening him so. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
He leaned close to her ear and she shivered with longing. “You’ll soon learn I have no shame. None whatsoeve
r when it comes to negotiating time to spend with beautiful ladies with cocoa-colored eyes and thick black hair.”
Emily giggled as his warm breath whispered along her neck. His teasing words and hushed breaths awoke a new and erotic need and Emily relished it. Her worries melted like snowdrops in the sun and she came alive like the first blooms of spring.
Will had changed her in ways he would never know. She would always remember him as the man who made her realize she could do anything. Be anything.
He smiled and tugged on her hand. They walked farther along the path and Emily studied him from the corner of her eye. He stared straight ahead, his jaw relaxed, his mouth in a half-smile. He appeared equally as happy as she was.
Eventually, they came to the end of the dirt track and into the cracked, sun-baked pathway leading to the door of the farmhouse. Its surroundings were barren but for an overturned barrel and a hunk of rusted machinery leaning up against a sawn tree trunk. Emily did not have the first idea what it would have once been used for, but for the present it was being used as a hitching post for Carrington. Will secured the reins around part of it and gave them a firm tug.
“You stay there, boy. We won’t be long.”
Taking her hand, they walked to the front door. The smells were of what one would expect on a farm—somewhat pongy and nose-wrinkling yet wholesome and undeniably English. Emily inhaled deeply. The stench would forever equate to liberty and the happiest times in her memory.
Pretty in an understated way, the house bore whitewashed walls and a thatched roof, giving it a picture-book appeal. Before Emily could admire the tiny windows or the decorative yet empty flower boxes beneath them, Will tugged on her hand.
“Change sides with me. Whoever is inside could already be watching us.” His concentrated gaze darted over the front of the house. “If I’m holding your left hand, they’ve no way of seeing a wedding ring.”
Smiling, she scooted around to his other side and he clasped his hand over hers in such a way that her fingers were completely concealed. She loved the unique way he viewed anything new to him—like a predatory fox surveying a henhouse. It was so masculine. His jaw was set and his muscles tense as though ready to pounce on anything that moved.
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