by Mary Brendan
‘Do not disturb your plans for this evening, sir. I am leaving,’ Emily said with cool politeness as she came nearer to him.
‘Don’t go on my account, Miss Beaumont.’ Mark started into the room on a direct path to meet her.
Emily’s pace slowed; they were on a collision course, but she would not give him the satisfaction of stepping aside. With barely a yard separating them she came to an abrupt halt.
Mark took another step until he was within arm’s length of her bristling little figure.
Emily’s chin was jerkily elevated, setting her blonde curls dancing. She gazed up into a face of raw-boned masculinity. Why did he always look so devastatingly attractive? She inwardly railed as she felt her body swaying towards him. Even now, with tension crackling between them, she yearned for his strength and comfort. Hastily she put all such thoughts from her mind. In a business-like fashion she started to pull on her gloves, wordlessly impressing on him he was delaying her. A soft noise prompted her to tilt her head to one side to see past him. The door had clicked shut on the discreet departure of Jason and Helen.
‘Let me pass, please,’ she demanded. ‘I have to go. It is dinner time.’
‘Which is surely why you’re here.’
Rather miffed, Emily pointed out the glaring error in his assumption. ‘I’m hardly dressed for the occasion,’ she said stiffly, deliberately glancing down at her plain, serviceable ensemble.
Mark gave her attire a leisurely scrutiny. ‘You look fine to me.’ It was husky, complimentary.
‘That remark shows how little you understand women,’ Emily snapped with heightened pique.
‘Amen to that,’ he said on a dry laugh.
Emily moistened her lips, aware of peacock-blue eyes searing her face. Feeling overwhelmed by his closeness, she took a pace away. ‘I know you believe this is no chance meeting,’ she blurted. ‘It is. I came here uninvited, and your brother and sister-in-law have done nothing underhand. They are not accomplices in some scheme to hook you, or in any way responsible for your embarrassment.’
‘I’m not embarrassed. I am, however, intrigued as to why you pay your visits so late.’
Emily flicked up at him a bold stare. ‘A pressing matter brought me here.’
‘A pressing matter that concerns me?’
Emily felt blood flood beneath her cheeks. ‘It’s none of your business.’
‘I think you know that’s not true, Emily,’ he lightly corrected. ‘And what was Lady Hunter’s advice? Should you grasp the nettle and marry me?’
‘I might ask you the same question, sir,’ Emily returned immediately. ‘What was your brother’s advice?’
‘Jason doesn’t know I asked you to be my wife.’
‘Asked me to be your wife?’ Emily echoed with husky scorn. ‘Is that what you said to me?’ Silver eyes flared at him. ‘It sounded very much as though you were suggesting I be your …’ She pressed together her lips, regretting having made herself sound vulgar. Quickly she made to dodge past him.
He moved to block her path. ‘And you made it sound as though marriage to me would be a fate worse than death.’
Emily became still as a surge of remorse washed over her. He had sounded hurt as well as angry. Her eyes fluttered shut as thoughts jumbled in her mind. Had she been so concerned with protecting her own pride that she had ignored the damage done to his? Mark always seemed so effortlessly self-contained, so invincible. She had rebuffed him brusquely, she knew, but had believed he must eventually welcome his release from an onerous duty to save her reputation. Suddenly she felt the tension seeping from her body.
‘We should stop acting like petulant children,’ she said quietly, barely flinching from the quizzical look that remark provoked. But she could tell that he, too, would welcome a truce.
They seemed on firmer ground, and Emily intended to tread carefully so they might equably debate the matters perturbing her. ‘I know you would make Nicholas pay for what he has done, but I beg you will not worsen the situation by fighting him.’
Mark’s lips twitched in a rueful smile. ‘I won’t say it wasn’t my intention, but Riley got to him first. The fiasco ended in a scrap between them. Devlin is back home, and looking very much the worse for wear. The official report is that the Viscount was attacked by felons on the road.’
Emily’s little gasp earned her a frown.
‘Are you worried about him?’
Emily quickly shook her head. ‘No! I hope his bruises are sore for weeks!’ she announced pithily. ‘But I fear his battered appearance might lead to inquisitiveness, and that might, in turn, lead to awkward questions.’
‘He is lying low, and packing up his household to leave town. Ostensibly, his move to the country is due to his husbandly concern for the delicate condition of his wife.’
‘It is no constitutional, I’m sure.’ She gave Mark a tentative smile. ‘You have made him go, have you not?’ Quickly she added, ‘I don’t want to know how you brought it about.’
Mark’s lids descended over his eyes. ‘I simply suggested it might be wise. Devlin is not so stupid as to fail to understand that his behaviour could have grave repercussions. He knows Riley hates him, and would betray him for a pittance. Abduction and attempted rape carry heavy penalties, even for peers of the realm.’
Emily nodded slowly. ‘And Riley?’
‘I imagine he will make himself scarce rather than be dealt with by his cronies. They were not happy that Jenny was mortally injured. Her death will warrant an investigation and bring the authorities down on all their heads.’ Mark looked at Emily and said softly, ‘I am very sorry about what happened to her.’
‘Tarquin is too,’ Emily replied. ‘I think he truly loved her at first and still does, despite knowing she was a bigamist …’
‘A bigamist?’ Mark echoed incredulously. ‘They were not really wed at all?’ Harshness was again present in his face and tone.
‘He did not know until the end.’ Emily quickly leaped to her brother’s defence. ‘Riley made Jenny wed those men so he might blackmail them. She told Tarquin all before she died. He is very upset to have lost her and you must not be angry with him over it or I will …’ Her threats faded into silence.
‘Or you will what?’ Mark taunted softly. ‘What will you do, Emily? Tackle his problems alone next time?’
Emily winced beneath his mockery. He had every right to go this minute and harangue her brother till kingdom come. ‘He is different now,’ she said quietly. ‘I have never known my brother show such remorse. Usually he is too eager to find a gaming table to tarry long enough to say sorry.’ She gazed up into Mark’s eyes. ‘I truly believe this awful episode has made him mend his ways.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ Mark replied. ‘It won’t be before time.’
Emily drew in a quivering breath as the silence between them lengthened. For some minutes they had been concentrating on any issue but the one that truly mattered. Now it would no longer be denied. Emily knew it was time to surrender to her fate. To grasp the nettle, as he had said …
‘Our squabbles are hindering us finding a solution to our own troubles.’
‘There is only one solution, Emily, and you know what it is.’ Impatiently he raked five fingers through his dark hair, ruining its neat appearance. ‘A notice ought to be immediately gazetted. Time is running out …’
‘It has run out,’ Emily whispered. She raised her eyes to meet his, for they had immediately whipped to her face. ‘Violet Pearson did not go to Guildford. She has returned instead to town, and I think I need not tell you why.’
Mark twisted a smile. ‘So you have been denied even a few days’ respite.’
‘As have you.’ Her gaze clung to his face as she said, ‘I’m so sorry.’ She moved a little closer, wistfulness puckering her perfect features. ‘Had I not asked you to help me find Tarquin … had I not been foolish enough to go off alone with Riley … you would not now find yourself in such a terrible situation.’
&n
bsp; Mark raised a hand, touched a single finger softly to her lips to silence her. Emily’s lids drooped and for just a moment she revelled in the feel of his skin on hers. She took a deep breath and turned her face away. ‘No … let me finish. There is much I must say. I have not thanked you for your help and, Heaven knows, you deserve my gratitude.’
‘I don’t want your gratitude, Emily,’ Mark said hoarsely.
‘I know you do not. Despite your angry words, I know you have given your aid freely, and would do so again.’ She paused, thinking back over those years she had known Mark Hunter. For most of their acquaintance she had treated him coldly because of the incident surrounding her brother’s imprisonment. In her heart she had known that her loyalty to Tarquin was extreme and unappreciated. Tarquin had been wild and out of control, and Mark had been right to rein him in. Difficult as it was to now eat humble pie, she must do it for her conscience’s sake.
‘I don’t simply owe you my gratitude; I owe you an apology too.’ She sensed smouldering eyes warming her. ‘I know that when you had Tarquin sent to the Fleet you were being cruel to be kind. His incarceration stopped him gambling, and losing what little assets he had left. I was wrong to put the blame for it on you. I was wrong to be insolent to you.’ Emily slanted a nervous peek at him through a web of long, inky lashes. ‘Tarquin is lucky indeed you are still his friend, and that you have done so much recently to help him.’
‘I didn’t do it for him.’
Emily took a step closer to gauge his expression.
‘I did it for you; surely you realised that?’ he said gruffly.
Emily searched blue eyes that were devoid of irony, that seemed soulful, and intent on analysing her reaction to his words.
‘Because you want to sleep with me?’ Emily whispered.
‘Because I love you, Emily Beaumont.’ In a low, velvety voice he added, ‘And, naturally, I want to prove that to you in bed.’ He came purposefully closer. ‘Actually, I’d like to prove it to you now.’
Hands that were lightly vibrating were raised to tenderly cup her bashful face and turn it up to his.
‘You love me, even though you know that I lay willingly with Nicholas?’ Emily asked in a small voice.
‘I can’t pretend I like knowing it,’ Mark admitted with raw tenderness. ‘I admit too that, since you told me, I’ve acted like a sulky youth over it.’ His manner was endearingly self-conscious. ‘I’ve always abhorred hypocrites, yet now I’ve acted as one.’ His thumbs swept soft arcs on the satin skin of her jaw. ‘I owe you an apology. It’s not your fault that you were seduced by Devlin’s lies and promises. You were young and sincere and understandably vulnerable to a master of deceit.’ Mark paused. ‘I don’t like knowing that you gave him a precious part of yourself, or that you wanted to marry him. But perhaps you don’t like knowing that, in my youth, I loved Barbara Emerson, and wanted her for my wife.’
Emily gazed at him with eyes that had spontaneously filled with prickling tears. ‘I don’t like knowing it at all. I don’t like the rumours that you will wed. I don’t like it that she is still your mistress.’ She ended her admission on a shrill note of indignation that made Mark wryly smile.
‘She isn’t … not any more …’ he soothed. ‘I have seen Barbara today and told her that it is finished between us.’ Mark was prevented from adding that he’d had no intention of asking Barbara to marry him since he turned twenty-one.
Emily suddenly flung her arms about his neck, hugging him chokingly tight. ‘I thought you still loved her. I thought you hoped to marry her, and would hate me for depriving you of the woman you truly wanted as your wife.’
‘You’re the woman I truly want as my wife, Emily,’ Mark told her gravely. His lips skimmed the silky blonde hair at her brow. ‘We both have loved and wanted to marry people who we now know would have ultimately made us unhappy. We must be thankful that those affairs are behind us and we are free to concentrate on our future together.’ He tilted up her chin with a single digit. ‘Do you agree?’
Chapter Eighteen
‘I do agree.’
‘And Stephen Bond?’
‘Stephen is a nice man, but I do not love him. In fact, I had a letter telling him so to post, but was distracted when Riley abducted me.’ Emily gave him an adoring smile. ‘I love you, Mark … so very much, and would be greatly honoured to be your wife.’ She paused, raised a hand to tenderly cup his angular chin. ‘I love you so much more than ever I loved Nicholas …’
‘Prove it,’ Mark demanded, his voice gruff with need.
Emily immediately complied. She went on tiptoe to press her soft warm lips against his. But he wanted more wooing than a coy salute. Gamely she teased him with little nipping kisses until, satisfied, he allowed her tongue to slip into his mouth to tangle with his.
With a guttural sound rasping in his throat, Mark lifted her up so their faces were level and he could fully enjoy her sweet seduction. From instinct, her legs immediately separated, wound about his thighs to clasp him possessively to her. Mark forgot about flirtatious games; he wanted her … His mouth stroked back and forth on soft, willing lips, plundered with savage sensuality until the kiss was so deep their faces were still.
Easily carrying his sensual prize, he strode swiftly to the nearest wall.
With blue watered silk at her back and Mark’s hard powerful body keeping her effortlessly in place, Emily loosened her cloak. With her face still upturned to his and her mouth greedily taking the onslaught of his lips, she felt for her buttons. Unsteady fingers slowly loosened her bodice by touch alone. Mark raised his head, his eyes glowing with desire as he watched her small moving fingers. Deliberately Emily opened her chemise until the sides flapped away from her alabaster skin like small lapels. With her feverish gaze still meshed with his, she pulled down the soft cotton until it framed and supported her naked breasts, raising them close to his mouth.
Mark’s eyes swooped to adore the lush, milky flesh offered up to him. His mouth slowly descended to take her invitingly slack lips in a slow, rewarding kiss that made her squirm delightedly.
Emily arched her back, rotated her hips faster against the rigid heat at his pelvis, wordlessly begging for him to soothe the aching need building within her feminine core.
With his body supporting hers, he used both hands to take his gift. Long, avaricious fingers began to reverentially stroke, pamper, shape the quivering flesh he was preparing to feast on. First one, then the other, blood-red nub thickened, stiffened beneath his skilful tongue as it leisurely trailed torment. When her aching flesh was almost unbearably hot and swollen Emily fought to contain the sob of pleasure tightening her throat. In delirium her head was thrown back, twisted from side to side in wordless denial, but the groan burst from her.
Mark covered her panting mouth with his to stop the feral sound from increasing in volume.
‘Hush …’ he whispered against her bruised lips, his tone throaty and amused. ‘That was loud enough to bring old Cedric running, and he’s deaf as a post.’
Emily tensed, then, in chagrin, her eyes screwed tight shut. The haze of sensuality drugging her was ebbing away and fiery embarrassment taking its place. She was a guest in an aristocrat’s mansion, yet was acting like a dockside harlot. With a subdued shriek of shame she struggled to find her feet and her dignity. She pushed at Mark’s shoulders, wriggled this way and that to try to make him set her down.
Emily’s writhing now drew a guttural noise from Mark. Her attempt to recover her modesty was having the reverse effect to the one intended. His arms tightened about her, subduing her protests whilst his mouth relentlessly pursued hers.
‘Oh … let me go, Mark,’ Emily pleaded in anguish as his lips cornered hers. ‘Do you suppose they heard? What must your brother think of me? Do you think they understood what we … that is … do you think they know what we’re doing?’ She turned to him, grasped his lean, angular jaw, then rushed her soft palms up and down on abrasive skin to hurry his reassurance.
‘What do you think of me?’ Emily wailed softly. His desire had harshly tautened his features and she craved some tender affection from him. Did Mark think she had just proved herself a hussy rather than a fitting wife?
He looked deep into her stormy eyes; touched his lips to hers in a lightly teasing kiss. ‘I’ll show you what I think of you.’ But instead of a renewed seduction, he gently lowered her to the ground. His hands drew together her chemise, her gaping bodice, and painstakingly refastened them. He then slipped a hand to his pocket and withdrew a jeweller’s box. Carefully he prised open the lid and turned towards her his gift. A huge rose-cut diamond caught candle flame and sparked fire. ‘I brought this with me this morning. I didn’t have a chance to give it to you.’
Emily’s sharply indrawn breath caught in her throat. For a moment she was so mesmerised by the magnificent betrothal ring that she forgot to be concerned about his expertise in deftly fastening a lady’s undergarments.
Whilst Emily gazed upon her beautiful gift, Mark gazed upon his. Her dress was crumpled, her blonde locks were tousled and her mouth was beestung from their loving. Humbly he gave thanks for his good fortune that this woman was his.
‘It’s wonderful,’ Emily at last managed to gasp.
‘I wasn’t sure whether you would prefer a different stone. I wasn’t sure what Devlin got you.’
Emily looked into his eyes. ‘A sapphire, and I gave it back without regret,’ she said huskily. ‘This is the most splendid gem I have ever seen.’ She gazed up into his eyes. ‘You’ll never get it back.’
Mark drew forth the platinum shank from its satin nest and slid it on to her betrothal finger. ‘I’d best marry you then … it cost a small fortune.’ He placed a light reverential kiss on her scarlet lips. ‘If you are still unsure what I think of you, Emily Beaumont, let me tell you in words,’ he said huskily. ‘I love and respect you utterly. I want us to be married by special licence tomorrow.’ He smiled ruefully, ‘And I would have told you that even had I not yet sampled what sweet advantages are to be had from taking a wanton bride …’