First Season / Bride to Be

by Jane Ashford

  Emily stopped and listened as she had seen Richard doing. She heard nothing helpful. Clasping her shaking hands together, she tried to think what to do. Keep searching, she thought. She had to find him.

  Some sound made her look up. Richard was standing not five yards from her, gesturing for her to come along.

  Emily gaped at him. One minute, she had been alone; the next he had reappeared like an apparition. She must be going mad. Relief and bewilderment overwhelmed her. Her legs gave way and she sank to the rocky ground, shaking.

  Richard rushed over. “Have you hurt yourself?”

  She managed to shake her head.

  “I’ve found a place to rest.” He took her arm and pulled her up.

  Leaning against him, Emily walked. This was how they had met, she thought fuzzily; only then she had supported him.

  “It isn’t far,” he assured her.

  His arm was steady around her. Emily let herself relax.

  They were heading straight for the wall of the valley. It towered over their heads at this point and was nearly sheer. Had he climbed that cliff, and then somehow jumped down when she wasn’t looking?

  “This way.” Richard guided her right up to the wall of rock, around a projecting bit, and into the cliff. “Turn sideways. It’s narrow.”

  There was a crack about two feet wide through the whole mass of stone, Emily realized. You couldn’t see it unless you stood in exactly the right spot behind a thicket. The fissure seemed to go very far back. She couldn’t see the end.

  “How did you find this?” she murmured, astonished.

  “An unlikely coincidence. A wren flew in just at the moment I was looking that way,” Richard told her. “No one will find us here.”

  The opening was just wide enough to allow passage.

  Stone scraped Emily’s back.

  “This is the narrowest part. You have to squeeze through.”

  She wriggled a bit, and was through. Richard had more difficulty, but he was soon behind her again. Emily saw light ahead and walked faster. When she emerged from the dimness of the fissure, she gasped at the scene that opened before her.

  The crack widened to form an oval the size of a ballroom. Trees grew thickly around the edges, shading a small pool in the center fed by a spring trickling over a slab of stone. Shafts of sunlight gilded the leaves and glowed in the water. The earth was cool and carpeted with ferns.

  “Help me move this,” said Richard.

  Turning, Emily saw that he was pushing a boulder toward the opening. She lent a hand, and it rolled into place, blocking the way. Richard picked up a smaller rock and set it on top. She helped him make a small pile, and soon they had the passageway effectively closed.

  “The trees hide us from above,” he said. “But we must be very quiet. If we are heard, they can find their way here.”

  She nodded, already walking under the trees toward the water. Cupping her hands, she drank from the spring. Then she splashed the clear liquid over her face and neck, sighing at the wonderful feel of it. She pulled off her boots and stockings and sat on a rock at the edge of the pool to dangle her feet in it. It was heavenly. But it wasn’t enough. Emily turned to see what Richard was doing.

  He was watching her with a smile. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll sit here.” And he sat on a rock with his back turned, facing the blocked entry.

  Emily hesitated, but the lure of the water was irresistible. With another look at Richard’s back, Emily began to unbutton her blouse.

  She shed her clothes quickly and slid into the pool. The water slid over her skin like silk, washing away the dirt of the journey and even, it seemed, some of the aches and bruises. It made her feel charged with energy, as if she could swim for miles, leap like a salmon, or flip like an otter.

  She ducked under and shook out her hair under the surface. Coolness enveloped her head. She spread her arms and swooped back up, breaking the surface in a scatter of golden droplets. An even brighter glint drew her eye to Richard’s ring on her finger. It was the only thing on her body at this moment.

  She glanced quickly at him. He sat as before, turned away. Emily experienced an odd qualm of disappointment, immediately dismissed. She swam a few strokes to the edge of the pool, turned and swam back. It was as if they had entered another world through that narrow passage in the cliff.

  Something touched her foot. Emily gave a startled cry and jumped onto a rock slanting into the pool. Gazing into the water, she saw a glint of tiny fish, and felt foolish.

  “What is it?”

  Emily looked up to find Richard on his feet, facing her, poised for rescue.

  The universe seemed to stand still. Emily didn’t feel the slight breeze on her body or the water dripping from her hair. She couldn’t move. She was conscious only of Richard a few yards away.

  The tension in his face and stance slowly drained away. His hands dropped to his sides. His eyes stayed on her as if he was helpless to shift them. She couldn’t read the expression in them. She had never seen it before.

  A bird called. Emily started and grabbed her skirt, holding it up before her like a curtain. “It was nothing,” she stammered. “A fish. It startled me.”

  Richard turned his back. He stood there, rigid, giving no sign of what he felt.

  She had spoken too loudly, Emily realized, not to mention standing there like a stick without anything on.

  Richard folded his arms. Every ounce of his attention appeared to be focused on the pile of stones blocking the entrance. He was keeping watch, the pose seemed to say, not squeaking at shadows and possibly bringing their enemies down on them.

  Emily yanked on her creased, stained riding habit. It had been a silly mistake, she acknowledged. But she wasn’t accustomed to bathing outdoors. There was no call for him to be so superior about it.

  She marched over to Richard. “Your turn,” she whispered. “I’ll keep watch.” She would show him that she could be as responsible as he.

  He stared down at her, his hazel eyes hot.

  Emily took a step closer. He moved quickly back. “Go,” she murmured. Commandeering the rock, she sat down in his place, facing the cliff.

  There was a period of silence. Emily was acutely aware of his gaze on her back. At last, she heard him walk away. There was another silence, which seemed very long, before she caught a quiet splash and knew that he had gone into the pool.

  Emily felt a brief glow of satisfaction. He had succumbed to this small indulgence. He wasn’t immune. She heard water ripple against rock, the sound of swimming. Unbidden, her imagination began to build a picture. It grew more and more detailed, filling her senses until she was conscious of nothing but the liquid sounds behind her and the images in her mind. Her cheeks reddened. Had he done this when she was in the water?

  Without realizing it, she had inched around on the rock. She was perpendicular to the cliff now. Shocked, she started to turn back. But splashing stopped her. Emily bent her head, letting her damp hair hang down along her face. Twisting her head slightly, she sneaked a look at the pool.

  Richard had just climbed out. He stood at the edge, shedding water like dripping gold. His body was dappled with shadow from the overhanging trees, and it was gloriously formed—broad shoulders, lean muscled arms and legs, a deep chest that narrowed to…

  He raised his head and caught her looking.

  Heat flooded Emily’s face, washing down her neck to prickle over her whole body. She was transfixed by his unwavering stare. Even if she turned now, pretended she had been looking in quite another direction, it wouldn’t matter. He knew. And she didn’t want to turn away. She wanted to keep looking. She wanted to memorize the contours of his body. Remembering his kisses at the beginning of this journey—so long ago it seemed now—she realized she wanted even more.

  Richard simply stood there. He didn’t reach for his clothe
s. He didn’t seem to breathe, though Emily’s breath was rapid. It was as if he was waiting for a sign. She had the sudden sense that he would follow whatever lead she gave. This moment, full of portent, was in her hands.

  She found herself on her feet, facing him, unclear how she had gotten there. Her body seemed to have made the decision on its own. She walked to the opposite side of the pool from where Richard was standing, following her with his eyes. Quickly, she slipped off her riding habit once again and stepped into the water. Her pulse was pounding. Part of her was silently shrieking at her temerity. With the water softly lapping about her shoulders, she looked at Richard again. A tremor of nervousness shook her. What if he…?

  In one swift movement, he returned to the pool. In another instant, he had her in his arms, his lips warm and urgent on hers, nothing between them but a film of water.

  The flood of sensation was dazzling. Emily felt him along every inch of her skin. His kiss made her dizzy as they floated together. His hands on her back made her shiver. Her arms crept around his neck as his mouth coaxed and enflamed hers. They sank slowly beneath the surface, hardly noticing the water close over their heads.

  The kiss was endless. It took her breath away even more than the liquid atmosphere. It seemed that she had never experienced physical sensation before. Nothing that had happened to her body up to now had had this intensity, this irresistible demand.

  With one kick of his powerful legs, Richard brought them up again. When they broke the surface, he pulled Emily toward the rocks at the edge of the pool. But she slipped out of his arms and dove, twisting around behind him, touching the back of his knee fleetingly before darting away.

  He came after her at once. In the small pool, they circled and danced. He caught her once from the back, letting his hands slide up and cup her breasts, pulling her back against him so that she felt his arousal unmistakably. His fingers teased her into gasping before he let her go again and arced away through the water. She pursued him then, slipping up from below to brush along the length of him, evading his hands by an inch as hers moved featherlight over his skin.

  At last, though, he caught her and crushed her to him in another shattering kiss. Emily gave herself up to it completely, and it carried her to a level where she ached for more. As if he knew, Richard lifted her out of the pool and carried her to a shaded bank of ferns. Sinking down beside her, he began to drop soft kisses over her whole body until she vibrated with longing.

  She pushed her fingers through his brown hair and down over his wide shoulders. Tugging at his arm, she brought the kisses back to her lips, holding him close, reveling in the things he was making her feel.

  His knee slid between hers, and his hand moved upward along the tender skin of her inner thigh. It stopped a bit above her knee, and his kiss deepened. She was drowning in it when his hand moved a little farther, then stopped again. Emily trembled with anticipation so intense it astonished her. Richard’s lips strayed to her neck, her breast. He made her gasp again. Then his hand moved up a little, and stopped.

  She shifted to encourage him. He gave a low laugh and captured her lips again. She pleaded with her body, curling one leg around his, pressing closer. And at long last, his fingertips caressed the aching center of her desire.

  Emily went rigid with pleasure. His kiss, his strong body against hers, the overwhelming sensations he was drawing from her, all of it combined into an urgency like nothing she had felt before. She would have cried out if he had freed her mouth. But he kept it for his own as he drove her wild with longing.

  It built and built until she knew nothing but him. They were rising; he was carrying her into unimaginable places. It built to the unendurable. And then shattered into glorious pieces blinding as lightning flashes.

  Richard shifted, and she felt him inside her. She clung and moved with him, still caught in the waves of passion he’d evoked. He took her lips again, moving faster. She felt the urgency driving him and exulted. She had the same power as he; she could wipe out the universe for him as well. He reached a crescendo, crushed her in his arms for heartbeats, and relaxed against her.

  Emily listened to his breath rasp. She felt the pounding of his heart and the sheen of sweat that coated them. She felt her pulse gradually slow and the world seemed to slow with it. The sun had dipped behind the cliff to the west, throwing their refuge into shadow. Above, the sky was still blue, but the ferns wore a cloak of evening. Birds called in the trees. A pungent green scent rose from the ferns crushed under them.

  Tired from days of unaccustomed exertion, Emily nestled into Richard’s arms and dozed.

  * * *

  Richard raised himself on one elbow and looked down at Emily, sleeping innocently as a wood nymph in a bower of ferns. Her skin glowed in the fading light. He allowed himself a lingering gaze along her legs, the curve of her hip, the lovely arc of her breasts and creamy shoulders. Her face was peaceful, a fringe of copper lashes hiding her eyes. Her lips were slightly parted, and it was all he could do not to bend to them and coax her to wakefulness and passion once again.

  But he slid carefully from her side and rose. He gathered her clothes and put them beside her, then slipped briefly into the pool again before donning his own. These mundane tasks gradually pulled him back into the reality of their situation.

  He had strayed from it somehow. When he had felt her eyes on him at the edge of the water, the very atmosphere had seemed to thicken and change. Thought had given way to something more primitive. Caution had—not disappeared—but retreated, perhaps, to the further reaches of his consciousness, leaving only Emily in the foreground.

  What fire she had. He looked at her pale form under the trees. He had been wanting her for weeks, he admitted now. Resisting had taken all his strength. And now he’d lost the battle. Richard smiled slightly in the gathering gloom. He ought to feel remorseful about that, he supposed. On the contrary, all he wanted was to do it again.

  He turned away. They had to reach safety, but after that, with the altered circumstances… His smile broadened in anticipation.

  A breath of cooler air touched his skin. Emily should dress before she took a chill. Richard wondered if he dared make a fire, and decided that would be tempting fate. He walked over and bent to touch Emily’s bare shoulder. When she started, he said, “It’s getting cold.”

  She sat up, looked around as if dazed, then reached for her clothes. Richard strained to make out her expression, but though there was still light in the sky, darkness had come to this hidden place. He could see only her pale skin being obscured by the darkness of clothes. She might not feel as he did, he realized. He had not been too entranced to notice her inexperience. “Are you all right?”

  “Perfectly.” She stood.

  Saying the wrong thing loomed suddenly as a fearful risk, one Richard had never faced before. He considered a whole spectrum of remarks. This was ridiculous, one inner voice declared—inexplicable.

  Emily took a step closer. “Is something wrong?”

  Yes, Richard wanted to say. I’ve become a tongue-tied idiot. “No.”

  “You sound…odd.”

  “The circumstances are…unusual,” he managed, then cursed himself for a fool. He had never in his life sounded so stiff. But the emotion that seethed below the surface seemed to translate into paralysis.

  Emily gave a breathless little laugh. “If my aunt knew of this,” she murmured.

  It wasn’t a moment when he wanted to recall the duchess.

  “You’ll have to marry me now, or I am quite ruined.”

  Richard felt a surge of resentment. Was this all she could think of? “As I told your cousin, I’m a man of honor.”

  Emily pulled back. “I know that. I…”

  “So you needn’t worry.” He turned away. Her first thought had been for the proprieties—not for the way he knew he had made her feel, not for any bond their caresses f
orged. She had not engaged herself because she cared for him, Richard reminded himself. She had never said that she did. They had agreed that their association was purely practical. And then he had broken the agreement.

  Emily had enjoyed their lovemaking. He was certain of that. But who knew better than he, Lord Warrington, that such physical pleasure could mean little else?

  She wanted a haven after her—what?—her brief lapse under the strain of their flight? He set his jaw. “We should get some rest,” he added in a hard voice. “We’ll move at dawn.” Taking out his penknife, he began cutting ferns to cushion the rocky ground.

  Emily said nothing. He could feel her gaze on him as he worked, but she made no sound. When he had accumulated a good pile of vegetation, he said, “You can sleep here.” Moving off a little way, he started cutting again. He heard the rustle of the ferns as she lay down on them. And why not, he thought bitterly. She had gotten her assurances. No doubt she would drop off at once, while he was certain that he would be awake for hours yet—if not all night.

  His bed of fern complete, Richard sat down beside it. In the morning, he would climb the nearest peak and take bearings. It couldn’t be much farther to his cousin’s house.

  Emily stirred, and all his senses came alert. But her even breathing didn’t change. It was the worst fate he could imagine, Richard thought—to be so attuned to a woman who wanted nothing more than the protection of his name.

  He made himself lie down, but turned restlessly. Memories of the silk of Emily’s skin, the scent of her hair, plagued him. Try as he would to push them aside, he kept hearing the gasps of pleasure he had drawn from her. His body betrayed him, hungering for things his mind denied.

  She belonged to him now, a sharp inner voice insisted. She had made the bargain clear. He had no reason to deny himself. Or she to refuse him.

  Richard rose in one swift movement and went to where Emily lay. Her face was a blurred white oval in the darkness. Kneeling beside her, he slipped his hand under her skirts and ran his fingers along the skin of her leg.