The Earl's Entanglement (Border Series Book 5)

by Cecelia Mecca

  She reached up and cradled his face as he’d done to her twice before.

  “Please believe me. I speak from experience.”

  His eyes widened, and he leaned down and kissed her. His lips moved over hers like a bolt of velvet, soft and sensual. Emma kissed him back, and for the first time, it was she who moved to deepen the kiss. She opened for him, and he took her invitation. His tongue moved over hers, pulling her with him, drowning her under a wave of passion that forced her arms around him.

  His lips moved from her mouth to her neck. She lifted her head and allowed herself to lean back into his arms, arching her body against him.

  “The sweetest taste in the world.” His mouth moved lower, kissing her collarbone and the soft flesh beneath it.

  But then he stopped and pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly to him, much as he’d done on their rides these last few days. But this time, there was nowhere for her to fall.

  Or was there?

  She turned her head sideways, laying her cheek on his chest. Inhaling deeply, Emma pushed even closer to him.

  “I can’t let you go,” she said.

  “Tonight?”

  Nay, that was not what she had meant.

  But saying more seemed silly. He was to be married. He was a man of honor and he’d made a pledge.

  “You are an extraordinary woman, Emma Waryn.”

  She moved even closer to him.

  I love you.

  The words sat on the edge of her lips. Nothing had ever felt so right. Because it was true. Emma had seen love before. Her brothers had found it, and now she had as well. But her story would not end happily.

  He pulled away to look at her.

  “Love me, Garrick.” It was not what she wanted to say, but it would have to do.

  “Emma, no, I—”

  “The way you did that night.”

  Wrapped in each other’s arms, they stood motionless, eyes locked.

  Emma waited.

  “I am a virgin still,” she said, breaking the silence at last. “And will be one when I leave. What harm is there—”

  “What harm? Emma, we should not be here. Your brother—”

  “Is sleeping with his wife.” The wife he loves. “My maid knows what to say if either of them—”

  “Your maid knows?” He pulled away then, and the look of horror on his face made her smile.

  “Of course she does. Edith knows everything. And I trust her with my life.”

  Trust me with yours.

  He took a moment to consider the idea. Did he not have any friends whom he trusted implicitly? But there was no time to think on it further. No time to ask him. His expression changed in a moment.

  “I want nothing more than to make you scream with pleasure,” he said, his voice husky.

  He was going to do it.

  “To watch your face,” he said, reaching for the ties that bound her gown together in the front, “and feel your soft flesh beneath my fingers.”

  As the ties loosened, her chest felt unaccountably tighter rather than the opposite.

  She’d changed into a simple undertunic and kirtle, which threatened to come undone at any moment.

  At last, it was completely untied. The neckline, wide enough to fit over her shoulders, was easy prey for him. Garrick tugged with both hands, widening it even more. He guided her arms through the sleeves until the royal blue material lay in a puddle at her feet. She stepped over it as Garrick kicked the discarded kirtle to the side.

  Wordlessly, he lifted the ivory undertunic over her head. She reached up her arms to assist him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  Everything but Garrick ceased to exist.

  Standing before him in nothing but a shift, Emma moved to cover her breasts, which peeked out behind the thin material. Garrick would have none of it. He grabbed her wrists and guided them behind her back. Still holding them there, he moved toward her.

  He kissed her, first on the lips and then the neck, and moved lower, his lips trailing a path between her breasts, where the material dipped and allowed him access. When he stood and released her wrists, his movement was so sudden Emma didn’t have time to prepare.

  And she definitely needed it.

  He lifted his loose shirt up in one swift motion. Tossing the offending garment aside, he stood motionless, watching her with an intense gaze.

  She’d imagined those muscles, had felt them beneath her fingertips, but she hadn’t spared a thought for the scars. An angry scar ran from his right shoulder to his collarbone. It was the most pronounced, but certainly not the only one. Each ridge was punctuated with battle scars, one precariously close to his heart.

  He must have known she wanted to touch him. Garrick took her hand and guided it to his expansive chest, covering her sprawling fingers with his own. When his muscles twitched under her fingertips, she squeezed lightly, just enough to ensure he was quite real.

  When Garrick released her hand, she explored, trailing her fingers down to his stomach. The sound that escaped his lips emboldened her.

  He closed his eyes.

  She grew bolder yet.

  Wondering if she could arouse the same feelings in him that he’d stirred in her, Emma stepped forward and kissed the area just beneath his neck.

  “Emma—” He pulled her against him, her chest slamming against his own. But this time, there was little to separate them, and when she wrapped her arms around him, it was flesh her fingers found.

  His mouth lowered to hers, but this was nothing like the last kiss. This one was hard and insistent and filled with need. She opened for him, her body pressing against him—closer, closer, closer—of its own accord. When she felt his hand lifting the bottom of her shift, Emma welcomed the touch.

  Still, her curious mind was a light, and she started to ask, “What are you . . . ,” only to stop, mesmerized by his expression. She momentarily forgot about his wandering fingers, focused instead on the corner of his mouth, where he bit his lip. But he didn’t let her forget for long. Without warning, his hand cupped that most intimate part of her. She met the question in his eyes with a slight nod.

  She trusted him.

  And then his fingers were inside her.

  Emma didn’t have time to be shocked. She tried to hold his gaze but could not. She closed her eyes and tilted her back.

  “Garrick . . .”

  “You know what to do.”

  She opened her eyes as the pressure increased between her legs. She held on to him, her knees weakening.

  “I don’t.” The slow, sensual smile made her feel as if she were Garrick’s prey. Well, if he wished to consume her, she’d allow it.

  “Your body knows.”

  And it did.

  It pressed and circled against him as he continued to watch her. The pressure was nearly unbearable.

  “I can’t.”

  “You can, Emma.”

  Her whimpers reverberated through the empty chamber. She couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t stop thrusting against him.

  When he moved his hand against her this time, she could no longer hold on. Her body exploded as her fingers clenched against the hard muscles of Garrick’s shoulders. The rippling sensations spread from her core to every other part of her body and only intensified when she opened her eyes to find him still watching her.

  She licked her own lips then, unable to swallow. Or speak. It was like before, but stronger, more intense. And only when the throbbing began to ebb did Emma remember to breathe.

  He withdrew from her then, the loss so poignant she wouldn’t allow it. She reached for his hand, wrapped it around her back and kissed him with her newfound love, raw and unequivocal. Garrick lifted her then, cradling her in his arms, and strode over to the bed. He tossed her onto the bed and climbed atop her, his weight a delicious pleasure.

  “I’m going to do it again,” he warned her just before he lifted her shift and made good on his promise. This time, with him lying partly above
her but to one side, she was able to grip him more firmly. No longer startled by his touch, she was prepared for it when he entered her again.

  Emma knew what to do this time. And when his mouth captured hers, his tongue mimicking the movements down below, she couldn’t hang on for long. She let go nearly immediately, her cries muffled against him.

  “My beautiful Emma.”

  Oh God!

  That pushed her over the edge. A cliff she fell from willingly, never hitting the bottom. With Garrick’s help, she soared, her knuckles painful from clutching him so tightly.

  “Never.”

  When she finally came back down, her feet once again planted on what felt like solid ground, she realized she’d said the word aloud.

  “Never what?” he asked.

  Good question. She’d never experienced anything quite like it?

  Nay. I never want to let him go.

  Garrick rolled to the side, realizing he was likely crushing her. He closed his eyes, attempting to get control of himself. His cock was hard, throbbing, aching to be touched. To glide into her as easily as his fingers . . . nay, that wasn’t helping.

  Stop thinking of it.

  He needed to think of something, anything, but the passionate response of the woman lying next to him. If he so much as turned toward her . . .

  “Garrick?”

  “A moment, if you please, Emma.”

  He took slow, deep breaths, willing himself to gain control. He had no choice. There could be no relief for him. Not here. Not with her.

  Never.

  What had she meant?

  “Are you well?” she asked.

  He still couldn’t look at her. England. Scotland. Acre. He’d never been with a woman who aroused such a passion in him. What would it be like to . . . Garrick, stop.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  That did it. The horror that Emma would think such a thing, even for a moment, finally enabled him to gain the control he desperately needed. This time, his heart, not his manhood, stirred.

  He turned onto his side, propping his head on his elbow. “Wrong? Never.”

  She was so incredibly lovely. She’d pulled down her shift, and a good thing because his wandering eyes could not stop gazing downward. What would it be like to have those legs wrapped around him?

  “You have that look again.”

  He groaned and pulled her toward him. “No more looks this eve, my insatiable minx.”

  They lay side by side, Emma’s face just inches from his own. He caught himself from leaning his head forward to kiss her. It would only make it harder in the end.

  “You’d best be getting back.”

  “Aye,” she said without moving.

  “Garrick,” she whispered, her hair tickling his cheek. He moved it to the side, trying not to look at her. “That felt really good.”

  And there it was again. Desire welling inside him, pulling at him, encouraging him to . . .

  No. He could not have her.

  Emma was not his.

  “I’m glad to hear you say so.” He pulled her tighter.

  “I don’t want to leave yet.”

  “Then don’t.”

  Despite all the reasons he should tell her to go, he found he could not. He wanted her to stay too, but if they were ever caught, the fallout would be considerable.

  Garrick allowed his mind to wander down that path. They’d have to marry, of course. His broken betrothal would enrage the Earl of Magnus, mayhap enough so to start a clan war. His uncle would use the incident to steal the title out from under him, and his mother would lose a husband and her inheritance in one fell swoop.

  And yet Garrick still found himself reaching for the back of her hair, pulling the strands together, and moving them aside so that he could touch her neck. It was only an innocent touch, certainly nothing like . . .

  Emma sighed.

  And then he imagined her lying like this with Graeme. He pictured her atop him, her expression filled with the pure pleasure of release. A release given to her by another man.

  No!

  “I’m going to delay the wedding.” Even as he said it, he knew the words made no sense. He had to marry. Would marry. A delay was pointless.

  “I see.”

  She didn’t ask why. Or what it meant. Instead, she moved her head to the side to give him better access to the exposed skin there.

  Garrick flipped Emma onto her back and moved over her.

  “Don’t marry Graeme.”

  She blinked. “I have no intention—”

  “He will ask.”

  The corners of Emma’s lips lifted and her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’re being silly—”

  “Wait until I send for you. Promise me.”

  “Send for me? Garrick, you aren’t making sense. Why would you—”

  “Your brother and I spoke of a meeting, a gathering of the border lords to determine the next recourse from the attack. I will host it. Find a way to come with him.”

  “That should not be a problem. But why?”

  He shook his head, not understanding himself.

  Or maybe he understood all too much.

  “I can’t make any promises. My mother expects a wedding. Magnus and his daughter . . . they are all expecting a wedding. But . . .”

  He reached up and laid her hand on his cheek. His heart raced as the implications washed over him. What he was about to say could not be unsaid. But it was the truth, and he could no more keep quiet than he could resist bringing this woman every pleasure she deserved.

  “If there’s a way to stop it, I will.”

  Her hand dropped. Garrick, propped above her, looked down at the most beautiful, spirited woman he’d ever known. One who had captured his heart and soul in the short time they’d known each other.

  “I love you, Emma.”

  Her eyes widened, and he wished the words back immediately. He’d never uttered them to a woman before, and in truth, he’d never expected to.

  She cupped his face as if he were a newborn babe rather than a hardened warrior. “I love you too.”

  His chest constricted and his mouth went dry. Garrick couldn’t get closer quickly enough. He leaned down and kissed her, every nerve ending in his body screaming, her lips all-consuming. He loved this woman with every part of himself, would give everything he owned to be closer to her, to be inside her, to show her the truth of his words. To make a life with her.

  For now, he’d be content with a kiss, one that threatened to drag him into an eternal bliss from which he might never recover.

  One that held promises he wasn’t sure he could keep.

  16

  I love you, Emma.

  The words came back to her before she was fully awake. She repeated them over and over in her mind. He truly had said them.

  And more.

  By the time Emma left his chamber, Garrick had vowed to set up a meeting, and nothing would stop her from accompanying Geoffrey to Clave Castle.

  I love you too.

  And she did. She didn’t want to, of course, but she did.

  She had been wrong. Love, it seemed, did not care about circumstances. There was no denying he was everything she didn’t want in a man. He was an earl twice over. He gave orders as if he’d been doing so his whole life, spoke of the king as if he were just another man, owned more properties than Sara and Geoffrey, and could call two separate armies of men to battle. And yet her earl was also thoughtful and strong. He inspired the kind of loyalty she could admire. And whether it was logical or not, and it was most assuredly not as he was currently betrothed to another woman, Emma did love him. She hadn’t asked him to break the betrothal. Emma understood the politics of his alliance. Indeed, she couldn’t fathom a way for him to escape them. But if anyone could do it, Garrick could. He was smart and—

  “Are you awake, my lady?”

  Emma turned in the bed, pulling the covers toward her chin. “Of sorts.”

  It had
been quite late when she’d returned, without incident, to her bedchamber. She hadn’t felt the need to rise early because she’d already said goodbye to him.

  “The household will be thinkin’ you’re ill.”

  She watched as Edith stoked the fire.

  “I didn’t even hear you come in to start it,” she said.

  “Roaming around will tire you out, to be sure.” There was a teasing sparkle in the other girl’s eyes.

  As much as she wished to stay abed for a little longer, there was no need to keep her friend in suspense. “Come here and sit!” she said. “I’ve so much to tell you.”

  Edith picked up a stool and brought it over.

  “Go on, then,” she said, taking a seat. Her tone told Emma she’d been waiting, with varying degrees of patience, all morning.

  “He loves me,” she blurted.

  Emma laughed at her maid’s shocked expression.

  “I can hardly believe it myself, but I feel the same way. I think I knew at the inn the other day. Or mayhap before, at Dunmure, watching Clara and Alex together. There’s always been something . . . I can’t explain it. But I told myself it didn’t matter. And then I found out he was getting married. Maybe that’s when I knew. I felt as if I’d been punched—”

  “Slow down! I can hardly follow you—”

  “But in the storeroom, when he did that, I thought, ‘Well, Emma, now you know what desire is all about.’ But love? Maybe it was a bit of both—”

  “Did what?”

  Emma could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to say that, exactly.

  “Never mind.”

  She rushed to change the topic.

  “I know what you’re thinking. ‘But Emma, he’s an earl. You’ve turned away every powerful man who’s sought your hand. You want to be in control. To run your own household, aye, but also to have a husband who won’t tell you that you can’t go to a tournament, or that it’s too dangerous to travel to Scotland. To be a partner, like Sara—’”

  “Are ye finished talkin’ to yourself?”