The Earl's Entanglement (Border Series Book 5)

by Cecelia Mecca

  Her brother, clearly accustomed to his sister’s impact on men, had stayed close until they sat, a most welcome gesture. Even now, he gave Lord Davenhill a look that would send most men cowering into a corner. But the cocksure widower continued to flirt mercilessly, undeterred by the angry stares angled at him from two directions.

  “I don’t like him.”

  “Clearly,” Conrad said, pushing a mug toward him. “Drink. Before you do something you’ll regret.”

  He tore his gaze from the scene before him. “Regret smashing in that bastard’s face? Have you forgotten the rumors that he beat his first wife?”

  “Alas, he also shares a border with Clave and is a favorite of the king. He’d make a poor enemy.”

  Garrick grabbed the mug Conrad had shoved toward him. “But I do see the appeal.”

  Garrick couldn’t even manage the goodwill to smile.

  Conrad continued, “The Earl of Kenshire is not a man to be trifled with. Judging by his expression, a brawl may break out yet, even if you don’t start it.”

  Garrick resisted the urge to look. “Good.”

  He ignored Conrad’s exaggerated sigh of frustration.

  “So ’tis not enough for you to start a war in Scotland?” Conrad asked. “You’ve a mind to have one here as well?”

  “I haven’t started a war.”

  “So what exactly have you done? And don’t say ‘nothing.’”

  Thus far he’d avoided speaking to his friend about Linkirk, but Conrad was not put off so easily. “I may have postponed the wedding. And I’ve asked Mother to return to England.”

  “And?” Conrad waited.

  But there was nothing more to tell. “And I will speak to her upon her return.”

  “Dear God, Garrick. Please tell me you’re not relying on an appeal to the woman who stands to lose her inheritance if you back out of this agreement.”

  “Conrad,” he warned.

  “Garrick, please tell me Linkirk’s future does not rest on a discussion with your mother. You must—”

  “Not now.”

  Conrad, surprisingly, fell silent.

  The meal finished, guests began to move from their benches to other parts of the hall. The harpist Mable had found in Clave’s village continued to play, lending a harmonious atmosphere to the gathering. In his estimation, it was a scene his parents would have been proud of. If only he could enjoy it.

  He looked, unable to stop himself.

  Emma was staring straight at him.

  Garrick stood, grabbed his pewter mug, and walked toward her. He heard Conrad’s expletive, but his friend underestimated him. Garrick was capable of composing himself, even if he wanted nothing more than to eliminate Davenhill’s grin with the back of his hand.

  “My lady,” he bowed. “My lord,” he said to her brother.

  Seemingly grateful for the excuse to leave the table, Geoffrey stood and offered a hand to his sister. “A fine evening indeed,” he said, guiding her away from the table.

  Garrick avoided Davenhill’s gaze. The baron was likely furious with him for removing his entertainment for the evening. Good.

  “I trust your meal was enjoyable?” Garrick asked as he led the way toward a brazier in the corner.

  “Very much,” Geoffrey said.

  Emma simply smiled.

  “And yours, my lady?” He let himself look at her, and the charge between them nearly felled him. How could Geoffrey fail to notice it?

  “Delicious,” she said.

  His cock hardened, the implications of her answer clear. Emma was a saucy minx, and she teased him, knowing he was in a poor position with Geoffrey between them.

  “Then I am pleased,” he said. “I was sure to have Cook dig deep in Clave’s storeroom for the finest of spices for the main course.”

  He tried not to smile at the way her eyes darkened at his deliberate mention of the storeroom.

  Garrick turned his attention to Geoffrey. “So were you pleased with the outcome of the council?”

  “Very much.” Geoffrey held up his mug for a toast. “Cheers, Lord Clave, on your day. It appears your return to England has been quite successful so far.”

  “Mostly so,” Emma said.

  Though her brother drew his brows together, Garrick knew what to expect—more teasing.

  “On the return trip, that night on Clan Scott’s land. You seemed vexed. Frustrated. I never did get to ask if all was well.”

  His thoughts immediately went to that night. How he’d opened the door to find Emma standing there, lantern in hand. He’d pleased her well and would do it again tonight.

  Oh, she was bold.

  “Ahh, that. I do recall now. It was something the chief said. Nothing of importance. In fact”—he tried not to grin—“it was so inconsequential I’d nearly forgotten it.”

  When her eyes narrowed, Garrick resisted the urge to laugh aloud. It really was too easy to tease her back.

  “Speaking of Graeme de Sowlis,” Geoffrey interjected, “I nearly forgot to mention.” He turned to Emma. “Sara believes we should invite him to Kenshire. What do you think?”

  Geoffrey’s words landed between them like a sea-tossed ship thrown onto a shore of rocks, obliterating even the memory of any smooth sailing.

  The Scottish chief was going to propose to Emma. Or, at the very least, pursue her.

  No.

  He’d told Emma to ignore whatever he said this eve for this exact reason. Somehow he had known Geoffrey would ask for his opinion of the chief. And he would not lie and slander a man he respected.

  “I do believe Sara and I had that same discussion before I left,” Garrick said. “As I told her, Sowlis should be considered.”

  Geoffrey took the words as they were given, as an affirmation of Graeme’s good intentions, no more.

  But Graeme de Sowlis would not marry Emma.

  After tonight, there would be no doubt of it.

  19

  He’d intended to take her virginity tonight, but he couldn’t go through with it. No matter how much he wanted her, it would be irresponsible to treat her as such. He would have to wait until they had an understanding.

  “Emma?”

  Garrick opened the door without knocking. The darkened chamber was lit only by a fire and two candles, so when she appeared in front of him, it was as if she’d been conjured from his dreams.

  “I thought you may be sleeping.”

  His heartbeat thudded with every step she took toward him. Her velvet robe could have passed for a gown until she came closer. But now he could clearly see the slit that made its way from her neck to the ground.

  “Sleeping?”

  She reached out, hesitant and unsure.

  He took the outstretched hand, pulled her toward him, and enveloped her in a kiss that was meant to claim. Garrick poured all of his frustration and urgency into that kiss. It terrified him how much he wanted her. He’d kissed more women than he could count, but never had he become so lost, so quickly. Never had the urge to be inside a woman physically pained him.

  Overcome with the desire to see more of her, to feel her body against his, Garrick tore her robe off in one swift motion. He grasped Emma’s hair at the nape of her neck, pulled her toward him, and ravaged her mouth.

  She shoved at his tunic, and he broke contact with her for just long enough to remove the offending garment from his body. He threw it on the floor beside them, and then, at Emma’s prompting, did the same with his shirt.

  He pulled her toward him once again, and when her hands began their exploration, he knew he was lost. Drowning in a sea of passion, in the arms of the woman he loved, he could not get enough. He explored her backside, teasing both of them with the idea that he could lift the thin chemise over her head.

  But if he so much as saw an inch of skin, he’d be lost. As would Emma’s virginity.

  “Emma,” he murmured. “We need to talk.”

  The words were spoken between kisses. Garrick shifted his attent
ion to her neck, flicking his tongue against the sensitive flesh there. Emma’s soft moan prompted him to continue teasing and tormenting them both.

  “Aye,” he said, his mouth moving lower and lower. “Talk.”

  He loosened the ties at her front. Just a taste. One simple taste.

  Undone, the ties fell to either side, widening the neckline just enough for him to reach in and lift a perfect breast toward his mouth. He brought his mouth down to taste her, and the rosy bud hardened against his tongue.

  Bloody hell.

  He tore his mouth away, intending to back up, but then he saw her face. Her swollen lips. Taking her lower lip into his mouth, he continued to torment them both. This time, the soft groan was his own.

  “Talk,” he said again once he’d finally managed to stop. A nearly impossible feat. He took a step back, but the temptation to return to her, to take her in his arms again, was too strong.

  Reaching down for the robe, he picked it up, draped it around her shoulders, and reassessed the situation. “Better.”

  “What are you about, Lord Clave?”

  He didn’t miss her gaze, which dropped as she spoke. His mind started to wander as he pictured her mouth on his chest, moving lower and lower as he had done to her.

  Garrick reached down again, this time grabbing his own shirt and tossing it back over his head.

  “Talk,” he said again, as much to himself as to her.

  His throat was dry, the air thick and heavy with the promise of what could be. He continued to back away, but it was still not far enough. Her sweet lavender scent overwhelmed him.

  “Of course,” she said, as if they’d been having a logical conversation rather than nearly ravaging each other.

  “I cannot yet promise you anything beyond my heart.” He swallowed. “But I came here with the intention of ravishing you.”

  Emma stood as still as the bed beside her.

  “To make love to you as I’ve dreamt of doing since the very moment you stood, covered in hay, in that stable. There is nothing I want more. That I’ve ever wanted more.”

  “But?”

  “But I can’t.”

  “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Emma opened her mouth to speak, but God help him, he couldn’t let her. Not just yet. If she uttered even one word to convince him to carry out his original plan, he would do it.

  “Is this really what you want, Emma?” he asked, desperate to make her understand. “Do you want a man promised to another?”

  She lifted her chin, and Garrick knew he’d gotten through to her.

  “I can barely keep my hands from you. But you deserve more.” And he intended to give it to her. “I don’t want anything to stand between us when we make love for the first time. Not your brother. Not Magnus.”

  “Not your mother.”

  He could not deny it. She’d come to know him well. “Nor her.”

  “Then what will we do?”

  He nearly did go to her then, but Garrick didn’t trust himself.

  “I’ve asked her to come to Clave.”

  She didn’t have to ask who. “Before I left Kenshire, I sent a group of men back to Scotland to deliver the message that the wedding is to be delayed until spring. But I need to inform my mother before making any other decision. I’ve asked her to return to England for the time being.”

  He wished he had all of the answers now, but he didn’t. “And the attack . . .”

  “You believe it was your uncle?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps. Inquiries are being made. If it was him—”

  “He will stop at nothing to gain the title.”

  “I will kill him first.”

  “You’re serious.”

  Very serious. If he had put Emma in harm’s way, if he had thought for a moment to threaten Garrick’s mother . . .

  “Garrick, please don’t do anything rash.”

  “Rash? The bastard—”

  “Might well be behind the attack. If so, allow the wardens to deal with it.”

  “Emma, you don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “I do. You’ll remember I have three brothers, all of whom would put themselves in danger to protect what is theirs. But at least two of them have learned a powerful lesson. Trust in the process you’re so willing to fight to protect.”

  She didn’t realize what she asked for. To not seek vengeance? If his uncle truly was behind the attacks?

  “As for us—”

  “Just give me time to sort through it.”

  She didn’t answer right away.

  “Emma?”

  “You heard my brother earlier. It seems Graeme is pressing his suit. If he—”

  He reached her in two strides. “You will not marry Graeme.”

  “Perhaps we can discuss it rather than you ordering me about—”

  “Promise me, Emma. You will not entertain him.”

  He didn’t like the look on her face. A line of frustration had formed between her eyes.

  “Promise me.”

  She shrugged off his hand.

  “This no longer feels like a discussion.”

  The image of Graeme lifting Emma’s hand to his mouth filled Garrick’s mind, muddying his thoughts. “I will not leave without your promise.”

  He waited.

  “I promise.” She didn’t look pleased, but he had her promise and her love.

  It had to be enough for now.

  “Tell me.”

  Her brother’s voice, not Garrick’s.

  Emma had found shelter in a peculiar room on the ground floor of the castle, just next to Clave’s great hall. She’d discovered the empty space just after breaking her fast. She’d spent the morning trying not to look at Garrick and not to be cornered by the overeager Lord Davenhill. Eager to escape it all, she’d wandered away and found this remarkable space. Housed inside a postern tower, the circular room had more windows than most, and none of them were arrow slits. Granted, the oriel windows were not in much danger of being attacked from the sea, but they were extremely rare on the ground floor. She rather liked them.

  “There’s nothing to tell.” Of course, it was a lie. And her brother knew it.

  “If Davenhill insulted you before I arrived—”

  “It is not that pompous old goat.”

  “Old? The man is nearly the same age as I am. Ahh, is that a smile?”

  She straightened her lips lest she allow her brother to be right about anything.

  “Just as I said.”

  “Emma Waryn, you are bold.”

  She ignored that since he made it sound like a compliment. “Look at that view.”

  Her brother watched the gentle ebb and flow of the waves with her in silence.

  “You’ll catch a chill.” Geoffrey moved to close the tall wooden shutters, but Emma stopped him.

  “Just a moment longer.”

  Geoffrey shook his head. “Your blood must be warmer than most, sister.”

  Emma couldn’t resist.

  “Are you cold? Perhaps I could fetch you a cloak?” she teased.

  He didn’t appear amused.

  “Emma, what is it?” he said, looking into her eyes.

  She met his gaze without flinching. Emma trusted her brother with her life. Loved him fiercely.

  But she could not tell him the truth. This was also the man who’d prevented her from seeing any of the horse races. Who chided her for wandering too far from the castle. Who thought she was still very much a child. Perhaps to him she always would be that little girl who wore ribbons in her hair. Emma couldn’t dream of allowing little Hayden to be placed in harm’s way, so maybe part of her understood.

  “’Tis nothing, Geoffrey.”

  He frowned.

  Emma didn’t want to upset him, so she tried her best to smile. “I’m grateful to have come with you. Clave is beautiful.”

  When Geoffrey moved to close the shutters this time, she did not stop him.
>
  “It is an impressive holding,” he agreed. “And I believe the earl will prove a worthy ally.”

  At the mention of Garrick, Emma’s heart skipped a beat.

  “He is quite honorable.”

  Too much so.

  “If only he were not already betrothed . . .” Though her brother attempted to sound casual, Emma knew him too well to be fooled.

  He suspected the truth.

  “His future wife is very lucky,” she conceded.

  Geoffrey continued to watch her. But she would not give him more than that. “Perhaps we should discuss—”

  “Nay, I think we should not,” she said.

  He frowned, but she’d not be intimidated by his stare.

  After a long, tense moment, he finally conceded. “We should be going.”

  “May I speak to Lady Emma first?”

  They both turned at the sound. Garrick stood in the doorway, filling it as only he could. Emma stole a glance at her brother.

  Aye, her brother knew the truth, or at least some approximation of it. Was it the way Garrick looked at her, or she at him? Or perhaps it was something else altogether?

  Geoffrey inclined his head to her. Striding from the room, he stopped just before reaching their host. Emma was sure Geoffrey would say something to him, but instead he turned back to her.

  “The others will be waiting.”

  With that, he was gone.

  He’d left the doors open, of course.

  Garrick took a step toward her, and then another. Emma wanted to weep. To scream. To laugh with the joy of being with him just once more.

  “You took a chance,” she said, referring to his request to speak with her alone. Though he’d not said as much aloud, the implication had been obvious to all of them.

  “I will take another. And another. Anything to be with you.”

  She could tell he meant it.

  “I would wrap my arms around you,” she said.

  Garrick shook his head. “If you did, I’d be forced to kiss you. I would make you mine this instant, Emma, if I could.”

  “I will wait,” she said. “But how can I put off Sowlis’s visit?”

  “Find a way,” he said. “I will come to you, I promise.”