The Earl's Entanglement (Border Series Book 5)

by Cecelia Mecca

  “Yer poor fingers,” Edith said, standing back to look at her as if she were a prized horse. “If ye keep doin’ that to ’em, you’ll have old lady hands.”

  Edith despised Emma’s penchant for squeezing her fists so tight the knuckles cracked. She’d done it so often as a young girl, for the simple pleasure of annoying her brothers, she no longer realized when she was doing it.

  “You look lovely, despite that awful habit.”

  Edith had helped her prepare, knowing what was to come. She’d never been so thankful to be separated from Geoffrey and Sara, whose bedchambers were far away from her own. While she and her earl were now pledged to marry, her brother would hardly approve of what she was about to do. Of course, Sara had said—

  “Now remember,” Edith said. “Don’t let him go too fast, or ye’ll likely have a babe in your stomach before ye even wed.”

  As Edith lit yet another candle, Emma burst into laughter.

  “How do you know so much since you’ve not done it yourself?” she teased.

  Edith shrugged. “The maids talk,” she said.

  Garrick was coming to her. He’d made that very clear at dinner. And though they’d been intimate before, this would be different.

  “Perhaps I should wear another shift,” Emma said. “Mayhap the cream one, or any of the others with slightly more fabric.”

  Edith shook her head vigorously as she placed a final candle and stood back, presumably to view the effect of her efforts.

  When Emma had shared the evening’s events with her maid after the meal, Edith’s high-pitched squealing had risked summoning the entire household. Once she’d recovered, however, Edith went to work immediately. Where she’d found the fresh lilacs, Emma couldn’t guess. But the room smelled like a garden in the middle of spring and looked more like the hall during a great feast than it did her bedchamber.

  A fire roared in the hearth, and wood for the entire evening was stacked next to it, courtesy, of course, of Edith.

  “You are a wonder,” she told her, and Edith knew it. She strutted around the chamber, turned down the coverlet on her bed, and with a final wink, moved to the door. Before she could leave, a knock at the door startled them both. Edith opened the door, revealing Faye in the doorway, and Emma’s heart started racing for a different reason. What was she doing here?

  “Good evening, my lady.” If Faye noticed the altered state of the chamber, she didn’t comment. Instead, she handed Edith a box. “My lady wishes for Lady Emma to open it at once,” she said, already backing away. “A gift for her future husband. And she bids you both a good evening.”

  And just as quickly as she had come, Faye was gone.

  Edith brought the box to her, and they both stared at it for a spell. Painted white with a decoration of small blue flowers, the box, no larger than her hand, was nearly too lovely to open.

  “’Tis beautiful,” Edith said, handing it to her.

  Hesitating for just a moment, Emma finally opened the lid.

  “What is it?” Edith asked.

  She knew this ring.

  Though simple and unadorned, other than a fine gold line that wound its way around the ring, its quality was obvious. She lifted it from its velvet bed to look inside. Sure enough, its inscription was still there.

  “Look,” she said to Edith.

  As the maid peered inside, Emma read the script aloud for her.

  “Amor vincit omnia,” she said. Then, realizing Edith would not know the Latin, she translated, “Love conquers all.”

  “But whose ring is it?” she asked.

  Emma placed it back inside its box. “’Twas Richard Caiser’s ring.”

  The girl’s eyes widened, with good reason.

  Sara’s father, the powerful earl she’d heard so much about but never met, was still revered by all at Kenshire. The day Sara had shown her this ring, she’d talked fondly about the father she’d lost just before meeting Geoffrey.

  “What does it mean?”

  Emma gripped the box so tightly her fingers ached. “Everything,” she said.

  With that, she set the box down on the table, and hugged Edith with all her might. After wishing her a good evening and thanking her for all that she’d done, she saw her out.

  The door closed and Emma whispered aloud, “It means she knows. She knows . . . and approves.”

  The ring would welcome Garrick into their family just as surely as Emma was about to welcome him into her bedchamber and her life. And if the soft rapping on the door was any indication, she would be doing so now.

  31

  Garrick blinked when she opened the door. Could this woman truly be his?

  A long, black braid fell over the front of her shoulder in stark contrast to the chemise beneath it. She blinked back, and not for the first time that night, Garrick reminded himself that Emma was a virgin still. His fierce need for her would need to be curbed.

  “Good evening, my lady.”

  She stood to one side, allowing him entry. “Lord Clave.”

  Enveloped in the dark chamber, Garrick moved toward the soft glow of the fire in the corner of the room. Nay, not completely dark. Candle after candle spread soft light onto the bed and a table on the opposite corner of the hearth. He could sense Emma behind him.

  Turning, he watched as she moved closer. Willing himself not to grab her, tear off the only barrier between them, and make love to her immediately, Garrick reached for the pewter tankard on the table instead. “Wine?”

  She nodded, and he filled two goblets, handing her one. They drank in silence, the liquid running down his throat, sweet and smooth.

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Perhaps a bit,” she said, taking a small sip.

  “You should not be,” he said. “You’ll find only pleasure in this bedchamber tonight, Emma.”

  When she licked a drop of wine from her lip, Garrick looked away.

  “Do you remember the first meal we shared at The Wild Boar?” he asked. The urge to reach for her, to touch her, was so strong Garrick’s knuckles ached with it.

  “Of course. ’Twas when I told you Edith could not continue—”

  “And you accused me of having poor eyesight.”

  “Hmm. I remember.”

  “I had not kept my purpose for traveling to Scotland a secret intentionally.” He glanced at her. “Until that night.”

  A loud crack, a log being broken in half, demanded their attention. Watching it fall, Garrick continued, “I nearly told you the truth then, but something stopped me.”

  “Something?”

  “I wanted to be alone with you. Kissing you was the first thing I thought about when I learned Edith would not be continuing with us. Holding you in my arms and giving in to the temptation that had plagued me since the moment we met. And, God forgive me, I remained silent.”

  “When did you know you loved me?”

  He drank deeply, wanting to give her an honest answer. A romantic part of him wished to tell her it was the first night they met in the stables, but that was not true. He’d wanted her, lusted for her, since that night. But he hadn’t yet known he was capable of love. “The day of the attack.”

  She peeked over the rim of the jeweled goblet, and Garrick finished his wine.

  Not yet.

  He filled his own cup and poured Emma more wine as well.

  “When you spoke of your desire to see the ‘jewel of the crown.’ You said you wanted to see it even more than you wanted a family of your own.” He swallowed back the bitterness of the later part of the memory. “When I told you Graeme was a good man and would make a worthy husband . . .” What a fool he’d been. “. . . I knew then I did not want him, or any other man, to marry you. I imagined us riding side by side to the Tournament of the North, thought of your excitement and how I wanted to give you that more than I’d ever wanted anything.”

  He placed his wine on the table beside them.

  “That’s when I knew.” Garrick took her goblet and pla
ced it next to his own. “I loved you then.” He took her hands in his. “And I’ve loved you every day since. I just didn’t know how to make you mine.”

  He rubbed his thumbs along her palms. Slow, circular movements meant to help her relax.

  “I never did properly thank you for the mare,” she said. “Where did you get her?”

  “From Edward.”

  Her eyes brightened. “King Edward?”

  “Aye. A gift for my services. I brought the horse back from Acre. I knew she had to be yours.” He continued the slow movement of his thumbs, increasing the pressure.

  “But how . . . when . . .”

  “When I returned to Clave, I had him prepared and would have sent him to you sooner, but Cacho became ill and needed to recover first.”

  “Cacho?”

  “Edward gave him the name. ’Tis a castle in Kakoun, to celebrate our victory there. You’re welcome to change it.”

  She shook her head. “I think I will keep him to . . . Oh!”

  Garrick had dropped her hands and reached for her breasts instead. Through the thin fabric, he continued the same circular movements until he felt the tips of her nipples.

  “You are most welcome,” he said, this time moving one hand beneath the shift. With the other, he pulled her toward him.

  “When did you know?” he asked as his hand slid up her thigh and found the treasure it sought.

  Propping her hands on his shoulders for support, Emma attempted to answer. “The night—”

  She stopped when he slipped his finger inside her.

  “The night?” Garrick tried not to think about the fact that she was already wet and ready for him. He concentrated instead on her words.

  “I . . . I can’t—”

  “Try.”

  She was close to climax already.

  “You said . . .”

  Emma closed her eyes as Garrick ignored the silent screams of his body. Knowing this time he wouldn’t be forced to stop.

  Nay, not yet.

  “What did I say, love?”

  She was so close.

  “Open your eyes and tell me. What did I say?”

  His cock strained as Emma’s breathing became faster and she struggled to open her eyes.

  When she did, he nearly lost himself. The passion there matched his own so completely. “You said neither you nor I would ever feel that way again in our lives.”

  He remembered it well. And at the time, he’d believed that.

  Increasing the pressure, he vowed to prove himself wrong.

  Now.

  Emma throbbed beneath his fingers, but he would not relent.

  “And was I right, my love?”

  She clenched and squeezed, and he withdrew his hand, pulling her close enough to feel his need.

  “Nay, you were not.” Emma opened her eyes. “I felt it again, just now. Exactly the same.”

  Garrick stepped back and removed his tunic. Still watching her, he removed every piece of clothing, exposing himself to her completely.

  Eyes round, Emma looked down. “Is it always—”

  “When you’re near me? Aye.” He took a step toward her, reached down, and in one quick movement lifted the chemise above her head. Groaning, he couldn’t decide where to start.

  “Garrick?”

  He glanced down at her breasts. He would start there. “Aye, love?”

  He reached for her, but Emma backed away. He’d hoped to distract her enough for her to forget about being worried.

  “I don’t think—” She stopped, having reached the bed.

  He stopped as well, and though he nearly exploded with the effort, Garrick didn’t move. He didn’t talk. He didn’t advance.

  Instead, he simply watched her, waiting for her to take the lead. Looked at her beautiful breasts that he ached to touch. Glanced down and imagined himself inside her. But still, he didn’t move.

  Someday, he’d think back on this night in amusement at the sheer physical pain of holding himself away from her.

  Someday. But not tonight.

  Oh God, Emma. I can’t wait much longer.

  “Take me,” she said.

  He’d never heard more beautiful words in his life.

  When he lifted her onto the bed and laid her head against the long, soft bolster that she typically tossed on the floor each night, Emma forgot to worry. Well, mayhap a small part of her wondered how the long, hard length of him could possibly fit inside her. But more than anything, she just wanted to know what it felt like to truly be one with him.

  She concentrated on the ridges of muscle on his stomach. Touching him there as he propped himself above her, Emma moved her hands to his shoulders, exploring. Every so often, a flicker of candlelight illuminated a different part of him that she hadn’t seen closely before. If she could sit up, she’d kiss each and every place her fingertips traced.

  Then she glanced down.

  “Look up at me,” he ordered.

  “I don’t enjoy being told—”

  “Have you done this before?” His hands ran from her stomach upward, toward her breasts.

  “Well . . .” she teased.

  The flash of fire in his eyes attested that he didn’t appreciate the jest.

  When a strand of wavy brown hair fell on his forehead, she reached up to put it back in place. But before she could pull her hand away, he captured her finger in his mouth. She kept it there, moaning as he wrapped his lips around it. His tongue flicked against her finger before letting it go.

  “You can question me, scold me,” he said, resuming his ministrations, making her nipples peak once again, “advise me and tease me.”

  Garrick reached down between them.

  “But here, in our bed, tonight, I am the tutor and you, my love . . .”

  He guided himself toward her. She could feel the tip of him teasing her down there.

  “Are the pupil.”

  For a moment, she thought he’d enter her. She braced herself for it.

  “Emma?”

  She looked up, away from the muscles of his stomach, and concentrated on his face.

  “What do you think will happen?”

  Though she knew, from Sara, it would be painful, she still wanted it and pushed against him to encourage it. “’Twill hurt, at first.”

  “Nay, it will not.” He nudged her legs open with his knee.

  “But I’ve been told—”

  He entered her then, just slightly. “Does this hurt?”

  She shook her head. “Nay.”

  When he pressed inside further, Emma didn’t feel pain. Instead, she wanted more.

  “And this?” he asked.

  Still no pain. Just the opposite, in fact. As Garrick filled her, she wanted only to become his. Completely.

  “Not at all,” she said.

  He stilled.

  Emma felt no pain, only a need to press against him, which she did.

  The muscles in his neck bulged, which was when she realized Garrick restrained himself.

  “You wish to go further,” she said. He swallowed, and Emma placed her hands on both of his arms.

  “This is the part you were told about,” he said. “The one that will hurt.”

  Garrick had reached the barrier that she’d been told would only be broken by her husband. Well, he would be her husband soon enough. For now, he was simply the man she loved. And it was enough. She urged him on by pressing her hips upward.

  The question in his eyes now gone, Garrick thrust himself into her as she wrapped her arms around him. That was the pain she’d so erroneously anticipated?

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Not really,” she said. “It feels . . .”

  She couldn’t describe it. Nor did she want to. And when he moved, just slightly, she encouraged Garrick by moving with him.

  Groaning, a deep guttural sound, Garrick started to thrust into her, and she met every movement with her own. Wanting more, she pulled him atop her so they could be closer st
ill. As his hips circled, hers moved with him. Slow at first, and then faster and faster.

  When he kissed her, it was pure instinct that made her lips move under his, that brought her tongue into combat with his. Because she couldn’t think—the sensations were too much all at once.

  As the pressure built and his tongue mimicked the movements down below, she began to feel the same peaking sensation she’d experienced when he’d kissed her there. A tension that was at once pleasure and pain built and moved through her body, stronger than ever before.

  It was too much at once.

  She shattered into a thousand pieces as he ripped his mouth away from her and cried out her name. She gripped his back with her fingers, clutching as the throbbing continued. With a final thrust, he collapsed on top of her, the glorious weight of him a welcome feeling.

  “Stay there,” she said. Emma couldn’t bear to think of being separated from him.

  “Always,” he replied as he lifted his head.

  When Garrick bit the corner of his lip, she lifted her head up and kissed him there.

  “I love when you do that,” she said.

  His eyes narrowed. “Do what?”

  She touched her finger to his mouth. “Bite your lip.”

  Pulling out of her, he pretended to frown. “Ah. I thought you meant when I filled your sweet—”

  “Garrick!”

  He’d reached down to touch her, obviously referring to their lovemaking.

  “So you don’t love it when I touch you here?”

  Surely he would not—

  “Or when I do this?” He flipped them both around so that she lay atop him.

  Pushing herself up, she laughed at his obvious attempt to waylay her. “Well, of course I do. I only meant—”

  “Or this?”

  The man was insatiable. He shifted down to take her breast in his mouth, and when he wrapped his lips around her nipple, she arched her back, allowing him greater access.

  “I love that, and everything you do to me,” she whispered.

  Garrick paused his ministrations for just long enough to look up and wink at her.

  “Good,” he said. “Because this is just the beginning.”

  Emma closed her eyes and smiled in anticipation.

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