“He had already told you, I take it?”
“Aye. He’d mentioned it the evening before. And kept it from you. Not to be deceptive, I believe, but . . .” He shrugged. “It matters not. You and Garrick Clave simply cannot be.”
She could hear herself breathing.
“But Graeme—”
“Not now, Geoffrey, please. Not now.”
Geoffrey pulled her toward him. His happy life at Kenshire had softened him, and embraces came more freely to him these days.
She didn’t want to think of Garrick or Graeme. Or of Geoffrey’s revelation that he’d known all along. In fact, Emma didn’t want to think of anything.
Eventually, she pulled away. “I’m going to the stables.”
He let her go, but not without a softly uttered reminder. “The chief will be wanting an answer. And given your aversion to well-titled Englishmen—”
“A Scots clan chief is no better.”
“I believe he would serve you well.”
Emma groaned. “I need time to think. I will speak to him myself and tell him to go home, that I do not have an answer,” she said, giving Geoffrey a quick squeeze. “Thank you for not being upset about Garrick.”
“I never said I wasn’t upset.”
And with those ominous words following her from the room, Emma tore through the castle and discarded any sense of decorum.
Graeme expected an answer from her. Unfortunately, she had none to give him.
24
He straddled her, and Emma couldn’t resist running her hands along the ridges of his stomach. Desire pooled in her core, the aching for his touch unbearable.
“Make me yours, Garrick.”
Where were her clothes? Though she couldn’t recall removing them, when he reached up and cupped both breasts in his hands, there was nothing to inhibit his caress.
“Not yet,” he said.
It was an order that she didn’t mind obeying. His thumbs rubbed her nipples, forcing them to peak under his expert touch.
And then his hand moved lower, the light touch along her waist a promise of more to come. Then lower still until it rested there.
“Please.” Was that what he wanted? For her to beg? “Please,” she whispered again, arching, finally getting his hands to move.
Her eyes snapped open.
Garrick was not in her bed, and the hand lying at the precipice of pleasure . . . was her own. She pulled it back and looked around the chamber.
Of course he was not there. It had been nothing more than a dream. A wonderful, beautiful—
Emma could wait no longer.
She’d told him to make his own decision. She’d made a mature decision.
Yet she’d never been more miserable in her life.
The last few days following her conversation with Geoffrey had been especially torturous. She’d nearly gotten herself killed on a reckless ride that could have ended badly if not for Eddard’s companionship. She hardly slept, and when the blissful blackness finally settled upon her, it was always invaded by thoughts of him.
Garrick protecting her against the mounted Scottish warriors. Cherishing her body at the inn. Tossing snowballs at her. Touching her. After every single dream, she woke breathless and disappointed.
She would know her future.
Today.
Emma briefly considered finding Edith to tell her, but she didn’t want her maid to be forced to lie for her. She also did not want Geoffrey riding to Clave to haul her back to Kenshire before she could even speak to Garrick.
What to do? It was perhaps a bit foolish to go alone. But she could not trust anyone to keep from telling her brother.
If she left without word, they would all worry. Though she could easily make it to Clave Castle and back within the day, she’d not return at least until the sun began to set.
Emma jumped from the bed and grabbed a small wooden box that contained parchment and quills. She was about to open it when her eye caught the carving etched into the box. She ran her finger over it and took it to her bed.
This box was the only thing she’d requested from Bristol. It had been her mother’s, and when Geoffrey had brought it home to her, her hands had shaken so violently upon taking it she’d feared she would drop it.
What would Mother think of Garrick?
Everyone, from her brothers to her aunt and uncle to Faye and the servants—everyone reminded her of her similarities to her mother, not just in looks but in manner. The fact that she had died attempting to fight off a Scottish warrior likely twice her size had surprised no one.
Would her mother encourage her to preserve the agreement Garrick had made? Encourage her to allow what she’d told Garrick to stand? To do what he thought was right? Or would she urge her to follow her heart?
Emma flipped open the box and took out the quill.
After writing the message, folding it, and placing it on the bed where Edith would be sure to find it, Emma dressed in a practical navy-blue riding gown, a tunic, and a sideless surcoat. There was no time for anything but a quick brush of her hair. Grabbing a mint leaf, she popped it into her mouth and set off.
Avoiding the hall, and unfortunately the kitchens too, she made her way to the stables. She saw only a few servants, all of whom let her pass with a “good morn” and no questions.
With the sun just barely risen, it was quite cold. This time she remembered her cloak before stepping outside, and when Eddard himself appeared at the door of the stables, she stopped short.
“Lady Emma?”
She was not typically one to be up and about so early.
“Good morn, Eddard,” Emma said. She ignored his look of surprise and strode purposefully toward Nella. “How is my girl doing this fine morning?”
She kept her eyes on Nella for fear Eddard would be able to guess at her purpose if he saw her face.
“You wish to ride so early?”
“Please.”
One thing she’d learned from Bryce—the less explanation the situation required, the less one should offer. She walked back outside, hoping to avoid further questions. When Eddard led Nella to her, she thanked him and, without further comment, pulled her hood more tightly about her face and made off toward Clave.
Geoffrey would be furious to learn she’d ridden so far without an escort. Or that she’d traveled to Clave at all. But most of the journey would be on Caiser land, and she planned to ride along the coast for the remainder of the trip. Depending on the timing of her arrival, she may have to wait for the tide to allow her access, but Emma was not concerned about her safety.
What would happen when she found Garrick?
That was a different sort of worry entirely.
Garrick needed to get out. Since the party’s arrival yesterday, he’d not had a moment to himself, and before he spoke to his mother, Garrick needed time to himself. Time to think through what could be the most foolish decision of his life. After first informing Mable of his intentions and his whereabouts, he hurried away from the castle. The previous day had been disastrous, and today would undoubtedly prove to be much worse. If it was rude to be absent from the midday meal, then let him be guilty of neglecting his unwanted guests.
Leaving the keep in Mable’s capable care, Garrick strode down the path that led to the stables. He’d considered taking a ride to clear his head but had dismissed the idea. Though it was still low tide, the waters would soon rise, and he couldn’t be away for very long. So instead, he took the path that led beyond the stables toward the training yard. It would be empty, of course, but it was the place he felt most at peace.
Garrick was about to turn a corner when he heard voices behind him, at the entrance to the stables. It wasn’t the groom’s voice that gave him pause, but the woman’s. Clearly he was hearing things. It couldn’t be her.
“There’s no need for escort,” she said. “But I thank you for your offer.”
Nay, it was not possible.
“But the guards—”
&nb
sp; “Knew well that Caiser is a friend to Clave. Do lead the way.”
Emma.
They turned the corner and froze.
“Leave us,” he said to the groom, who seemed all too eager to do just that. With a quick nod of his head, he hurried off.
Emma’s expression matched Garrick’s own feelings at seeing her.
“Caiser may be a friend to Clave, but he’d never let a stranger approach without escort. Even a lone woman.” He reached her in three strides. “Most especially a woman.”
He took her arm and guided her in the direction he’d been headed.
“Am I a threat then?”
He couldn’t stop looking at her. “You are.”
More than she realized. He’d best concentrate on getting them to the training yard. It wasn’t far, and since he’d given his men the day off, a rare boon in honor of their guests, the armory should be abandoned.
Garrick couldn’t reach the building fast enough, though he did wish he had somewhere more fitting to bring her. The small stone structure would be dark and cold, hardly a place for a heartfelt reunion.
“I’ve never been considered a threat before,” she said.
He pushed open the door.
Empty.
Garrick closed it with one hand and pulled her toward him with the other. “Very dangerous indeed.”
He kissed her passionately, wanting to devour her, wanting to make her his in every way. He’d done just that in his dream the night before, and the memories rose up. When he grasped both sides of her face, her hood fell back, exposing the mass of black waves.
“I need you, Emma,” he murmured against her lips.
Their heavy cloaks made it impossible to get close, but Garrick needed more. She opened for him and their tongues danced together. His cock strained, hard and willing, desperate to be inside her. Her full lips slanted across his own as the pressure grew. It was like the rising tide washing away every remnant of the shore, consuming every last grain of sand.
Something snapped in him, and reality intruded on their unexpected reunion. “Are you alone?” How had he not thought of that earlier? “Did you really come here without escort?”
She pulled back, startled. “You’re angry?”
“Nay, love. Never. Surprised. Worried. But not angry.”
“I had to come.”
“You could have gotten—”
“Nay, I can’t bear to hear such talk from you too. Just kiss me, please.”
He didn’t need another invitation. Garrick did kiss her then and guided her toward an empty patch of wall. The clang of an errant sword rang out against the silence.
He kicked it aside and opened her cloak, remembering the dream clearly. Her bright blue eyes watched him. Part of the dream was off-limits to them, of course, until he settled the situation, but he could enact the rest of it with her. He’d shock her, likely, but the memory would be branded in her mind.
Garrick tore off his glove. He wanted to move slowly, give her time to adjust, but as his fingers brushed the soft white fur of her cloak, he thought of how she would feel and taste beneath his lips. Garrick knelt beneath her.
“What in God’s teeth are you doing?”
He looked up to a bewildered Emma, whose face had looked much more confused in his dream. “I dreamed of you last night.” Every night, in fact.
Garrick lifted both her gown and the shift beneath it.
“I’ve dreamed of you too,” Emma said, “but that doesn’t explain—”
Pushing both garments aside and pinning them with his hand, he used the other hand to guide her legs apart. He deftly untied the garter that held up the thick woolen hose that protected her from the cold.
“Trust me,” he said. Dear God, was she real?
She allowed him to guide her, moving one leg away from the other. When he moved his head toward her, Emma pressed herself back against the wall.
“Are you nervous?” he asked, looking up.
“Aye.”
He ran his hand gently up her calf, trying to ignore the effect her smooth curves had on him. “I’m simply going to kiss you, Emma.”
He would have laughed at the look on her face if he’d not thought it might offend her.
“I did this in my dream last night,” he said.
“Did I enjoy it?”
“Very, very much.”
He paused just a moment longer, watching as her expression turned from confusion to resolve, and then leaned forward toward the dark curls. With only one hand free, he did his best to part the folds beneath his fingers, and then he kissed her there. Gently at first and then, encouraged by her response, more ardently. Her sweet wetness, combined with a soft moan, reassured him Emma had overcome her shyness.
When her legs began to shake and her hands moved to the back of his head, Garrick knew she was close. He brought her to the height of pleasure, her cries coinciding with the evidence of her orgasm against his lips.
He opened his eyes, her hands still clasping his hair, and groaned at the sight of her sweet, slick sex.
When he remembered what had happened next in the dream, Garrick forced himself to drop her gown and stand. He pulled her gaping cloak back together, his heart thudding against his chest.
If this was how it felt to be in love, Garrick should have considered doing it much sooner.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
She blinked, her mouth parting to speak, but no words came out.
“Good,” he said.
He wanted to adjust himself but couldn’t. Bringing attention to his own need would be useless. He would have to wait.
“I’m not quite sure I . . . that is . . . I don’t, in fact, know what I was going to say. What are you laughing at?”
“You.” He couldn’t help it. “I love that you’re unable to form a coherent thought because of how much I pleasured you.” He traced her cheek with his finger. “I love that you came here, though I hate that you put yourself in danger.” He moved his finger to her lower lip. “I love your passion. Your willingness to face the world with your eyes wide open.” Garrick replaced his finger with his lips. “I love you,” he said, claiming her with his mouth, kissing her with all of the pent-up worry and desire that had weighed down his gut these last days.
Reality began to intrude when she shivered beneath him.
Garrick stood back just slightly, giving her room. “You’re cold?”
“Nay,” she lied. “But why are we out here?”
“Why did you come?”
“Why have you not?”
Garrick took a step back, knowing their perfect liaison was about to be ruined. “She’s here.”
He could tell she didn’t know of whom he spoke. “Your mother?”
Garrick shook his head. “Nay . . . well, aye, my mother is here. She arrived just yesterday, which is why I haven’t come back to you yet.”
He couldn’t take solace in the look of relief on her face, not when she did not yet know the worst, so he just blurted it out. “Lady Alison.”
Emma looked as if he’d just slapped her. “Is here? At Clave?”
He nodded. “And her father too.”
“What are you saying?”
He couldn’t watch her face. Turning, he began to explain. “I didn’t know they were coming. I sent word to delay the wedding. Asked my mother to return to England. But yesterday—”
“How could you not have told me sooner?”
He went to her, eager to explain. The need for Emma compelled him to touch her, taste her. All else fell away. Lady Alison was an attractive young woman, but he’d felt absolutely nothing for her. When the shock of seeing Emma faded, he understood fully. The course he’d set in motion was the right one.
“Nay, do not.” She pushed him away. “You let me . . . you did that . . . with your betrothed just up there?”
“She’s not my betrothed. Not for much longer anyway.”
Her blue eyes turned to ice. “So you’ve told them?
”
It was as if she already knew the answer.
“Nay, not yet. I—”
“Garrick? How could you? How could—”
“I need to speak to my mother first and haven’t had the opportunity to—”
“The opportunity? They’ve been here for more than a day. How could you not have had the opportunity?”
“I was as surprised as anyone,” he began. “And I will speak to her at once.”
Emma was far from mollified.
“So what do you plan to do with me?” she said, her words tumbling out. “That’s why we’re here and not in the keep, I take it? I can understand why you’ve said nothing. If Magnus was likely to be angry about the canceled betrothal before, what will he do now that he’s brought his daughter all the way to Clave?”
Garrick couldn’t bear the pain in her eyes. “Emma, I’m going to tell my mother today. I—”
“No.” Her lips pressed into a line so tight they were almost white. “I made the right decision, telling you to do what you felt was right. Coming here—” She shook her head. “This was foolish and wrong.”
“Emma, no—”
“Marry her,” she said. “’Tis the right decision, and obviously you know it to be true. Marry her, and forget about me.”
Before he could stop her, Emma ran from the building.
Nay, he could not let her run away from him again. Garrick went after her and was nearly upon her when a voice stopped him.
“Let her go.”
He stopped and turned. Conrad, of course, his self-appointed guard.
“Think of the consequences, Garrick,” Conrad said. “Especially before you’ve spoken to anyone first. If you have a mind to break the agreement, you must at least do it the right way.”
Garrick spun back and watched as Emma ran into the stables. “Conrad, I can’t let her leave like this.” And then he remembered. “The tide!”
He glanced out, and sure enough, wetness had begun to return to the sand around them.
“I have to get her.”
“Garrick, stop,” Conrad said.
She emerged with the groom and Nella.
“If she doesn’t leave now, she’ll not get to Kenshire before dusk.”
“She’s not going anywhere alone,” Garrick bellowed.
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