Her tongue met his in a caress that was at first gentle then grew bolder in its demands. She needed more, and he obliged. His mouth ravished hers while she tried to match his movements. He’d never kissed her like this before—fevered and desperate. He released her hands, and she tangled them in his soft hair. Never had she felt so reckless but exhilarated. She was in real danger. She could lose herself in him, and she didn’t much care.
“Stop.” He suddenly pulled away and shook his head. “We must stop.”
“Why?” She reached to embrace him, but he gently pushed her arms away and escaped to stand beside the bed. Her body suddenly chilled.
“I shouldn’t have touched you.” He ran his fingers through his hair. The fire made the light color of his hair gleam. “I can’t.”
The haunted look on his face instantly seared her heart.
“Did I misunderstand? Didn’t you enjoy it?” Bewildered, she clasped the sheet in a death grip and covered her chest. “Did I displease you?” She hated the weakness in her voice, but not as much as the pity in his eyes. Her heart wrenched in protest as she tried to understand what had just happened between them. “Tell me what I’ve done.”
“You haven’t done anything. I have.” His rigid stance and clenched jaw didn’t bode well for a discussion. “We both need a good night’s rest. It’s best if I sleep in the next room. We’ll leave at the first break of light.”
She tried to make sense of his reaction, but reason and emotion had scrambled together. Bending forward, she clutched her arms around her knees. She gasped as the fog in her brain finally cleared. His sudden need of distance made sense.
“You believe you’ll have to marry me.”
He tilted his head slightly to the right and narrowed his eyes. The stark intensity in his gaze ripped straight through her. Caught like a hare in a trap, she simply stared back. She’d rather attend thirty Wednesdays in a row of Almack’s balls than go through this torture. Nevertheless, she was a Cavensham, so she collected every scrap of composure she possessed and confronted him with her own gaze.
“No.” The word ricocheted off the wall, and she recoiled slightly. “I believe I should marry you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Emma’s every breath and small sighs tortured Nick with thoughts of her soft skin, her delicate lips, and the perfection of her curves. In all his life, leaving her had to be the most arduous ordeal he’d ever faced. His arousal was harder than a blacksmith’s anvil and his sac just as heavy. His whole body ached for release. If she wasn’t in the next room, he’d take himself in hand to relieve himself from this uncontrollable hunger.
Wide awake, he tried to settle for the night. The cot was lumpy, and he’d forgotten to attend the fire. Her confessing she had thought of him when aroused nearly killed him, but it had been her incendiary kisses and the sweet longing on her face that made him doubt his own sanity.
It was incomprehensible.
He’d never lived as a monk. When convenient, he’d taken a lover, someone unobtrusive who didn’t make demands on his time. He’d always found it simple. He’d insure she was satisfied, then he’d find his release. Afterward, he’d leave. It’d been a simple physical act with no emotion.
Whether it was his dangerous thoughts or the blood pounding in his cock, something kept reminding him that Emma, thriving and lush, waited for him in the next room.
The simple truth? He couldn’t have her.
What had he been thinking? He’d almost taken her because he selfishly wanted to experience her passion, taste her innocence, and comprehend her vivacity. All in hopes the emptiness of his own life would be forgotten—at least for one night. He considered himself an honorable man, and what he did tonight was unpardonable.
He shifted his legs and groaned. He’d never get to sleep like this. He wanted to leave the room. No, that wasn’t far enough. He needed to leave this town. She tempted him to forget everything—his goals, his honor, and his promises.
His best friend had trusted him to bring her back unharmed. Nick had been welcomed into the duke and duchess’ home when he had no one else. Yet he had dared to touch what was not his.
“Nick?” His name on her lips was like a siren’s call, an allure too great to resist. If the end result was to lie shattered against the rocks, it’d bring sweet relief.
“What is it?” His throat felt raw from the strain of keeping his wits about him.
“Why?” She choked for a second. “Why did you leave?” Her voice sounded as if her heart was breaking. He was lower than a toadstool for making her doubt herself.
“I didn’t leave. I’m here.” He hesitated, then took a deep breath. It didn’t calm his roaring blood for a moment.
“You’re afraid.” Her voice cracked as she gasped for breath. “Afraid you’ll have to marry me. What if I don’t want to marry you? Will you change your mind?” He heard the ropes of the mattress creak, then silence.
“Sweet Mother of God.” He stood. “I don’t want—” What could he say? That he didn’t want her? They both knew that was a lie. He wanted to take her tonight and make her his in every way. “Think of the ramifications.”
The outline of her body was several feet away. He lost the ability to move of his own free will. “Damnation, Emma! Go to bed.”
Startled, she stopped. “You’re truly angry with me.”
“You want me in your bed? Then the consequence is marriage. I should go straight to your father and ask for your hand.” Nick shook his head, then crossed his arms across his chest. “Christ, what have we done?”
She stumbled. Heaving for breath, she seemed to struggle for words. The truth was nothing she could say would change the outcome of tonight.
“Emma.” Her name escaped like a prayer. He didn’t want her to leave, but he didn’t want her to stay. He waited for her to make the next move.
“I apologize. You needn’t worry. I’ll not bother you again.”
Thankfully, he couldn’t answer. Otherwise he’d have begged her to let him back in her bed.
* * *
The next morning, Nick had awoken early and informed Harry of their departure time. When he had returned to their room, Emma was already dressed for the day. His gaze settled on her lovely brown gown. The elegant line reminded him of what had happened last night. He closed his eyes. The image of her lush body and the feel of her fingers touching his skin ingrained itself in his thoughts. Hell, everything reminded him of her, from brushing his teeth to putting on his boots. He couldn’t remember ever battling his desire for a woman like he had with her. She was delightful, but this was a dangerous game for both of them. Either way, he had to address what had happened between them.
They both had avoided disaster last night. She’d escaped the woeful mishap of marriage to him, and his complete lack of talent as a suitable husband would remain hidden. It was best for all concerned. He had his work and investments. It was all he needed.
From the sitting-room window, the sounds of the stable horses’ jangling harnesses, the ostler’s shouts of welcome, and the groans of carriages and carts drifted inside. Emma sat in front of the fire. When she looked up, her eyes were distant and filled with resistance.
“Before we leave, let’s talk.”
“No, thank you. I’ve detained you long enough. Please proceed with your own arrangements. I’ve decided to stay for at least another day, then Harry and I will return to Pembrooke’s.”
“Is this about last night?” He’d hurt her deeply. His head and heart jousted for supremacy, and the winner would take all. A wave of guilt joined the melee. “Em—”
“If you’d feel better, send word to Alex for an escort.” With a smirk, she sent a volley his way. “I’d hate for you to suffer any further upset over me.” She sat and twiddled her fingers together.
He walked to the fire and studied the lick of the flames. A mile-wide chasm lay between them, stretched even further by their mutual silence. He had little experience in mending the breach s
ince he’d lived alone for so long. It would take little effort to toss out some pithy phrase or comment to make his point, but this was Emma. She deserved more from him. She was one of the few people in his life he was close to—even though she could infuriate a cow chewing its cud.
His disquiet faded, and the thinnest of threads held his anger. Whether at her or himself was a question he didn’t want to explore. “What on this vast earth is so important you’d stay in this town for another minute?”
Her tone and every curve of her body carried her defiance. “I must convince Mary to come to London.” She glanced away. Her hesitation spoke volumes. She clearly wasn’t impervious to the danger, but he’d not let her escape without understanding more.
“You’d risk everything? Your reputation, even your life?” He ran his hand through his hair. “Mary’s situation isn’t something easily fixed by a trip to London. Truly, I want to understand this obsession, but it’s so far removed from anything I can comprehend.”
A brief flash of pain or worry darkened her eyes in a color similar to the moss that covered the woodlands of his ancestral home, Renton Hall.
“This trip means I may find a way to bring Aulton to justice. I must see this through. Otherwise, I can’t”—she spread her arms wide as if the room encapsulated her entire life—“I can’t bear to let it go.”
“Emma…” He gentled his voice and summoned enough patience to try to understand her meaning. “Surely you see this is Sykeston’s cause, not yours.”
“This may be the only chance to help Lena and clear my conscience. Besides, what’s for me in London? I can’t bear another ball or luncheon. It’s like the same bad performance I must suffer through night after night.” She pressed her eyes closed and straightened her shoulders. Her eyes fluttered open, and she inhaled deeply. “I don’t want my life wasted. I want to help others like Mary. It’s a chance to live a worthwhile life.”
He took the seat directly across and studied her. She would not yield to his scrutiny, though he wanted to tear away her resolve, layer by layer. The stillness around them broke when he leaned his elbows on his knees and brought his face within inches of hers.
A raw need to prove her worth blasted through him with the force of a blizzard. “Your life is so promising. You’re a treasure, and any man lucky enough to win your hand would be a fool if he didn’t see that.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. The soft warmth branded him. He fought to keep from taking her in his arms and promising her he’d give her the life she wanted.
“Treasure,” she humphed. “Men gain power as they grow older, women lose what little they had in the first place. Why would I want that?”
“Your parents don’t have such a marriage and neither do Claire and Pembrooke. How did you become so cynical with the world?” His thumb caressed a line from her mouth to her cheekbone. Finally, she leaned into his touch.
“Alex and Claire are the exception, particularly after the painful start of their union. It’s a miracle they found any happiness.” A bitter laugh escaped, and she pulled away. “My parents married for love before my father found himself the new Duke of Langham. He wouldn’t have married my mother otherwise.”
A sharp inhalation broke her façade of calm. “Duty would’ve required he make a match in the best interests of the duchy. My mother brought little financial worth or standing to their marriage.” She turned her face away. “I sound so selfish. Look at Lena’s life. There are scores of women just like her who face worse fates than mine every day. It’s just that I—I want a chance to make something of my life. A chance to make a difference somehow.”
His resigned sigh filled the quiet that flooded the room. “In what ways do you want to make a difference?”
“For instance, my bank.”
“You’re serious about starting a lending institution? You want to be a moneylender?” What could he say in response? “I’ve seen your plans, but it’s a tremendous amount of work to make such an institution a success. Do you know anything about commerce?”
“Yes, is that so hard to believe?” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “I’ve read several books about banks. I’m a fast learner. Plus, I have a knowledge that can’t be taught.”
“What might that be?”
“I know women and how they think. What drives them. I can use that understanding to help better their lives and their community. You define yourself as an honorable man. Well, I want to define my life as a resource that women can turn to when they’re in trouble.”
The fact she wanted to be a moneylender made his business transactions look tame in comparison. Moneylenders were a despised lot. Her father would howl at such an idea. Really, it was rather daring—and so perfectly Emma.
“Your life has meaning,” he offered. Her eyes flashed, warning him he had to tread carefully. She was getting angrier by the minute. “But there’s more to running a banking institution than understanding women.”
“I’ve the skills and intelligence to accomplish this and so much more. Things I’ve learned on my own. You have so many opportunities, such as university, financial independence, not to mention freedom to pursue any relationship you want. I’m denied such things because I’m a woman.” She huffed out a breath.
He wouldn’t be surprised if she jabbed her finger in his chest.
“I’ll see Mary once more and then complete my travel without further inconvenience to you.” She glanced at her intertwined fingers before placing her hands to the side as if to keep them under control. “Only then can I go home knowing that I did everything in my power to help her.”
“You’d continue to risk your reputation and life on a servant who doesn’t want your help?” He shouldn’t have pushed her. He quickly got his temper under control.
“Don’t you dare criticize.” She never raised her voice, but her dictation was crisp and exact. “It’s my life. I control it for now. Who knows how much longer I’ll be free to make these decisions before I’m shackled in marriage. You made it abundantly clear your thoughts on marriage last night. If it’s reassuring, I’m of the same mind. Only you have a choice, and I don’t. But for now, I enjoy some independence.”
The absurdity of the moment didn’t escape him. She’d not control this situation any further. “I apologize. I had no right to speak to you in such a manner. Unfortunately, you have no other option. We leave for London within the hour.”
By the time the words had left his mouth, her normally expressive face had altered into a mask of circumspect hauteur, a perfect subject for a portrait in some stuffy aristocrat’s gallery. A tiny shimmer in her eyes told another story. He’d wounded her and that simple fact made him feel like dirt.
“You prove my point exactly. You believe you’re entitled to make all the decisions. I’ll make my own, thank you, even if they’re mistakes. I revel in that power because it’s mine for now.” She pulled on her gloves with a defiant tug as powerful as any general readying to charge into battle.
She stood to exit, and he joined her.
“Somerton, you’re afraid if you participate in life you’ll experience it all, the happiness along with heartache.” She shook her head as if expressing great sympathy for him. “Sometimes, when I look at you, I see someone who’d cut off their hand to escape such heady emotions … just like last night. You tore yourself away from the bed and left me with the carnage.” She heaved a sigh. “It must be a lonely existence. I hope you’ll not regret your decisions someday. I’m determined not to waste mine.”
All he wanted to do was kiss her until she gave up on staying in Portsmouth, until she realized he didn’t mean to hurt her, until she accepted he was right. There was no other choice for either of them, so he took her in his arms.
The door flew open and bashed against the wall with a resounding crash.
Nick pulled her behind him. The small mirror hanging next to the door wobbled but managed not to fall.
Two men, dusty but elegantly dressed, entered the room with pistol
s drawn.
As he should have expected, Emma wrenched her arm out of his hand and stepped from behind to get a closer glimpse.
Her brothers, McCalpin and Lord William, stood shoulder to shoulder. Their probing gazes flew between Nick and Emma, but their relief was immediate as smiles broke across their faces.
“Good morning, Em,” McCalpin said.
“Emmy, what have you done?” William drawled. “I hope nothing I wouldn’t do.”
The room shrank in size when they directed their attention Nick’s way. With his feet shoulder-width apart, McCalpin, who had at least two stone on Nick, appeared ready to pummel him to bits. It took little imagination to know what he was facing. Repeatedly, he’d met McCalpin at Gentleman Jackson’s for exercise and was familiar with his fighting technique. McCalpin had a deadly left hook. But what Nick lacked in breadth, he made up for with speed. He’d get two swift punches in before McCalpin delivered his first.
Lord William was of similar stature as his brother. He fixed a stare designed to either peel Nick alive or peal his head like a church bell. He was clenching his fists so hard the white of his knuckles was clearly visible across the room.
“Somerton, fancy meeting you in my sister’s room.” McCalpin’s voice was deceptively calm. “Was her fabulous set-down for you?”
At that moment, Nick knew the consequences. Caught like a river trout with the errant fly of a hook, he felt the line pull him deep. Pembrooke had expected both he and Emma in London last night. Who in the devil could have predicted both her brothers would storm into the room like two bulls ready to battle to the death?
“Indeed, it was.” Nick raised an eyebrow and widened his own stance for balance if both charged at the same time. Blood pounded through his veins with every sense on alert. He’d not go down without a landing a blow to each brother. “How delightful you finally decided to join us.”
The Bride Who Got Lucky Page 17