“First, I need something from you,” Henry said, looking suddenly serious.
“What? What do you need?” I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned.
He took my face in his hands and kissed me with such longing and passion that I could feel my head suddenly becoming faint, the feeling of floating making it hard to stay on my feet.
“You’re right,” I said, just breaking away slightly and whispering into his mouth. “Talking can wait. It’s totally overrated anyway.”
“Shhh.” His finger brushed against my lips.
Slowly, he started to undo the button on the front of my dress, every motion deliberate and seductive.
His lips brushed my ear and his kisses seared a trail along my jaw until they discovered my throat and then traced their way around the back of my neck where he stood behind me. Goosebumps erupted on my skin, tingling right down to my fingertips. All the while he undid snaps and laces until I thought I would spontaneously combust.
The teasing was unbearable. Once my dress hit the floor I turned abruptly to face him.
His eyebrows raised as he took in my lace bra and panties.
“It’s French,” I said, my voice low and playful, glad in that moment to give him something unexpected.
A barking laugh escaped his otherwise serious expression, the smile I had longed for reaching to the creases in his eyes. I wanted a picture of that smile to have and to hold with me always. Like a crackling fire, it was impossible to look away from, its tendrils of heat biting into my flesh and warming me through.
We stared at each other a beat before our need to touch overwhelmed both of us.
His lips crushed down on mine and I tugged at his clothes with purpose.
Bloody cravat… impossible in the heat of passion.
He reached for my hands and steadied them.
“I don’t want to rush this.” His voice was husky and seductive.
I wanted to rip his clothes off and feel his skin against mine, taste him until he groaned.
His right hand slid down my arm and cupped my breast. The pad of his thumb brushed my nipple beneath the lace.
I made a move to touch him and he stepped aside just out of reach. He wanted to be in control. He wanted to have me his way.
I can certainly allow him that.
He knelt in front of me. His long fingers ran down to my hips and curved around the delicate lace of my panties, sliding them effortlessly down my thighs. Folding them in his palm, he brought it to his nose and inhaled the scent of me before tucking them into his coat pocket. All the while his gaze never left mine.
That simple gesture ignited a fire in my belly. Nineteenth-century sexy at its best.
Slowly his eyes slid down my body and rested just below my navel.
He touched me softly, parting the delicate folds, his fingers sliding through the heat, making me gasp from the pleasure of his touch. Noticing my reaction, he gazed up at me, meeting my eyes with an intense look on his face. The desire behind those beautiful baby blues scorched me. I could hardly stand—my knees had turned to butter. Did he realize how I craved him? My willpower to remain still for him was dwindling.
His fingers gently rubbed my clitoris while he watched me with hooded lids as my hunger grew and I came closer to orgasm. His left hand slid up my thigh and squeezed my buttocks. My own breath felt shallow. Each flick of his fingers pushed me higher and higher. I was desperate to feel him inside me. My belly clenched with need. His eyes never left mine. He was determined to give me pleasure and watch as my body responded to it.
The building pressure suddenly exploded and shockwaves shot through my body, making my knees nearly give out completely. As I struggled to catch my breath he stood and took that breath in his mouth. Hungrily. Passionately.
His lips claimed mine.
I tore at the buttons of his waistcoat, almost tearing the fine fabrics from him indiscriminately just to get them off. His shirt went fluttering to the ground. Both of us tugged at the snaps and buttons of his trousers blindly as his lips never left mine. There was urgency to our task. His erection pressed hard against my belly as I freed him from his clothing.
Breaking from his lips, I traced biting kisses down his neck. I reached down and took him in my hand. A husky groan escaped him, sending a fresh wave of desire through me. With the smallest effort I pushed him back onto the bed, his arms pulling me down with him.
Planting kisses along the way, I rediscovered his body. Every muscle and every curve was explored. I felt his body arch under my touch and smiled.
Straddling him, I reached around effortlessly and unsnapped my bra, sending the French lace to the ground like a magic trick. With a raised brow of approval, he pulled me towards him and took one nipple in his mouth, gently sucking it to a hard peak. His left hand curved perfectly around the other. I felt the edge of his teeth as he grazed my breast, sending a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering through me.
When I slid my pelvis along his erection his breath caught in his chest.
Feeling his body tense under mine, I reached between us and took him in my hand once again, stroking all the way to the velvety-smooth tip. His hand twined in my hair at the base of my neck, pulling me closer as I slid over him again. The urge to let him fill me was overpowering. I shifted slightly, opening my body to him even more, feeling him pressed against the burning heat of my core, but before I could sink down on him, he flipped me over on my back.
His lips traced down my contours expertly, making my body convulse with every flick of his tongue. My fingers raked through his dark hair as I curled my legs around him. The desire to feel him closer and deeper was blinding. Now. I needed him now.
A rush of excitement tore through me and he held me through it, every nerve ending firing with pleasure.
He traced biting kisses all the way up my body, paying particular attention to my breasts, which were full and swollen.
When his face met mine, sweat beading around his brow, he spread my legs with his and slid into me.
Our eyes locked. The love between us was an energy all of its own, binding us to each other, our life force as one.
The moment Henry sank inside her his body shuddered. Her slippery warmth surrounded him and in that instant he thought he might spill his seed. Watching her climax already—twice—was more than he could take. The sensual way her body moved, her subtle moans and heavy breathing made him hard as a rock to the point of discomfort. Her touch was like fire through his veins. He bit down on his cheek to stop himself from finishing right there on the spot. Everything he’d ever heard or read about women’s aversion to sexual relations had so far been proven utterly false. Certainly where Emma was concerned.
Her body responded to his touch much in the same way his did to hers. Like paper to a flame.
Why, for heaven’s sake, had he been so keen on taking this slow? The moment he’d felt her smooth skin and her body open to him, he was doomed. All he wanted to do was claim her and bury himself so deep inside that it would take days—no, weeks—to find himself again.
His hips moved rhythmically into her, burying himself nearly to the hilt each time. But her body kept urging him deeper and faster. And so he did just that. He slid his hand between them and rubbed gently at the small bulge until he heard her moan. An astute student, he had discovered that sweet little fold the first time he’d lain with her and how when he touched it, her body spasmed.
Her soft cries were like music to his ears. They sent a shudder through his own core and he thrust even deeper, determined to hear her cry out again.
Each movement built towards this extraordinary release, each movement ratcheting up the tension that was dangerously close. So close, but not there yet.
Almost.
Sweat dripped from him and fell to her slick body. Her breasts pressed against his chest as he slid across her again and again.
He claimed her mouth again and kissed her more deeply than before.
His hunger for her
was insatiable. The more she gave, the more he wanted. It was impossible to know where he ended and she began. He felt as if they were joined completely as one.
With his abdomen bunching tight he thrust even further, feeling her warmth tight against him welcoming him in. How far could he go? How much could she take?
Emma cried out, “I’m going to come.” Her fingers dug into his back and buttocks.
A small cry of pleasure escaped her lips, his own release following close on hers.
His body collapsed on top of her, their limbs intertwined just like their souls. He could feel her heart hammering under his, the force of it like a flutter of wings against his skin. Without being able to resist he buried his face in the nape of her neck and breathed her in. The smell of sex, sweat and Emma filled his nostrils and brought a smile to his face.
Truly intoxicating.
“I love you, Emma, so help me I will love you until my very last breath.”
Chapter 24
Dilemma
Despite his deepest wishes, Henry knew they couldn’t stay locked away at the Crown and Anchor for all eternity. He had definitely run through every possible way to do so, including making a home in its attic.
Everything he wanted in life was encompassed in this one beautiful creature.
And everything he was forbidden to have was the same said beautiful creature.
Was her return more of a curse?
Until he’d tasted life with her once again he’d not truly known how irrevocably smitten he was.
He was a doomed man.
Not only did he have to suffer the knowledge that he could not have her, but he dreaded the pain she’d suffer. She would never understand that it was for her protection. That he truly could not bear.
His heart twisted in his chest. This was why there was poetry, he was sure of it—these emotions that permeated the depths of his soul, making him a prisoner to his own feelings.
It had been an eternity since he’d permitted himself to feel anything for anyone. His mother’s death had been a crushing loss.
Now, he knew he would lose Emma, in the same moment as he had finally found her again.
The irony of which made his heart bleed.
Why must life be so cruel?
She stirred next to him, her naked body soft and welcoming, sending a fresh wave of desire searing through him. To even look at her was to crave her.
Perhaps he agreed with his father on one count. Love rarely leads a man to a place of knowledge but to a place of disgrace.
He felt like a disgrace.
How could he have lost control so completely and lain with her knowing that she could not be his, nor he hers?
Slowly he lifted the covers, stealing a peek at Emma’s body as he slid from the bed.
He must be pathetic and weak.
His thoughts were a tangled mess. What were his options?
First, he needed to write a letter to Mr. Snow in London, advising of his change in plans.
He pulled on his calico drawers and dark trousers. His white shirt he left partially unbuttoned.
From his greatcoat pocket he pulled out a cigar and set about his task, conscious of the fact that he was merely distracting himself from his own thoughts.
And there he sat writing and trying not to think until Emma stirred again. Her nose crinkled and she shot up in bed.
“What is that smell?” she asked, looking around the room.
“Does it bother you, darling?” Henry said from the armchair by the window.
“Is that a cigar?” she said, slightly alarmed. “You can’t smoke that in here.” She made an attempt to wave the air in front of her.
“Is the smell too strong? I can put it out.”
“That’s terrible for you. I can’t be around smoke, it’s not good for the…” She stopped mid-sentence.
Henry wondered why she was so adamantly against it. It had seemed to him that woman enjoyed the occasional smell of it. He put it out just the same and cracked the window a bit.
The air outside was chilly and it looked as if the clouds had gathered, signaling a little rain.
“Thank you,” she said, a guilty look on her face. “I have something for you.”
Emma popped out of bed without even a hint of apprehension and walked naked through the room to her bag by the dresser.
He loved that about her. So comfortable with herself.
After rummaging a moment, she came to him holding some sort of card.
“What’s this? Have you made me a card?” He felt touched by the gesture.
“Sort of, but…just open it.”
He studied the plain white jacket and flipped it open. Emma straddled his legs, facing him, a most distracting position. He studied her a moment over the card, her face suppressing a smile.
With difficulty, he turned his attention back to the card. A black and white portrait of sorts. Only it was of nothing, or at least nothing that he could place. Was this her attempt at an artistic endeavor? He didn’t want to break the news to her that it was in fact quite dreadful.
“It’s lovely.” He brushed his lips against hers and noticed the stirring in his own body. “Truly thoughtful, I shall cherish it, but I must confess I’m at a loss to fully understand the vision you were going for.”
Emma laughed, the sound like a welcome song in his chest. How he’d missed that earnest, heartfelt appreciation for humor. Especially as he’d really not meant to be funny.
“You call yourself a man of science, yet you have no idea what this is?” she said in a teasing tone. Her eyes danced with mischief.
What was she up to? His eyes narrowed at her.
He took another look, hoping that something would strike him, but he saw nothing but some bean shapes surrounded by variants of gray. In turn, he gave her his best raised eyebrow, begging for her help.
She shifted position on his lap so that she was snuggled into his chest and able to look at the card with him.
“Do you see this here?” she said, tracing the small bean shape with her index finger. “That is our baby.”
The words hung in the air for a moment.
Henry felt speechless.
“But how…” he started to mutter.
“Do you really not understand the biology behind baby-making? I thought you prided yourself on knowing how things worked.” Sarcasm laced her words.
He looked again at the photo printed on thin flimsy paper.
So many question raged through him. Of course, he knew how babies were made.
How on earth were they able to capture a photograph from within the human body? The only cameras he’d seen would surely not fit.
This was a marvel.
And then the next thing she’d said filtered through the fog in his brain.
Our baby.
Did that mean his?
“This is my child?” An overwhelming feeling of emotion flooded through him, his jaw clenched tight to keep it at bay. “I’m truly at a loss for words.”
What did this mean?
A child out of wedlock. Emma would be ruined. Her reputation tarnished.
Again he thought of his father’s words as they rang now with truth. Love leads a man to a place of disgrace.
Chapter 25
Baby Daddy
Color had drained from Henry’s face completely.
Was he going to pass out?
Maybe I should have waited until he’d eaten something before springing the news on him. Clearly a poor choice on my part.
It did sting a little that he wasn’t looking too thrilled at the prospect of being a father. There was no turning back now. A flash of anger also rang through me.
We were adults and we’d both made a choice, he didn’t get to make me feel like I’d just handed him a jail sentence.
In case he failed to notice, this was happening to me and I was scared shitless too.
I slid off his knee and went to get dressed, suddenly feeling far too vulnerable.
>
“Emma, I’m so sorry,” he said like this was something that could simply be erased.
“You’re sorry?” I tried to rein in my temper but I was also feeling hormonal and so fuck it. “What exactly are you sorry for? Please explain.”
The shift in my tone seemed to catch him off guard. My foot tapped on the wood floor as I waited with crossed arms for him to elaborate.
“Please don’t be angry with me,” he said, his voice pleading. “I’m sorry that I’ve done this to you. That I’ve ruined your reputation.”
“I don’t care about my reputation Henry. That, in fact, is the last thing I care about. But beyond that, what are you not telling me? People have babies all the time. Did you not want to be a father, is that what you’re sorry about?”
Okay, maybe I was being a little sensitive.
No, fuck that, I was pissed.
Henry buried his head in his hand for a moment.
“Emma, our situation is not without complication.” He saw my face change and quickly continued. “I will make sure that you are well provided for. You and the babe will want for nothing—”
“Where exactly do you fit into to all this?” I fired back. “Because from here, it’s sounding an awful lot like I am going to be a kept woman… as in kept at a distance.”
“At the moment my hands are tied.” His voice rose a little. “The only way I can protect you is to agree to my father’s terms, at least until I can prove your innocence. That is the distance I must adhere to if I am to keep you safe and under my protection.”
“What are these terms, Henry, and why is there any question about my innocence? I was framed, you were shot at and we both know who is responsible, so what is going on?”
“If only it were that simple, darling,” he said in a strained voice. “There is no solid evidence to prove your innocence. Even though we know Mr. Jacob was a fraud, my father believes you were perhaps in league with him. His burnt body was found with a bullet wound in the head, the bullets matching the very same wound to myself.”
The Wayfarer's Daughter: A Time Travel Romance (The Wayfarer Series Book 2) Page 10