by Lauren Smith
Lucien returned to his newspaper. “By the way, Godric, The Gazette mentioned our time in Covent Garden last week.”
“Oh? I am almost afraid to ask how our evening was relayed.” Godric collected the tray of coffee and hot chocolate from the sideboard. Emily watched him pour his coffee, taking it black. Lucien flicked his eyes back to the paper, scanning some article. “They heard about the incident with the stolen swans…but they got the number of ladies involved wrong. Underestimated our appeal to the fairer sex again.”
The men at the table all laughed at whatever antics they had been up to. Emily was certain she didn’t want to know the details. Whatever swans, ladies and Covent Garden had in common was likely to shock her.
Undeterred by this change in topic, Cedric once more demanded to know of Anne’s interest in him.
“Anne has certainly mentioned you quite often.” It was true. Anne complained constantly about Cedric, but Emily knew she rather liked the attention.
Cedric reached for the plate of fruit. “What does she say?”
“You can’t expect me to break the vows of friendship?” she asked, widening her eyes in mock innocence.
“Expect? Miss Parr, I quite demand it.”
Emily imagined no one ever refused Cedric anything.
Rather than answer him immediately, she looked back to Godric. She justified her fascination by telling herself he was like a wolf. One must always keep an eye on the creature that could do one the most harm.
Godric poured a cup of chocolate for her. Her stomach rumbled at the dark liquid that swirled in her cup. He took a tiny porcelain pot and opened it to pinch at the ground cinnamon, which he sprinkled on top. It was perhaps the strangest and sweetest gesture a man had ever made for her, as though seeing to her needs and pleasures were a natural instinct.
Emily turned back to Cedric, who still waited for an answer.
“Your attentions on Anne have been duly noted.”
“So I’m successful in my pursuit?”
“I would not go so far as to say that, but she is thankful that your attentiveness has discouraged others.”
“In other words,” Lucien chimed in, “she’d rather fight you off than half the men in London.”
A little laugh escaped Emily, and Lucien winked. She’d been under the impression he’d been reading his newspaper, and she decided she liked him. Villain or not, she admired his humor.
The thought stopped her cold. She didn’t want to like Lucien, nor did she want her only moments of joy in this life to be with the men who had abducted her.
“At least I’m not resigned to bachelorhood, like someone I know.” Cedric whipped his head pointedly in Lucien’s direction. “I am simply very selective.”
Godric took Emily’s plate and filled it with a little bit of everything before he sat down and replaced it before her.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said demurely.
“Oh, come now, if you call Cedric by his name you must call me Godric.” The seductive glint in his eyes flushed her with heat. How could this be the same man that minutes ago growled at her and pulled her fully beneath him? Emily’s face flamed with embarrassment, but no one noticed.
The Marquess then chimed in. “And call me Lucien. I don’t like to ‘lord’ myself over my new friends.”
“Perish the thought.” Ashton sniggered as he and Charles walked in. Charles’s face was drawn with weariness, but he was still as handsome as the others with his golden hair and gray eyes.
“Morning, all,” Charles mumbled as he plopped down on Godric’s other side.
A flicker of concern washed through Emily as she took in the man’s appearance. His clothes were immaculate, his tan breeches snug on his muscled thighs, and his silver satin vest sparkled faintly in the morning sun. But his sleep-tousled hair was unkempt, the wild halo of a rogue angel about his brow. Strain laced his eyes and his voice sounded rough, like a man who’d screamed until hoarse. Something wasn’t right about this…she could sense it.
The room seemed filled with companionship, and an air of intimacy between them that struck Emily as beautiful in the way only true friendships could be. For a brief moment she forgot the dangerous circumstances that brought her here and lost herself in the shared smiles and teasing banter of the rogues.
What would it be like to be counted among their friends? As their captive, she was very alone, like a hungry dog that looked through a butcher’s window on a winter’s night. The chill of this position stung deep inside her soul. Emily ducked her head and took a bite of her breakfast.
In the span of a few short minutes, she’d come to understand them better. They were reasonable men, even if they had wickedly seductive tendencies where women were concerned. If she approached them with logic, and argued her case for freedom…
Maybe if I tell Godric I could produce Uncle Albert’s account books, he could take it up with the magistrate. Then justice would be meted out and she could go back to London.
“Coffee, Charles?” Before the man answered, Godric poured him a cup.
“Can someone pass the toast?” Charles asked.
Cedric slid the toast rack in his direction. Emily at first only nibbled on her food, but soon hunger overtook her, and she dug into her well laden plate.
Emily discovered what was so oddly comforting about this meal. The five men were so at ease with one another. They were almost like a family. What could have drawn these five men together so?
Charles spread liberal amounts of raspberry jam on his toast, gleeful as a boy stealing cherry tarts from the kitchen.
“Charles, you had better eat more than just toast. Have some fruit.” Ashton slid the tray of pears, apples and plums past Emily and Godric.
“Fine, fine.”
It amused Emily to watch them mother Charles. Her tiny smile caught Charles’s attention.
“I expected them all to fret over you, Miss Parr, allowing me to escape their coddling for a few days, but you’ve failed me,” he teased. “Shame on you.” The earl’s eyes were a sharp grey, clear and deep in their intensity.
Emily’s cheeks flamed when Charles’s gaze slid along her body.
Lucien’s voice broke the tension that settled because of Charles’s wandering gaze. “Would you like us to fret over you, Miss Parr? Perhaps that ought to be your job, Charles.” Lucien ducked behind his newspaper, narrowly avoiding sliver of pear that looked suspiciously like the one Charles had begun to eat.
“Please, I would have no one fret over me,” said Emily
“Well, fret we shall, Miss Parr, because I fear you will attempt a third escape,” Godric said.
Emily returned her attention to Godric. She had begun to appreciate the other men and enjoy their company, circumstances aside. Godric however… The man deserved another well placed slap. It was just her luck that marriage to him would mitigate her ruination, assuming she could even convince him to such a course of action. She narrowed her gaze and pursed her lips. To her sheer frustration, the duke laughed.
Ashton spoke up, his blue eyes fixed on her. “Third? As in, she tried a second time?”
Emily stared down at her plate. She was to be mocked now? The merriment that came at her expense spurred them on.
“She tried to escape through my bedchamber, practically stole the keys right off my wrist.” He jangled the keys she’d fought for over the table. Emily nearly sagged in relief when Godric failed to mention that he’d tackled her to the floor in the hallway outside.
Charles smirked into his coffee cup. “Bet you woke him right up doing that.”
Godric pretended to stretch and thumped Charles soundly on the back. He spilled his coffee, and his eyes cast daggers at Godric.
“Manners, Charles, manners,” Ashton intoned in a schoolmaster’s voice. “Now, Miss Parr, could we beseech you to refrain from any further attempts at escape? I assume you know why you were brought here, and that leaving now would only create more scandal. Best to ride out the storm and let
Godric see to your needs while you remain here.”
Emily ground her teeth in frustration. The men had pretended to use reason and good sense in taking her and would likely not listen to her pleas. Abandon my original plan of persuasion, and prepare for war, she thought, then raised her chin. “I apologize, Lord Lennox, but it is my duty to escape your clutches and return to my uncle.” There, she’d done it. Whatever might come, she had to free herself from Godric and his friends.
“Our clutches? You really think us villains, don’t you?” Godric leaned forward, resting one elbow on the table as he stared at her. “I suppose we are, aren’t we?” The idea seemed to amuse him and he laughed, the sound low and rich.
Emily dropped her eyes to the snowy tablecloth and did her best not to shout. She wanted her life back, her freedom.
“Please…just let me go.” Emily bit her lip as Godric caught her chin and turned her face towards his. The others watched her and Godric with interest. Her cheeks flamed.
“It isn’t that simple, darling.”
“How is it not?” Emily slapped his hand away from her face, and jumped up from the chair. With lightning speed every man in the room was on his feet, watching, waiting for her to run. Godric put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back into her seat.
“Come now, sweetheart. You’ll enjoy being here. I promise that you will like us.”
They were trying to appease her, but she would not be so easily controlled. The dam that had kept her volatile emotions at bay burst. “Like you? How can I like any of you? You’ve abducted me! Am I to be grateful? Laugh as though it is some joke? Just by bringing me here, you’ve compromised me! Do you really have nothing better to do with yourselves?” Emily gasped and buried her face in her napkin.
Tears of rage escaped her eyes. All her life she’d been well behaved, yet these men reduced her to shouts.
I am not a child. I am a grown woman. She stilled her shaking and dabbed her napkin at the stray tears that coated her cheeks. She had to master her wrath before the situation worsened. Crying, even out of fury, would do her no good.
“Don’t blame them. Blame me,” Godric said. The weight of his hands eased a little.
“I am sorry, my lords.” She brushed a palm against her cheek to wipe the tears. “But you must understand—I will not be cowed into complacency. You’ve done me a great wrong and I will not make it easy for you. You’ve destroyed my reputation and blackened my name with scandal. I will not sit back and let you dictate the rest of my life.”
Her vow was met with shocked silence, as it should have been. Emily was more than aware she was naïve and innocent of many things, but she wasn’t a fool. There would be no way to survive the scandal untainted, and she had to make these men compensate her for the loss of her future.
No one would ever break her, especially not an arrogant duke.
Chapter Four
The silence that followed Emily’s words lasted for several unpleasant minutes. When Cedric stood up from the table, she was relieved to for the opportunity to think of something other than her current situation.
“The sun is out. Fair weather for riding.” Cedric sidestepped around a pair of footmen removing plates from the breakfast table. “Mind if I borrow a horse? Mine was favoring his left foreleg last night.”
Emily stood as Ashton and Lucien took their leave. Charles vanished, but only after casting her a particularly wicked grin.
“The stables are always open to you, Cedric.”
Emily rose excitedly at the prospect of riding. “May I go with him, Your Grace? It has been ages since I’ve been riding.” The memory of her last ride was still bittersweet. Uncle Albert had sold her horse to pay off a debt her first week at his house. She still remembered the well-oiled leather saddle and the rough hair of her gelding’s mane. She missed riding, missed her old life.
Godric’s green eyes narrowed. Emily did her best not to show defiance. He had to suspect she would try and escape. She’d said as much only a moment ago.
“My temper may improve if I felt less like a prisoner and had some fresh air,” she added.
“Is that an apology for your outburst?” asked Godric.
“It is the closest you will receive if I am kept confined to this house.”
“I suppose you can go riding, but I am coming as well.” Godric put a firm hand on her shoulder.
Emily hid her disappointment. It would be next to impossible to escape with even one of them around, but with two? Still, opportunities only arose if one sought them out.
“May I have a moment to change my clothes?”
Godric assented and escorted her back to her chamber, waiting outside. Emily dug through the armoire, and decided on a lovely light blue Glengarry riding habit. Lace, braids and embroidered frogs trimmed the jacket. She draped the train over one arm and rejoined Godric in the hall. His gaze swept over her approvingly. Though she didn’t want his approval, she raised her chin a little with pride.
As Godric offered his arm, Emily took note of the beauty of the house. Statues of men and women in Grecian garb adorned the alcoves along the hall, like silent watchers.
Emily gazed up at the face of a beautiful marble woman. I wonder what you’ve seen. The statue clutched at the edge of a robe ready to slip off her breast. The seductive shyness in its eyes entranced her.
Godric’s Hessian boots echoed against the marble floors, and his laughter joined in. It laced his tone as he tugged her along. “What are you looking at?”
Emily pointed at the statue. “Her.”
Godric glanced over his shoulder at the statue and grinned. “I used to look at her and dream of women when I was a boy. This was before I realized that the flesh and blood variety were infinitely better.” His eyes swept down her face, lingered on her breasts. A prickle of indignation tingled along her skin. She wasn’t naturally violent, but everything Godric did made her want to slap him.
At least a dozen horses dwelled in the Essex stable, all fine beasts, glossy-coated and eager. She’d grown up on horseback, but did not mention this. If Godric knew of her accomplished skill, he might refuse her. She’d have to be careful.
The roan gelding was a beautiful beast, with slender ankles and strong muscles that twitched beneath his skin. This wasn’t the horse Godric rode the night before. That had been a black monolith against the waning moonlight, like a fierce charger from the Middle Ages. The gelding in front of her possessed the springing, playful steps of youth. It bent forward, stretched its back, tossed its head to and fro, as it might in the fields beneath the sun’s warmth. Godric had fine taste in horseflesh, she could give him that.
Emily feigned shyness as she reached out to stroke the horse. He was a curious creature, but like all thoroughbreds, the gelding showed his arrogance. His dark, cinnamon eyes fixed on her reproachfully, yet he couldn’t resist bumping his nose against her palm. She jumped back theatrically when he jerked his head up and huffed.
Godric stood so close that she collided with his hard chest. His hands wound around her waist in an instant. Emily gulped as she realized how small she was in comparison to the man behind her. His grip tightened when she wriggled. Her bottom brushed against him. Startled, she jumped, but his grip kept her prisoner.
His fingertips slid up her ribcage towards her breasts. They swelled, and her nipples pebbled then rasped against the fabric of her gown. They were sensitive and aching and she didn’t understand the cause of the sensation. I hate this man. He’s ruined me. Why then was her breath quickening? Godric’s fingers rubbed the underside of her breasts, exciting her further. His touch drew her in, the lure of his passion was a flame but when she drew too close it burned her back to awareness. They had an audience. He was attempting to seduce her here in the stables, in front of his friend. She trembled in anger, but also to a foreign, unfamiliar sensation, not unlike excitement.
His rakehell ways are already corrupting me. She summoned her nerve to defy him and his touch as she slippe
d from his grip.
Frustrated, Godric stared at Emily. Did his touch have no affect on her? He caught Cedric watching him out of the corner of his eye; no doubt he’d seen it all. They exchanged silent looks and Cedric shrugged as though to commiserate with him. True, it had been six months since his last mistress. When the bloom of that particular relationship had worn off, it had cured him of the fairer sex for a time. Evangeline had been wild in bed, but of out it her personality had been abrasive. She’d treated their relationship like a game, which was fair enough, but she had also treated the staff with contempt, which was not. She’d acted cruelly towards Simkins, whom she believed was far too familiar with Godric for someone of his station. That was unforgiveable. Simkins was like a favorite uncle, and anyone who treated him harshly suffered Godric’s wrath.
Emily was nothing like Evangeline. She wasn’t spoiled, which shouldn’t have surprised him. He recalled too well the irritation Parr expressed at being stuck with his niece and the way Parr racked up debts, it seemed unlikely he would see to Emily’s care and comfort first. Godric bristled at the thought that Parr had deprived Emily of anything.
I must be careful. She’ll catch me in her enchanting web, and I’ll never be free.
It was true. Godric had never felt the slightest inclination to care for a woman aside from his mother, and definitely not in the way he wanted to care for Emily. No. Buying pretty jewels and gowns for his mistress secured physical favors, not comfort and care for the lady. But with Emily, he already acted differently, being harsh with her was not proper behavior if he desired her complacency.
He wanted to make sure her chocolate was the right temperature. He wanted her to wear the finest silk gowns, sleep in the softest bed. He wanted her safe, warm, content.
Perhaps if she were happy, she’d come to him, let him introduce her to the passion she buried deep inside herself. He wanted to know her, possess her. All that fire flashing in her eyes when she thought he didn’t see, needed to be unleashed.