by Lauren Smith
“After my recent behavior, I feared you might be.” The admission filled him with concern. In the darkness of his room and the warmth of her body in his arms, he wanted only the truth between them.
“You would never really hurt me, Godric, I know that now. But I won’t surrender to you.” Emily paused as if a plan had occurred to her. “I could compromise, though.”
Godric was genuinely surprised. “Your terms?”
“I can promise not to escape between the hours of ten in the evening to six in the morning. That way you and your friends will have your beauty sleep with no fear of disruption.”
“Beauty sleep? Why, you little…” He pinched her waist and she offered a mock indignant gasp. “And you expect me to agree? What do I get in return?” His hand slid lower down over the curve of her hip. He relished the breathless sigh that escaped her mouth when he tightened his grasp.
“You get sleep and I promise an escapeless eight hours. That is a fair bargain,” Emily said.
He groaned. “And an escape-filled sixteen hours.”
“Well, if you insist on being a pessimist that’s not my concern.”
Godric shifted closer, pressing against her. “Sleep with me every night. Promise that, and I’ll agree.”
“And by ‘sleep’ do you mean innocent and harmless sleep?”
The mischievous gleam mixed with moonlight in her eyes fascinated him.
“Hmm…yes, but if you want things to change, I’m ready to oblige you.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” Emily murmured, yawning, her fist covering her mouth. She tried to roll onto her back, but Godric rolled her so that her body spooned up against his. He buried his face in her hair, the scent soft and floral as a garden. The long ago day when he’d first seen her returned—the woman kneeling in the garden, flowers ringed around her, a butterfly dancing about her head while she weeded. Godric’s lips twitched. He felt like that butterfly, seeking the comfort of her presence.
“I can’t believe I’m allowing this…” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Give me time and you’ll never want to leave.” He kissed the soft skin on the nape of her neck and she sighed, almost entirely asleep. Godric wanted her so badly, but he kept control and counted backwards from a hundred in Greek. Ekato, eneida enia, eneida okto, eneida efta…
Chapter Eight
Godric was having the most wonderful dream. Emily lay curled up in his arms, finding warmth and protection from her nightmares. He had rarely slept with his former mistress, Evangeline. While she was a wicked temptress in bed, she was an awful partner to lie next to at night. She kicked, snored and stole the covers too frequently for him to enjoy the experience.
His dream was too real and perfect. There was nothing carnal about the act, only the comfort of Emily’s body entwined with his. Her face was pressed into the groove between his throat and chest, her body halfway on top of him, lounging asleep with that feline grace only women possessed.
The coils of her hair were a russet waterfall against the pillow, and sunlight slid down the waves in enticing patterns. One of his arms curled around her waist, keeping her close. In this world Emily was his. She belonged to no one else, and he didn’t have to share her with the world.
Unfortunately, Emily didn’t want to belong to him. Why did she have to be so damned independent? If she’d only surrender herself Godric could make her the most satisfied women in the world. He’d buy her the most expensive gowns, the richest jewels, and all the horses she could ever desire. He wanted her more than anything in his life.
He wished she wouldn’t fight him with such determination. Emily didn’t seem particularly protective of her virtue. It was her freedom she clung to. He’d caged her in his manor, and the thought irritated him. Even if it was a cage, it was only a temporary one, and a gilded, luxurious one at that. Why couldn’t she be happy?
Emily would never be satisfied unless she was the sole controller of her destiny. But as a young, unmarried woman, she stood no chance of that. A man held the reins over her fate, the only question was which one.
But if she let him take control, he’d promise to make her happy.
Godric was still thinking when Emily started to wake. Her breath quickened and her chest rose faster beneath his palm. Her legs tensed slightly as her muscles came to life. Emily rested her chin on his chest as her lashes fanned open.
“Good morning, Emily.” He brushed her loose hair back from her face, absorbed in the sight of her fluttering lashes and parted pink lips. Her sleepy expression warmed him right down to his toes as she snuggled against him.
She blushed, shutting her eyes. “I actually slept here, didn’t I?”
“Don’t be sorry. Enjoy the fact that we spent an innocent night together. It is something I have never been able to guarantee any other woman.”
One of her brows arched. “Is that because I’m no temptation or because you’ve learned some self-restraint?”
“It’s because I respect you enough to not break my promise. But now you’re awake, so all bets are off, my dear.”
“What do you mean by that?” She started to push away from him.
“I’m allowed sixteen hours of seduction in order to distract you from escaping.” Godric grasped her tightly and rolled over, covering her body with his. “Let me kiss you good morning, Emily—just one kiss?” He’d shared no moment like this with any woman before and he wanted it with Emily. He needed to thread his fingers in her sleep-mussed hair and feather kisses on her eyelids.
Eyes wide, she flushed but nodded. “One…one kiss, Godric,” she whispered.
He didn’t need any urging. His mouth found hers at the same time his hand slid inside her night rail. The delicious heat of her skin beneath his palm doubled the throbbing between his legs. He prayed he could hold himself together long enough to see to her pleasure.
Emily flinched as Godric’s hand glided up between her thighs. His fingers touched her sensitive folds and stroked the hot wet flesh. When the pad of his thumb skimmed her swollen bud, she jerked. The sensation terrified her. It was almost too much for her.
A sweet tension built there, mirroring the rough possession of Godric’s mouth on hers.
She focused on the movement of his tongue in her mouth and tried to imitate it, learn the savage play he sought to teach her. But she was distracted by the hardened length pressing down against her right hip.
His fingers continued to gently brush over her sensitive mons.
“Do you burn for me?” Godric whispered against her mouth.
“What? No…” She tried to deny it.
His lips curved into a smile and he sank his teeth into her bottom lip.
Emily whimpered, straining against him. “Please…”
“Please what?”
She choked down a little sob as tension continued to pool between her legs. “I don’t know…”
Godric’s other hand wound into her hair and pulled her head back. He exposed her throat as his mouth moved to her neck, and his fingers rubbed on that tender bud. Emily couldn’t stop her hips from rolling in small circles against his hand. Blood pumped through her as the pressure and tingling turned to sharp pangs of physical excitement. Like gliding higher and higher on a swing, until she succumbed at last to the breathtaking drop. She cried out.
His laughter warmed her neck. His kisses returned to her startled lips when he withdrew his hand from between her legs and laid it on her bare hip. The touch was both possessive and sweet. His thumb smoothed tiny circles on her skin just below her waist and she resisted the urge to laugh at the ticklish sensation.
He rubbed his cheek against hers, his night beard scraping her skin. “How did you like your little kiss?”
Emily breathed in his scent, completely sated. “I liked it very much, but I think you cheated, Your Grace.” She gave him an advantage with such an answer, but right now, she couldn’t think clearly enough to lie.
“I cannot deny cheating was involved.” T
he devil had the nerve to wink at her. “Every night and every morning I will kiss you.”
Emily opened her mouth but he pressed a finger to her lips. “Now don’t protest. You will be safe each night in my arms. I have enough restraint to stop.” He sat up and released her. Emily should’ve scrambled off the bed but she couldn’t. Her legs would give out and she’d fall right back into his arms.
He chuckled. “I thought for sure you’d flee my bed the moment I let you up.”
“I…I see no need to hurry.” Emily attempted to hide her unsteadiness. She tugged her night rail down to cover herself and looked at him, hoping he’d let her go.
After what she’d just experienced, she needed a good, long time alone.
Godric allowed Emily to slip into her own room. He shut his door to offer some privacy.
Even though he had not found his own release, there existed pleasure in knowing he had been the first man to touch Emily in that fashion. It put a spring in his step as he dressed for the day and made his way down to the breakfast room. He caught Simkins in the hallway and gave him instructions to send a maid to Emily.
“I trust Miss Parr is well?”
Godric didn’t miss the concern in the elderly butler’s face. “Yes, she is well. I take it you heard her cry out last night. Well, be at ease Simkins. The lady is fine.”
“That is good, Your Grace. I trust nothing shall make Miss Parr angry or scared enough to call out in such a fashion again.” A soft admonishment hid behind the butler’s tone. Only Simkins could take that tone with him.
“I can’t promise she won’t call out again. Her temper and independence make her a feisty creature. Tell the servants they mustn’t go to her, except for Libba who will see to her personal needs. Emily is my responsibility.”
“But, Your Grace—”
“No buts, Simkins. If Emily is shouting, she is getting whatever she deserves, good or ill.” Godric was firm on this point. Emily’s seduction required daily doses of wickedness. He didn’t want her to clear her head. Logic always ruined passion’s best moments.
“Very well, Your Grace. Lord Sheridan and Lord Lonsdale rode to London last night, and they returned early this morning. I believe Lord Sheridan wished to speak with you about a present he brought for Miss Parr?”
“What the devil is he playing at?” Regardless of Rule Four, the thought of any man trying to woo Emily with gifts boiled his blood. “Trying to outdo me? I bought her a bloody wardrobe.”
“Perhaps, Your Grace, you ought to wait and see what it is.”
Was Simkins smiling as he left? Godric scowled as he followed the butler into the breakfast room. Cedric, already eating, still seemed possessed of boundless energy, despite the fact that he’d only slept for a few hours.
“Did Simkins tell you about my gift for Emily?” An irritatingly hopeful gleam in Cedric’s brown eyes left Godric distinctly uncomfortable.
Godric crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you buy for her?”
“A puppy. An English foxhound.”
Godric didn’t know whether or not to laugh. “A dog? What good will a foxhound do her? She’s not going to be hunting.” What was a girl to do with a puppy, especially a hunting dog at that? Didn’t most women prefer cats? A kitten would have been a smarter choice if Cedric wanted to woo the young lady. Then again, as she was fond of pointing out, Emily wasn’t most women.
“I know what you’re thinking, Godric, but this is more than just a present. The dog will bark and yip and follow her about. She may stop trying to escape if she doesn’t want to leave the dog behind.”
Godric considered this. “You might have a point there, Cedric.”
“Wonderful!” Cedric jumped out of his chair eagerly. “May I bring it to the breakfast room when she comes down?”
“I suppose.” Godric took a seat and started to prepare himself a plate as Cedric vanished.
Ashton arrived at the table without a word. It troubled Godric deeply to see his friend’s usually vibrant eyes so muted and dark, his healing black eye aside.
“Ash?” Godric asked.
Ashton set down his coffee cup, folded his hands and looked up at Godric. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Did you finish what you started with Emily or did you find some mercy in that black heart of yours?”
His friend’s accusation wounded him, but much like their boxing match, one he knew he deserved. “Ash, I did not harm her after you left. There was a bit of yelling, I admit, but I cooled off, or rather she cooled my temper off.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?” Ashton muttered.
“I swear it. She is still as innocent as the day she was born… Well, more or less.”
Ashton’s eyes narrowed. “Swear to me on the stones of Magdalene College.” The stones of their college at Cambridge were the foundation of the League’s relationship. An oath upon them was tantamount to swearing on the Bible.
“I swear on the stones.”
Ashton’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Thank God. I lay awake all night worrying that I’d done the wrong thing, leaving her with you. You had that glint in your eye.”
“She worked me up into a good temper but calmed me just as easily. We have worked out a bargain.”
“Oh?” Ashton slid a tray of toast in Godric’s direction.
“Emily vows she won’t make any escape attempts between the hours of ten at night and six in the morning.”
“And what did she get out of that arrangement?”
“My solemn promise not to seduce her between those hours. The rest of the day is fair game.”
“My, my, Godric, you came out on top of that bargain, didn’t you?” Ashton had returned to his usual lighthearted countenance.
The door to the breakfast room opened once more as Lucien strolled in, Emily at his side. Ashton and Godric rose to their feet as she took a seat next to Godric. Her green dress, the shade of summer grass, lit up her lilac colored eyes. The gown’s sleeves were loosely puffed about her shoulders, and gathered at her back in gentle pleats that were not severe on her form, as other dresses might be. It displayed Emily’s natural beauty by accenting her curves and the maid had pulled Emily’s hair into a loose tangle, gathered back by green ribbons.
“So, did everyone have a good evening? I thought I heard sounds of a party…” Lucien watched Emily and Godric as he sat next to Ashton on the other side of the table. “In fact, if I didn’t know better—” Ashton kicked him sharply, and Lucien winced. “I’ve been informed that I do not.”
Emily reached for a plate near Ashton’s elbow. He immediately passed it to her; she blushed. Godric noticed her look and rose from the table, catching Lucien’s eye.
“I say, Lucien, have you spoken to Cedric? I thought we might go see what has become of him…and rouse Charles, no doubt still asleep.” Godric started for the door.
Lucien sighed and followed him. “I suppose.”
“May I…may I have an audience with you, my lord?” Emily tried to keep her voice from shaking, but failed.
“Of course, Miss Parr,” Ashton replied.
She bit her bottom lip. How Ashton must hate her, if he refused to call her by her given name.
“My lord, about last night…” She swallowed hard. She hated apologizing, especially for something she felt she’d done right. But an apology was worth her new friend. Somewhere between her capture and this moment, she’d grown fond of the cool, collected baron. He was kind and courteous and had defended her honor.
“Please, Miss Parr, don’t distress yourself on such a small matter.” His tone was reassuring, but she needed him to understand. She needed to know he wouldn’t abandon her again.
“I…I am sorry that I lied to you. I shouldn’t have.”
I should hate them. I should wish them dead for what they’ve done. But the rage wouldn’t come. The short span of time she’d been in their company, she had been strangely happy. Godric had shown her passion, the o
thers companionship. She couldn’t let lies, even lies to secure her freedom, ruin her bond with them. How such a thing was possible she did not know.
“Miss Parr, it is I who seeks forgiveness. You did what was necessary to protect yourself from unscrupulous rakehells.” Ashton pushed his chair back walked over to her. He grasped her hands between his, holding them against his chest. “I would have acted no different in the same circumstances. I daresay I’d have done worse.”
“Then…then you are not angry, my lord?”
“Miss Parr—”
“Please, don’t call me that!”
“Emily, you were forgiven the moment I left your room last night.”
Her heat lilted, confused. “Then why were you so quiet this morning?”
“I feared you’d not forgiven me for abandoning you. Did he harm you?” Ashton pulled Emily up on her feet and spun her around, as though inspecting her for obvious signs of harm, but there were none.
“He yelled dreadfully, but he didn’t hurt me. My lord—”
“Ashton.”
“Ashton, if you ever ask me for the truth, you shall have it.”
Ashton smiled. “I have but one question, my dear.”
“Yes?”
“How many other languages are you fluent in?”
Emily was overcome by the surge of happiness. He appreciated her intelligence where her uncle had not. “I am fluent in Greek and Latin… I am passable in French, German and Spanish.”
“Not Italian?” His lips quirked into a crooked smile.
“Italian? No, I suppose it’s similar enough to Latin that I might make out some of it, but not enough to be fluent.”
“Ah, good, a language I can use against you, should I need to.” Ashton chucked her under her chin as Godric and Lucien returned to breakfast.
Accepting the hot chocolate Godric once again served her, Emily settled herself back into her seat and relished the dark, exotic aroma. The kindness presented here was genuine and because of the rapport between them, she grudgingly forgave the kidnapping, and all that had come after it.
Despite the sometimes-rough treatment, Emily was still better off in the League’s care than under her uncle’s suffocating rule—or, worse, the fate she’d face with his business partner.