by Diana Bold
As always, her common roots seemed far too obvious.
She took a small measure of comfort in the fact that Michael seemed out of place as well. Until tonight, she’d never known Michael and Julian had only met because Julian and Dylan were the best of friends.
Perhaps the haunting loneliness in Michael’s eyes had drawn her to him all along. Like her, he usually seemed the most alone when he was surrounded by family and friends.
In any event, Julian and Dylan spent most of the evening with their handsome dark heads bent together, discussing something that seemed to hold the utmost importance. Occasionally, she caught Michael casting moody looks in their direction and knew how badly he wished they’d included him.
Oh, Michael, can you ever be my friend, my confidant?
Determined to find out, she crossed the room and slid her hand in his. “You promised to show me your collection tonight.”
He stared down at her, and the shadows receded from his eyes. The ghost of a smile curved his sensual mouth. “So, I did,” he agreed. “Perhaps we should pretend to retire, and you can meet me there later.”
She nodded, letting her gaze drift across their guests. Her father had already excused himself, which left only Jane, Natalia, Julian, and Dylan. Friends, each and every one, but for tonight at least, she wanted to be alone with the man she would marry.
“Splendid idea,” she told Michael with a smile. “Will you break the news to them, or shall I?”
* * *
Clad again in nothing except her purple silk nightgown and matching robe, Emma crept down the deserted hallway toward the room where Michael kept his collection of artifacts. An errant breeze stirred the sumptuous fabric, making her feel free and daring.
In less than twelve hours, Michael would be her husband. Soon she’d be able to go to him whenever she wanted. She could kiss him, tease him, and try to coax him to give her one of those wonderful smiles at her leisure.
But for now, for tonight, she felt wonderfully wicked. She couldn’t wait to see his expression when he saw what she was wearing.
When she arrived at the door he’d indicated during his tour of the house, she looked furtively up and down the hall. Luckily, no one was around to observe her tryst.
She was about to knock when she heard a strange sound coming from within the room. Leaning closer, she pressed her ear against the door and listened to the repetitive thumping.
What on earth was Michael doing in there?
Cautiously, she turned the knob and slipped into the room, then froze at the sight that met her appreciative gaze. The room was immense, a veritable museum of Egyptian history. But she barely glanced at the treasure, concentrating wholly on Michael.
In the far corner, a strange contraption hung from the ceiling. Michael—stripped to the waist—stood before it. His muscles flexed, gleaming with sweat, as he hit a large bag with his gloved hands, exhibiting a power and grace unlike anything she’d ever seen.
This certainly explained his muscular physique.
“You’re a pugilist,” she murmured. “I had no idea.”
Michael spun around, his gaze locking with hers as the bag swung lazily behind him. “I thought you weren’t coming.” He wiped the back of his arm across his sweaty face, then stripped off his gloves and tossed them into the corner. “I was trying to work out my disappointment.”
“I enjoyed watching you,” she told him. “Don’t stop on my account.”
“Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t my intention to greet you this way? All sweaty and half-naked.” He gave her a rueful grin that nearly took her breath away.
She laughed and stepped forward into the light. “I don’t mind, Michael. Truly.”
“Miss Marks,” he chided, a hint of choked laughter in his voice. “You’re not dressed.”
“I could change,” she replied, advancing toward him, amused by paraphrasing the words she’d said the first time he’d called upon her. “If you really want me to.”
“God, no.” He caught her in his arms and ran his hands up and down her back. Then they strayed lower, cupping her bottom and bringing her up against the burgeoning proof of his desire. “I like you just the way you are.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and leaned her head against his hard, sweaty chest, enjoying the familiar pleasure of being held in his embrace. His musky scent was far from offensive.
“Oh, Michael,” she whispered. “I don’t know if I can wait until tomorrow to become your wife.”
He laughed breathlessly, then set her very firmly away. “I do believe you’re trying to seduce me, Emma.”
She grinned. “It’s not working? You really are a saint, aren’t you?”
A serious expression settled upon his chiseled features. “Only a man. And I want you more than can possibly be healthy, Now cease your sweet teasing and allow me to show you my artifacts.”
Reluctantly, she belted her robe tighter around her waist. “All right. But tomorrow you must allow me to seduce you to my heart’s content.”
“If you must.” The fire in his eyes ruined his show of reluctance.
Laughing, she moved around the large, well-lit room, all thoughts of seduction fleeing from her mind as she inspected the truly wonderful collection Michael had amassed. Amazed, she strode to the centerpiece of the room, a large, ornately carved sarcophagus.
“Wherever did you find this?” she asked, awed.
“In the past, before my financial situation grew so dire, I financed several expeditions in return for a share of the artifacts.”
“Oh, Michael. You truly are an adventurer at heart, aren’t you? Don’t you realize how exciting it would be to go on an expedition of your own?” Lost in the moment, she shared her heart’s desire. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to go on a journey together? The two of us treking alongside the Nile, searching for treasure that’s been forgotten for thousands of years?”
The initial flare of excitement in his eyes faded. “As I’ve told you before, I don’t have time for such things. I have too many responsibilities.”
She sighed, knowing this was a battle she wouldn’t win overnight. But she fully intended to win it someday. She could think of nothing she’d like more than to take her studious, uptight viscount out to see the world.
“Well, in any event, we can definitely finance another expedition.”
“Yes.” He averted his gaze and ran his finger over the rim of a clay pot covered with hieroglyphs. She watched the slow, sensual glide of his finger, desperately wishing he was still touching her.
The distance that fell between them disturbed her in a soul-deep way.
“Are you certain you want to marry me, Michael? Are you having second thoughts?”
He shook his head, refusing to meet her gaze. “Of course not. But it’s getting late, and we’ve a very long day ahead of us. Perhaps you should try and get some sleep.”
She stared at him for a long moment, wishing he trusted her enough to open up and tell her what was wrong. She wanted to hold him and stroke the frown from his brow, soothe what was undoubtedly another of his tension-induced headaches.
Sighing, she strode to his side and lifted up on tiptoe to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Good night, Michael. Sweet dreams.”
He stared down at her and pressed his hand to the spot where she’d kissed him, a troubled look in his beautiful eyes. “Good night, Emma.”
* * *
Michael battled his overwhelming need and confusion long after Emma left. During the past few weeks, his desire for her had become all-consuming. Each kiss, each soft touch of her hand, only intensified his need to make her his. He couldn’t wait to lose himself in the contradictory, exasperating female who would be his wife.
Tonight, seeing her again in that lovely purple ensemble, knowing nothing separated them but a few flimsy layers of silk, had nearly been his undoing. Why did she insist on tempting him in such a manner? Why was she trying to break through all his defenses, tryin
g to make him lose all control?
He suspected that was exactly her intention. Emma would never be satisfied with half measures. She would always expect far more from him than he had to give.
Her earlier comments about adventuring down the Nile had made him face the fact that she was not the sort of woman who’d be happy living the rest of her life on an isolated country estate. She seemed so certain he longed for adventure as well. He doubted she could ever understand how much the very thought of leaving England, of neglecting his responsibilities for his own selfish desires, frightened him.
He’d held his wants and needs inside for so long, he was terrified of what might happen if he gave into them. He couldn’t imagine himself turning into his father—greedy and selfish, willing to hurt anyone, even his own family, in order to get what he wanted.
That was something he could never allow to happen. Even if it meant forever denying himself the things he wanted most.
Chapter Ten
Sherbourne Hall’s charming private chapel was set in the woods behind the main house. Ivy clung to the stone walls and rose bushes lined the cobblestone walk.
A profusion of white orchids and pink velvet bows graced each pew, while intricate stained-glass windows cast rainbow hues of light around the vaulted oak interior. Emma took in the details through a haze of nervousness as she advanced up the tiny aisle on her father’s arm.
Jane and Julian sat on one side of the church, Lady Natalia and Dylan on the other. But she had little attention to spare for anyone but the man she would soon wed.
Michael stood beside the elderly minister and watched her approach with an unreadable expression in his clear blue eyes. Clad in a pearl-gray morning suit with a snowy white cravat, he looked breathtakingly handsome, as always.
Her father squeezed her arm as he gave her hand to Michael. “Cherish her as I do,” he admonished Michael softly, before backing away to stand with Jane and Julian.
Michael stared at her for a long moment, then the barest hint of a smile curved his beautiful mouth. “What, no scarlet or purple?”
“Not today.” For her wedding, she’d decided on a lovely but very conservative gown of white satin. It was similar to the one Victoria, the English queen, had worn to her own wedding.
The minister cleared his throat, and Emma tightened her hand around Michael’s. The solemnity and finality of what they were about to do overwhelmed her. After today, her entire world would revolve around the man at her side.
She spoke her vows in a voice that trembled, despite her best intentions. Michael’s voice was clear and steady, but he didn’t look at her until the minister finally pronounced them man and wife.
“Kiss her,” Julian instructed with a laugh.
Holding her gaze, Michael bent forward and captured her mouth in a sweet and tender kiss. For a moment, she let herself become lost in his familiar taste, but then the minister cleared his throat, and Michael pulled away.
Jane and Natalia rushed forward and smothered her with laughter and hugs. Dylan and Julian took Michael aside and offered their own hearty congratulations. But Michael remained silent and distant, as far removed from her as he’d been those first few times they’d met.
Filled with foreboding, she followed the small group back to the house. She laughed and giggled with her friend and new sister-in-law, desperately trying to pretend everything was all right.
During the wedding breakfast, Michael said and did all the right things, but she still sensed a tension in him she couldn’t explain. Was he having regrets? She wanted to launch herself into his arms, force him to kiss her, to see her, to tell her what was wrong.
After breakfast, she tried to do just that, but before she could find a way to maneuver her husband away from Dylan and Julian, Natalia took her aside.
The other girl really was stunning, and Emma’s jealousy resurfaced. She couldn’t help wondering if Michael secretly wished he’d taken the duke’s daughter as his bride.
Natalia certainly would have suited him better.
“Do you have any questions about tonight?” A deep blush stained Natalia’s cheeks. “I also lost my mother before I wed, so I thought you might want to talk with another woman about what to expect.”
Emma smiled, her discomfort fading with Natalia’s generous offer. “I think I have a pretty good idea.” She glanced across the room where Michael stood with his brother and Julian. “Would it shock you to know how much I have been anticipating this?”
Natalia shook her head, her blush fading. A look of absolute love and contentment settled over her face as she gazed at her own handsome husband.
Emma knew she had been foolish to worry. If ever two people had been in love, it was Dylan and Natalia.
“I was raised to believe the marriage act was something to be endured,” Natalia said. “But I’ve discovered that with a man who loves you, it can be something quite wonderful.”
“Michael doesn’t love me,” Emma replied, voicing both her worst fear and the secret she’d hardly even admitted herself. “But I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with him.”
“Give him time,” Natalia urged. “He’s a good man, but having met his father, I’m sure you realize how little love he’s known in his life. He’ll think he has to prove himself to you. He’ll hold himself back, fearing he’ll never be good enough.”
Emma smiled at her sister-in-law with genuine gratitude. “Thank you. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Don’t worry,” Natalia assured her. “After tonight, I’m sure you’ll have him wrapped around your little finger.”
“I hope so.” Emma sighed, willing the day to be over. “I want to please him more than anything.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Jane assured Emma as she joined them. “I think you’ll please him just fine.”
Though her words were merry, Jane looked as though she hadn’t slept in a week. Natalia glanced across the room at Julian. As she’d suspected, he looked just as bad.
“Oh, Jane.” She sensed something had gone very wrong. “Are you having problems with Lord Basingstoke again?”
“Basingstoke?” Natalia raised a brow in consternation. “What is she talking about, Jane? Has Julian done something to hurt you?”
Jane blushed. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll probably never see him again after today.”
Emma frowned. “He hasn’t compromised you in any way, has he?” If so, she certainly intended to see that Michael did something about it.
Jane gave an emphatic shake of her head. “He didn’t do anything wrong.” She glanced toward the men, then lowered her gaze. “In fact, I was the one who tried to compromise him.” She laughed shakily. “He ordered me out of his room.”
“Oh, Jane.” Natalia pulled the other girl into her arms and hugged her fiercely. “What in the world were you thinking?”
Jane closed her eyes and leaned against Natalia for just a moment before pulling away. “I can’t bring myself to forgive him. I don’t trust him enough to marry him. But I didn’t want to remain a virgin forever. I thought he’d be pleased to take what I offered with no strings attached.”
Emma glanced over at Julian, her opinion of him growing by leaps and bounds. “He must truly love you, Jane. Don’t you see? He never would have turned you away if he didn’t.”
“Emma’s right,” Natalia agreed. “This is actually a very encouraging sign.”
Jane sighed, looking even more troubled. “I’m afraid I said some things that hurt him. He’ll never forgive me.”
“Well, I think he might, if you forgave him first.” Emma reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Don’t walk away from him the way he walked away from you.”
Jane did her best to smile. “You’re right, of course. I just don’t know how I’ll ever find the courage to approach him again.”
* * *
Michael managed to contain his impatience with his brother and Julian during the wedding breakfast, although every time they
put their heads together, his annoyance grew. He had no doubt that his brother had already told Julian whatever had been troubling him, a fact that rankled him far more than he cared to admit.
“Didn’t you have something you wanted to discuss with me?” Michael asked Dylan, as he joined the two men after breakfast. “Perhaps you’d care to join me in the library?”
Dylan shared a quick glance with Julian, confirming Michael’s suspicions. “I don’t think this is a good time. I never should have mentioned it. Enjoy today, enjoy your lovely bride. I can always come back in a few weeks, after things have settled down. We can discuss the matter then.”
Julian reached over and squeezed Michael’s shoulder, a rare show of affection that intensified Michael’s sense of foreboding. “Listen to Dylan, Michael. What he has to tell you can wait until after your wedding night.”
Michael glared at his friend. “If it concerns me, I want to hear about it. Now. The women won’t mind if we disappear for a while.”
In truth, Michael was desperate to find something to keep him occupied during all the hours between now and nightfall, when he’d finally take his wife to bed.
“All right,” Dylan agreed, over another of Julian’s protests. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Julian dropped his hands in surrender, but his dark eyes remain troubled. “Go have your talk. I’ll tell the women you’ll be a while.”
As soon as their friend turned away, Michael headed for the door, knowing his brother would follow. Anticipation and apprehension warred within him as he entered the library and took his accustomed place behind the big walnut desk.
Dylan sank into a big leather chair in front of the desk, regarding Michael with those clear gray eyes. Even in such a relaxed pose, the simmering energy that lay just beneath the surface was easy to discern. “So. Do you think married life will agree with you?”