Emma nibbled her lip. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
He met her gaze. “That cur doesn’t deserve a woman like you, no matter who his father is or how much money he has.”
Her stomach did a little flip. The heat burning in Cole’s amber eyes ignited an inferno deep within. Swallowing hard, she struggled to ignore her heart’s longing.
“So, now you’ll be free to move on.” She managed a casual tone despite the way her heart danced against her ribs.
His jaw hardened. “Looks that way.”
“Why did you insist on staying? You don’t need to wait. Your responsibility for my security is at an end—at least, it could have been.”
“Emma, this doesn’t have a damn thing to do with duty.”
He closed the curtain, cloaking them in darkness, as though he could shut out the world around them. And then, he reached for her. His hands fell over her shoulders in a gesture that might have been chaste if the heat radiating between them hadn’t combusted into raging flames.
Suddenly, she was in his arms.
He was holding her, kissing her. His hands roamed over her, and she drank in every sensation, every touch.
“Ah, Emma,” he murmured against her ear. She’d pinned up her hair, but his fingers wove through the coiled strands at her nape, freeing the waves to his touch. Releasing her long enough to frame her face in his hands, he studied her features. She’d never tire of looking into his eyes, of feasting on the passion in his gaze.
Passion for her.
“Your father’s determined to see you married off…to a suitable husband. A man like Bradford.” The pad of his thumb traced her bottom lip, his touch gentle, loving. “What about you, Emma?”
Had someone squeezed her lungs? Perhaps her corset had been laced too tight. She could scarcely draw a breath.
“I couldn’t give a fig about a man’s politics or his money.”
“Your father might disown you if you married a man he didn’t approve of—a man—”
The pressure on her chest increased. She forced air into her lungs, exhaling slowly to calm her pulse. “I love my father. Truly, I do. But I won’t let him dictate the course of my life. I’ve no intention—”
Without a word, Cole caged her against the seat, his hands pressed against the leather upholstery above her shoulders. “Do you know what you want, Emma?”
Her breath escaped in a rush. “Yes.”
His mouth curled into a sly smile, stirring the most delicious and decadent thoughts. “Do you, now?”
“Yes,” she said again as her arms looped around his neck.
“Tell me, Emma.”
“I want…” Oh, why were the words so hard? Why did angry epithets flow so much more readily than the truth she held in her heart. “I want you.”
He dipped his head, claiming her mouth in a slow, languid caress. One hand slid lower, trailing over the silk of her bodice, sliding beneath her skirts.
“You feel so good, sweetheart.” He pressed another kiss to her parted lips. “And you taste even better.”
His teeth grazed the column of her throat, a sensuous nip of his teeth against her flesh. Murmuring words of tenderness and desire, he blazed a heady trail of kisses along the curve of her shoulder as his fingers sought and found the slit in her pantaloons.
“You’re hot for me, Emma. So damn hot.” Two fingers slipped between the folds of fabric to part her flesh. “So tight.”
His thumb traced little circles over the exquisitely sensitive flesh, stroking, caressing, coaxing a response from her. She squeezed her eyes shut, allowing the liquid heat of his touch to wash over her, all the while he urged her response to a pinnacle from which there would be no retreat.
Only surrender.
“You’re so ready,” he murmured, his voice a low, husky rasp. He dipped his head again, gently claiming lips swollen from his possession, trailing kisses over her throat and shoulders.
And then, the velvet-soft kisses stopped and his fingers slid deeper, leaving her breathless with a hunger spiraling madly out of control. Her breath caught, and she reached for him, but he only rasped her name and ducked his head lower.
The firm, gentle warmth of his tongue swept over her thighs. Good heavens, he couldn’t possibly mean to kiss her…there…
His mouth closed over the heated flesh at the apex of her thighs. Utterly and entirely scandalous, reckless and decadent…pleasure. Each wicked little kiss drove her closer to a swirling rush of sensation. Delight and anticipation and the tiniest hint of pain melded into a vortex of feeling. Drawing her closer to the edge. Closer.
Closer.
The white hot release cascaded over her. Her inner muscles convulsed around him and her nails dug into his shoulders. And all the while, she wanted more. More than this. More than this intoxicating pleasure.
She wanted him, buried within her, penetrating her and claiming her again and again.
Holding her still, he pressed her back against the cushions and buried his mouth against the curve of her throat. “I want you tonight.”
“Yes,” she moaned the word. “On one condition.”
“Anything,” he rasped.
“You’ll hold nothing back.” She hoped beyond all hope that this was not a dream from which she’d soon awaken. “I want you, every delicious inch of your body .”
“Anything you want, Emma. I’m yours.”
She debated her final condition. “There is one more thing, one more thing I want from you tonight.”
“Tell me what you want,” he breathed against her mouth.
“Tonight, you’re going to tell me your name.”
* * *
Cole escorted Emma to the door. A grizzled sentry who might have been her father’s age met Cole with a proper salute. Cole responded in kind, commended the man on his vigilance, and continued into the house.
“You’re going to be the ruination of your father.” The disembodied voice hit Emma like a slap in the face. Eyes as dark and cold as a hawk’s raked over Emma. Aunt Elizabeth emerged from the shadows by the front window. Dressed in a simple blue dress that posed a flattering contrast to her porcelain skin, she might have been beautiful if her lips hadn’t thinned to a slash and her silver-streaked brown hair hadn’t been pulled back in a bun so severe, it pulled her features taut. Her mouth twisted with derision.
The cutting expression in the spinster’s gaze would have cowed Emma not long ago. But the bitter prune of a woman no longer held any power over her. Emma met her aunt’s narrow-eyed contempt with an equally critical glare.
“Aunt Elizabeth, I don’t know what you’re talking—”
“Nonsense, girl. Of course you know. My dear friend Alice Munroe dashed by on her way from the Bradford Estate. Apparently, you caused quite a stir. You’ve disgraced your father’s good name once again. This is unforgivable.”
“It seems you’ve been misinformed.” The steel in Cole’s tone might have pierced a more gentle soul, but Aunt Elizabeth squared her shoulders as if readying for battle.
“And you—” She wagged a bony finger in Cole’s face. “I’ve seen how you look at her. I see how you lust after the girl. Why a man like you isn’t fit—”
“That’s enough.” Emma’s voice echoed off the high ceilings of the main hall. “I suspect if you’d ever been the object of a man like Major Travis’ lust, as you call it, you might not be a sour-faced harpy who cannot muster a kind word for anyone, including my father.”
“Why, you impudent little hussy.”
“You’ve no call to speak to Miss Davenport in such a manner.” Cole’s calm, quiet tone held more power than a bellow.
Aunt Elizabeth cocked her chin so high, it seemed a wonder her head didn’t roll off her neck. “I do hope you realize who you’re talking to, Major—one word from my brother, and you’ll be—”
“I said that’s enough,” Emma’s voice lowered to a near whisper. “You will not speak to me or Major Travis or anyone else, including
the staff, in that manner. As for Major Travis, he and I have important matters to discuss that do not involve you.”
Slowly shaking her head, Aunt Elizabeth retreated a step. “You’ve brought shame on this family with your escapades. Haven’t you done enough?” Her attention riveted on Cole. “And you—you’ll ruin her.”
“If I’m fortunate.” Emma looped her arm with Cole’s and brushed past her slack-jawed aunt as they strolled to the parlor. “Good night.”
“Your father will hear about this.”
“He most certainly will,” Emma said over her shoulder. “It’s high time he knew the truth about that venomous tongue of yours.”
Cole closed the parlor door behind them. He turned the key in the lock, then caught her in his arms.
“She’s right, you know,” Cole breathed against her mouth.
“So that’s it…you intend to ruin me,” she murmured. “I’d say it’s a bit late to be thinking about that.”
“I can’t give you a house like this, Emma. Or silk gowns or jewels. I’m a soldier, not a man who can provide the luxuries you deserve.”
“I don’t care about any of those things.”
He caught her hands in his and led her to the velveteen-upholstered settee. “In the carriage, you had a request.”
Biting back a smile, she nodded. “Indeed I did.”
“I’ve long considered my given name to be information only a few needed to know. My brother bore my father’s name, and I, my grandfather’s. Damn shame I wasn’t the oldest.”
“Out with it,” she prodded.
“You’ll see it soon enough, when Miranda enters it in the family Bible.”
“The family Bible?”
“She’s meticulous about recording births and deaths and…other significant events.”
She squeezed his hand, the laughter draining from her heart. “Surely you don’t think you’ll be killed.”
His shoulders lifted and fell. “I’m a soldier, and we’re at war. It’s always a possibility. But that wasn’t what I meant.”
Emotion seared the back of her throat. “Cole, what are you telling me?”
“I’ll be in Petersburg within the week. From there, I don’t know where I’ll go. I’ll do my damnedest to come back…to come back to you…but there are no guarantees.”
She shook her head and furiously blinked back tears. “Don’t talk like that. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
His mouth cocked into a crooked half-grin. “Emma, darlin’, even a cat only has nine lives. There’s no telling what I’m going to encounter when I head into the field. I’m not going into a battle where the enemy wears a uniform.”
“Nothing will happen to you,” she repeated, as if her words could make him invincible.
His thumb swirled tight circles over the back of her hand, and as he met her gaze, an emotion infinitely more enduring and powerful than desire burned in his eyes.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I know this…before I leave, you will bear my name.”
Tears blurred her vision, escaping the fragile dam of her lashes to slide down her cheeks. He tenderly brushed away a few fat drops. “Don’t cry, Emma.”
“I…I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.
“Say you’ll marry me, Emma. I won’t leave without knowing any child we’ve made will know his father was an honorable man.”
She managed a nod as a fissure split her heart. “And if there is no child?”
His eyes widened, as if a great truth had penetrated his consciousness. “I’ll have you. For the rest of my days. If I live to be a hundred, you’ll be mine.”
“And when I’m old and gray, will you still want me then?”
He reached out, swiping away a tear with his fingertip. “I love you, Emma. Now. And eighty years from now, when our teeth are nothing more than memories, I’ll still love you.”
Trembling with emotion, she cupped his face in her hands. “I do love you so very much.”
“Emma, will you marry me?” The crooked grin she loved so much brightened his face. “Will you become Mrs. Hezekiah Coleman Travis?”
“Hezekiah?” she repeated.
He nodded. “Answer my question, sweetheart.”
“When we do have a child…if it’s a boy…you won’t be expecting a namesake, will you?”
He swallowed hard. Her arrogant, so-very-confident soldier eyed her nervously. The power she held over him warmed her heart.
“Answer the question, Emma. Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” Tears of joyous emotion streaked her cheeks. “Yes, yes, yes.”
He kissed her then, a long, languid caress. Lincoln and all his generals could have strolled into the room, and Emma wouldn’t have cared. Cole trailed soft kisses over her nape, stopping long enough to nibble her earlobe. Heat spread through her body. Coherent thought was nearly impossible when she ached for his touch.
“When you kissed me, was that part of your mission? Did you think I’d give you less trouble if I fell in love with you?”
A wicked grin spread across his rugged features. “Darlin’, kissing you had nothing to do with the mission.”
An urgent rap at the door tore Emma from her bliss. “Major Travis, are you in there?”
She recognized the voice as the young sentry who’d greeted them the day before. Cole muttered a curse under his breath as he came to his feet, straightened his jacket, and addressed the guard. “The entry code, soldier.”
“Zebra, sir.”
Unlocking the door, Cole motioned for the sentry to step inside.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but a situation has arisen.” The younger man spoke in crisp syllables. “For your eyes only, sir.”
“Private Murphy, I presume the situation is urgent.”
“I believe so, sir.”
Cole met his words with a brisk nod. “Return to your post, Murphy. I’ll meet you there.” He waited until the soldier was out of earshot, then turned to Emma. “I want you to go to your room. Don’t let anyone in.”
Emma’s stomach twisted, but she managed a nod. “You will let me know what you find out.”
“Of course,” he said, the huskiness stripped from his voice, replaced by a cool efficiency. “At this point, there’s no telling.” He kissed her quick and walked to the door. “Wait for me.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“It wasn’t long ago, you wanted to kill me yourself. You really do need to make up your mind.” A seductive gleam danced in his eyes as he fished a key from his pocket and dangled it like a trophy. “I will be back, Emma. This night isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Emma paced over the rug in her bedchamber, learning what seemed like every knot and bump in the braided wool beneath her slippered feet. Nearly an hour had passed, and still, she’d heard nothing from Cole. She peered from her window, detecting no unusual movement in the area just beyond the house. Whatever had torn him away from her remained a mystery.
Finally, he called to her through the door, his rasp low and gravel-edged. The key slid into the lock. As the heavy panel swung open, Cole met her questioning gaze with a weary shake of his head.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” he said as he stripped off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair. “The intruder Private Murphy detected on the grounds turned out to be a stray dog, a docile one at that. The man jumps at the sight of his own shadow.”
Three long strides, and Cole was there, pulling her into his arms. Holding her. Kissing her. Tantalizing her with whispered promises of all the delicious pleasures to be found in his arms.
His mouth smoldered over hers until she was nearly senseless and her knees went weak. His arms coiled around her waist as he pressed her to the length of his body.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he breathed against her ear. His hands skimmed over her body, soothing, undemanding, loving her without words.
Traci
ng Cole’s full mouth with her fingertip, she drank in the faint scents of soap and musk. “Somehow, I always knew,” she murmured, running her fingers over his strong jaw. “Even when I thought you were a desperado, I knew you would never hurt me.”
His fingers threaded through her hair. “I’m just a soldier. Not nearly as romantic as an outlaw.”
Her pulse quickened as she pressed a kiss against his throat. “I don’t need an outlaw. I need you.”
“I want you so damn bad, Emma.”
The husky caress in his voice melted away everything in the world but him. There was only this man, this hunger. Molded to him, she coiled her arms around his neck.
“I’m yours.” Her pulse pounded a vibrant rhythm. She nestled closer, needing him as she’d never needed anything in her twenty-three years.
Cole’s mouth curved into a sensuous smile as he deftly worked the closures of her dress. Peeling the fabric from her body, he trailed his fingers’ path with tiny, teasing kisses, each a tender caress.
“You’re beautiful. Even prettier than I ever imagined.”
Her dress slid to the floor, followed by her corset. Cole’s gaze dropped to her silk pantaloons, a wicked glint lighting his eyes. “I want to see you.” He untied the ribbon closure at her waist. “Every beautiful inch.”
She wriggled with delight. “Do I have a choice?”
“A woman like you always has a choice. Would you deny me, Emma?”
“Never,” she whispered.
He slipped the soft fabric over her hips. The pantaloons drifted down to join her dress. The filmy cloth of her chemise seemed merely a veil, concealing little from his ravenous eyes.
“That’s better. Much better,” he said in a husky rasp.
Emma reached up, working the buttons on his white cotton shirt. “I want to see the man I fell in love with.”
“I’m not very interesting,” he said, tugging the shirt over his head. With a sly smile, he tossed it to join his jacket on the chair.
Her gaze swept over his chiseled shoulders and lightly-furred chest. Bared to her eyes, his sculpted body bore silent testimony to the ordeals he’d endured. Faded scars from the battlefield blended with more recent wounds incurred in her defense. He’d never complained of the pain he’d endured. His only concern had been protecting her.
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