“Will, please. Make love to me.”
His hand smoothed over her nub once, twice, three times before he hovered above her. She gently dropped his penis and raised her hands to his waist. Without word or instruction, he laid his legs within hers and Emily opened hers wide in welcome. His hand reached between their bodies and with gentle consideration, he slid tentatively inside her. She felt her resistance, his soft nudge and she broke. At last his body lay flat to hers and they were one.
He moved slowly, gently, until she stole her hands onto the taut firmness of his buttocks and pressed down. He closed his eyes, groaned, and picked up speed. She dug her nails deeper. The sensations roared. Her feelings soared. She lifted her hips, taking him deeper, holding him closer. On and on he urged her, his hips thrusting with joyous precision . . .
Her release came hard and fast, shuddering through her body with such ardent intensity Emily laughed with the shock of it.
She was a woman. Will’s woman. Her joy was unsurpassed.
He made love to her like she would be his for eternity. The words “I love you” spilled from his lips along with his seed and tears of joy fell from Emily’s eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
Will smiled. Emily’s eyelids flickered with dreams that appeared to delight her as she slept. He hoped it was him she saw. An hour earlier, the first call of the rooster hailing a new day had woken him. Unable to sleep, Will scoured the barn and happened upon some disused roof slate. Further investigation brought forth some chalkstone and he fashioned some rudimentary drawing apparatus.
He’d been sketching her since dawn. When he left Bath he hoped the drawing would bring him some comfort rather than pain each time he looked at it. Will rubbed the side of his finger over the chalky line of Emily’s jaw to soften it. God, he loved that jaw. He loved her neck, her collarbones, her breasts. . . .
He shifted as his need to have her rose again. They’d made love twice more during the night and he should leave her be, but even the sight of her naked breasts showing above the wool blanket aroused him. She was a virgin before. A virgin but so incredibly sensual. Will tugged at the front of his trousers in a bid to loosen them. She was everything he wanted but even if he succeeded in getting her away from Milne—correction, when he succeeded—he had nothing of substance to offer her.
Frustration burned. He saw no other solution but to let her go. Her loyalty lay with her father. She would never leave him. He could not stay in Bath with neither means nor money. He needed the country where manual work was endless, the fresh air welcome. They were different even if their hearts were so profoundly connected. She deserved a man who could afford to give her everything she desired. He feared the wrong outcome; he feared her passion to maintain her father’s legacy. What if she refused to walk away from Milne? Her conviction was palpable.
“Will?”
He started and looked up from the slate. “Good morning, beautiful.”
Her eyes shone and her sleepy smile grew wide as she languidly stretched her arms above her head. Her nipples showed dark against the creamy white fullness of her breasts.
“What are you doing?”
Guilty heat seared Will’s cheeks. “Nothing.”
Narrowing her eyes, she pulled the blanket around her and stood. “You’re drawing. Please, you must let me see.” Her eyes shone with excitement.
He smiled and snatched the slate to his chest. “It’s not finished.” “Is it me?” She made to grab it.
He held fast. “Yes, but you can only see it once it is done.”
She crossed her arms over the blanket and pouted. “That is entirely unfair. Malcolm will be here to pick us up soon. How will you finish it? Please, let me see what you have drawn thus far.”
“No.”
“Will, please.”
He studied her. “Fine . . . on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“You lay back down.”
She glanced toward the mattress. “I can’t. The day has broken, Mrs. Lancaster—”
“Now that you have risen and covered your beautiful bosom, I have no way of finishing the drawing. However, if you let me see them again, I will sketch faster than a caricaturist befuddled on opium.”
“You are incorrigible.” Her eyes widened with delight. “I will do no such thing. Your request clearly is in more with wanting to see my breasts than your art.”
Laughing, Will placed the slate facedown beside him and lunged forward to grab her. She promptly fell shrieking into his arms, settling her beautiful behind in his lap.
“Kiss me, woman.”
Her lips immediately met his and Will closed his eyes. He breathed in the scent of her skin as it pressed near his nose, sealing it tight in his memory. The night had been short and his hatred for Milne grew. His remaining moments with Emily were limited. Malcolm would soon arrive to collect them and then they would be forced to resume their farce of lady and protector.
They parted and Will stared into her cocoa eyes. “Well, I think that kiss merits you a quick glance at the sketch after all.”
She clapped her hands. “Let me see.”
He picked up the slate and turned it over. Her gasp warmed his soul. She was his biggest passion and now he had a permanent memory of her. His gaze wandered over her happy face as she reached out to touch the drawing.
“Oh, Will. I look amazing.”
He buried his face in the hair above her ear. “You are amazing.” “But look at the shading, the lines. You are a genius.”
“The subject is a genius, not I.”
She turned and his heart hitched to see tears glaze her eyes. He brushed them away with his thumb. “Why are you crying?”
Shaking her head, she squeezed her eyes shut. “You have to stay with me.”
“Emily—”
She opened her eyes and she trembled. “Say you’ll stay, no matter what happens. This isn’t about me, or us, or Nicholas, my marriage. This is about you.” She looked back at the slate and lifted it into the air. “Your talent is God given. If you can do something as beautiful as this from studying me, what could you do with a model? A landscape?”
He smiled and touched his fingers to her chin. Her gaze fell to his lips as his fell to hers. “I fear if I stay I should never draw anything or anyone else but you.”
“Stay anyway.” She leaned closer.
Will swallowed. He was weakening. His resistance to leave her tilted on a knife-edge and when her lips touched his, the cut was deep.
The barn doors flew open and Emily leapt from his lap as though she’d been scalded. Will tensed. It didn’t matter their feelings, they were not wed and Emily’s reputation was in peril. A fact that was incredibly real—but he would never regret their lovemaking. He loved her and if he had the means to offer her a future, he’d ask her to marry him in a heartbeat.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Samson.” Mrs Lancaster smiled but then halted when her gaze fell on Emily’s state of undress. “Oh, I do beg your pardon.” Two spots of color darkened her cheeks. “I assumed you’d be in your nightgown.”
Will stood, hiding Emily behind him. “Good morning to you, Mrs. Lancaster. I assume you slept well?”
Her gaze darted from Emily to him. “I did. It seems your wife was a trifle warm, however.”
Ignoring the slight, Will smiled. “We’ll be on our way as soon as we can. We don’t wish to impinge on your generosity. We truly appreciate the use of your barn for the night. A true saving grace.”
She threw another disapproving glance in Emily’s direction. “You’re welcome. There are eggs and bacon in the kitchen when you deem it the correct time to eat.”
She marched toward the door. Will shook his head and grinned. He turned to Emily. “Quite a character, isn’t she . . . what are you doing?”
Emily yanked the nightgown over her head, her limbs flailing so fast they were little more than a blur. “I’m half-dressed! What if Malcolm or Papa, or Nicholas had walked through those
doors?”
Will stepped toward her and enveloped her in his arms, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “But they didn’t.”
She threw him a glare. “Only a man would say that.”
He held her at arm’s length. “What happened here was beautiful. We love each other. We’ll have our breakfast and then we’ll leave. No one will be any the wiser.”
She grappled from his arms, her cheeks flushed. “Open your eyes. Didn’t you see the look on Mrs. Lancaster’s face? I have the distinct impression she will enjoy telling anyone willing to listen about the state she found me in. What if she tells Malcolm? He will feel duty-bound to tell Papa.”
“Then I’ll ensure that doesn’t happen.”
Her eyes stormed with frustration and disbelief. “What is it you suggest we do? Gag her?”
He smiled—but quickly dissolved it when the fire in her eyes inflamed further. “If you prefer, we’ll not stay for breakfast. We’ll tell Mrs. Lancaster we do not wish to intrude any longer and want to start our walk home.”
Emily stared into the distance. She and Will walked hand in hand along the same dirt track she’d walked as a virgin the night before with Carrington plodding on behind. She’d given her body to a man she loved. Her stomach swirled with fear and wonder, but not regret. Even knowing their love affair was doomed did nothing to lessen her joy at taking the previous hours and making them theirs. She’d keep their secret like a hidden jewel forever. Hers to treasure, to hold and remember. The time would never fade. Its prisms would forever surround her soul, filling her with light whenever she needed it most.
She blinked back tears. She wanted to believe they would find a way to sever the contract binding her to Nicholas, yet the wedding date loomed ever closer. She shivered as the chill of impossibility seeped into her blood. Whatever happened next, at least she knew what it was to have a man fill her heart with joy. She’d always have these four weeks with Will to hold as her own.
The sight of an elaborate-looking carriage ahead jolted Emily from her romantic thoughts. The manner in which the driver lifted the reins and lashed them down upon the two horses in front alerted her to impending danger. Piebald horses. Only one person she knew owned piebald horses. She dropped Will’s hand as her blood turned cold.
“Nicholas.” Her breath hitched and her heart hammered. “It’s Nicholas.”
Will stiffened beside her. “It’s all right, my love. He will not so much as look at you the wrong way while I’m here.”
Emily’s heart thundered as she looked at him. His jaw was rigid, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes narrowed to slits. This wasn’t the Will who made her laugh with a mere wiggle of his eyebrows, or looked at her with such desire she felt she would melt under the flattering heat of his study. This was a Will capable of murder and it saddened her he carried such a strong hatred inside such a beautiful vessel.
“Will, look at me.”
He turned.
Resisting the urge to grasp his hand, Emily looked deep into his eyes. “We will face him together. Nicholas may be a bully, but he is my fiancé, and it is I who should answer to him.”
He scowled. “You should answer to no one but yourself.”
The crunch of gravel and the acrid smell of lifted dust turned their heads. With the carriage barely more than a few hundred yards away, there was no time for argument or further discussion. Emily curled her hands into fists at her sides and waited.
The carriage came closer and she recognized Nicholas’s driver. He shouted something toward the carriage and, seconds later, the horses slowed from their near gallop to a trot. Emily and Will stood together like sentries. Standing guard over the precious remaining moments of their liberty.
The horses stopped in front of them. Mustering every ounce of her inner strength, Emily thrust her chin forward and pulled back her shoulders. Staunch dignity seeped into her heart, filling her veins with fortitude and determination. Anything was possible. Nicholas would not weaken her resolve to be the woman she wanted to be. He would not sully her bodily surrender to Will.
The carriage door opened and Nicholas’s ever-present walking cane came first, followed by the man himself.
His driver climbed down from his post and bowed slightly. Nicholas passed him without a glance. Despite the words in her head, Emily trembled. His gaze locked on hers with terrifying intensity. She did not look away.
He stopped directly in front of her and cold perspiration broke out on her spine as her heartbeat quickened. “Disappear, Samson.”
Will huffed. “I don’t think so.”
Foreboding rang in Emily’s ears. The tension stilled the birds in the trees and the breath in her lungs. She needed to separate them before something started she’d have no power to stop.
She stepped forward. “Nicholas—”
His hand shot into the air silencing her. “I said disappear, Samson, before this turns ugly.” His color darkened. “You have spent the night with my fiancée. I should kill you. Maybe I will but not right now. Go.”
Emily risked a glance at Will. His eyes burned with rage and he dropped Carrington’s bridle to cross his arms. “You and I both know you lack the skills needed to kill me, Milne. Is there really any need for the theatrics?”
Emily sucked in a breath and her stomach tightened.
Nicholas glared. “I could snap your neck like a twig.”
Will raised his eyebrows. “Why not do it then? If I stood face to face with the man who’d spent the night with my fiancée, he’d already be dead.”
“Why you—”
Emily rushed between them, pressing her hand to either’s chest. “No, Nicholas. No. Let’s talk.” A vein pulsed at his temple. “Please. Over here. Come.”
He remained frozen, his eye twitching dangerously as he glared at Will. Will’s eyes danced with demonic delight, his smile as wide as the sun. Disappointment dropped like lead into her stomach. Was he enjoying this? Was last night nothing more than ammunition to further his hate campaign toward Nicholas?
She mentally shook her head, refusing to believe it. The feel of his caresses on her skin, the words he whispered against her ear, her hair, her breasts—none of those things could possibly be veiled in masquerade. His passion beat in his heart side by side with hers. So why did her heart suddenly feel so heavy in her chest?
“Will.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Stop this, right now.”
He didn’t look at her. “What do you say, Milne? Are you man enough?”
His blatant snub of her request poured paraffin onto her simmering anger. “I said stop.” Will turned and their eyes locked. Emily stared into his eyes and willed him to back down, to support her. “Your behavior makes me believe everything you did for me last night was not motivated by your regard for my well-being but to further antagonize my fiancé.”
His smile faltered and his gaze darkened with concern. “You know how I—”
She raised her hand, cutting him off, even though her heart hitched with relief at his reaction. “Please do as Nicholas asks and leave us to talk.”
Nicholas shifted behind her. “You heard her, Samson. Now go and sit over there on that rock like the slimy toad you are. Careful not to croak too loudly.”
Breaking his stare from hers, Will tipped his head back and laughed. “Is that an attempt at humor? Good for you. Laughing in the face of adversity is often the only thing a coward possesses.”
Emily’s heart dropped.
“Adversity?” Nicholas shook his head. “I see no adversity, only an inconvenience. I have been a patient man up until now, but this stops now.”
“Is that so?”
Nicholas grasped Emily’s wrist, his fingers digging into the tender flesh like sharpened claws. She swallowed back the urge to cry out and give him the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting her. She attempted to tug her arm free. A deer struggling in a lion’s jaw.
“Release her. Right now.” Will’s voice was a low rumble.
Panic b
ubbled in Emily’s stomach and her mouth drained dry. “Nicholas, drop my arm this instant. If you wish to speak to me alone, I am sure Will will make himself scarce for a few minutes.” She turned to him, her gaze wide with plea.
He continued to glare at Nicholas for a few more seconds before slowly turning to face her. His eyes were dark with anger. “I cannot do that.”
Emily’s stomach tightened. “Please.”
Although addressing her, he shifted his gaze once more to Nicholas. “I fully intend to deliver on your father’s expectation that I protect you. If Mr. Milne doesn’t release you in the next two seconds, I will break his arm.”
Nicholas huffed out a laugh. “I merely wish to be alone with my fiancée. Leave us be. Why don’t you be a good boy and run along.”
“No.”
Emily looked from one man to the other. Helplessness battled inside her. The air crackled with tension and the ground shifted beneath her feet. She opened her mouth to demand Will’s cooperation when Nicholas flung her to the side and swung his fist toward Will.
As though he possessed a sixth sense, Will ducked. Nicholas roared and threw a second punch. “I’ll kill you, Samson.”
Will deftly stepped to the side and Nicholas missed him again. Carrington backed away from their scuffle, seemingly undeterred by their violence. Emily brought her hand to her mouth. Nicholas’s fury raged like an inferno as Will bounced from one foot to the other around the dirt track. Nicholas went after him, his punches hitting the air time and again.
It should have been terrifying yet Nicholas’s humiliation felt entirely just. They moved farther and farther along the track. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought Will was purposely leading Nicholas like a blind man to the gallows. A deep ditch at the side of the road lay a few steps behind him. Knowing Will as she did, he would gleefully watch Nicholas tumble into it before strolling back to her, slapping his hands together in the manner of a job well done.
Turning, Emily called out to the driver who watched the brawl with seemingly equal amusement. His grin was wider than his face. Fighting her own smile, Emily lifted the hem of her mud-stained skirt with one hand and frantically waved the other.
The Seduction of Emily Page 21