by Em Taylor
“This was not how it was meant to be.” Her voice sounded like a whine, even to her ears. Tears burned behind her eyes and her throat ached with the effort not to let them fall. She would not cry in front of Lord Beattie. He scowled at her for a moment then picked up her hand and laid it upon his sleeve.
“Come.”
He was very brusque, she concluded, as he marched her around the trees and down a small path towards a summer house.
When they arrived at the large round glass house, he opened the door and ushered her inside. Some plants were dotted around the outside of the circular room but none had flowers. There were also wicker love seats, chairs set around the outside and a couple of tables. On a nice day, this would be a delightful place to have tea.
“This is a favourite haunt of the ladies during our annual garden party for the villagers. Alas, I fear there will be no garden party this year.”
“Because of the weather?”
“Mostly. Also, because I have been unwell now for four weeks. Now we must make our way North to marry and find grain. I plan to ask your brother to help on that score. I could marry you here, Emily. It would make no real difference but the servants bring me tales of growing unrest every day. There is rioting in Wales. Do you know how close we are to the Welsh border?”
“I know Herefordshire is on the Welsh border but…”
“We are but three miles from the border. Offa’s Dyke is on my land. That was the original border between the Welsh kingdom of Powys and the Anglian kingdom of Mercia. Emily, we are a day’s ride from Hereford and if we are to go North to try to procure some grain, we do have to leave as soon as possible. Much though nothing would give me greater pleasure than to wait three weeks until the banns are read or to at least get a common licence from the bishop, I fear time is not on our side.”
Emily looked down at her hands, trying to unravel the threads of Gideon’s explanation. She was beginning to understand his haste.
“So, let me understand this. The people in Wales are rioting and since we are so near the border, you are concerned that unrest will leach over the border and affect your people.”
“Yes. I fear it is beginning to already.”
“And going to Hereford to see the bishop to get a common licence so you can marry me here will take time out of your journey North to get grain to hopefully resolve the situation here.”
“It shall but…”
She held up a hand to stop him.
“But you must marry me soon because of the gossip and you do not need a licence in Scotland.”
“We must save your reputation, Emily.”
“And your skin, Gideon.”
“I do not fear your uncle. I am told he is a poor shot.”
“I fear you will grow to hate me because you were forced to marry someone to whom you are not even attracted, Gideon.”
He took off his hat and dropped it on a table. Then he shucked out of his greatcoat and dropped it on a chair. He advanced on her and Emily was reminded of paintings she had seen in an art gallery in London of large cats stalking their prey. He tugged on the ribbon of her bonnet and tossed it onto another chair. Then he lifted her chin to hers. His green eyes were dark like the colour of pine trees. He smelled of Sandalwood when he was so close. A lovely woodsy smell that made her almost lightheaded.
He cupped her cheek and tilted her chin so that she had to look him directly in the eye.
“Why would you think I do not find you attractive, Emily?”
“I… you…” She shrugged. She had not particularly thought on it. She had merely assumed. She was not well regarded by gentlemen of the ton, and her company was not sought after for dances or waltzes during the Season. She was just Emily. She was no great beauty. “I am just me.”
“I like ‘just you.’ ‘Just you’ are charming and beautiful and unique.”
“I am clumsy and awkward and not at all ladylike.”
His gaze flicked down to where her décolletage would show, but for her pelisse covering it, and back up to her eyes. She was sure his breath hitched. “You are very much a lady, Emily. I think you underestimate your appeal.”
Her mouth was suddenly very dry and she licked her bottom lip. A rumble, which sounded very much like a groan, came from the viscount’s chest.
“My lord? Are you well?”
He closed his eyes as if reaching for his patience then opened them. Emily was all rather confused, but a little excited too. This was all far beyond her ken but Lord Beattie enthralled her like no other man ever had. Of course, she had seen very handsome gentlemen at Almack’s, in the ballrooms of Mayfair and at the theatre but while she could appreciate their good looks and charm, she had never felt drawn to them as she did with Gideon. She had felt drawn to him even before he had awoken.
“I am well. Emily, have you ever been kissed?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “I am not sure.”
“You are not sure. Emily, it is a simple question. One usually knows if someone has planted their lips on one’s own lips.”
“Does kissing you in your bedchamber count?”
He frowned. “For argument’s sake, let us say no.”
“Then I have not.”
“That kiss was your first kiss?”
“That would be correct.”
“Then it is time for your second kiss.”
“Oh!”
He smiled as he lowered his head and captured her lips gently with his. He encouraged her to open her lips and everything that she had started to learn in the bedchamber came flooding back. She lifted her hands onto his shoulders and pressed her body wantonly against his.
He angled his head, his tongue moving deeper into her mouth, exploring leisurely. He used one hand to undo the buttons of her pelisse and once the garment gaped, he moved his hand inside. It was then she realised he still had his gloves on. Emily pulled at his hair as sweet sensations travelled through her. Her nipples tightened and an ache settled between her legs. The viscount trailed little kisses along her jaw and down her neck as his cupped her breast with his hand. Suddenly Emily felt very vulnerable and pulled away.
“Please, my lord. Please stop.”
Gideon froze and watched as she took two steps back from him and pulled her pelisse tight around him.
“What is the matter, Emily? Did you not like it? Was I too... rough?”
“I… yes. I liked it well enough.” She did not want to sound wanton. In truth, she had liked it very much and she craved more. It was part of the reason she pulled away.
“Then I moved too quickly. I apologise. I should never have undone your pelisse and touched your breast.”
Oh, how scandalous of him to mention her breast. She bit her lip and turned her head to look out of the summer house windows but they were all misted up.
“No. I liked it and I suppose I will have to get used to it if we are to wed.”
“I would hope you would do more than get used to it, Emily. It should bring you pleasure.”
The way his voice rasped out the word ‘pleasure’ sent a shiver through Emily.
“It does. It did, I mean. I am just unused to it. That is all. I am also concerned that I do not know what to do.”
“To do?”
She gathered her courage and looked him in the eye.
“My mother died when I was twelve. I cannot possibly ask Aunt Gertrude to explain and I fear asking Sophia. I know she would explain but…”
“You do not want to appear silly in front of your friend?”
Emily shook her head.
“Well, there are two answers. Firstly, Sophia will not think you silly. My mother died in childbirth with Sophia so I do not know whom she asked about her wedding night. Perhaps she was as confused and apprehensive as you are, but worry not. I know what I am doing and I will guide you through it slowly. I understand that the first time may be painful for ladies but I shall do my best to be gentle.”
His eyes crinkled with laughter and he chuckled.
“Not quite though the general idea is the same. The position is usually different. That said, once we are more practised, if you want to try that position, I would be more than willing.”
“Positions?” She frowned at him and pursed her lips. Oh dear, it sounded very complicated indeed.
“I have confused you, have I not. It really is very simple, my dear. Worry not. Women have been doing this for thousands of years. It’s easier than falling off a horse.”
“Oh, I am an expert at that.”
“Well then, I look forward to helping you become an expert in bed sports.”
Emily was sure her cheeks must be aflame.
“Lord Beattie!”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Really Lady Emily, while perhaps I should moderate what I say, I see no reason when I am going to wed you in but one week. Take off your pelisse and gloves and come and sit with me.”
He moved to a settee which looked rather narrow for Emily’s liking. Emily was never one to shrink from a challenge. She removed her outdoor clothing. It was not as cold as she had imagined it would be. She walked over to him and sat beside him. His hands were also now bare, again she admired his strong hands and perfectly manicured nails.
“Do you mean to ravish me, Lord Beattie?” The words were out before she had a chance to stop them.
Gideon barked out a laugh.
“Ravish you? In a summer house. Good Lord, no!” He lifted one of her hands and pressed it to his lips. Emily sighed. The kiss sent tingles all down her arm.
“Is it very wanton to say I enjoyed your kiss?”
He smiled, a warm smile that reached his eyes. “It is not wanton at all, my lady as long as you only kiss me.”
A smile tugged at her own lips and despite the slight chill, she felt warm inside. He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. This time the kiss was sweet and his arms moved around her waist. She cupped his cheek with one hand and moved her other up his coat, enjoying the feel of the wool over his rippling chest muscles.
She opened her lips and his tongue began to explore. Her own tongue made tentative little forays into his mouth and he moaned appreciatively. Eventually, he pulled his lips from hers and placed his forehead on hers.
“Oh, my beautiful Emily. Seven days in a carriage with you will send me to Bedlam.” Her hand was still on his cheek, he moved his head and captured her thumb in his mouth. Her finger was caught between his teeth but it did not hurt. Then he swirled his tongue around the pad and Emily’s eyes widened. The ache between her legs turned to a throb. A little gasp escaped her and Gideon let her thumb go.
Neither said anything but Gideon gave her a knowing look. Did he know what effect his action had just had on her? But, of course, he did. He was a rake. He had admitted it himself to her aunt. Now she was his. He didn’t seem so tame now he was no longer sleeping.
Chapter 9
Was he sure what he was doing? Devil take it. Of course, he was not sure this was the right course of action. Eloping with an innocent, dragging her to Scotland in the worst weather in known history. Trying to collect grain which would only put them at risk from highwaymen and robbers.
Would her family ever forgive him if Emily came to any harm? Would he forgive himself? His mind wandered back to the afternoon before in the summer house. She had been very unsure of herself, but a few times, she had lost herself to the pleasure and allowed him to lead her. Those had been the moments when he had nearly forgotten he was kissing an innocent—when he nearly took things further than he ought.
He would have to be careful.
He placed the book he was reading onto the table and stood. It was time to waken Emily. A few servants were awake, but only a couple whom he trusted to keep their mouths shut until the time was appropriate. They needed time to get away.
He walked as quietly as possible upstairs and along to Emily’s bedchamber. Of course, this was terribly improper, as was eloping but there was nothing else for it.
She cracked open the door and there she lay, atop her covers, dressed and ready to go. Her boots lay at the bottom of her bed and her pelisse and fur shawl were thrown over a chair, her bonnet on the dressing table beside them, but she was fast asleep.
Gideon chuckled. He approached her and as he leaned over to shake her, he could not prevent his impulsive action. He pressed his lips to hers.
She muttered something and moved her head slightly but he kissed her again. This time, her eyes fluttered open. Recognition brightened her gaze and her tongue shot out to moisten her lips.
“Gideon?”
“Yes. It is me. It is time to go.”
“Now?”
“Yes now.” God’s teeth this woman was going to be difficult. She didn’t ever just obey. He wanted to kiss her more. That slight brush of the lips had whetted his appetite. He was annoyed at himself. He should be more in control. Why did she get under his skin so?
She had scurried out of bed and was putting on her pelisse.
“Whatever will people think of me? Running away like a thief in the night.” She sounded upset. She swirled her long braid into a knot and began to jab pins into her head. Gideon winced but Emily did not seem to notice. “They will think I am with child or something equally disgusting.”
Gideon moved over to her and stilled her hands. “Being with child is not disgusting. It is the beginning of a new life and something wonderful. The people who matter will know you cannot possibly be with child. You and I know the truth. The rest of the ton can go and hang themselves for all I care what they think. When no baby arrives in seven months, they will know that you were not with child. Now stop rambling as I have no wish to have to double back to Bedlam to leave you there. It will add a week onto my journey at least.”
“You would not.”
“I would if you continue to rave like a mad woman.”
She glared at him and he chuckled and pressed a kiss to her nose. “I cannot tell when you jest and when you are serious, my lord.”
“That pleases me. I should like it to remain so. That way, I shall have you dancing on your toes throughout our marriage. Now, boots on and we shall go to the kitchen. Mrs Harrower has made some tea and pastries and I want you to have a glass of brandy before we go to warm you inside. Denholm has placed a couple of hot bricks for our feet on the floor of the carriage. Your bag is already in the carriage. I thought since we are travelling light and the weather so bad we would take out valises into the carriage with us.”
Emily nodded and put on her boots.
Half an hour later they were trundling down the private road and out of Beattie Park estate. His plan was to either borrow a coach from Emily’s brother, hire or buy one in Carlisle if necessary. He hoped Emily’s brother would be willing to loan them one. That way he could bring grain home for his people with the minimum of cost.
Emily was sitting with her back-ram rod straight as though she were sitting in the Duchess of Wellington’s drawing room during afternoon tea. She could not sit like this for an entire carriage ride. She would be in agony by the end of it. His carriage was large enough and well sprung. He had considered selling it along with some of the horses which had been in the other stables when he’d had his accident. Why he hadn’t put Caesar in with the other horses, he didn’t really know. He had been stupid and pig-headed.
He leaned on the sill of the window and placed his chin on his hand, considering her for a moment before speaking.
“I do not plan to ravish you, Emily. There is no need to be on your guard.”
Her head whipped towards him and her lips thinned. “I am not on my guard.”
“You are clutching your reticule like a weapon, you are sitting with your back as straight as a soldier’s and you have a look of grim determination on your face. If the wind changes, as my nurse us
ed to say, you will remain that way.”
Her shoulders sagged slightly and she released an audible sigh.
“I did not sleep much. What time did you waken me?”
“Half past four.”
“I heard the clock chime four.”
“So, you only got about twenty minutes of sleep.”
“Perhaps less.”
“I too did not sleep.” He pulled a blanket from the seat opposite them and spread it over their legs. Then he pulled the ribbon of her bonnet and tossed it onto the opposite seat along with his hat. When he placed his arm around her, she stiffened momentarily but he crooned to her the way he crooned to Caesar when he was skittish.
She slowly relaxed under his gentle hold and sank against his side. He brushed his lips against the top of her hair. Already she felt so comfortable—so right. As if she belonged there.
She nuzzled into his coat and he settled back properly on the seat. He wanted to fall asleep but his mind was racing. He’d left instructions for his man of business, letters for Sophia, Emily’s aunt and he trusted his staff implicitly. He was slightly concerned about Sophia. He didn’t trust her late husband’s nephew and just hoped the dire weather would keep the foppish little squirt from coming anywhere near Herefordshire anytime in the next three weeks. That said, he did have a few footmen who were handy with their fists if Sophia was in danger and he was the local magistrate.
Edwin would be put behind bars until Gideon returned in three weeks if he tried anything and the village prison was no picnic.
“Are you sleeping, Gideon?” Emily asked about an hour later. He had been dozing fitfully in between his musings about his sister.
“Hmm, not really.”
“Neither, am I?”
“Oh, that must have been the coachman I heard snoring,” he said, grinning.
“I do not snore.”
“You do a little but it is delightful ladylike snores.” She moved her hand and he was painfully aware that her arm brushed over his hard length. He’d been half-asleep with a beautiful woman who smelled of lavender and lilies in his arms. He had not paid any attention to his body’s reactions to her.