Unleashed Desires 0f A Noble Lady (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Scarlett Osborne

  She closed her eyes and rested her head on the side of the cabin, letting the gentle rocking of the horse-drawn carriage lull her to sleep.

  Chapter 9

  Donald was flushed and full of love the night of the ball. When he woke the next morning he still felt like he was lighter than air. His thoughts were of Emma. The way her hands felt clasped in his, the gentle sway of her body. The melody of her laugh. The occasional gasp when he would pleasantly surprise her.

  To make her gasp like that in my bed, that would truly be a sound worth hearing.

  It was the persistent nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he had forgotten something that was finally able to draw his attention away from thoughts of Emma.

  Firstly, not only had he not tried to negotiate with the gentleman currently destabilizing his business, but instead directly insulted him by interrupting his attempt to dance with Emma. He didn’t want to think of the consequences that might bring. Although he outranked Lord Gallanville, he could still cause Donald quite a bit of business problems. And would seek opportunities to do so too, now that it was personal.

  Secondly, he was in love with Emma. Not really so much a realization as a constant blissful, worrying epiphany. One which he could not decide how to reconcile. It didn’t help that today was the day of their weekly walk through Fyre Glen.

  When he had Helt dress him for the day he thought back to the boisterous conversations he used to have with the other gentlemen in The Blossom Court. Who in their right mind would settle down into marriage? To trade away your freedom. To invest so much free time, energy, even money into another person. It used to seem so illogical to him. Now he was unsure who was the bigger fool, his past self, or his present self?

  As he ate breakfast he couldn’t help but continue to argue with himself, his own mind divided. What good was love to him? What would it gain him? It would just make his life more difficult.

  No, my life will be fuller than I had ever imagined.

  Full of what, though, the old half of him argued. He had her company, her friendship. He got to see her and talk to her, to see her smile. What would he gain by declaring his love to her, especially when he had so much to lose? Was it really so important that she knew how he felt?

  It does. More than all the money, power, or comfort in the entire world.

  After he had finished his breakfast, he took his leave and informed his coachman to head to the Westfolk Estate. He would be taking his walk with Emma early today and would be providing the carriage ride to the park.

  He sat in the carriage and shifted back and forth in his seat, still not exactly sure why he had changed the plans so drastically and without first sending someone ahead to make sure he wasn’t imposing. He was acting impulsive and rash and this wasn’t like him.

  Each time he tried to bring himself into what he thought of as his “rational mind” all he could think about was Emma. Spending his whole life with Emma. Talking to Emma. Holding Emma. Kissing Emma.

  I have to tell her.

  * * *

  Of all the times that Emma had overslept in her life, this was one of the few occasions that it was excusable, given the physical, not to mention emotional, strain that a ball can have on a young lady. Thus she was allowed to sleep in.

  Even when she noticed how late in the day it was, she wasn’t too worried. Donald and Matthew, now just Donald, had grown accustomed to her coming to the meeting place in the Fyre Glen late. She always feigned insult when Matthew would joke that they had time to stop for pies on the way there without being worried about being late.

  Which was why she was more than a little surprised when she heard a soft rapt at her door.

  “Lady Emma?” The quiet but stern voice of her lady’s maid, then a pause. “She still sleeps, let Lord Stapleton know that he is welcome to wait in the drawing room until she is ready to be seen, but when that will be is unclear.”

  Emma got up out of bed and hurried, jumping a little at the cold floor on her bare feet. She looked down to make sure her sleeping clothes were properly fastened before yanking the door open. She caught Josephine just as she was about to exit down the hall. “Lord Stapleton is here?!” her voice was almost a hiss as she mixed her surprise with a whisper. “Why is he here? We normally meet at the park, not at the manor.”

  “I assure you, My Lady, I have not a clue. The Lord seems a bit out of sorts, if I may be so bold. Perhaps something has come up?” Josephine was always bold when it came to the gentleman friends of Emma, having little regard for them.

  Emma let out a large exasperated sigh. “I am ready to dress, and we must move hastily. Whatever the concern is I don’t want to keep Lord Stapleton waiting.”

  “Of course, My Lady.”

  Emma dressed faster than she ever had in her life and had to be stopped from walking out her bedroom door on three separate occasions. Eventually Josephine released her, trailing with a remark about her hair not being fully brushed but Emma was too caught up in heading to the drawing room.

  Emma realized the thing that pleased her most was the idea of starting her day off seeing Donald.

  She practically flew into the drawing room, Josephine in frantic tow, trying to rush and hold her composure all at the same time. Donald turned from facing out the window with a worried smile. He looked as though he hadn’t slept well.

  “Emma, I thought to offer to give you a ride to the park while I was out and about, but instead I impose upon you by arriving too early,” he frowned.

  “No imposition, Donald, I was just tired from the merrymaking at the ball last night. You know how events like those are a drain on me.” She had become an expert at deflecting many of Donald’s unneeded apologies.

  “Unfortunately, we cannot leave early,” Emma explained. “Henrietta had a social affair this morning. She isn’t here to leave with us.”

  “Ah, well,” Donald averted his gaze. “I was actually hoping it could be just the two of us today.”

  Emma was taken aback, Donald had never asked for her company alone before. For them to go on their public walk as well was simply out of the question.

  Donald shook his head, as if reading Emma’s mind. “Not Fyre Glen, of course, perhaps a walk through the estate garden. It’s been so long since I have taken the time and I do love the work that your gardeners do,” he said with a smile that put her at ease. Springtime was always a time of year that delighted Emma and part of the reason she stayed at the London Estate was because the garden here flourished much better than the one in the country. Donald knew her estate’s private garden was one of the few places she liked more than Fyre Glen.

  She gave an excited nod. “That would be lovely, I think.”

  “If you lead the way, I will join you.” Donald gestured in the direction of the terrace that led to the estate’s lavish and lush garden.

  * * *

  Donald was an avid fan of flowers and flowering plants, and on any other walk he would delight Emma by naming the flowers by their scientific names as well as common ones. Right now, his mind was far from the flowers.

  In fact, this was the most silent their walk had ever been. Donald tried to tell if they were silent out of comfort or awkwardness and found himself experiencing equal parts both. He dreaded breaking the silence, let alone with a confession of love. Instead Emma was the one who broke it.

  “Which one of the flowering trees is your favorite?”

  “Have I never told you? I am surprised it hasn’t come up. You will laugh.” He smiled with only a touch of sheepishness.

  “Even if I laugh, I still want to know.” She took several steps in front of him so he couldn’t avert his gaze.

  He walked over, passed the entire flourishing non-native flora to one of the old-fashioned apple trees. He picked one of the white and red blossoms from the branch and brought it over to her. “I always thought apple blossoms were under appreciated for their beauty. May I?” he gestured with the flower, offering to affix it to her clothes as h
e had done dozens of times before.

  She nodded and he leaned in to touch her clothes gently. He saw her lean in too, which he didn’t expect, and then it happened.

  Did I kiss her or did she kiss me?

  Did it matter? All that mattered to Donald at that moment was the kiss. In reality it may have been a small innocent thing that happened in a matter of seconds. Not even long enough for Josephine to balk at.

  To Donald, though, the kiss lasted so long. A thousand shared moments and a million heart beats were all wrapped up in those few seconds.

  It was then he knew. They would have a lot to talk about. He was sure to drag his confession out to the point of embarrassment, but he knew in that moment that she loved him. And she must know how he felt as well.

  So many emotions overwhelmed him all at once. He had to tell her how he felt. Tell her now. But not just now, again and again until he could no longer find the strength to tell her.

  When he pulled away from the kiss, Donald looked Emma in the eye. “You must think me a fool for taking this long to realize it, but I love you. I don’t only love you. In loving you I now know what it means to tell someone you are in love. That is how I feel about you.”

  Emma simply looked at him, and the look told him more than a million words could have. “I love you, too. I always have.”

  Her eyes tell me so much more about how she feels than her words ever could.

  Not to mention how so much could be awakened. He thought that his skin burned with a desire for his lady love before, now it was truly an inferno. A painful ache deep inside him wanted nothing more than to grab Emma, hold her, and show her how deep his passion burned.

  There would be time for that, though, now they had all the time in the world. And for now he wanted to tell her of his love before he brought up the matters of his lust.

  Chapter 10

  Donald stood stoically on the dark pier, appearing unperturbed by the chill night air. The ship creaked quietly into the harbor. The event was usually a noisy affair, but the stillness of the late-night dock made the calls of the sailors seem muted, as if choked by the silence itself.

  The pier was always so wet that Donald could feel it underneath his multiple layers, the dampness hung in the air tangibly. It was a place of weathered and warped wood that creaked with every step and the buildings that weren’t caked in a layer of salt held barnacles. It was not a place that most lords frequent for too long.

  When he had first received the letters several months ago telling of Matthew’s return, his stomach had turned with a mixture of excitement and worry. He was overjoyed to hear of his friend’s return. He could not help but be concerned, though, at his friend’s reaction to what had been transpiring in his absence.

  There was so much for Matthew to catch up on. Donald would tell himself time and time again that his friend would welcome the news of his newfound love. That his best friend would applaud his efforts to keep their company in good condition, regardless of the trials he has faced. Still, Donald knew little of what Matthew had encountered overseas, and was worried that their reunion might be a less than happy one.

  Still, I missed my best friend. It’ll be good to see him.

  Donald moved to the base of the gangplank as it was set ashore. He wished greatly to embrace his friend and was excited to see him first off the ship. Instead he found himself dodging earnest and tired men unloading cargo and making their way off of the vessel that had confined them for months on end. After turning to move around a particularly large crate he spotted Matthew.

  His skin had tanned from the days at sea, and his blonde hair now hung just above his shoulders. But he was still the same slight, bright young gentleman, the lamplight glinting off his charming smile. “Donald!” he exclaimed and strolled down the plank excitedly to meet his friend.

  They gripped each other shoulders, Matthew’s grip stronger than Donald had remembered. “It’s been far too long. I am glad to see you.” Donald gave his own return squeeze. “How was the trip?”

  “Hellish, I assure you,” Matthew said with a laugh.

  “Clearly, if you picked up such sailor talk,” Donald balked playfully.

  Matthew laughed again and waved it off. “And what has transpired in my absence, dear friend?”

  “Far too much to speak over parched throats. Let’s go out and get you a drink and a good meal.” Donald was partially delaying, but also didn’t want to discuss their matters out on the docks.

  “The best idea you’ve ever had, Donald. Shall we take your carriage to The Blossom Court? I am sure the gentlemen would love to express how much they missed me.”

  “You’ve adapted to American time, Matthew,” Donald chuckled as he led his friend to the carriage. “Unfortunately, no matter how much I begged the kitchen staff, they informed me it was impossible to keep the club open this late.”

  “Even for my return party? They should be ashamed. The talking to I am going to give the chef. You just wait.” Matthew’s voice hinted at genuine anger, which Donald was quick to nip in the bud. He wanted Matthew in a good mood.

  “Fear not. I have arranged for a lovely table at a nearby inn where we will be able to sit and enjoy a fitting reunion meal,” Donald assured him as they stepped into the carriage.

  * * *

  After a surprisingly short ride they found themselves outside a first-rate inn popular with traveling gentlemen, The Gale Winds. Donald had come in about an hour earlier to make sure they had a secluded table, a hot meal, and a wine fitting the celebration set aside for them.

  The inn was relatively crowded for that time of the night, which was the reason Donald had selected the place. Due to the comings and goings of ships, and more recently trains, the travel schedules of gentlemen had become more sporadic than ever.

  Just as the two were about to head inside the raucous building, they found themselves cut off from the entrance by a group of figures.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen, I have just arrived from a long trip and I have a powerful thirst,” Matthew said politely.

  “M’fraid this particular inn is full for this eev’nin, M’Lord.” The man who spoke from the front of the group was one of the few people, they ever met, taller than Donald.

  “I appreciate your concern, but if you check inside, you’ll find that I have a table set aside for me and my friend. So, if it is full or not is of little concern to us,” Donald informed the man and went to move around him, but found another man’s hand on his shoulder.

  “I am sorry, M’Lord, but you seem to be hard of hearing. Johan said the place is full.” The man whose hand was on Donald shoulder was scrawny, but muscular, and dressed in dusty traveling clothes.

  “You will do good, Sir, to make sure not to lay your hands on me, unless your intent is to never use that hand for much else,” Donald was surprised at the amount of anger that had risen in his voice.

  “My escorts are trying to provide you with some sound advice, Lord Stapleton, perhaps it be best to open up your eyes and ears for once, since you don’t know whose feet you will clumsily step on. There are certain places you belong and certain ones you don’t. Though I suppose your limited social graces wouldn’t allow you to read a situation properly.”

  Donald’s eyes widened. He recognized the voice of Lord Gallanville. He had tucked himself out of sight behind the two larger men, and was dressed in more muted clothes than usual. Before Donald had a chance to introduce or warn Matthew, he wasn’t sure at this moment which would be more appropriate, the third man who hadn’t yet spoke took a swing at his friend.

  Matthew ducked under the swing with relative ease and then all hell broke loose. Donald had been paying so much attention to his friend as the situation unfolded that the big man managed to get a good swing in to the side of his head, knocking him sideways.

  Donald managed to recover before he fell over and turned to face his attackers. The big man and the third man, who was only a little shorter than Donald, had also turned to face h
im. They left their smallest friend, the man in the dusty clothes, to deal with Matthew. Donald cracked a smile at this and unbuttoned his coat sleeves. It would be a shame to damage his nice clothes while fighting.

  The two were big, probably why Lord Gallanville had employed them, but they lacked technique, relying on their brute strength to win them fights. Donald matched them in brute strength and outmatched them in his ability to duck and weave. He and Matthew had both been in the pugilism club at school. Donald actually felt bad for the man who had thought to take the much-smaller Matthew easily, as he was a much better boxer.