by Ella Edon
“I must tell you that you’re pretty tempting, too,” he said, his lips lifting in a grin. “Shall we?”
She nodded.
Together, they left the dining room and walked up the stairs. He followed her to her chamber in utter silence. At the door, he paused. This was a big moment. He didn’t want to do anything she didn’t wish for. He studied her face. She looked back at him, expression calm.
“Emilia?” he whispered. “You are sure, aren’t you?”
She stepped forward, her body sweet and soft and calling to his. Her lips twisted into a smile. “Luke Preston,” she said softly. “I love you, but you can be silly sometimes.”
He grinned as she put her hands on his arms and drew him close. That was all the confirmation he needed.
They went to the bed. He looked down into her eyes. Very deliberately, he ran a hand up her back and reached the top of her gown, where it was buttoned shut. She stiffened, then leaned against him, making it easier for him to reach.
He was so nervous that his fingers were fumbling the buttons. He didn’t want to seem an awkward boy – he was anything but – though he had to admit to himself that the feelings coursing through him were uncontrollable and intense, almost too much for him to understand.
She sighed and leaned closer, and he kissed her lips as he unbuttoned the gown down to her waist. When it was open, she slid out of it. She wore a clinging shift below, fastened at the waist with stay laces. He started to undo them, his fingers brushing against her warm body.
Emilia grinned at him and helped with the laces, and he blushed. Then, still smiling, she stepped out of the dress.
He stared. Naked, she was pale and sweet and lovely in the candlelight. He felt his body respond madly and reached for her, his groin hurting as he felt her.
Her blue eyes sparkling, she grinned up at him as he patted her waist. Deliberately, without words, she put her hands on his shoulders. She tugged at his shirt.
“Oh. Yes. I am at an unfair advantage,” he grinned.
She watched him as he undressed with alacrity. Having her blue stare on him, appreciative and warm, made him ache. He had never felt appreciated like this before.
When he was done, he joined her at the bedside. He held her against him, looking down into her softly-glowing eyes.
His lips pressed hers and he pushed her back, slowly and deliberately, onto the bed. She let him do it, and lay down, looking up into his eyes.
He lay down next to her, propped up on one elbow. Her body was so soft and warm and he ran a hand down her chest, feeling himself respond as he did so.
“You’re very beautiful,” he whispered.
“You too, Luke,” she said, eyes glowing with love. “Now, if it’s not very remiss, I fancy kissing you.”
“Oh.” He flushed as she reached for him, feeling a tingle of excitement at the thought that she wanted him, like he wanted her. Her lips parted for his tongue and he felt an indescribable ache in his groin. He needed her.
He stroked her skin again, then moved down so that he could lick her breasts. The nipples were pale pink and as soft as silk of Orient. She seemed to like it, and he kissed her there again.
Emilia sighed and he kissed lower down her body, gently stroking her thighs. He couldn’t control his excitement any longer, and gently slid a hand between her thighs. She gasped as he touched her, and he couldn’t resist doing it again, just to hear her make that sweet noise. It made him ache for her like nothing else.
“Oh, Luke,” she whispered.
He carried on touching her, marveling that anything could feel as it did to touch her. “Are you sure?” he whispered. “I mean, that we…”
“Luke, yes,” she whispered. He felt a whole-body glow at the urgency in her tone.
Smiling, he knelt between her thighs. Gently, he let his organ move over her, letting her get used to it as she gasped, and to his joy, smiled at him.
Slowly, so tenderly, he pushed himself inside of her. This time, there was no barrier, no gasp of pain, only a slow sigh of wonderment that echoed his own.
He started to move inside her. As he moved, she reached for him, and they lay together, two bodies becoming one as he pushed into her with growing urgency.
“Luke!” she gasped, her breath catching in her throat, a moan of wonderment issuing from her as her teeth clenched in something that looked like agony. He sighed, and kissed her as she collapsed, and then, released. He started to move with great abandon.
As he thrust into her again and again, he felt the tension build and grow inside him. Just as it became unbearable, it broke over him in streams of light. He collapsed into her arms and lay there, utterly exhausted.
Emilia rolled out from under him after they had slept for perhaps half an hour. He wrapped her in his arms, sleepy and fulfilled, and they lay like that until he felt morning touch his eyelids.
“Luke?” Emilia whispered softly. He opened his eyes. He was staring into that sweet blue gaze. She was naked, her body beside his. He felt his loins stir again as he came to the profound knowledge of where he was, right now.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured. He reached for her shoulder.
“Luke,” she said, a small frown of concern on her brow. “You should go! June will be scandalized.”
He frowned, then his frown cleared as he saw her concern. She was right in that – the maid didn’t know they were married already. He sat up. Nodded swiftly.
“Yes,” he agreed. “You’re right. Where are my things?”
“You left them there,” Emilia said, a small frown back on her brow. “You don’t need to rush so…”
“I don’t want to shame you,” he explained, hastily dragging his trousers up his thighs, wishing desperately that his manservant was there to help him. Buttons! Why in perdition’s name were there so many of the horrid things?
Emilia chuckled. “If you put your shirt on buttoned up like that, they’ll all guess.”
Luke looked at the buttons and blushed. “Yes. You’re right. I’ll go slowly.”
He fixed the mess and then, straightening his hair in the mirror, turned to her. “Milady,” he said softly. “I will see you at breakfast.”
“I’m looking forward to it…I’m hungry!”
“So am I!” He nodded. “So hungry, I could eat dinner right now, and still have room for a second helping of dessert.”
“You can have that later.” She grinned. “Now, go. In half an hour, June will be here and I need to tidy up.”
He nodded and kissed her. She sighed and leaned on him and then he went out.
Still bemused, he drifted down the hallway to breakfast. His nose led him to the right, where, to his relief, he found a neat, yellow-walled room, the wallpaper decorated subtly in white barring, and settled down at the table. The savory smell he’d detected was fresh scones, piled in a heap under a net covering.
He was buttering a second scone when Emilia came in. Dressed in a white dress, she looked radiant. She smiled at him.
“Do you have plans for this morning?” she inquired. “It’s a beautiful day.”
“Yes, it is,” he agreed. “And I do have plans. But if I told you them right now, you’d probably blush. And so would I.”
They were both still laughing when the butler came in. “Milady! Your father requested me to say he took breakfast earlier and awaits your leisure in the study. Sir? More coffee?”
Luke looked at Emilia, who looked pleasantly-surprised that her staff seemed to accept his presence instantly. She shrugged. He shook his head.
“No, thank you. I’ll finish the tea.”
“Yes, sir.”
When he’d gone, Luke turned to Emilia. “It seems they haven’t taken against me, or not too much, anyway.”
“I think they can’t help liking you.” Emilia grinned back. “And June seems to have decided you aren’t untrustworthy, also.”
Luke raised a brow. “Oh, good.”
She chuckled. “I don’t know what she th
inks, but she seems to like you.”
“Oh. I’m glad.”
They both finished breakfast in a tranquil silence.
“I’d best see to Papa,” Emilia announced, standing slowly, shaking crumbs off her napkin as she did so. “I reckon I need to set the stage for introducing you.”
He smiled. “Thank you. I’ll take a turn about the grounds, if you like. Should I come back at ten?”
“Half past nine,” she said. “I’ll be done by then. And I don’t want to be long without you.”
“Nor me, either.”
They kissed and he slipped out through the door. He walked down the stairs, humming. He heard Emilia follow him, and turned, hearing a sound of alarm in her footsteps. He reached for her hand.
“Emilia?” he asked, waiting as she came down. “What is it?”
At that moment, the door burst open, and a man stepped across the threshold.
“You!” he hissed. He pointed a finger at Emilia, face contorted with rage.
With wild eyes, his hair in disarray, his clothes dusty, it was hard for Luke to recognize him before he spoke, and then he showed himself for who he was: it was Alexander Carrington.
Chapter Thirty-Three
A Challenge
Emilia stared at the man who stood at the bottom of the stairs. She thought she’d recognized his coach outside the door! She had hoped she was wrong. Now, she knew.
“You,” the Duke repeated with malice. His eyes glittered. “You refuse me! And then…then I hear the news you’re disporting yourself with that popinjay!” He pointed at Luke.
“How dare you!” Emilia whispered. “Luke is no popinjay!”
Luke stepped in front of her. He glanced up, his eyes soft, mouth tugging in a grin to reassure her. Then he turned to the Duke.
“You had better be careful about how you speak to my wife,” Luke said. Emilia felt both relief and alarm at being referred to as thus.
The Duke of Elsmoor’s face twisted. He stared at Emilia. He went white.
“You married him?” He sounded aghast. “When I have all the cards in my hand! How could you? You….” He charged forward, shouting curse-words that Emilia had never heard before. She shrank back, retreating a pace up the steps. Luke reached out and pushed him. He stepped back a step.
“I will not hear a word against Lady Emilia,” he said. “Go away. Far away.”
The Duke of Elsmoor laughed. His eyes turned to Emilia and she was shocked to see how wild they were. She forced herself to stand her ground, though she shivered with fear.
“You think you can tell me to go, and I’ll leave here?” Alexander Carrington sneered at Luke. “No one tells me what to do and lives.”
“You will leave,” Luke whispered. “You have no right to be here. I’ll call the Watch and have you bodily taken away.”
The duke laughed. Emilia was fairly sure she could smell the trace of whisky on his breath. He might be drunk, but he was clearly still able to balance on the steps. He shook his index finger in Luke’s face. “Such a brave sort…so brave he can’t fight his own battles. He has to call the Watch. Take that.”
With that, he drew out a glove and slapped Luke in the face. Emilia stared in horror. There was no mistaking the meaning of that insulting gesture: it was a challenge. Luke stiffened immediately. Emilia could see his back go tight.
“Luke,” she whispered urgently. “He’s inebriated. Ignore him…”
“You called my honor into question,” Luke said tensely. “But I can overlook that. I will not fight you – my life is too happy right now for me to risk.” He turned and smiled meltingly at Emilia.
Emilia felt her heart soften like wax. She nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Oh, thank you.”
Carrington sneered. “Hiding behind a woman, eh?” he mocked. “Go ahead, you coward. But if you think she’s worth your honor, such a…”
Again, obscenities issued from him, and Emilia covered her ears, a tear tracking its way down her cheek in silence.
“Enough,” Luke hissed. “I won’t defend my honor, but I will defend hers. Tomorrow, at noon.”
“Luke, no!” Emilia protested. “No! You said you weren’t going to let duty get in the way of love!”
He turned to her and smiled again. “I’ll tell you in a moment,” he whispered. Then he turned back to the Duke.
“It’s your choice, which weapons,” he said.
“Swords,” the Duke spat. Emilia felt herself shiver. Carrington had a fearsome reputation as a fighter. As far as she knew, nobody had heard of Luke’s skills. She had no idea of the nature of his swordcraft—she’d never seen him use one..
“Accepted.”
She hung her head. Was Luke utterly mad? He would get himself killed! And for what? Some curse-words, which she’d barely heard?
“At the Wescote Inn,” the Duke stated. “And best make it the morning. I have a talk with my solicitor tomorrow afternoon.”
“Done,” Luke agreed.
The hall fell into silence as the door slammed shut. They heard the Duke’s footsteps hurry down the stairs, and then nothing.
Emilia felt her legs give way. She backed up to the chair by the wall, and sat down, covering her face in her hands. Luke came to join her, bending down wordlessly.
“You shouldn’t have!” Emilia whispered, her scalding tears flowing down her cheeks. She was terrified, and sad, and it all came out as anger. “How could you? You’re taking such a big risk, and for what?”
“Because a dead duke can’t pay,” Luke whispered.
Emilia opened her eyes. She stared at him. His own eyes danced, a sort of crazy merriment filling them. She nodded.
“Luke, that’s true,” she said. “And it’s so kind of you to think of that. But…but do you think being free of the debt would mean anything to me, if you were dead?”
“I won’t get killed.” He sounded confident. Emilia saw the hesitant expression in his eye.
“Nobody can say that,” she said.
“That is true,” he admitted.
They looked at each other. He went down onto his haunches and took her hands in his. It was hard not to kiss him endlessly, but she made herself study him, memorizing his face; just in case this was the last day she had, to see it.
They kissed and Emilia stiffened as they drew apart. She could hear footsteps.
“Upon my word!” her father said, coming around the corner. “I seem to be hearing an awful lot of noise around here. What’s been happening?” He looked from one of them to the other.
Emilia, guiltily, shot upright. Luke got smoothly to his feet.
“Um, Father,” she stuttered. “This is Luke Preston. The Earl of Westmore. He’s our visitor.”
“Ah, yes…a visitor. Capital!” her father nodded absently, as if it was common-a-garden for him to walk around the corner and find her kissing unsolicited guests in the hall. “Now. I take it you’ve dined? Good. Then you can both join me in the drawing-room and somebody can explain to me who in Perdition that noisy fellow was.”
Emilia suppressed the urge to run to her father and hug him tightly to her. His utter acceptance of Luke – for she had no illusions that he hadn’t seen them kissing— his ease at the discovery, and his genuine expansive nature all touched her deeply.
“Thanks, Father,” she said.
She followed him into the drawing room. As she went to adjust the curtain, she checked out in the road below to ensure the duke had truly gone away. She caught a glance between Luke and her father. Luke looked wary. Her father was just shrewd.
“Father, we have news,” she announced.
“Yes. Um, milord Earl,” Luke said formally. “I have to inform you, and to beg your forgiveness for the late information, that Emilia is my spouse.”
“Oh.” Her father nodded. “I thought as much. Now, can somebody ring the bell for tea?”
Emilia gaped at him. “You thought as much? Father! What?”
He grinned. “I might be old, but
I do still remember enough of being young to recognize it. I saw the look between you and this gentleman from ten paces away. I knew it was love. Mind you, I wouldn’t have guessed you’d eloped somewhere.” Leaving the two of them staring, he walked to the bell-rope and pulled it himself, twice. “I wouldn’t have guessed. I trust the two of you will relay to me the charming account of how you met, how you felt and when you sneaked off to a church without my knowledge. But, first, I for one, want tea.”