“Emily.”
Griffin’s voice broke through the darkness, the low cadence lulling her body as easily as a hot bath might soothe aching muscles. He dropped his gaze and allowed it to wander, leaving a blazing trail of awareness in its wake.
“Yes?” She had to say something, had to fill the silence now squeezing between them.
He looked up and she sucked in a breath, completely undone by the predatory way in which he watched her, like a wild jungle cat hunting its prey.
She heard him inhale, a ragged sound that raked her nerves and caused her to shiver. “You drive me to distraction,” he murmured. She didn’t realize he’d moved his hand until she felt it, the sensual brush of his fingers upon her arm.
A shudder went through her, sucking the breath from her lungs. “Really?”
He laughed, like only a rogue would do, with the sort devilish intent that could easily divest a woman of her virtue.
His feather-light touch trailed over her skin, igniting a fire inside her that burned through each limb.
Leaning in, he closed the distance between them to press a soft kiss on her cheek. The effect was dizzying: the scrape of his unshaved jaw, the smell of his sandalwood scent infusing the air, a hint of the chocolate he’d had for dessert. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything else in my life,” he murmured while nuzzling his mouth into the spot where her neck met her shoulder.
Leaning back, Emily clutched the candlestick, careful not to drop it or hold it too close. “More than a freshly baked scone?”
He laughed against her, the vibration sending a charge of delicious shivers straight down to her toes. “Yes. Although I’d be lying if I haven’t considered the fact that by marrying you I’ll be able to have both.”
She slid her hand between them and tried to give him a nudge. Thinking with him so near wasn’t possible. “You said you wanted to talk.”
He didn’t budge. “I thought that was what we were doing.” His hand moved to her waist, kneading her flesh beneath the chaste cotton before pulling her closer.
“Griffin.” His name was both sigh of pleasure and warning.
“Mmm...”He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled, breathing her in as if she were a fragrant bouquet of flowers. “Marry me, Emily. Be my wife and let us dispense with this madness.”
The words curled through the air, teasing and tempting like a sweet, intoxicating aroma, so alluring that Emily almost missed their significance.
She blinked as if jolted awake. “What?”
“I could arrange for a special license. We could—”
“No.”
He went utterly still. His breaths rose and fell, heavier than before. “We could be happy together,” he said, completing the sentence she’d just interrupted. “I enjoy your company and I get the sense that you enjoy mine.”
“And that’s enough reason?”
“No.” He nudged her with a shake of his head. His hands moved. One slid up her side, the other swept round to her back, holding her steady. “There’s also this.”
Before she could draw a breath or question his intentions, his mouth captured hers, reminding her of why she’d let him into her room and why doing so might have been a mistake.
14
He kissed her with all that he was, pouring each moment he’d spent in her absence into each swipe of his lips. God, how he’d missed her—the soft press of her breasts against his harder chest, the flare of her hip right beneath where his palm rested, and the carefree abandon with which she drove her fingers up into his hair.
Their attraction to each other and the passion they shared was sensational. Griffin had never known anything like it before her, and instinct told him he’d never find it again if he let her go. So he held on tight, pulling her closer and reveling in her soft sighs of pleasure.
You came here to talk, you scoundrel, not to seduce.
Just a little bit more.
He just had to feel some skin, had to sate his curiosity and quench the thirst she subjected him to. So he took a liberty he knew he shouldn’t, tugging on her nightgown and easing it upward. The fabric bunched in his fist to reveal the supple perfection of her thigh.
Griffin pressed his hand into its softness and allowed imagination to grip him. His body responded with a burst of desire that stoked his arousal until the most urgent thought in his head was getting her naked and into his bed.
“Griffin?” His name brought primal need to a halt. He froze, his thoughtless intention compounded by the sudden awareness that her leg was now bared all the way to her hip.
“Christ.” He lowered her nightgown and took a step back. “I’m sorry.”
“Really?”
No.
Maybe.
He stepped back further, ran his fingers roughly through his hair. “I got distracted.” He sighed. “You…have that effect on me, Emily.”
She chuckled. “I must confess you do the same to me.”
He stared at her, the tips of his fingers tingling once again with the urge to touch her. Instead, he forced himself to keep some distance between them. He had to in order to gather his thoughts.
“How can I convince you that marriage would be the right thing for us, Emily?” When she shook her head, he pressed stubbornly on, determined to conquer whatever concerns she might have. “Just consider the life we would share, both as friends and as lovers.” He didn’t need perfect lighting to know she was blushing. He could tell by the way her breath started to quiver. “Based on how well we got on at Clearview and the fierce desire we have for each other, I dare say our marriage would be rewarding.”
“It’s a huge decision, Griffin. And a permanent one as well.”
Concern began nipping at his shoulders. She was not as easily convinced as he had expected. “We can live in a countryside manor where daffodils bloom in the spring and peonies in the summer. We’ll cook together. I’ll purchase a cocker spaniel for you, and we’ll have the three children you wish for.” When she didn’t respond, keeping silent so long it unnerved him, he added, “And we can visit Clearview as often as you like.” God. He was starting to sound desperate, but he really didn’t care. “Cassandra and the children can come visit us as well. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.”
“Why?”
“Well because…” He wasn’t sure how to express it exactly. All he knew was that he wanted Emily by his side and that he would give her the world if that was what it would take. “I’ve never liked a woman as well as I like you. You’re the first one with whom I think marriage could work.”
She turned her face away on that statement, concealing her expression in darkness. And then she shifted, sliding away from the wall and moving past him. Griffin followed her movements with his gaze. He wasn’t sure why a sudden anxiety pulled at his gut or why it now felt as though a ravine existed between them. Not until she spoke.
“After our last kiss, I made a decision. It’s the reason why I opened the door to you this evening, the reason you’re standing here now in my bedchamber when you ought to be in your own.” She set the candle on her bedside table. “I gave up on marriage long ago when…” Her words trailed off, and then, as if catching herself, she shook her head swiftly. “It doesn’t matter. But I am curious to know what I might be missing. And so, I thought that perhaps you might be willing to show me.”
Griffin gaped at her. She might be six and twenty with more life experience than a debutante, but she was still an innocent. The last thing he expected her to suggest was an illicit affair. Uncomfortable, he shifted. Was that all she truly wanted? To use him for an experience? Had he misread her so poorly?
He cleared his throat, wary of how to proceed. “As enticing as such an arrangement may be, I could never in good conscience accept.” She stared at him, compelling him to add, “You deserve better than that.”
A choked sob escaped her. “And you believe that would be for me to tie myself permanently to a man for whom the very idea of m
arriage was loathsome just a few weeks ago?”
Had he really said that? “A lot has changed since then, Emily.”
“Yes, but not enough.”
“What do you mean?” Surely she’d realized by now how strongly he felt about her?
“Well, for one thing you do not love me. And I refuse to marry for anything less.”
Griffin blinked. “I’m sure that with time I shall—”
“What if you don’t? What if you never love me the way I…” With a gulp of pain she gave him her back. A whispered plea followed. “Please go.”
Griffin stood as if roots had sprouted from the soles of his feet and driven through the floorboards beneath. “Emily.” He wanted to go to her, hold her, force her to understand that she mattered to him, that he cared about her, and that love would grow between them if she’d just allow it.
But the fierce shake of her head denied him. Her rigid posture informed him that she no longer wanted his touch. And as hard as that was for him to accept, he forced himself to do as she asked.
“Very well.” Incredibly, he managed to move his feet and direct his body to the door. He paused there. “We will speak again tomorrow when we’ve both had some time to think. For now, I shall bid you good night.”
He opened the door and exited her room. Her whispered words of parting drifted after him like ghosts through the night. How he’d managed to muck this up was beyond him, but one thing was clear and that was that he’d grossly underestimated what Emily wanted.
On that thought, he let himself into his own bedchamber. Her words repeated in his head. What if you never love me the way I…
What?
How did that sentence end? With deserve, hope, or need? He shrugged off his jacket and started undoing his cravat. Then he froze. Could it possibly have been, the way I love you? His heart skittered at the very idea, and his chest grew oddly tight. Dare he hope this was what she’d been meaning to say? And what if it was? She’d already said she would only marry for love, which meant he would have to love her in return.
His brow strained in response to his frown, causing an ache that he rather relished, for it was something he could more easily relate to. Everything else, this feeling of loss that had drained all happiness from him when she’d told him no, leaving him hollow inside, the constant desire to be near her, to simply see her smile, was something so foreign he’d not taken time to examine it closely. Or rather, he’d deliberately chosen not to because the intensity of his emotions where Emily was concerned, his inability to think rationally in her presence, and his eagerness to defy propriety for her, terrified him. Even now it had taken remarkable restraint on his part not to claim her. Years of good upbringing must be to blame, the gentleman he’d so often pushed aside when it came to widows and demimondaines stepping forward to show him the way.
A quick tumble was not the way to go. Not when it came to Emily. No matter how much she believed otherwise. He knew her by now, knew that she would regret it because of her romantic nature.
He undid his cravat, tossed the long length of fabric on a nearby chair and removed his waistcoat. His shirt, trousers, unmentionables, and hose followed, leaving his skin susceptible to the cool air in the room.
Padding across the floor, he pulled down the sheets, climbed into bed, and blew out his candle. For long moments after, he stared up into the infinite darkness while going over every interaction he and Emily had shared during the past few weeks. He adored her smile, her easy laughter, the determined purpose with which she went through life, and her willingness to suffer embarrassment in favor of honesty. But did he love her? He wasn’t entirely sure, which was why he’d kept silent earlier when she’d brought it up. Because when it came to the contents of his heart, the last thing he wanted was to make a mistake. He had to understand what he felt for her before he let her know.
In the meantime, however, courting her properly wouldn’t be amiss. She deserved to be treated with honor and respect. And as challenging as that might prove since she’d probably try to avoid him after his idiocy this evening, he was damn well going to try. Because going back to Vienna without being somehow attached to Emily simply wasn’t an option.
She was never leaving her bedchamber again. Not after last night’s disastrous conversation with Griffin and certainly not when Langdon and his wife were due to arrive at some point during the day. She’d rather eat rotten food and endure being sick for a week.
Very well.
Maybe that was a bit dramatic.
But the thought of having to face either man today was unbearable. She considered her appearance in the mirror. Shadows darkened the skin beneath her eyes, a testament to how poorly she’d slept.
She pinched her cheeks to add some color, then turned away from her reflection when it didn’t provide the desired result. Had she really been one second away from blurting her feelings for Griffin to him? Dropping her face in her hands, she let out a groan.
He’d offered to marry her for heaven’s sake, and she, fool that she was, had demanded more. Because loving him when he did not love her in return would be devastating. It would wear on her heart and destroy her soul.
She knew this, but it still didn’t soothe the pain or regret slicing through her after she’d refused him. That had lingered, keeping her from the deep, peaceful sleep she was used to. Instead, she’d been restless, her dreams plagued by running and being chased, of flowers wilting, her parents shouting, and then, right before she’d woken, a pistol aimed straight at her forehead.
She glanced at the door. Someone would come and check on her soon, either her friends or her mother. When they did, they would see the state she was in and proceed to ask questions. Questions she’d no desire to answer. Which meant she had to pretend everything was as it should be and that her heart wasn’t breaking because of a wish that would never be realized. No matter how much she longed to hide away here in her bedchamber forever and avoid reality, she had to dress and go down to breakfast. It was her only chance at normalcy.
“You look exhausted,” Laura observed when Emily stepped into the dining room ten minutes later.
Apparently her attempt at looking well rested by widening her eyes and smiling was unsuccessful. And now everyone was looking at her, though she was grateful to find Griffin absent.
“I started on a new book last night,” Emily said, stifling a yawn. “Couldn’t put it down.” Which wasn’t a complete lie. At least not the part about having a new book. She’d found it in the library the previous evening before dinner. She just hadn’t opened it yet.
“What’s it called?” Georgina asked while Emily slid into a chair next to Mary. Cassandra and Laura sat directly opposite with Emily’s father, Caleb, and the dowager duchess a bit further down the table to Emily’s right while the children occupied the other end of the table.
“Patisserie Extraordinaire.” She poured herself a cup of tea while explaining, “It’s a French pastry book.”
Cass grinned. “Only you would consider that bedtime reading.”
“What I can’t comprehend,” Georgina said, knitting her brow, “is that you would find it so engrossing that it would keep you awake.”
Busying herself with the slice of toast she’d procured and a dollop of jam that needed spreading, Emily shrugged one shoulder. “It stirred my imagination.” With the hope of avoiding additional questions, she addressed Mary. “Have you planned any activities for the week ahead?”
“Oh yes.” Excitement sparkled around Mary’s words. “We’ll have a treasure hunt, a picnic, an archery contest. Games on the lawn.”
“And a play that the children have been preparing,” Cassandra added with pride.
“It’s about a group of animals that have been captured in the jungles of Asia and Africa and how they experience being brought to England,” Penelope said.
Emily took a bite of her toast.
“I’m to play the zebra,” Daphne declared.
“You’ll make an excelle
nt one, I’m sure,” Emily told her with love expanding her heart. It hadn’t occurred to her how much she’d missed her and the rest of the children until they’d welcomed her with hugs and kisses yesterday. “Do you have a good costume?”
Daphne scrunched her nose. “I’m still working on that.”
“I’ve finished mine,” Edward said, earning an eye-roll from Bridget.
“You also have the easiest one,” she said. “A lion. That’s a one color outfit and something to use as a mane.”
Emily ate the rest of her toast while following the children’s continued discussion on costumes and rehearsal. She discovered that Peter and Penelope had the bigger parts and that both wanted everything to be perfect.
“Perhaps we should go for a walk after breakfast,” Mary suggested, pulling Emily’s focus back to her. “Before the rest of the guests start arriving.”
Emily’s gaze went instinctively to the vacant seat adjacent to Caleb’s. She wouldn’t ask. To do so would be too obvious. “Has Lord Griffin not yet risen?” The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them.
Caleb disengaged from the conversation he was having with Emily’s father, no doubt alerted by the mention of his brother’s name. “He has gone for a ride. I met him in the foyer before coming in for breakfast.”
“Perhaps we ought to prepare a plate for him,” Emily said, words still flowing from her mouth of their own volition. “He will likely be hungry upon his return.”
Caleb held her gaze for a moment. Until Emily felt like squirming. “That is incredibly thoughtful of you.”
“Yes,” Mary murmured. “Very thoughtful indeed.”
Emily broke eye contact with Caleb, which allowed her to notice her mother’s secretive smile and the flicker of understanding in Cassandra’s gaze. Feeling like a bug beneath a magnifying lens, Emily grabbed a clean plate and proceeded to pile food onto it. “It’s easy to do since the food is already out, and it will save the servants the trouble.”
More Than a Rogue Page 17