Free Emma by Rosie Clarke Page A

we’re married we’ll just turn up and give them the news.’
    ‘When we’re …’ I was so bemused by what he’d just said that I made no further resistance as he led me towards some French windows, unlocked them and drew me inside to a small parlour. He gazed down into my face for a moment, then took me into his arms, kissing me so thoroughly that I was trembling when he let me go.
    ‘Poor darling,’ he said, running the tip of one finger down my cheek. ‘You were scared to death, weren’t you? I’d better give you a drop of brandy. You look pale.’
    He left me standing as he went over to a rather grand looking eight-legged sideboard, where there was a silver tray with glasses and decanters.
    ‘Here you are,’ he said, handing me a large glass which contained a tiny measure of brandy. ‘Drink this – and then take your coat off. I’ll put some music on and then see what I can find for us to eat. Mother’s cook prepared a few bits and pieces before she went off for the weekend; there’s bound to be something decent in the larder. She knew I might pop home and tends to spoil me.’
    I sipped the drink experimentally. It was very strong and made me gasp, but it gave me a nice warm feeling when I swallowed it.
    ‘That’s right.’ Paul nodded approvingly. ‘Sip it slowly. I haven’t given you enough to make you drunk, but it will settle your nerves. It’s medicinal, darling.’
    I set the glass down on a little round table. It was highly polished and had a reddish-brown colour, rather like the magnificent sideboard. I thought it might be mahogany and antique. All the furniture looked as if it could be very old. It was elegant but too formal for my own tastes. I wondered how people sat comfortably in the hard, button-backed chairs. The only thing that looked comfortable was a sofa with high sides that seemed to be tied at each end with a tasselled rope.
    Having taken off my jacket, I picked up my drink and went to sit on the settee. The cushions were soft so I slipped off my shoes, curling my legs up beside me on the seat and sipping more of the brandy. Paul had been right. It was relaxing me. I felt much better now. I closed my eyes, listening to the music. It had a soft, dreamy quality.
    ‘You’re not falling asleep, I hope?’
    I opened my eyes as Paul came back into the room. He was carrying a wooden tray, which he set down on a side table in an alcove next to the fireplace.
    ‘Mrs Moxon has come up trumps,’ he said. ‘She has made us some delicious canapes and I’ve opened a bottle of wine. I thought you might prefer medium to dry. It’s chilling in the ice bucket … but we’ve plenty of time, haven’t we?’
    ‘Oh yes,’ I responded eagerly. ‘Hours yet.’
    ‘And you do think this was a good idea of mine – better than some boring old concert?’
    ‘Much better.’
    I turned to him as he came to sit beside me on the settee. I could smell the woody scent that always clung about him. It was intoxicating. I felt a little odd, as if I were floating on air. Perhaps it was the brandy, but I’d only had a few sips. No, it was just the way Paul was looking at me. It made me feel funny inside.
    I loved him so! No one had ever looked at me in that way before. His expression was so intent, so compelling!
    ‘You are lovely. Do you know that, Emma?’
    I shook my head. ‘I’m not pretty.’
    ‘No – you’re beautiful.’
    He leaned towards me, his mouth touching mine gently at first, then in a more demanding way that made me feel strange.
    ‘Do you know what you mean to me, Emma? Do you know how I’ve longed to be alone with you like this? To hold you in my arms and make love to you …’
    ‘Paul, I love you.’
    ‘My sweet girl.’
    He reached for me. I went into his arms willingly. It was all happening just as it had in my dreams. I surrendered my lips to his kisses. He had never kissed me quite this way before, his tongue probing inside my mouth, teasing and provoking sensations