against which he’d been leaning. He
wore a blue coat she remembered well. As he came toward her, the
sunlight through the trees brought a chestnut gleam to his dark,
waving hair. His eyes, a rich brown in a face of bold, classical
proportions, bored into her.
Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her.
And then he was there, his arms holding her steady, pulling her
against him in a fierce embrace. In a moment of unreasoning joy,
she surrendered, caught by the warmth of his body pressed against
hers, the scent of him, bay and sandalwood and horses, familiar as
if it had not been two years since he’d held her so.
She sought words to ask why he was here,
now. But before she could find any, he bent down and claimed her
mouth in an urgent kiss. Her lips parted in surprise and he tasted
her like a starving man. Their tongues met and sparred. Heat spread
through her inside her as her breasts crushed against his hard
chest and an even harder ridge pressed against her belly,
triggering wanton memories. She moaned, and heard an echo in a
rumbling sound deep within him.
Dear Heaven, what was she doing? She broke
off the kiss and tried to pull out of his arms. “Damn you! Let me
go!”
* * *
Mark held Emmeline close. God, he might
never let her go again. She was angry but she had already betrayed
herself, by yielding to his embrace, returning his kiss with a
hunger like his own. Anger was far better than indifference. That would have been a death-knell for his hopes.
“Let me go!” She tried once more to pull
away, but he scooped her off her feet and cradled her in his arms,
inhaling her elusive violent scent.
“Hush, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you.”
But she continued to struggle. “What are you
doing? You should leave. The Westhavens don’t want you here!”
“Ninny!” he said softly. “Who do you think
warned me of your revolting plan to marry Lamford?”
She gasped. “Georgie . . . That must have
been why she . . . Oh, how could she? What lies have you
told her?”
“No lies. Let me explain. It’s time we had
matters out in the open.”
“No, I would rather have Georgie explain,
thank you very much! Let me go.”
“I can’t do that. I promise you I won’t hurt
you. All I ask is one night to convince you not to make the worst
mistake of your life.”
“A whole night! You are mad.”
“Trust me. I won’t do anything you don’t
wish. But we will talk. Georgie will tell your great aunt
you retired early. Tomorrow morning, if you—if you still wish to
continue to Somerset, your maid will escort you back to the house.
Georgie tells me your maid may be trusted to be discreet. No one
else will know a thing.”
She stopped struggling, perhaps realizing it
was useless. He felt something—a subtle tremor—run through her
body. The awakening of stifled passions, or so he hoped. But her
voice was flinty as she said, “What if I am not willing to give you
this night?”
This was going to be difficult. But she had
kissed him back, giving him hope he’d nearly abandoned.
“I’m afraid, my dear, you have no
choice.”
* * *
Em gave up arguing as Mark carried her down
the path through the woods. Perhaps if she refused to talk to him,
he would give up this mad scheme to reclaim her. She would have to
be strong to resist his protestations of love. To resist allowing
him to lead her into any further . . . indiscretions. But he was
already muddling her brain, holding her close as if she were
precious to him, as if he would never let her go.
It was all a sham, of course.
In a few minutes, they emerged on the other
side of the woods, past the point. At the end of the lake stood the
small Greek temple, a broad terrace in front of it surrounded by a
marble balustrade, all reflected artistically in the water. Of
course, the folly. That was where he was taking her.
Her pulse quickened at the thought of
spending a whole night there resisting his advances. Her body would
betray her. He was already seducing
wore a blue coat she remembered well. As he came toward her, the
sunlight through the trees brought a chestnut gleam to his dark,
waving hair. His eyes, a rich brown in a face of bold, classical
proportions, bored into her.
Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her.
And then he was there, his arms holding her steady, pulling her
against him in a fierce embrace. In a moment of unreasoning joy,
she surrendered, caught by the warmth of his body pressed against
hers, the scent of him, bay and sandalwood and horses, familiar as
if it had not been two years since he’d held her so.
She sought words to ask why he was here,
now. But before she could find any, he bent down and claimed her
mouth in an urgent kiss. Her lips parted in surprise and he tasted
her like a starving man. Their tongues met and sparred. Heat spread
through her inside her as her breasts crushed against his hard
chest and an even harder ridge pressed against her belly,
triggering wanton memories. She moaned, and heard an echo in a
rumbling sound deep within him.
Dear Heaven, what was she doing? She broke
off the kiss and tried to pull out of his arms. “Damn you! Let me
go!”
* * *
Mark held Emmeline close. God, he might
never let her go again. She was angry but she had already betrayed
herself, by yielding to his embrace, returning his kiss with a
hunger like his own. Anger was far better than indifference. That would have been a death-knell for his hopes.
“Let me go!” She tried once more to pull
away, but he scooped her off her feet and cradled her in his arms,
inhaling her elusive violent scent.
“Hush, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you.”
But she continued to struggle. “What are you
doing? You should leave. The Westhavens don’t want you here!”
“Ninny!” he said softly. “Who do you think
warned me of your revolting plan to marry Lamford?”
She gasped. “Georgie . . . That must have
been why she . . . Oh, how could she? What lies have you
told her?”
“No lies. Let me explain. It’s time we had
matters out in the open.”
“No, I would rather have Georgie explain,
thank you very much! Let me go.”
“I can’t do that. I promise you I won’t hurt
you. All I ask is one night to convince you not to make the worst
mistake of your life.”
“A whole night! You are mad.”
“Trust me. I won’t do anything you don’t
wish. But we will talk. Georgie will tell your great aunt
you retired early. Tomorrow morning, if you—if you still wish to
continue to Somerset, your maid will escort you back to the house.
Georgie tells me your maid may be trusted to be discreet. No one
else will know a thing.”
She stopped struggling, perhaps realizing it
was useless. He felt something—a subtle tremor—run through her
body. The awakening of stifled passions, or so he hoped. But her
voice was flinty as she said, “What if I am not willing to give you
this night?”
This was going to be difficult. But she had
kissed him back, giving him hope he’d nearly abandoned.
“I’m afraid, my dear, you have no
choice.”
* * *
Em gave up arguing as Mark carried her down
the path through the woods. Perhaps if she refused to talk to him,
he would give up this mad scheme to reclaim her. She would have to
be strong to resist his protestations of love. To resist allowing
him to lead her into any further . . . indiscretions. But he was
already muddling her brain, holding her close as if she were
precious to him, as if he would never let her go.
It was all a sham, of course.
In a few minutes, they emerged on the other
side of the woods, past the point. At the end of the lake stood the
small Greek temple, a broad terrace in front of it surrounded by a
marble balustrade, all reflected artistically in the water. Of
course, the folly. That was where he was taking her.
Her pulse quickened at the thought of
spending a whole night there resisting his advances. Her body would
betray her. He was already seducing