“I did wonder if you had heard what Griffin called me.” With one hand resting on the mantel, Aaron stared down into the fire, seemingly mesmerized by the flickering flames. “Not long ago, when the Sixth Coalition tried to defeat Bonaparte, I was fighting in France. We were winning, and Bonaparte was about to surrender when I was injured in battle. Having returned to England to mend my wounds, I eventually resigned my commission. I’m no longer a Major.”
“But you were an officer, and you actually fought on the battlefield, beside your men?” she asked.
Emma knew that not all officers saw hand-to-hand combat. More often than not, senior-ranking soldiers were safely positioned out of harm’s way, coordinating the battle from a distance.
“Yes, I was on the battlefield, and yes, I did fight alongside my men. But my title and rank of Major is now honorary. As a civilian, I never refer to myself as Major. I’m just plain Mr. Aaron Trent of Windhurst Hall.”
Emma looked closely at Aaron. Not satisfied with his answer, she suspected he was withholding some vital piece of information. “And your presence at The Stag and Hounds?”
“My reason for being here is a long story, and one which I have no wish to bore you with. Let me just say that this morning I called upon a relative of mine and had thought to spend the night at Newton Saint Loe. My plans have now changed. Realizing I would not make it back to Bath before nightfall, like you, I sought lodgings at The Stag and Hounds.”
“And your family? Will they not worry that you have not returned home to them?”
“I have no family to speak of.”
“What? No wife? Earlier, I teasingly asked you to consider marriage, and stupidly, I had not thought about the possibility of you already having a wife. Is there no one to tend to your needs?”
Aaron laughed, but it wasn’t a laugh of merriment. He appeared to be laughing at himself.
“What woman in her right mind would seriously consider marrying a man such as me? I have no fortune. My house and lands are entailed, and I’m practically a cripple. Who could bear to wake of a morning and look across the breakfast table at this?”
“How did you get the scar?” She hoped he wasn’t offended by her brazen question.
“Nothing romantic, I can assure you. We were fighting the French, and at one point we became trapped and took a beating. It was most unfortunate, but there was nothing we could have done differently. We were surrounded. The battalion was massacred and only a few of us managed to survive. Those not so fortunate were left for dead while the lucky ones came away with a souvenir.” Aaron touched his cheek.
Turning toward the shining light of a burning candle, the flickering flame revealed the long, brutal slash across his face. The vivid, red scar was prominent, and it was an ugly reminder of the war he had endured against Bonaparte.
Returning to the table, he lifted his glass once again, and taking another hefty swig of wine, he set the glass down with a loud and violent thud.
“You do yourself a disservice, sir. You are handsome enough, and it is my belief you have much to recommend you. From our brief acquaintance, I know you to be a kind and thoughtful person…and also most helpful. Any woman, including myself, could do much worse than to marry you. In all honesty, I must say that I would certainly consider you as a husband.”
Emma meant the words; she was sincere in what she said. Aaron was indeed handsome, and strange as it was, even after such a brief acquaintance, she did feel an arousing attraction toward him. He had an allure. An intriguing appeal. And there was something charmingly attentive in the way he behaved when in her company.
“As I recall, you did mention you were open to the idea of a marriage of convenience in order to please your father. Are you making me an offer, Miss Brentry? From what I know of you, I would have thought you to have an aversion for a loveless marriage.”
“A loveless marriage is not my preferred preference, sir.”
“Then perhaps you are only suggesting I marry a wealthy woman, such as you, in order to gain a fortune and that it has absolutely nothing to do with the emotion of love. What you would obtain from such an alliance with me, I have no idea. A husband…yes. A fortune…no. My coffers are to let. But one never knows, perhaps if we did marry, we could settle into a comfortable existence together at Windhurst Hall and a love of sorts might grow between us.”
As Aaron looked at her, his suggestive words, along with a sudden flash of burning hunger shining in his eyes, sent her senses reeling. She felt a flame of desire stir deep within and wistfully imagined herself married to Aaron…and in love.
Emma shifted in her seat, and as she leaned forward, she caught a trace of sandalwood soap and something else; something distinctly and completely masculine that was Aaron’s.
“I was unaware you had lost your fortune, sir.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “So was I…until recently.” A worried frown crossed his brow.
“What happened? Do you care to tell?”
“There is nothing to tell. What is done, is done.”
“I can assure you, I am a good listener,” she said, offering comfort. “And as we will not see one another after tomorrow, you need not be anxious for my bad opinion of you. It is not for me to judge. If you lost your fortune while gambling at cards or on the horses, or by any other means a gentleman thinks fit to use when squandering his inheritance, you need not be troubled. It is no concern of mine. But sometimes it is good to share a worry.”
Emma reached out and covered his hand with hers. He flinched at her touch before pulling away.
Had she gone too far? Had she been too intimate with a stranger, intruding into areas that were too sensitive to be spoken of?
Then, much to her surprise, Aaron opened up and started to explain his difficulties. Whether it was the wine or simply the need to talk, she didn’t know, but she sensed that in talking, she helped him to unload some of his troubles.
Aaron described how he had come to leave his cousin in charge of Windhurst Hall and how his fortune had vanished and been lost, purely because of his cousin’s boldness in taking what wasn’t his to take. With Aaron’s fortune gone and his lands entailed, he thought himself to be no longer the strong, assertive person he had once been.
“You must think me a fool. I am now a farmer without a farm. A man without a home. Only a fool would trust as I have done. I knew Phillip was reckless, but I had no idea he would…”
Aaron lifted the decanter, poured another glass of wine, and downed it in one swallow. He stood. Moving away from the table, he walked toward the door. He wasn’t drunk, but neither was he completely sober.
“It was not your fault,” she offered. But the words sounded hollow. “You could not have foreseen that your cousin would―”
“I have got to get some fresh air,” Aaron muttered. His hand ran carelessly through his thick, dark hair. “If you will excuse me, Miss Brentry. I think I shall go to the stables and check to see if the horses have been settled for the night.”
“Mr. Trent,” she called out, hoping to stop him. She felt a need to comfort.
Unexpectedly, Aaron turned and came back to where she was seated. He towered over her. His hands clenched and unclenched into tight fists at his side, and he looked tormented.
His tall height meant Emma had to strain her neck back to look at him, and as she did so, she could see wounded anguish shining in his eyes. He was fighting his feelings, but he was also fighting something more.
Then, just as she thought he was about to turn and leave, he leaned down toward her. Placing a hand beneath her chin, he held her fast as his lips descended and found hers. He kissed her long and hard. Although his kiss was brutal, it was a kiss she found herself returning, willingly and wholeheartedly.
Her arms reached up and curled around his neck. And when he pulled her from her chair and pressed her against his hard, lean body, she didn’t resist. Their kisses continued and deepened. She could taste the heady scent of wine on his lips, and when his
hands reach for her breasts and cupped them gently, she trembled with need.
Aaron pulled away, his breathing labored.
He shook his head as if clearing his wanton thoughts from his treacherous mind. “I cannot marry you. The idea is absurd. I have nothing to offer. At this moment in time, passion and desire are all I can give, and you deserve much more than a passing flirtation.” He took a step back. “Get some sleep, Miss Brentry. I shall be leaving early in the morning, and if you still wish to ride with me to Bath, be ready to travel at nine-of-the-clock…sharp, for I shall not linger.”
Without further comment, Aaron walked to the door of the parlor, flung it open, and vanished into the darkness of the night.
Chapter 5
Bemused, and with her sensual desires awakened and unsatisfied, Emma climbed the stairs to her bedchamber. As she prepared for bed, she felt restless. Aaron had ignited feelings deep inside her that she had not known existed. Lovemaking was new to her. Of course she’d imagined what it would be like to be taken into a man’s arms and be made passionate love to, but the chance for it to actually happen had never occurred…until now. Dare she go in search of Aaron and tempt him to finish what he had started? And if she did, how would he respond?
Even when Emma had been alone with Lord Stratton, he had never done anything except hold her hand and proposed marriage. Not once had he tried to kiss her. And although at the time, she had felt affronted by Lord Stratton’s physical disinterest, she’d not been displeased.
Yet strangely, when Aaron called a halt to their lovemaking, she had felt a fierce sense of frustration and disappointment. She wasn’t sure how she would have reacted had they continued making love, but she knew she wanted more than he had given.
Emma wasn’t sure what Aaron’s intentions had been when he had kissed her. Had he also felt the growing attraction between them, or had he simply indulged in too much wine, and with his faculties blurred, exceeded the bounds of gallant behavior?
Perhaps she was indeed mistaken in thinking him a true gentleman. And if that was the case, her plan to seduce him would have to be aborted.
If truth be told, she didn’t think she was capable of seducing Aaron or any other man of her acquaintance. She thought she didn’t have the experience or the skill to do so. But tonight, come what may, she intended to daringly knock on his bedchamber door and offer him the chance to make love to her, and she wished he would accept.
Removing her gown and shaking the worst of the crumpled creases from the dress, she laid it over the back of a chair and hoped it would be tidy enough to wear in the morning. Discovering her nightshift wasn’t in her portmanteau, Emma decided to sleep in her chemise. It wasn’t what she was accustomed to, but for tonight the simple cotton shift would have to do.
Ready for bed, but not yet ready to sleep, she listened for Aaron’s return. She assumed he was still with the horses in the stables, for there had been no squeak on the old, rickety stairs and no noise of his bedchamber door opening and closing.
As time passed, she began to wonder why Aaron hadn’t returned. Perhaps he had discovered something was amiss with one of the horses and was compelled to stay in the barn. Or perhaps something had happened to Aaron himself to impede his return. Uneasy and concerned, she decided to investigate. She was keen to discover what kept him from his bed…and from her intention to seduce him.
Gathering a thick, woolen blanket from where it lay draped across a chair, she arranged it around her shoulders and prepared to go in search of him.
If there was trouble, she needed to know what had occurred and how she could help.
Using the back stairs to avoid passing the rooms full of ale drinkers, Emma left the inn and made her way across the yard in the direction of the barn. The large, wooden outbuilding was where the stables were housed. Once outside, a gust of wind threatened to extinguish the candle she held. But with her hand circled protectively around the flickering flame, she managed to keep it alight as she moved steadily away from the noise of the inn.
She was thankful the summer’s evening wasn’t too chilly. A full moon shone brightly, and there was enough light to make her way to the barn without mishap. Aaron’s phaeton stood in a corner of the courtyard beneath a lean-to; and although the carriage wasn’t housed inside the building, it was undercover and protected from the elements.
Reaching the building, Emma discovered the large, double doors had been shut for the night, but to the side of the main entrance was a smaller door allowing easy access to the stables. Lifting the latch and pushing the door open, she stepped inside.
At the back of the barn the horses had been bedded in their stalls, and above the tack room was a loft where hay was stored. But in the dim darkness, Emma could see no sign of Aaron.
Reaching the horses’ stalls, she held out her hand and rubbed the forelock of the brown mare. The heat from the animals made the stables warm and welcoming.
“I’m sorry, girl. I have not brought you anything to eat. No carrots, no oats, and no…” Emma spied a sack of apples that had been left on the ground near the tack room. She went over and retrieved several apples so she could feed them to the horses.
The ripe, tempting fruit caused a stir, and one of the mares, in her eagerness to get to the treat, kicked against the stall door, sending out a loud clatter of commotion with her hooves.
“Who is there?” someone called out from the hayloft.
Looking up, Emma could just make out the figure of a man, and then she realized it was Aaron who was calling down to her. Kneeling on all fours, he was peering over the edge of the loft and seemed surprised by her presence.
“What are you doing up there?” she asked.
“Put that candle out. Do you want to burn the place down?”
Surprised by the clarity of his reasoning, she realized he was right. There was straw and hay all around, and she had brought a naked flame into the barn with her.
In an instant, she dowsed the flame and the place was thrown into darkness.
“Why have you not come back to the inn?” she asked. “Is there something wrong with the horses? Is that why you’re still here?”
Emma stretched out a hand, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she felt her way to the bottom of the ladder. Leaving the extinguished candle on an upturned crate, she placed one foot after the other on the narrow, wooden rungs and began to climb carefully upward toward the hayloft. The woolen blanket draped around her shoulders and arms hindered her progress, but with caution, she continued the ascent.
Aaron’s voice drifted down to her. “Stay where you are. Do not come any nearer,” he ordered. “Now is not the time, nor is it the place for a discussion, Miss Brentry. Go back to the inn where you will be safe. I will see you in the morning.”
But before Aaron finished his tirade of warning words, Emma had reached the top of the ladder and stretched out her hand searchingly toward him. She could just make out his white shirt, and gripping hold of his arm for support, she scrambled awkwardly onto the firm surface of the loft’s mezzanine floor. She was safe. She had not fallen to her death.
“Why are you still here?” she asked again. “Is there something wrong with the horses?”
“Careful…you might fall.”
Aaron pulled her away from the edge of the platform, and as he did so, they lost their balance and tumbled into the hay. Landing against his muscular body, she heard him gasp.
“Have I injured you?” she asked. Concerned, she rolled onto her back.
In the roof space above was a window through which the full moon was shining. And she could now make out Aaron’s face and features quite clearly.
He had kicked off his Hessian boots and had discarded his tailcoat along with his cravat. Dressed only in his waistcoat, shirt, and pantaloons, he looked shockingly masculine in a most improper way. Their gazes met and locked, and her heart skipped a beat at his nearness.
“I’m fine,” he told her. “There is nothing wrong with me, an
d there is nothing wrong with the horses. So let me ask you again—why are you here?”
She tried to sit up but became entangled in the blanket that was enveloping her. “I waited for you to return to the inn. When you did not…” Her words trailed off.
“If you must know, I’m not used to sleeping in a bed. When you have been to war, you become accustomed to sleeping wherever and whenever you can,” he told her. “I have slept in some unusual places. Places I would not care to mention. And this loft seemed too inviting for me not to stay here.”
Emma’s hands caught at the edges of the blanket. She felt the need to hold onto something as she daringly asked, “What…more inviting than the bedchamber next to mine?”
“Definitely more inviting. Or perhaps I should say…safer? It is safer for you if I sleep here.” His fingers lifted a few strands of hair away from her face, tucking them carefully behind her ear.
It was now or never. If she was going to make it impossible for him to refuse her advances, now was the time to put her unpretentious plan into action.
Her breasts swelled above the décolletage of her chemise, and she was doing her best to make it hard for Aaron to resist her womanly charms. Warmth spread to her loins. The thought of his hands touching and exploring her body was exciting.
“I do not understand,” she said. “Why safer?” Her tongue licked her lips provocatively, moistening the outline of her mouth.
She could guess what he meant, but she wanted Aaron to explain. He needed to be explicit. She wanted no uncertainty about his manly desire for her. And then Aaron reached out and pulled her roughly into his arms. She was pressed against the hardness of his body.
“Because of this,” he said, plundering her mouth.
His weight forced her down into the softness of the hay beneath them. The pressure of his body as he lay on top of her stirred feelings deep inside. She had never been this close to a man before or held in such an intimate way. But this was what she wanted. All evening she had longed for his touch. The feel of his hands on her body. The taste of his mouth against hers. And now, what she most longed for was within sight. Something about Aaron was different from all the men she had known. She was drawn to him―like a magnet.
A Merchant's Daughter Page 4
