Emma and the Earl (Bluestocking Bride Book 3)

by Samantha Holt

  She could even imagine falling in love with a man like Morgan.

  Emma turned her attention back to the passing scenery. Love. That was an odd thought. Indeed, her married sisters were lucky enough to have it but it did not seem all that common in the ton, where arranged marriages were common. Her own parents had been matched before meeting and though they loved each other in their way, it was not the sort of marriage Emma had ever wanted.

  Marrying Morgan had changed that, though. No matter how much she dreamed of love and heroes and stolen kisses, she was not foolish enough to believe that she would fall for the man who had fallen on her!

  Or that he might love her in return.

  That point, she was not so sure about. Could Morgan love her? He was so secretive still. Did he always have nightmares? Why did he dislike Berkshire so much? There was a lot to learn and she was not sure she was brave enough to quiz him yet.

  Once they reached the house, Morgan took her straight upstairs and tucked her into the bed they were meant to share. A maid brought up some ice and he wrapped it in some linen and pressed it against her arm. The sudden chill made her suck in a breath.

  “Does that feel better?” His gaze searched her face, a crease of concern between his brows.

  She almost smiled. Of course it would be easy to love this man. Why had she not seen that? Were it not for the whole climbing out of windows farce and not sharing her bed, he would be the perfect man.

  Emma nodded.

  He held the ice there for several minutes. She tried not to fidget under his intense interest. The pain in her arm was fading fast, especially when he kept dropping his gaze to her lips.

  Morgan drew away the ice and lifted her arm to peer at the sting. “The swelling has gone down. Is it better?”

  “I think so.”

  In truth, she hardly knew. All she could think of was resting against that strong chest and wondering about the muscles underneath that shirt and waistcoat, and how his fingers had touched her lips and were now touching her arm.

  “I should leave you to rest.” He made no attempt to leave.

  A knot gathered deep in her throat. She tried to force it down but her voice still came out creaky. “You...you could stay.”

  “I could.” He remained where he was.

  “I would like you to stay.” The words came out a little stronger.

  Uncertainly flickered in his gaze and he eyed her. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Very.”

  “Christ, Emma.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Morgan never thought of himself as a weak-willed man. At least, not until today. He’d spent too much time admiring her figure and the way the sun had brought out her freckles and made her hair even more fiery. He’d been too preoccupied with thoughts of what would have happened had Bartholomew proposed first. He’d been consumed by the idea of that bloody man touching her. Eaten up by the idea he could have had what Morgan wanted.

  What he wanted so badly that he could not resist when she asked him to stay.

  He leaned in, pushed a hand under her neck and kissed her firmly. She gasped against his mouth. The sound near drove him mad. He moved so that her body was tucked against his and she draped one leg around the back of his thigh. Stars burst in front of his eyes and his cock grew impossibly hard. He deepened the kiss and used his tongue to explore her mouth. He gave her no quarter. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. The kiss was intoxicating.

  Her tongue touched his and curse words rolled through his mind.

  Bloody hell. Bloody Jesus Christ. Why had he waited for so long? Why had he waited too damned long?

  Her body undulated up into him. Her breasts were confined by stays and a gown but it didn’t matter to his fickle body. It knew that they were there, thrusting up against him. He peppered kisses down her neck then found her mouth again. Using one hand to push away her hair from her face, he cupped her neck with his other and kissed her until she was panting.

  “How is your arm?” He looked down at her. Her cheeks were flushed with a slight sheen to them, lips swollen from his kisses, and he’d left tiny red marks on her neck from his eagerness.

  She smiled up at him—the sort of smile that could bring any man to his knees. Too charming touched with a dash of innocence.

  “What arm?”

  He chuckled. “Good.”

  “Kiss me more,” she demanded, reaching up to him.

  He could not help but grin. His wife was going to be demanding in bed, it seemed. He should have known after her insisting they make a deal about their living arrangements. Perhaps he had known. He’d certainly anticipated her being passionate. That was probably why she was so damned hard to resist.

  Morgan moved his mouth over hers, feeling the contours of her lips and teasing the corner of her mouth with his tongue until she shivered. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled lightly. Then he kissed across her jaw, nipped her ear and lavished more attention on her delectable mouth.

  “Morgan,” she pleaded, her body moving up into his.

  “I know,” he murmured against her mouth.

  If she was feeling anything like him, she wanted skin on skin. His clothes were like a wretched prison, keeping him from the freedom of touching her properly.

  Well, he could not leave his wife wanting. He reached underneath her and blindly popped the buttons on the back of her gown. She lifted herself up like an offering and a groan escaped him.

  As clumsily as a virgin, he undid the buttons while kissing the offered skin of her breasts and collarbone. When he figured he had done enough, he pushed down the fabric and pressed kisses to each shoulder and the skin between them.

  Her hands threaded into his hair. “Morgan.”

  Christ, his name on her lips was enough to have him come undone. It was not like he was some welp getting his first taste of a woman. But, then, this was his first taste of Emma, and she was nothing like any previous conquests. Her passion was honest. There were no deliberately coy movements or words. He was willing to bet no thought of seduction had crossed her mind, and yet there was nothing more seductive than her simple words and pleading movements.

  He pushed down her gown and petticoats with haste and unlaced her stays with shaking fingers. He ordered them to work normally but he was damned if he could control himself. The mere thought of having her entirely naked in front of him made his whole body shake with need.

  She lifted up and he slid the stays away. She flopped down on the bed, all pale skin and flaming hair. His heart jammed against his rib cage.

  “So beautiful.”

  The smile that teased her lips made him repeat the sentiment as he bent over her to kiss her. He said it over and over while he explored her naked body—a body no man had touched before. The mere thought had his muscles tensing and body pounding with need.

  He kissed the freckles on her shoulders and worked his way down to the few scattered at the tops of her breasts. They were high and perky with delicate pink nipples. He glanced up at her to see her watching him avidly as he took a nipple into his mouth.

  “What—Oh!”

  He grinned and teased the bud with his tongue, nibbling gently then releasing it before moving onto the other nipple. “You’re a virgin, Emma. I need to make sure you’re ready.”

  “I am ready, Morgan. I’m telling you, I am.”

  Perhaps she was but he was going to be certain of it. He wanted her shaking like he was, he needed her on the edge and ready to spill over at any second. He did not consider himself a selfish lover but this was the first time he’d ever thought of only his partner’s pleasure. He could suffer a lifetime of uncomfortable arousals, so long as she gained her pleasure. Emma’s first time had to be something she would always remember, and for all the right reasons.

  It had become incredibly important that she remember this. That she remember him. The desire to mark himself on her was strong, to keep nipping and leaving marks, to press his fingers into her bare skin.
It was a ridiculous need. She belonged to him anyway, at least in the eyes of the law. But he wanted more than that…

  He moved his mouth down, pressing kisses to the ridges of her ribs, licking slowly down to her belly button and kissing the dip there. Her breaths grew heavy and loud. Her fingers gripped the bedding and her legs trembled. The musky scent of her teased him.

  Morgan looked up briefly, long enough to take in the incredible sight of pale skin and parted lips. Of all the women to fall on top of, he was mightily glad it was this one.

  Brushing his fingers up the inside of her thigh, he relished the feel of soft flesh. Her legs fell apart. Apparently, his virgin wife was ready to offer herself up to him. She might not be experienced but there was no denying her innate passion. He grinned against her skin and slipped his fingers higher while he brought his mouth down to brush the skin just above the fiery curls at her juncture. She whimpered.

  He skimmed his fingers over her and felt the wetness there. If he were a more impatient man, he’d take that as a sign to be buried up to the hilt in her but he needed her to know he was more than that, more than the man she’d heard all the gossip about. He was not here merely to selfishly sate his need.

  Emma sucked in a breath when he touched her core, gently at first, then with strong, long strokes and swirls. He put one thumb to her nub then pressed a finger in, feeling her tightness close in about him. He shut his eyes and imagined sinking into her. Christ, he had to make sure she’d taken her pleasure because he didn’t know if he was going to be able to control himself once he took her.

  He replaced his thumb with his mouth and relished the sweet taste of her. She bucked against his mouth and he used one hand on her stomach to keep her in place while he lavished attention on her sensitive flesh. Her legs tightened around his body and she rocked with him, pressing up as he pushed in a second finger and curled them. A squeal of surprised escaped her and his name whispered through the air.

  Her body stiffened and released. He milked her orgasm with his fingers and his mouth until her legs fell to either side. He grinned and eyed the charming sight. She looked back at him, a satisfied smile upon her face.

  “That was...”

  “Spectacular,” he finished for her.

  “I did not know that...” She motioned to his mouth. “That men did that.”

  “They do that and more.”

  She licked her lips. “Show me.”

  He held back a groan. He had to give it to fate. It had certainly handed him a wife of his equal.

  “We have plenty of time for all of that.” He had a suspicion he’d have to try to keep Emma reigned in or else the wild woman would have him in bed for the rest of his days. Not a terrible thought but he was an earl and he did have duties to attend.

  She sat and tugged at his cravat. He chuckled. “What a wicked little thing you are.”

  “Really?” A smile curved her lips.

  “You like that? Being called wicked?”

  Emma lifted a shoulder. “It’s better than being silly or dull or a bluestocking. That’s what I have been called for most of my life.”

  “Well, I promise never to call you any of those. Only wicked. My wicked woman, that’s what I shall call you.”

  He brushed aside her fingers and undid his cravat then popped open the buttons of his waistcoat. She watched avidly, a spark of admiration lighting in her gaze when he removed his shirt and revealed his chest. It was not the first time a woman had admired him but he could not help enjoying her appreciation very much.

  Morgan slipped off his breeches, boots and undergarments and settled onto the bed next to her. She lay back and rolled to face him. She splayed her fingers tentatively over his chest and stroked his skin and the hair there, her eyes wide.

  “You are beautiful,” she murmured.

  He’d been called handsome, attractive, and many other things. Never beautiful, though. He’d thought that was a word reserved for women but coming from Emma’s lips, it sounded so enchanting that he could not complain about being made to feel feminine. He liked that his Emma found him beautiful.

  “Not as beautiful as you.”

  “I’m freckled and too skinny.”

  “No.”

  “No? Those are facts, Morgan.”

  He urged her back against the bed and covered her body with his. He sucked in a breath through his teeth at the feel of her slender body under his.

  “Freckled, yes, but not with that disgusted tone. I wish to kiss every damned freckle on you. They are perfection. And as for this body you berate—it is more than perfection.” He grinned. “Did I ever tell you I have a thing for redheads?”

  She shook her head. “There’s a lot you have never told me.”

  “We have time,” he murmured, touching his lips to her. “So much time.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and nodded, sinking into his kiss.

  He inched apart her legs and guided one about his hips. She was so hot and wet, so damned ready. Everything seemed stronger. His desire, the scent of her, the feel of her skin against his. He was starkly aware of the crinkle of the sheets, of the sound of her breaths, and the thump of his heart. He could not recall ever feeling anything like it before.

  Her eyes widened when he inched in. Her body closed in about him. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to take it slow. An expression of wonder came over her face. Her fingers curled around his shoulders. A multitude of curse words swam through his mind when he sank all the way in and joined them as one.

  Urged on by her pleading noises, he rocked into her, increasing the pace when the pleasure began to simmer through him. Sweat lingered on his skin and the scent of sex filled the room. A pulse ran through her body and he couldn’t take anymore. He looked into her eyes as the peak struck, making his body tremble. The blistering heat stole his breath and his thoughts. It overtook him and consumed him.

  Morgan collapsed on top of her. She smoothed her hands over his back and he felt her smile against him. Inwardly, he groaned. He’d given in and there was so little regret involved, it was ridiculous, but he still could not stay with her. He shouldn’t have done this.

  Chapter Twelve

  Her sisters had apparently decided to leave her be for the afternoon and had instead descended upon her this morning, filling the main drawing room of Julia and Guy’s house.

  Julia had stopped by briefly the previous evening when she was eating supper in bed and had likely taken Emma’s exhaustion as a sign that the sting had taken its toll. Emma had not had it in her to tell her sister that it was something else that had had such an affect.

  A smile threatened to curve her lips. She had found herself doing that ever since—remembering moments of their time together and smiling at the wrong moment. It had been so much more than she’d expected. Her body felt sore, her muscles tired, and her heart oddly full and warm.

  “It’s absolutely fine now. I was sorry to ruin our picnic, though. I had so wanted Morgan to have a wonderful time.” Emma sighed.

  “Well if it’s of any reassurance, the picnic was a lost cause once Mr. Bartholomew joined us.” Julia shot a look at Catherine who had been preoccupied with picking the cream out of a cake and licking it from her fingers.

  Catherine paused mid-lick. “What? It worked, did it not?”

  Amelia frowned. “It worked? Whatever do you mean?”

  “As soon as Mr. Bartholomew arrived, Morgan looked terribly frowny.”

  “Frowny?” Emma asked.

  “How you three ever secured husbands, I do not know.” Catherine shook her head. “He was jealous.”

  Emma blinked. “Of Mr. Bartholomew?” That idea was laughable. Mr. Bartholomew was dry and bland, and although he was not unpleasant, there was nothing appealing about him. Morgan was everything he was not. Exciting, attractive, charming, and funny.

  “Yes,” Catherine said with exasperation. “Did none of you notice?”

  They all remained quiet.

  “Well
, I did, and Morgan became instantly possessive over you, did he not, Emma?”

  “I suppose...” Emma frowned and thought back. He’d been preoccupied with Mr. Bartholomew but she had not really understood why.

  “If Morgan fears he will lose you to another man, surely he will do anything you say, including staying in the country.” Catherine offered up a smile that bordered on the triumphant side.

  Emma scowled. “I’m not sure that’s a good way to start a marriage.”

  “Nor I,” Julia agreed. “I have never seen Guy jealous and nor do I wish to.”

  “Well, I do not see any of you doing anything useful.” Catherine stuffed the rest of the cake in her mouth and reached for another. “At least I was trying.”

  “We were trying,” Julia protested. “We were showing him what the countryside has to offer without manipulating him.”

  “You call it manipulation, I call it using everything to one’s advantage.” Catherine grinned and fingered another dollop of cream into her mouth.

  “You always were a wicked child,” said Julia.

  “And you always were an uptight—”

  “That’s enough,” ordered Amelia. “But Julia is right. We must not manipulate him. We must simply continue to show him all the things that we love about living here.”

  Catherine slumped in her chair. “Sounds like manipulation to me.”

  “What else can we do?” asked Emma. “He does not want to be here for much longer.”

  “Another summer party perhaps?” suggested Amelia. “Well, an end of spring party anyway. He enjoyed the one we held the other year, did he not?”

  Emma shrugged. “I’m not at all sure. I did not pay much attention to him then. He always enjoys parties, though.”

  Amelia nodded. “Maybe a small party then. Hopefully the warm weather decides to remain.”

  “And you can do a few pleasant walks with him in the meantime. Show him the beautiful scenery,” Julia suggested.

  “Yes,” Emma agreed. And that would mean more time alone. As generous as it was for her sister and her husband to host them, it did mean they had not had a single second to talk since the previous day. There was so much she wanted to say. Or at least she thought there was. It was hard to put her thoughts into actual words. Like, was that how it always was? Or would they do it again soon? Did he enjoy it? And would he ever stay in her bed all night? After a few more sweet kisses, he had left her to rest, only coming in to check on her a few times before going goodness knows where to sleep.