by Rose Gordon
“How did you know?” she whispered, her breathing hard and labored.
The pads of his thumbs lightly caressed the outsides of hers. “Because I know you, Emma. And while I know your thoughts are completely pure and naive, mine are not. If we share a bed tonight, you might not be so happy with that decision in the morning,” he whispered before pressing a sweet kiss on her lips
Emma couldn't help the gasp that passed her lips when he pulled his face away. “Marcus, stay. I won't regret it, I promise.”
“Yes, you will,” he said savagely. “I might have enough honor left in me not to ruin you, but I cannot guarantee I'll be gentleman enough to keep my eyes shut and my hands to myself if your robe gapes open again.”
“Again?” she gasped, trying to pull her hands from his.
“Again,” he confirmed in a broken whisper. His strong fingers held her hands in place, and his lips brushed hers once more.
She shivered. If he had been any other man, she'd have been appalled, but not Marcus. Never Marcus. “You don't scare me,” she said softly.
“I'm not trying to scare you. I'm trying to warn you.”
Emma curled her fingers until her fingertips rested against his knuckles. “Warning heeded. Now promise me you'll stay.”
Marcus shut his eyes and exhaled. “Do you promise to keep your clothes on?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “Do you?”
He scowled. “That will not be a problem.”
“Right, because you're shy,” she teased.
“Forget it.” He released her fingers and pulled away.
Emma wrapped her arms around Marcus’ neck and didn't let go, keeping him as close to her as she could. “Stop, I was only teasing. I promise I'll keep my clothes on at all times. Now, will you stay?”
“You’d better, because heaven help you if you don't.” He ducked his head and pulled it out of her embrace.
“Does that mean you're staying?”
“Yes, I'm staying. Now close the top of that robe and retie the sash.”
Emma looked down and nearly shrieked when she saw both of her breasts were completely exposed. “How long—” She broke off, clenching the fabric tightly.
“A while,” he answered her raggedly.
She nodded curtly and stood up, turning her back to him so she could adjust the robe and retie the sash. “I think that should hold,” she said brightly as she turned to face him again.
“It had better, because next time I'll not be a gentleman and pretend not to notice.”
Chapter 7
After supper, Marcus excused himself for a few minutes to attend to some personal business before bed. He walked down the hall and went into his study, sat in his chair with his elbows on his desk and dropped his head in his hands. Why had he foolishly agreed to sleep in that bed with her? He’d not be able to sleep as long as she was next to him, and if he did, he would only dream of her. And after seeing her naked today, he had no doubt what kind of dreams those would be.
He groaned in frustration. The reasons against him pursuing Emma were far greater than the one in his favor. He may love her to a distraction, and had for a long time, but it would never be enough. Emma wasn’t a shallow woman, she never had been. He’d never gotten that uncomfortable sensation that started in the pit of his stomach and branched out to the rest of him while in her presence. She didn’t stare at him or make sly remarks about his physical appearance or folly. She was one of the few people on this planet he didn’t feel like hiding from, and that’s what drew him to her. The comfortable air she had about her. The way he could easily forget what he looked like and why while in her presence. The problem was her sister. Specifically the past he shared with her.
Being a mature man of one and thirty, Marcus had long ago realized he’d never loved Louise like he once thought. He’d been infatuated with her. His infatuation had been so great, he’d impulsively asked her to marry him and quickly realized what a mistake it had been. Within what seemed like moments after their betrothal contract had been drawn up, she’d changed. She became possessive and vindictive―nearly impossible to stand. That’s when he realized while he thought he’d been charmed by Louise, he’d actually been charmed by her family.
Sir Charles Green and his wife, Lady Green, were good, honorable, sincere people, as was their other daughter, Emma. Sir Charles was born an ordinary commoner who was knighted for his bravery during the early years of the Napoleonic Wars and was one of the most intelligent and friendly men Marcus had ever met. Lady Green, was as sweet as she was beautiful. How two of the nicest people could have two daughters with such opposite personalities was nearly impossible to understand.
When Marcus first met Louise, he’d been seven, she’d been six, and Emma three. For several years the three were playmates. They’d fish and swim and climb trees together. He’d even partnered each of them a few times when they’d pretend to waltz around in his parents’ ballroom. As the years went by, he’d gone to school and only saw the girls in the summers.
The summer he was seventeen, Louise turned sixteen and her parents continuously invited him to do things with the family. Emma had been only thirteen, which consequently meant, she held no interest for him at the time. He didn’t want to run around or play games anymore; he was interested in Louise and her womanly attributes.
As the summer grew to a close, he’d impulsively proposed to Louise in front of her family, thinking the fun they’d had that summer was just a prelude of the life they’d share together. What a fool he’d been. If he’d looked carefully, he’d have seen that the only three who seemed to be having any fun were Sir Charles, Lady Green, and Emma. Louise’s demeanor had been prompted only by her mother and sister’s presence. They hadn’t been alone together enough for him to fully realize that though.
Once he’d proposed and the contract was signed, he saw the real Louise.
Marcus buried his fingers in his hair and wished yet again his father had talked him out of his rash decision. Being only seventeen, his father could have said no, and since Marcus hadn’t reached majority yet, his offer would have been rendered null. Unfortunately, Louise’s false charm had also fooled Father. And so began the nine months of torture.
While he was away for his final year at Eton College, Louise had taken to writing to him. She’d send letters explaining how all the village boys admired her and brought her tokens of their affections. She’d ask him to send her something with his allowance, and he’d send her something only to receive a letter back saying how it wasn’t what she’d expected or how it paled in comparison to whatever one of the local boys had given her. During his leave in mid-December, he brought her several trinkets to give her throughout the month he’d be home. She’d acted disinterested in his gifts and even openly flirted with some of the local men.
By the time he went back to school in the middle of January he was irritated with himself for not realizing how immature they both had been planning to marry.
But it wasn’t until March he realized the full extent of his impulsive actions.
A few days before he was set to go home for break, he’d heard a rumor Louise had been seen in London with the Duke of Hampton. Marcus brushed it off at first since Hampton had to be in his early to mid-thirties. It was unlikely a man of that age would find interest with a girl who wasn’t quite seventeen. When he arrived home, he went to her house where her parents seemed uneasy and gave him stilted answers. He later ran into Emma outside and for the first time, he really noticed her. He blinked at her as she walked up. The entire summer before she’d seemed so young, and she still was, he reminded himself as she smiled at him. She was only fourteen, far too young to think of in any way except as a younger sister. It had been Emma who had told him the painful truth. She didn’t do it to be cruel. She told him because he asked and she wasn’t one to lie.
She’d told him Louise had gone to stay with some relation they had in London and the relation confirmed the duke had been paying Louise attent
ion. To Emma it must have looked like Marcus’ heart was breaking because she’d naively tried to console him. He’d shrugged off her efforts and left. His heart was the furthest thing from breaking, it was hardening as fury pumped through him. They may not be married yet, but Louise had no business entertaining other gentlemen.
The following day Louise returned home and came to visit him at Ridge Water. She’d done her best to smooth over the rumors he’d heard and promised him it had only been coincidence she’d been seen with the duke and claimed she was looking forward to their wedding. Not many other choices open to him, he accepted her words and tried his best to keep her content. He soon learned keeping her content while being present was more difficult than it had been when he’d sent her letters and gifts through the post.
His last week at home before returning for his final term of school, Louise approached him, eager with the idea of eloping. He’d been apprehensive at the idea. He couldn’t return to school if he eloped with her. After explaining to her he couldn’t marry her until he was done with school in July, Louise employed tactics that could rival an experienced courtesan. Several times her bodice “accidentally” slipped down, causing her breast to conveniently fall out, and he’d kindly turn to look the other way while she righted her gown.
When she realized he wasn’t going to give into her ploys, her actions became more bold. She’d intentionally position herself so parts of her body touched his in ways she’d somehow known would make his body react. By midweek he was giving serious consideration to hauling her off to Gretna Green, but then he’d remember how close he was to finishing school and convince himself they could both wait. For goodness’ sake, they were both young enough to wait a few months―life wasn’t going anywhere without them.
On the final day before he was to return to school, Louise came to him while he was fishing by the stream that ran through the back of Ridge Water. She once again pleaded with him to whisk her off to Gretna Green, and after he explained his reasons for not, instead of trying to use seduction like he thought she might, she’d become angry and they quarreled.
By the time they finished arguing, she informed him she was off to London to see Hampton, claiming the duke was a better man than Marcus because he’d have already carried her off if she’d have asked him. Marcus’ first instinct was to let her go. She’d break their contract, not him. They’d both have a scandal on their hands, of course, but at least it wouldn’t be of his creating and his family wouldn’t take the brunt. But a few minutes later pride won and Marcus made the worst decision of his life. Yes, even worse than asking her to marry him in the first place.
Cursing himself for ever being ensnared by her in the first place, he threw down his fishing rod, and heedless to his current state of undress, which included his lack of shirt due to the tendency of the cuffs to get in the way, he ran to the stable to grab the first horse he could find. One of the scruffy grooms offered him a shirt. He refused. It would take him too long to put it on, and this would only take a minute. He just needed to catch up with her before she reached the main road. In his rush, Marcus saddled the horse himself. After a light nudge with his heels, the horse took off like a shot and Marcus found himself riding at a hell-for-leather speed in an attempt to catch up to her carriage.
At the end of the drive he turned to go down the lane that led to the main road. Less than a minute later, Louise’s carriage came into view down near the end of the lane, too far for the coachman to hear him if he hollered. Marcus gritted his teeth and urged the horse on, barely registering the minor shifting of his saddle on his horse’s back. A few strides later, the horse abruptly bucked. Marcus’ hands tightened around the reins and his legs squeezed together as he fought to maintain his balance and position on the back of the beast. Still, the horse kept running. Marcus willed his body to relax and loosened his grip on the reins. This horse wasn’t yet broken, he didn’t want to spook the horse again. “Come on, boy,” he crooned. “Just a little further.”
The words barely escaped his lips before the horse reared back on his hind legs with such great speed and force that the reins slipped from Marcus’ hands and he fell to the ground with a painful, rib-cracking, leg shattering thud. Gasping for the air which had just been knocked from his lungs, he tried to pull his right foot free from where it was still stuck in the stirrup. Each second became more painful than the last as the horse continued to run, dragging the left side of Marcus’ body over every sharp rock, stick, tree root, and any other debris that littered the lane.
Intense pain and stinging shot through him as his flesh ripped from being dragged over the jagged surface beneath him. He jerked his foot harder, more frantically. He tired again and again to free his boot from the stirrup. It didn’t budge even a fraction of an inch. Without warning, Marcus’ body rolled over on its own accord from the velocity created when the horse changed his direction to follow the bend in the lane, twisting Marcus’ right knee in an unnatural way in the process. Unable to so much as feel his right leg anymore, Marcus was powerless to do anything else in an effort to escape his excruciating torment as the horse continued to run, dragging Marcus’ limp, bloodied body twisting and rolling behind him.
The beast of a poorly trained horse Marcus had been riding only stopped when out of nowhere, a young boy grabbed the reins and pulled the horse to a stop. The abrupt stop jolted Marcus one more painful time before leaving him to rest face down in the middle of the lane. Through the fog of the severe pain and blood loss making him fade in and out of consciousness, he heard Louise’s high-pitched screams and the sound of a young man yelling directives to her coachman. Though he’d never know for certain, he could have sworn Louise went into hysterics about them using her family’s coach to carry his bloodied body back to Ridge Water.
The next months were painful and trying, as the cuts that covered his upper body were tended with brandy and gauze. His leg had to be set and the chances for his survival looked grim as he struggled to recover. Other than his parents, his only company had been that fifteen-year-old boy who’d bravely stopped his horse: Patrick Ramsey, Lord Drakely. As much as Marcus tried to make the lad leave, the sense of responsibility which had been instilled in Patrick from a young age wouldn’t let him leave. Instead, the insolent boy stayed despite Marcus’ nasty behavior toward him and became the greatest friend Marcus would ever have.
By the time Marcus was well enough to attempt walking again, he was well past wanting to hear the name Louise ever again, and nearly throttled Olivia when she’d had the nerve come to see him and sing, “Every little breeze seems to whisper Louise.” And if that wasn’t bad enough, he really did almost throttle her when she took it upon herself to inform him the Duchess of Hampton was expecting.
He wasn’t a fool, he knew who the Duchess of Hampton was. That was the only positive thing surrounding his accident: he hadn’t made the mistake of eloping with Louise and been forced spend the rest of his natural life miserable with her. He might spend the rest of his natural life miserable with scars covering his upper body and a limp because, like the besotted fool he’d been rumored to be, he’d tried to run down his intended’s carriage to beg her to take him back. all the while, he’d been riding a poorly saddled (and trained) horse. But at least he could endure his misery better without her around.
It was nearly three years after his accident before he saw Emma again. He’d known she’d been coming to visit Caroline and Olivia. also had known her real reason for coming had only been for Caroline. She had tolerated Olivia―only because she had to, in order to see Caroline. Emma had formed a strong connection with Caroline ever since Father had brought Caroline to stay with them after her mother had passed. It was as if the two had become the sisters which neither of them had in a biological sense.
When he first saw Emma after three years, he’d been nervous about how she’d react to seeing him and how he’d react to her. As soon as she walked through the door he had his answer. She was stunning. Everyone said Emma a
nd Louise were almost interchangeable. Not to him. Where Louise’s eyes were a dull moss green, Emma’s sparkled like emeralds. Louise’s hair was a few shades darker blonde than Emma’s. But the biggest difference was their personalities. Louise had been full of brittle and forced smiles, and Emma’s smiles were real, full of love and laughter. Emma was just as beautiful inside as she was out and it made his heart ache. If only he hadn’t proposed to Louise and had gone to Cambridge and on Grand Tour before turning his eyes to the female sex. Then he’d have never gotten tangled up with Louise and her web of deceit. Instead, his eyes would have passed her up and landed on the biggest prize in England: Emma.
But as it was, he could never have Emma. She’d forever wonder if he still secretly loved her sister. Who could blame her for thinking it? He’d acted besotted with Louise for almost a year before falling off the horse while chasing her down. He’d heard the rumors Louise spun and didn’t care enough to try to disprove them. In a sense she was right, he was running her down to resolve things. But it wasn’t because of any great love for her or jealousy she’d broken their engagement in order to marry the duke.
In the ten years since he saw Emma for the first time since his accident, he’d fallen further and further in love with her. Every time she came to Ridge Water, he’d try to talk to her before remembering who he was and who she thought him to be. She’d always been kind to him and was one of the only people who’d never grimaced or flinched when first seeing him.
He sat up straight and rested his head against the back of the chair while he stretched his legs out and his hand idly massaged the muscles in his upper thigh. They always seemed to knot up when he used the stairs or walked around more than usual, which was exactly what he'd been doing since Emma had come to stay with him. He sighed. He'd been gone from his room so long he knew if he didn't get back in there soon, Emma would come looking for him and hurt her leg.
