This time Emmaline did not try to keep from swaying against him as she grew weaker still under the warmth of his gaze. “Well?” he demanded impatiently. “Is it Gretna Green or do I carry you off to a room somewhere and keep you my prisoner until you do agree to marry me?”
In spite of herself, Emmaline laughed, oblivious to the expressions of outrage from behind them. “Of course I shall marry you,” she told him softly. “Thought I cannot begin to understand why you want to, after all.”
“Can’t you?” he asked softly, before he bent his head to kiss her.
Behind them the cries of “Stop that this instant!” grew louder.
After a moment they broke their embrace and Emmaline said impishly, “They are quite right, Jeremy. If we are going to Gretna Green, we had best be on our way. I wonder if there is a carriage here we might hire?”
“I quite think so,” Jeremy replied with a seriousness that was belied by the laughter in his eyes.
Hastily the elder Barnett moved to block the door. “You will do nothing of the sort,” he said.
“Not unless you wish to drive me into my grave, after all,” Sir Osbert told his daughter querulously.
For the first time Anna spoke. She crossed the room, tilted Emmaline’s chin to make the girl look at her. “It is too bad of you to tease your fathers like this. You know very well there is no need to fly to Gretna Green. All Sir Osbert wishes is your happiness, Emmaline,” she said. Looking at Jeremy, she added, “Once he is brought round to see that this reprobate is truly the person you wish to wed, he will grant his permission readily enough.”
Jeremy laughed. “Now I see why Sir Osbert married you, Lady Delwyn. Such a combination of beauty and wisdom in one woman!”
Grumbling, Sir Osbert also crossed the room to his daughter. Looking directly into her eyes, he said, “Do you really wish to marry this fellow, Emmaline? If you don’t, I swear I shall see to it that he does not bother you again.”
“Yes, I do wish it,” she replied softly.
Sir Osbert turned to his friend Lord Barnett and said heavily, “Well, what shall we do? I see no alternative but to give our blessing to the match.”
The elder Barnett nodded. “But you will not,” he told his son sternly, “do anything so scandalous as to elope to Gretna Green. There will be a church wedding on our home estate, just as there ought to be. Is that understood?”
Jeremy met his father’s gaze levelly. “What I understand,” he said coolly, “is that we shall be married when and where Emmaline wishes it.” He paused and looked down at her with a warmth that once more caused her knees to feel weak.
“Well, my love?” he asked her. “What is it to be? Gretna Green? Or London? Or my father’s estate?”
She leaned against him as she replied softly, “Anywhere, my love, so long as it is soon.”
Lord Barnett and Sir Osbert immediately fell to making plans. Jeremy regarded them grimly for a long moment before he said, “Out. All of you out. No doubt it will shortly be time for you to return to the Clarendon and take Emmaline with you, but before you do, I wish to speak with her alone. Out.”
The older men bristled at the tone of command but Anna proved once more Jeremy’s ally. “You had best do as he says,” she said reasonably. “It is by far the quickest way to put an end to all this and allow us to be on our way.” As the three of them left the parlor she turned to admonish the young pair one last time. “Five minutes and not a moment more, do you hear? I shall not allow you to compromise your respectability!”
When the door closed behind the three, Jeremy once more pulled Emmaline to him, kissing her hungrily. At last he broke free and murmured into her hair, “You cannot know how long I have wished to do that without you ripping up at me! Emmaline, we have both been such bloody fools that I thought you would drive me to madness. I shall never let you go again.”
“What? You mean to be a tyrant?” she demanded laughingly.
His arms tightened about her. “No, no, I swear I shall try to make you happy,” he said.
“And no mistresses?” Emmaline asked disingenuously. Jeremy growled down at her and she pressed on, avoiding his eyes, “I only ask because I was so disappointed when you said you would not invite me to your orgies.”
“If I ever catch you at an orgy—” he told her angrily.
“You’ll what?” she demanded, looking up at him provocatively.
“Thrash you to within an inch of your life!” he growled before possessing himself once again of her lips with his own.
22
Emmaline stood staring at him, a look that might have been fear etched upon her face in the flickering candlelight. Behind her, she was all too well aware, the bed lay waiting for them. Jeremy moved closer, his voice quietly determined as he said, “I warned you, madam, and now you must pay the price.”
Then, without another word, his hand reached out, grasped the front edge of her gown and ripped it open to the floor. Jerking it free of her, Jeremy flung it to the far corner of the room. Emmaline quivered as he moved closer, his arms reaching around her, imprisoning her against the length of his body. As his dressing gown fell open she could feel the evidence of his desire for her pressed against the triangle between her legs and she moaned.
Jeremy did not wait but lifted her at once and carried her to the bed, flinging her down, throwing off his robe, and then joining her, trapping her body beneath his own. One hand traced a curve of her cheek while the other made free of the globes of her breasts. She gasped as fingers stroked her nipples then trailed downward toward her most private of places. “N-no,” she whispered softly.
“No?” Jeremy echoed with eyes that glittered. “Do you mean you would prefer this? Or this?”
She gasped again as his hands stroked her in different ways and she felt the waves of longing once more seizing her. Hesitantly her own hands reached out to touch Jeremy, his chest, his back, his very masculinity. “What—what are you doing to me?” she demanded as reason threatened to desert her.
He laughed softly, some would have said menacingly. “I warned you, madam,” he repeated. “I told you that you would lose all sense of who you were when I made love to you. I warned you that the longer you made me wait, on this our wedding day, the more impatient I would become. And now you suffer the consequences, my beloved.” And before she could speak he covered her lips with his own, possessing them, persuading them, seducing them until her arms were tight around his neck and her moans were moans of impatience that matched his own. And then he possessed all of her, riding her with a gentleness that soon wiped out all memory of the brief pain that had come with possession. Together they crested, crying out each other’s names at the same moment. Then, together, they rode the wave down until they lay in each other’s arms in quiet contentment.
“Is it like this for everyone?” Emmaline asked, at last, in quiet awe.
Amusement tinged Jeremy’s voice as he replied, “Would that it were, my love.”
Raising herself up on one elbow to look at him, Emmaline asked accusingly, “Is it this way when you are with your mistresses?”
Growling an oath, Jeremy caught her to him and kissed her thoroughly. “I have no mistresses now,” he told her. “Nor do I think I am likely to have need of them while I am wed to you. But if you so much as mention the word again I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” she asked, eyes dancing.
Very deliberately he traced the shape of her breasts with an errant finger before he replied, “I shall be forced to prove to you that I have no need of anyone else.”
Then, as she laughed joyously, Jeremy once more claimed his bride.
About the Author
April Lynn Kihlstrom was born in Buffalo, New York, and graduated from Cornell University with an M.S. in Operations Research. She, her husband, and their two children enjoy traveling and have lived in Paris, Honolulu, Georgia, and New Jersey. When not writing, April Lynn Kihlstrom enjoys needlework and devotes her time to handicapped chi
ldren.
The Counterfeit Betrothal Page 17
