by Denise Daye
She walked over to him and moved her finger over a few expensive, leather-bound books. John couldn’t help but look at her. The soft light of the fireplace made her face even more beautiful. It reflected a romantic, warm light off her pretty lips.
His heart started pounding faster. By God, he wanted to kiss her right then and there. And before he even noticed what he was doing, he grabbed her softly by her wrist and pulled her into his arms. She was so close, John could smell her breath, a mixture of whiskey and mint. There was no turning back now. Something else was controlling his body. John tilted his head and leaned closer to her neck. What if he just gave her a soft kiss on the side of her neck…If he was gentle, maybe she wouldn’t mind…
Emma felt John’s lips on the side of her neck, running gently down to her collar bone, sending tingling shockwaves from her stomach into her hands and feet. She threw her head back, signaling to John how much she wanted him. John kissed her neck again, moving upward toward her face until his lips finally found hers. She moaned in pleasure. His lips brushed against hers so gently they barely touched. She was burning. On fire. Breathing heavily, she pressed her body tightly against his. She wanted to feel him, every inch of him. She finally found what she was craving. He was hard. Extremely large and hard. His manhood pressed into her lower abdomen like steel. Emma was losing her mind—she wanted this man more than any other man before. She grabbed his hips with both hands, trying to guide him toward the hot area between her legs. He followed her lead and lowered his hips a bit, placing his erection where she craved it the most. She couldn’t help her body’s reaction and moved her hips in small, slow motions, rubbing against him. John groaned loudly, as if it was more than he could take.
“Oh, God, Emma…” he whispered into her ear. She could barely breathe. She could feel the head of his shaft pulsating even through their clothes. He grabbed her by her upper thighs and lifted her buttocks onto the library shelf, spreading her legs so he could fit in between hers. Emma hurriedly pressed his steel rod against her wet center again. She started making rhythmic motions against his cock. He responded by kissing her more passionately. She’d never felt so horny in her life. She needed to have him, or she would die of lust.
John was at the brink of losing his mind, something that had never happened to him before. The way Emma was rubbing against his manhood, he could barely control himself any longer. He wanted to pull her undergarments down and enter her right there on the bookshelf like a wild animal. She was so wet, he could feel it through his trousers. Her legs were now wrapped tightly around his hips, as if she would never let go of him again.
“Emma, you are so wet,” John growled into her ear.
“I’m ready for you,” Emma moaned back, her beautiful green eyes looking into his, full of passion. She rotated her hips in a rhythm that grew faster and faster. By God, he was about to come if she didn’t stop moving. This was the most insane feeling he had ever felt. He wanted to beg her to never leave. To stay here with him forever so he could make love to her, kiss her, feel her every day for eternity. Emma sank her fingers into John’s backside, pressing her wet heat against him as hard as she could.
“I’m coming, John—I’m coming…” Emma gasped loudly in the most sensual voice he had ever heard. She threw her head back and said his name aloud. He stared at her beautiful face, utterly captivated as she reached her climax. He felt her wet center of pleasure pulsating strongly against his hard, tingling shaft—
Suddenly, a door slammed in the hallway.
“Emma?” Lily’s voice sounded so close, she must have been right outside the library door. John froze in shock. He felt Emma do the same beneath him. Her face looked just as panicked as he felt. In a matter of seconds, he came to himself again, realizing where he was and what they were doing.
At once, he pulled away from Emma, who jumped off the bookshelf and tried frantically to make herself look presentable. John did the same. The door opened, and Lily stepped in, looking first at Emma and then at John, then back at Emma. There was no doubt; Lily knew exactly what they’d been up to. She was grasping for words for a moment.
“I…I was looking for you, and then the wind slammed the door. I see you tried to get a book from the library?” Lily asked, playing innocent. Of course, nobody was buying it, but they all played along.
Emma cleared her throat to get her voice back to normal. Her cheeks were still red, and she had that certain glow around her that women got after they had been pleasured to their satisfaction.
“Erm, yes…chemistry…I couldn’t sleep, and you know how much I love my chemistry.”
“Yes…it was quite hard—the books, I mean…” John shook his head in disbelief. “It was very difficult for Emma to find a book she liked.” John had never sounded more like a fool than in this very moment. He grabbed a book from the very same area he had had Emma pressed against not even a minute ago. He handed it to Emma without looking at it. “Here it is. Finally found it.”
“Yes, that’s the one. Thank you.” She read the title aloud in an attempt to convince Lily. “‘Mating Behaviors of Insects in the Amazons.’”
Jesus, why did he grab that one, out of 8,241 books!
Emma accepted it with a little hesitation. “Yes, t-that’s the one. Very interesting. Thank you.” She walked straight past Lily and out the door.
Lily followed her, but not without smirking at John again before closing the door behind them. She knew. She knows exactly what just happened, he scolded himself. He noticed that a few books had fallen from the bookshelf and grabbed one of them, but instead of putting it back, he threw it angrily back on the floor.
What had he done? He brought Emma into this house for safety from the very thing he had just exposed her to. He had pushed himself onto her as if he hadn’t the slightest bit of control over his own body. His whole life, he’d been able to control himself. For years, he had turned down woman after woman—rich, poor, beauties, and ugly ones alike. All of them. And now, this! All it took was the presence of Emma Washington, and he wasn’t himself anymore. Tomorrow, he would have to beg for forgiveness. Fall on his unworthy knees and apologize, promise it would never happen again. Promise he would do whatever Emma asked of him, including marriage. It was the right thing to do after dishonoring her like that. John repeated the thought in his head once more. Marriage. There it was. The very notion that had caused feelings of anxiety in him for years suddenly had a pleasant ring to it. He desired to marry her, not just to save her reputation, but also because he couldn’t imagine life without her anymore.
But would Emma even have him? She must now think him a gal-sneaker. A flirt. A man who did nothing else but run after a skirt as if his life depended on it. He had done a marvelous job increasing Blackwell’s chances of winning Emma over. Tomorrow, he would make it right. Yes, tomorrow he would explain to her that he was not the man she must think him to be and that he had had feelings for her from the moment he first saw her. He would tell her that he was no Casanova. And, by all that was mighty and just, that was the God’s honest truth. Emma was the first woman he’d ever lost control with. The first woman he had ever actually wanted to be with. To be truthful, Emma was the very first woman in his life—ever. Many years ago, he had kissed a woman, but that had been the extent of it. Not because he was interested in men or because he couldn’t get a woman to marry him. He had simply put marriage out of the cards for good after the whole Blackwell incident.
Well, congratulations, John, he scolded himself. It looks like you just got yourself a new hand of cards. Play them well, my friend. Play them well.
Chapter 8
E mma was having the hardest time getting Lily to leave her be. All night and morning, she tried to have the one conversation Emma simply didn’t want to have. Not with her and not with John.
Of course, Lily wanted to talk about what had happened between John and Emma in the library. Not so much the physical part; for a woman like Lily, there wasn’t the smallest curiosity left
concerning the physical interactions between a man and a woman. No, what Lily wanted to talk about was as clear to Emma as her feelings for John. Lily wanted Emma to marry him. Tomorrow, if that was an option. She wasn’t mad at Lily for trying. It was apparent how much Lily loved it here. She had mentioned at least nine times how nice the servants were to her. She even had her own room with a bed, if she wanted. And fresh rolls with cheese and bacon for breakfast. For Lily, who had literally come from nothing, that was a lot. So why didn’t Emma marry John? She asked herself that same question over and over again, as if she was hoping for a different answer if she just kept asking.
“Because he deserves a woman who will be his wife, not use his money and status to find a way to abandon him the first chance she gets.”
Lily raised a few valid points, though. John wasn’t some innocent eighteen-year-old. He’d probably been with plenty of women before and knew what he wanted. So did Emma. She knew that she wanted him. She knew that she cared for him. Just thinking about his beautiful brown eyes and the way he had looked at her last night made her tingle all over again. She also knew that John was an honorable man with a loving heart, and that was hard to find in a man, no matter the century.
But that was the issue. How could she marry him and then break his heart and embarrass him in front of society by disappearing back to the twenty-first century? Nobody knew who she was, and they wouldn’t have a clue where she had gone. To everybody else, it would look like she had run off and would make John and his caring family the laughingstock of London. But what if she never found a way home? Wouldn’t she rather be married to a man she cared for than be stuck for the rest of her life in Victorian England with Blackwell?
No, she would find a way home. And that meant that she would have to marry Blackwell. The fact that there was some sort of beef between him and John made her feel even less guilty for using Blackwell. The brute must have done something terrible to John. The way John looked at him made that very clear. There was no way John would feel contempt for someone without a damn good reason. He just was not that kind of person.
With a heavy heart and ready to have the most uncomfortable talk of her life, Emma decided to join the Evergreens for breakfast like she did every morning. She would talk to John afterward and get it over with. Tell him sorry for last night. If he offered her marriage, thinking he had dishonored her, she would refuse his offer of marriage and tell him she wasn’t some ruined virgin but a competent widow with a bright future ahead. Yes, that sounded great.
Emma settled on a dark-blue day dress that had a beautiful tail in the back, the height of fashion in the 1880s. Lily had Alice, one of Agnes’s maids, help her put Emma’s hair up into a decorative bun. Blackwell had even included jewelry in his little care package, as he’d called it. Emma was afraid to ask anybody if the diamonds were real because they sure as hell looked real to her. There was no doubt that Blackwell was wealthy beyond what Emma was able to grasp. The end result of putting the little care package together on Emma in full glory was nothing short of stunning. She looked like a true lady, like a duchess. To be honest, she felt she looked like a woman who could get the richest and most handsome man in all of England to marry her. This was confirmed by the hysterical Evergreen ladies and John’s facial expression when Emma joined them in the breakfast room.
“Oh, holy Lord, I have never laid my eyes upon a prettier lady before! You will have countless suitors to pick from today—won’t she, John?” Lady Evergreen shouted proudly, as if Emma were her own daughter.
Emma shot John a guilty look, but he responded emotionlessly, “Yes, indeed.”
The talk that Emma had wanted to have after breakfast never happened. John had successfully managed to avoid her all morning. They exchanged polite statements, and John did a fantastic job of acting totally normal. On one hand, Emma was grateful for that, as awkward silence between the two of them could have raised red flags in front of the staff or his family. On the other hand, however, Emma was also somewhat shocked that John was acting as if nothing had ever happened. What if he didn’t care about their passionate encounter? Or Emma? Maybe Lily was right after all, and John was a good fellow but also well aware of what he was doing, just like any other man. Wouldn’t that mean that Emma could re-think marriage to him? That said, if he would ever propose…but so far, it didn’t look like it. Maybe Emma was wrong about him, and he was just another man chasing skirts. His behavior surely seemed to confirm that. Why else would he avoid her, pretending nothing was the matter? Her heart felt as if someone had just stabbed it with a sharp knife. Isn’t that what you wanted? Keep John out of your life? Stop acting like a heart-broken teenage girl, she told herself. Nonetheless, it still hurt like a broken heart. And maybe it was…
Around noon, Emma and the Evergreens headed out to the Blackwell gathering. Like a perfect gentleman, John helped her into the carriage. Emma could have slapped herself for feeling her cheeks turn red the moment their hands touched. She had to get Blackwell to marry her, asap. What had begun as a mission to protect kind John from hurt feelings had turned into a potential broken heart on Emma’s end. This rollercoaster of emotions had to stop—now.
The Blackwell estate was only thirty-five minutes away, and the ride went by quickly with Lady Evergreen and Agnes babbling nonstop about Blackwell’s riches. So—Emma had thought she was prepared for what was to come but, hell, was she wrong. When the carriage pulled up in front of Blackwell Castle, Emma involuntarily cussed out loud in awe.
“Are you freaking serious?” She had never, absolutely never, seen a castle like the Blackwells’. The little gathering, as Blackwell had described it, was in reality a huge party. Carriages lined up in front of the enormous stairs that led up to wide-open, golden double doors. The sun reflected off those golden doors, briefly blinding people as they walked up the stairs. This was ridiculous. Lady Evergreen grabbed Emma under her arm and walked her up the stairs to step into an entrance hall that made the castle in the show Downton Abby look like Lily’s apartment. Artful decorations in gold and precious stones decorated the walls and ceilings. Were those diamonds?
Lady Evergreen whispered into Emma’s ear, “The Blackwells are the most established family in all of England. Their roots go back hundreds of years. Rumor has it that not a single king of England has not borrowed money from them.”
Emma had had no clue. Lily had left that detail out when they were sitting on the floor in her dark, cold apartment, planning the ultimate escape from the slums of London. Was she up for this task? For the first time, Emma started to really doubt herself.
“Mrs. Washington!” Blackwell shouted over to her from a parlor filled with society’s finest. “Let me help you.”
He rushed over to take Emma’s cloak and hand it to a servant.
“You look stunning!” William said, a bit flirty.
“Thanks to you,” Emma flirted back. The game was on. Emma was now fighting for more than her and Lily’s survival and her chance of getting back home. She was fighting to flee from Evergreen, a former sanctuary that had now placed a big target on her heart. Emma took Blackwell’s arm, and he led her through a golden parlor, past the whispers and icy stares of everybody in it. She and Blackwell were the center of attention, something he was obviously used to. He stopped in front of two elegantly dressed women, who instantly analyzed Emma from head to toe. One was older but still beautiful, and the other, young and pretty. Both of them had black hair and icy blue eyes. Emma knew what was up.
“Now, you must be the famous Mrs. Washington my son is so taken with. I now see why…very agreeable indeed,” Lady Blackwell said with a fake smile. No doubt, Lady Blackwell was a woman of the highest class in England. She must have been a remarkable beauty in her day, a trait she had handed down to both of her children.
“You certainly were not lying, William, when you said that Mrs. Washington is the most beautiful woman you have ever laid eyes upon,” Blackwell’s sister said.
“Mrs. Washington
, may I introduce my mother, and sister, Alvina.”
“It’s a pleasure meeting you both,” Emma replied politely.
“One might almost think her a lady of society from looking at her,” Alvina said, waving her fan in an arrogant gesture.
“Indeed, very un-American looking,” Lady Blackwell agreed with her daughter.
And there it was. Emma was not surprised at all about this not so subtle insult. Obviously, both Blackwell ladies were used to getting their way, and right now, Emma was confident that their way did not include a marriage between Emma and Blackwell. That was something Emma could actually understand and sympathize with. The Blackwell family was the most respected family of the country, and his mother would probably approve of nothing less than a princess for her son. Unfortunately for Lady Blackwell, Emma had just time-traveled after getting hit by a car, and on top of that, she had the responsibility of saving a kind-hearted prostitute by finding a way back to the future for both of them. In short, she was in battle mode, and she was here to win this fight or die trying. Besides, thanks to his status, Blackwell’s reputation would recover in no time, should Emma ever make it back home. And William Blackwell surely wouldn’t be heartbroken for long. It might even teach him a lesson, what it actually feels like to suffer from a broken heart—a misery plenty of women had surely endured thanks to him. No, Emma’s sympathies did not go as far as calling it off to save privileged Lady Blackwell’s feelings. The law had to be laid out right here and now, in front of everybody. Emma had to prove herself and also test out the waters to see how Blackwell would respond to her challenging his mother and sister.
“Thank you. One might almost think both of you American from your ability to shoot. Verbally, at least,” Emma said, copying Alvina’s arrogant hand fan movements. She glanced at Blackwell, who stared at her in a mix of admiration and amusement. She had bet everything on this moment, and she’d played her cards well. Blackwell was exactly who she had thought he would be. He felt challenged; she could see the need to tame her, possess her, in his eyes.
