by Denise Daye
He wanted to help Emma out of the carriage, but she stepped out so fast, he couldn’t even offer her his hand.
“I’m tired. Please, excuse me,” she said quickly before walking straight up the stairs to her room.
Great. How would he talk to her now? Lily was staying with Emma in her room, so it would be highly inappropriate to knock at her door late at night. But then, her maid already knew what was going on, so after going back and forth, John decided to take that risk. He would wait until his mother and sister went to bed and then knock at Emma’s door to apologize…and somehow throw a marriage proposal in as well. All his life, he’d tried to avoid marriage, but whenever he thought of Emma, he wanted nothing more than hold her in his arms, to fall asleep next to her for the rest of his life.
It took his mother and sister longer than usual to go to bed. Their chatter about the Blackwell party hadn’t died down, even long past their usual bedtime. John became extremely irritable with them and had to remove himself from the music room to avoid getting into it with his sister Agnes, who couldn’t stop her babbling about glorious William Blackwell. He had to remind himself over and over again that they didn’t know about the whole Elise drama, so becoming heated with them was not appropriate.
It must have been around ten when the house finally settled down, and John was able to carefully knock at Emma’s door.
“Emma,” he whispered.
No answer. He knocked again.
“Emma, are you awake?” He waited for a few seconds. Nothing. She must have been asleep. He could have kicked himself for not talking to her earlier.
You’re able to charge into battle with an empty rifle and a dull knife, but you’re not capable of talking to the woman you want to marry? Have you turned into a coward?
“Well done, John…well done,” he said to himself, walking to his room to prepare for a night full of torment.
Emma was in her nightgown and brushing her hair when she heard John knock on her door. She immediately signaled Lily not to open it. He knocked again, but Emma didn’t move an inch. He didn’t knock a third time, but Emma and Lily still waited a bit longer, until they were sure he was gone, before Lily broke the silence.
“Emma, just go to him. You must talk to him and make things right.”
That was what Emma wanted as well, but what exactly was right? All day he’d ignored her and pretended like everything was blue skies and roses.
“And then what?” Emma asked, putting the hairbrush down.
“And then you will marry Blackwell and find a way home. For both of us, I hope.”
Emma didn’t respond to that.
“Or you will accept Evergreen’s proposal and spend as much time as possible with the man you love before going home,” Lily said, sitting down next to Emma on her bed.
“Love? That is ridiculous! And I don’t even think he will propose!” Emma acted outraged, but Lily put a hand on her shoulder.
“Is it? You believe me when I tell you that love matters are my profession, do you not?”
Emma nodded her head.
“Well, then let me tell you that this man is just as much in love with you as you are with him. To be quite frank, I have never seen people so obsessed with one another. It is like out of a Jane Austen novel.”
“Wait…you know Jane Austen?” Emma asked, surprised.
“Of course. There isn’t a single woman in town who doesn’t dream of a romance like that.”
“Then you should know that those romances aren’t real,” Emma said with a heavy heart.
“That’s what I thought until I got to witness Mrs. Emma Washington and John Evergreen meet one another.”
Emma quietly bit her lip.
“You know, he is not some little boy who can’t make his own decisions. And if you’re so worried about hurting his feelings, why don’t you tell him the truth and let him choose for himself?”
“Tell him who I am? Where I came from?”
“Why not? You could show him the music box to prove that you are telling the truth. I could testify on your behalf.”
Emma thought about it for a second. If this was a Jane Austen novel, she would just tell John that she was from the twenty-first century and had time-traveled here after getting hit by a car—which she would also have to explain. Then she would tell him how she planned to marry an arse with money so she could find a way back home into the future. Yes, in a romance novel, John would believe her and tell her that he wanted to be with her no matter what, even if it was only for a short while—or however long it took her to get back home.
But this wasn’t some romance novel. Emma had woken up in the slums of London, facing prostitution. She knew she wasn’t cut out for being a Victorian-era prostitute. God, she wouldn’t have even made it until Christmas. Her twenty-first-century immune system was used to extremely high hygienic standards and antibiotics, so she would most likely have caught some infection that the people living in the slums of London were immune to and died miserably before the year was over. No, this wasn’t a romance novel. But then, this was also not the world she used to know. She’d time-traveled after getting hit by a car, for heaven’s sake. Anything was possible. Lily was right. She needed to talk to John and either tell him the truth or tell him that she would marry William Blackwell. No more games.
Emma made her way to John’s room, walking as if the floor was made of eggshells. She didn’t want to wake anybody, as it wasn’t exactly ladylike to be seen at a man’s room at night. But just when she was about to knock quietly on his door, she saw a light from a candle come around the corner down the hallway. Without thinking, she swung John’s door open and closed it quickly behind herself, listening with her ear against the door to see if whoever was out there had seen her.
“Emma?” John asked, surprised. She turned around to apologize for her rude entry but froze before getting a word out. John was only partially dressed, wearing nothing but trousers. He was sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace. The warm, flickering light of the fire was dim but still bright enough to expose his whole upper body—covered in scars. Emma took a few steps closer. It looked terrible. Not because it made him hideous or disfigured his muscular abdomen, no. It was more that Emma couldn’t imagine the pain of what would cause such deep, long scars. There were too many to count. They ran all the way from his neck into his trousers.
“John, I had no idea…”
It seemed to take John a moment to understand what she was referring to. “Oh, that. It looks a lot worse than it is. It doesn’t hurt at all. At least, not anymore. Really.”
Emma walked over to him, close enough to be in his reach.
“What happened?” She felt a painful lump in her throat just thinking about the pain he must have endured.
“It happened on a mission in the Far East. Our troops were sent to take a town controlled by the rebels. If you want to call them that, but to be honest, looking back, they were just people trying to defend their families. Most of us knew it was a trap and that we would be horribly outnumbered. We tried to convince our general to wait for reinforcements, but he was a stubborn old man with more pride than brains. He did not listen and led hundreds of young men to their deaths for some made-up glory. I was one of the few lucky ones. A barrel of black powder exploded right next to me when we attacked, and when I woke up, I was in an army hospital with a letter on my nightstand rewarding me with a medal for bravery. They should have given it for foolishness because that’s all the mission was.”
Emma looked at John in admiration. Not because he was a war hero, but because he carried those scars with such modesty. Suddenly, she saw a flicker of shame in his eyes. He stood up to reach for his shirt, which was hanging from the chair he had been sitting on. Emma stopped him, grabbing his arm before he could get to it.
“Don’t…” she said softly. She wanted to comfort him, prove to him that she cared for him with or without the scars. And before Emma could tell herself to be reasonable, she leaned
her head forward and kissed the scar on his neck. John was so shocked at Emma’s tender kiss, his entire body froze beneath her lips. She gently moved her lips down toward his chest. John let out a moan.
“Emma…you do not have to…” Emma pushed him back into his chair, kneeling in front of him between his legs.
“I want to.” As though in a trance, she continued kissing his chest, moving her mouth passionately over his soft, scarred skin. John growled from deep within his chest, which turned Emma on even more. Her whole body was on fire. The sheer thought of where she really wanted to kiss him sent little waves of excitement through her, heating her between her legs. She gently kissed her way down his muscular abdomen to his trousers, carefully opening the first button, but John grabbed her hand to stop her.
“Emma—”
She shook his hand off and continued to open his trousers, button by button, until his large, hard shaft revealed itself. A feeling of wet lust struck her at her center. Making every kiss a passionate confession, Emma started to move her lips around the tip of the steel in her hands. John arched his back, shivering underneath her touch.
“Emma, what are you doing?” John moaned in a hoarse voice that begged for more.
Emma teased him a bit longer before taking him in her mouth. John clawed his fingers into the chair’s arms with such force, his fingertips turned white.
“Oh my, it feels so good,” John said, barely able to speak. Never in her whole life had Emma taken a man into her mouth, but she couldn’t help but want to taste John completely, to make him come in her mouth. Her kisses became a more rhythmic sucking. By the hardness of John’s manhood, this wouldn’t take long. She had never felt more aroused than at this very moment.
John looked down at Emma, who was moving her head rhythmically up and down his hard shaft. It was evident that she genuinely enjoyed it; she let escape the most sensual little moans and gasps of pleasure. He didn’t think he could last much longer, so he gently pulled himself away from her while at the same time maneuvering her onto her back on the floor. If he’d ever had common sense or reason, it was gone. All he could think about was feeling Emma’s wet center around his hard shaft.
He kissed her passionately as he lifted her nightgown. She eagerly helped him, wiggling underneath him in anticipation. John pulled her wet undergarments down and slid a finger inside of her. She was so wet for him—he couldn’t wait any longer and positioned his hips between her legs. Putting his weight onto his left elbow to avoid crushing her beneath him, John gently tilted her face toward his so he could look her in the eyes when he finally entered her. Her beautiful green eyes locked in on his, and he slowly slid inside. She took a sharp breath in, throwing her head back a little, still looking into his eyes. He was truly amazed. How could she be so beautiful? How did he get so lucky to have met her? He slowly started to move inside her, whispering words of love in her ear. Emma’s breath became louder and heavier, sending John’s whole body into a tingle that felt as if butterflies were trapped inside him. Emma pulled down her gown to expose her pink, hard peaks, begging him to take them in his mouth. John descended his lips upon them, gently sucking one at a time while still moving inside her. She started to rotate her hips faster and faster, forcing John to adjust his rhythm according to her lead.
“I’m coming, John, please don’t stop,” Emma murmured passionately.
John felt a wave of heat rise from his abdomen into his shaft, spreading quickly through his whole body. He was pushing over the edge.
“I love you,” John moaned against Emma’s lips as his seed pulsed into her.
It was the most intense feeling Emma had ever felt. Hearing John say those words against her lips while she could feel him come inside her had made Emma orgasm so hard, it was like nothing she’d ever felt before. It was an overwhelming release of pleasure, with tingles spreading in a burn throughout her body. She twitched underneath him, shaking uncontrollably for a few seconds. She looked up at John, who started kissing her again gently. She kissed him back, slowly releasing him from the firm grip of her legs. He rolled next to her onto his side, maintaining their connection, his lips on hers. He was so gentle with her. Every touch was a statement of how much he cared for her.
“This is not how I pictured my apology to you when I went over it a million times in my head.” He grinned, kissing her again. His words tore her out of her dreamy world of love, and Emma remembered why she had come to his room in the first place. To talk to him, not to sleep with him. What had she done? She pulled her nightgown back over her breasts and sat up. John must have realized that there would be no holding each other until the morning, as he sat up as well, pulling his trousers back up. Emma was close to tears. She had come to talk to him, to maybe even tell him the truth, but instead of making sense of things, she’d lost control again. Don’t you understand what is at stake here?
“I’m so stupid,” she said out loud, throwing her head into her hands. In a heartbeat, John was beside her. He put an arm around her and squeezed gently.
“You? For heaven’s sake, Emma. The foolish one is obviously me. I brought you into my house to protect you, and then this happens? I barely recognize myself anymore…” He seemed frustrated with himself, but she knew he shouldn’t blame himself at all. Poor John had no clue that Emma was a sexually confident woman from the twenty-first century.
“It’s not your fault, John. I’m a grown woman. I knew exactly what was going on. So please, don’t feel like you have to apologize.”
“You are quite right. I have to do a lot more than apologize to you. I should have asked you earlier, but I did not know how to. I was afraid you would say no to my offer of…”
Emma jumped up. “No…Please. Please don’t offer me marriage. Not like this. You don’t even know who I am. I won’t trap you in a loveless marriage and then…” Then what, Emma? Then leave him to go back home? She couldn’t finish that sentence. She simply didn’t know how to.
John stood up as well and walked up to her. “Emma, I know this is not ideal. I cannot tell you how sorry I am that things went down this path. Normally, the man asks for the hand of a lady before the wedding night happens, but what’s done is done. And the marriage would not be as loveless as you think, at least not on my end. I would not be a bad husband to you. I promise you that.”
She remembered what he’d said to her just a few moments ago when they were united in passion.
John leaned forward and kissed her softly, and Emma felt that tingle in her stomach again. She opened her eyes slightly to look at his beautiful face. It would be nothing less than a dream to be married to a man like John. Maybe Lily was right. Maybe it wasn't so outrageous after all, to marry him. Emma would just have to tell him the truth.
“It wouldn’t be loveless on my end either,” she said in a tone that implied a but.
“Then what is it?”
Emma stayed quiet. John suddenly smiled at her with a big grin, as if he’d figured it out.
“If you have concerns that I am a gal-sneaker, let me tell you, it is quite the opposite. I have never been with a woman before, Emma.”
Emma took a step backward. “You’ve never been with a woman before?”
“No.”
“So…so this was your…”
“Very first time…yes. I hope it was enjoyable, or at least not terrible.” He chuckled, and Emma turned away from him. She started to grasp what she had done to him. John had just told her that he loved her, wanted to marry her. He had given her everything he had to offer, even what he had never given another woman before, and what had she given him in return? Lies, lies, lies. His heart would be broken no matter what.
She felt like a piece of shit. She had to come clean, now.
John watched her the entire time, trying to figure out what was on her mind. Suddenly, he walked up to the fireplace as if he had suddenly found the answer to the problem. He stared into the flames as though they would give him strength.
“Well, I did kis
s a woman before.”
Emma walked up to him. “Elise?”
“Ah…of course. Blackwell told you, I assume?”
Emma confirmed with a nod.
“Well, I am sure he failed to mention that he seduced Elise in the back of a carriage when she was barely sixteen. Just a child. In all fairness, we were all children back then.”
“I’m so sorry,” Emma said empathetically.
“No need. I did not love her. My father and Elise’s mother arranged a marriage between the two of us. To unite our estates. I was barely eighteen and agreed to it to make my father happy. He was a terrible man, and upsetting him would have made life hell for my mother and sister. He didn’t care for treating women well.”
Emma knew all too well what he was talking about. “So why did Blackwell and Elise never get married? Did he straight out refuse to?”
“This is the part where things got ugly. If he had done the right thing and married her, things would have been different. Hell, my father might even still be alive. But no, not Blackwell. Elise called a meeting with Blackwell and me. I guess she wanted to come clean, thinking Blackwell would marry her. But the moment she told me about their love, Blackwell started to laugh. He told her that she would never be Lady Blackwell and to crawl back to me. He said she would make an excellent Lady Evergreen, virgin or not. I would have fought Blackwell right then and there, but Elise took off in a frantic state, so I went after her to make sure she would be alright. The foolish part is, I would still have married her. I did not love her, but honestly, I never thought it fair for men to sleep around but deny women the same right before marriage, so heck, I really did not care. To me, marriage was a business agreement. But Elise turned out to be just as unreasonable as Blackwell. She was determined to make him marry her. That is when these terrible rumors and lies about my family started. Horrible in nature. We soon discovered—they had come from Elise. To this day, I am struggling to understand why she did it. Maybe to focus her hatred on someone else, or maybe to ruin my family to force her mother to break off the engagement. Whatever it was, my father died of a heart attack shortly after, and my mother and sister were treated like outcasts and fell into deep depressions.”
