Instinctively, she complied, stroking the length of his thick, heavy erection, his shaft hard yet velvety smooth and warm. So warm it seemed as if he might have a fever.
And perhaps she did as well. Her skin was overheated, her cheeks burning, as blood surged through her veins in swift, almost wild beats.
Nick’s eyes closed and he groaned, his hand closing gently over hers to guide her in a more expert rhythm. She stroked him, enjoying the undisguised pleasure on his face.
Then, quite without warning, he pulled her hand away and came down beside her in the bed. Dragging her into his arms, he took her mouth, his kisses deep, hungry, and unapologetically rapacious.
Weaving her fingers into his clean, soft hair, she yielded to the power and beauty of his touch, every kiss, each caress, more wonderful than the last.
Enslaved was the only way to describe how she felt as his hands moved over her in long, tantalizing sweeps—from nape to breast, stomach to thigh, and all the way down to her feet. Each new circuit built her need a little higher, her legs restless, body aching as he played his palms over her in blazing circles that drove her half mad with longing. Breath hitched in her lungs and her thoughts spun away, her mind fuzzy and sure of nothing but following Nick’s command.
His kisses grew slower and more intense before his lips left hers to repeat the path set by his hands. He wandered from pleasure point to pleasure point, pausing to pay special homage to her breasts in a way that made keening cries erupt from her throat.
He smiled against the smooth, flat plane of her stomach, then moved on, showering her with tormenting little licks and nips and kisses as he went. Continuing his exploration, he moved lower, over her hips and thighs, then on to her feet.
Sliding his wide palm over one of her quivering calves, he caught her leg in his hand and bent it at the knee, then to one side to expose her to more of his touch.
Full-body shudders racked her frame as he slid a finger inside her, her exquisitely sensitive inner flesh tightening wetly around him. He added another finger and began to stroke.
Her hips arched off the mattress in a way that pushed him in past his knuckles. Taking hold of her other thigh with his free hand, he opened her wide so that she lay at his complete and total mercy.
Then his mouth found her, but not where she expected. Her eyes flew wide as he suckled intently her tender, throbbing flesh. As for his fingers, they remained lodged inside her, stroking her with devastating purpose.
Her mind went curiously blank, her senses barely able to take in the shock of the act, or the waves of stunning pleasure that assailed her body. Somehow she found the strength to throw her arm over her mouth to muffle the cries that issued from her throat. The world spun around her in a crazy tempest that threatened to shake her apart from the inside out.
And suddenly she did come apart, shattering in deep, convulsive spasms that left her floating on a cloud of pure, profound delight.
But Nick didn’t leave her time to savor a gentle glide back down to earth as he rose above her and thrust himself inside.
Last time there had been an initial stab of pain when he’d taken her virginity. But now there was only a sense of delicious fullness and pleasurable need. For, in spite of the satisfaction still humming through her veins as effervescent as sparkling wine, she wanted him again. She desired him with an urgency that went beyond the physical into the realm of the soul.
She needed him, all of him, in a way that knew no bounds. Some might say that such a connection was impossible, but she knew better. Knew that of all the men in the world, he was the only one who could make her feel as she did. The only man who could bring her a love that few women would ever hope to experience. In that moment, she realized that he was her perfect match—physically, emotionally, spiritually, in all ways there could be. The two of them were halves of a whole, formed by God and nature for just this purpose.
Then he began to move inside her in heavy, penetrating strokes and she forgot all about such ethereal wanderings. Determined to be as close to him as possible, she wrapped her arms and legs tight and urged him deeper still.
With a heartfelt groan, he complied, moving in sure, swift strokes that sent her flying.
But he had one last surprise in store as he suddenly braced the two of them together, then rolled onto his back, carrying her along so that she was on top. Her wide eyes met the lambent intensity of his gaze, seeing her own raging desire reflected back.
“I love you,” he said, his voice throaty with emotion. “So much, Emma. So very, very much.” His hands glided over her shoulders and down her spine, then around so they came to rest on her hips. “Tell me again that you love me.”
“I do,” she vowed. “More than you may ever know.”
“Then show me, love,” he said, shifting her hips with his hands so that she knew how he meant for her to move. “Show me, my beautiful, darling Emmaline.”
And she did, catching on to the rhythm with an adeptness that earned her enthusiastic kisses and ragged moans of praise. Then neither of them could speak, her body reaching for its peak while beneath her Nick did the same.
Her strength faltered at the last, but it didn’t matter, Nick taking command as he thrust inside her in fast, hard strokes that drove her to the edge of madness, then over into a soaring flight of blissful abandon.
He followed moments later, shaking violently as he claimed his pleasure with a hoarse shout that he muffled with a last savage kiss on her lips. She swallowed the sound, love shimmering like a rich, golden light inside her.
Smiling, she sank exhausted and replete across him, safe in the knowledge that whatever the future might bring, everything would be all right so long as they were together.
Nick awakened Emma about an hour before dawn. After lighting a candle, he retrieved her discarded undergarments and gown from the floor, then helped her dress. By mutual agreement, he left the laces of her stays loose so she could slip easily out of the garment once she was back inside her bedchamber.
For himself, he pulled on a pair of fawn superfine trousers, a freshly laundered white shirt, and a jacket.
“We need to get you back before you are missed,” he said, handing her one of his silver-backed brushes so she could set her hair to rights. Once her tresses flowed like a smooth golden river along her back, he gathered all her hairpins and slid them into a handkerchief for her to carry back to her room.
Taking her gently in his arms, he gave her a last, lingering kiss, careful not to abrade her skin with the growth of morning bristles now shadowing his cheeks. “Ready?” he asked.
She nodded. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you. Are you sure we shouldn’t elope, after all? I could pack a valise and we could be on our way within the hour.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I would like to do the honorable thing by you rather than stealing away like a thief. Your brother seems like a reasonable man; perhaps he’ll surprise you.”
Emma held her tongue, no more convinced of that likelihood than before. He kissed her again, slow and sweet, leaving her wishing even more that they had the freedom to simply crawl back into his bed.
At length, he let her go, sighing at the necessity. “I suppose we shouldn’t plan to spend the night together again until we are married. Too many chances of being caught.” His palm slid down to the curve of her bottom and pressed her closer. “I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off you.”
“Nor I you.”
His mouth took hers again, claiming her one last time. “Hmm,” he groaned as he eased away. “I believe I ought to give you fair warning that I plan on a very long honeymoon. I may not let you out of bed for month.”
“Will that be enough time? Maybe we should plan on two months?” she said, skimming a fingertip over his lower lip.
He laughed and gave her finger a playful nip with his teeth. “Come on,” he said, catching her hand fully inside his own. “We dare not delay any longer.”
He cracked the do
or open a fraction of an inch and listened to make sure the hallway beyond was silent.
“No talking,” he warned softly. “No one should be awake yet, but you never know.”
Leading the way, Nick pulled Emma into the corridor and started the journey to her bedchamber. They reached the door to her room without mishap, the house as dark and slumbering as each of them had hoped.
After a last glance in both directions, Nick gave her a swift, hard kiss. “Go back to sleep. I shall see you later today.”
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too.”
Reaching out, he turned the doorknob and urged her inside. She went on stealthy feet, closing the door soundlessly at her back.
Nick had just turned away from Emma’s door when a faint creaking noise echoed behind him.
Spinning around, he peered into the darkness.
But the corridor stood empty, and as he continued to watch, nothing moved in the shadows. Slowly, he walked toward the source of the sound.
Still nothing. The noise did not come again.
Nerves, he decided, recalling times in the past—usually before a battle—when every little squeak and rattle took on ominous characteristics.
After one last check, he shook off the feeling, then retraced his steps to his room.
Chapter 26
Emma awakened late that morning, the hours spent with Nick feeling like a dream—the most wonderful dream of her life.
But then she remembered his determination to ask Rupert for her hand in marriage. Had he gone to speak with Rupert yet? Was there still time to stop him? But Nick had been so adamant about doing the honorable thing by her that she didn’t think there was any stopping him. She huffed out a breath as she sat up between the sheets, knowing she would simply have to let matters take their course.
Even so, she couldn’t help fretting, her anxiety growing as the day went on.
She was seated in the drawing room that afternoon, sewing and drinking tea with the other ladies, when Ariadne laid her embroidery aside. “It seems a lovely sunny day outside,” Ariadne said. “Why do we not get our cloaks and take a walk in the garden?”
Mercedes looked up, while Emma’s needle stilled over her own stitchery. Emma studied Ariadne for a long moment, reading the significant look in her friend’s green gaze.
Emma’s pulse accelerated. “Yes, all right.” She tucked her embroidery into her sewing box, then rose, along with her two friends.
The baroness glanced at them from across the room, but returned quickly to her conversation with one of the other guests.
The three of them retrieved their cloaks and made their way outside into the wintry air. Brilliant sunshine streamed down, the light making the temperature seem less frigid. Their slippers crunched on the gravel path as they wandered into the neatly trimmed garden with its tall hedgerows of shiny green boxwoods and holly bushes, dark leafless trees spreading their wizened branches overhead.
They were near the center of the garden when Ariadne drew to a stop. “Go through that break in that hedge,” she murmured, gesturing toward a narrow, almost invisible gap in the greenery. “Mercedes and I will stay here and keep watch. If you hear a nightingale calling that means we have been joined by company.”
Emma stared for a moment, then gave a quick nod of understanding.
When she slipped through to the other side of the hedgerow she found Nick waiting for her in the narrow, mazelike corridor beyond. Warmth spread through her at the sight of his beloved face.
“Nick,” she cried, rushing into his arms.
He pulled her close and kissed her. “Darling.”
“Did you talk to Rupert? I worried when you weren’t at nuncheon.”
A bitter line edged his mouth. “I spoke with him this morning. You were right. He wouldn’t so much as consider my offer. Your hand, he informed me, is already promised. He said I had a great deal of nerve to even approach him considering that I am not of royal blood. Apparently no man of lesser rank will do for you.”
She brushed her fingers over the fine black wool of his greatcoat. “I am sorry.”
“Don’t be. You did warn me of the likely results. But at least I tried to do the right thing. Now we’ll do what we must and elope.”
“When? Now?” she asked, her pulse doing a jagged little dance of excitement.
He shook his head. “I fear my interest in you has put your brother on the alert and that you are likely to be watched. We’ll have to plan more carefully.”
“All right. Then, when?”
“I’m not sure yet. I shall get word to you through the princesses to let you know the details. In the meantime, I think it best if I play the dejected suitor and leave. That will alleviate any suspicions.”
Her heart dropped to her stomach. “Leave? I wish you would not.”
“Don’t worry. It won’t be long, and then I shall be back to collect you.” He smiled and skimmed a warm thumb across her cheek. “I told you last night I’m not letting you go. Nothing on earth will stop me, not even an angry prince.”
She shivered and wished she felt as confident. Rupert was not an individual to cross, and she feared what might happen to Nick if they were caught.
“I’m going to miss you,” she said. “I don’t know how I’ll bear it until you return.”
“It’s going to be torture for me as well. Just remember that I love you.”
He bent and kissed her, claiming her lips with a sweet, wild desperation that neither of them could contain. Moments passed, his touch everything she would ever want and more. His arms trembled with the force of his passion, but somehow he found the strength to end their embrace.
Just then, the call of a nightingale sounded from the other side of the hedge.
He stiffened, obviously aware what the sound meant. “I’ll return for you,” he said. “Just wait for word from me.”
They shared one last, quick kiss, and then he was gone.
A moment later, Ariadne—who was talking very loudly about how much she adored gardens—walked slowly through the gap in the hedge. She was followed by Mercedes and the baroness.
The older woman stopped and looked around, a suspicious glint in her eye.
But Nick was gone, not even a trace of his footsteps remaining on the hard ground. Ariadne and Mercedes both looked relieved to find Emma alone.
“Oh, hello, Baroness,” Emma said in the most cheerful voice she could muster. “Don’t you just love a good maze?”
The next few days were some of the longest of Emma’s life. In an attempt to take her mind off Nick, she joined in the holiday festivities arranged by her host and hostess.
During the day, the ladies met to enjoy a variety of activities: painting, embroidery, poetry reading, and crafting. They fashioned all sorts of holiday decorations that their hostess had the servant hang from the fragrant holly- and fir-draped mantels and banisters. To add to the festive mood, a great Yule log had been carried in and now blazed hotly in the main drawing room fireplace.
As for the men, they rode out nearly every morning to try their hand at pheasant and partridge hunting, returning with braces of birds to be served at that night’s dinner. When they did not venture out, they played billiards and cards, the pungent scents of tobacco and liquor wafting from whatever room they had commandeered.
On more than one afternoon, joint outdoor winter activities were arranged for both the ladies and gentlemen, including sleigh rides and an ice-skating party at a nearby pond.
Sigrid’s daughters were given the rare treat of joining the adults for the skating. Much to everyone’s surprise, King Otto volunteered to teach the two young girls how to navigate the ice, a few guests remarking that he seemed as carefree as a child himself in those moments.
But Emma knew better, now subjected to Otto’s daily efforts to further their acquaintance.
It wasn’t that he was a bad man, she decided, though his grating laugh still sent a shudder through her every
time she heard it. No, it was simply that they had virtually nothing in common. As she had surmised from their first meeting, he was rather arrogant and vain and spoke only of matters that interested him, with scant regard for her preferences.
He loved to hunt; she hated it.
He thought reading plays and stories to be an absolute waste of time; she thought owning a collection of taxidermy animals to be appalling.
He believed sea bathing to be a dangerously unhealthy activity; she thought he ought to take baths more frequently and wear far less cologne.
But she merely smiled and demurred, letting him think she was satisfied by his compliments on her figure, her face, and whatever gown she was wearing that evening. Other women would likely have been flattered, but she found his words shallow and practiced.
Yet even if she were not in love with Nick and planning to elope with him soon, Otto would have left her cold. She shuddered to think how she would have felt were she still destined to be Otto’s bride instead of Nick’s.
As for Nick, she heard nothing, every day worse than the one before. Ariadne and Mercedes did their best to cheer her, but she couldn’t ever truly relax, worried as she was that Nick would not find a way to carry out their plan.
She would leave notes for Rupert and Sigrid, she decided, to be delivered after she and Nick were safely out of reach. She could only imagine Rupert’s fury and her sister’s dismay, but under the circumstances, it could not be helped.
If only Rupert had listened to her when she had asked to be released from the engagement, none of this would be necessary. She hated the bitterness her elopement would cause, the fracturing within their family. But she loved Nick and, no matter the sacrifice, she would do everything in her power to be with him, to be his wife.
Christmas Day dawned clear and cold, the house alive with laughter and frivolity as the guests ate, drank, sang, and generally made merry. Emma was in the midst of unwrapping one of her presents when Mercedes eased onto the sofa next to her.
“Open this one when you are alone,” she whispered and pressed a small oblong box into Emma’s hand.
The Princess and the Peer Page 30
