“I do not understand the power you wield over me, but I cannot get you out of my head.” His voice was husky and breathless in my ear, sending a fresh new wave of butterflies fluttering under my skin. A smile tugged at my lips.
“You have a strange way of showing it,” I said in a playful tone.
“The English never show their true feelings, as you’ve been kind enough to point out,” he said, matching my tone. “We prefer to keep things bottled up.”
Ah, so he had been listening to my little rant. “Glad to see you’re breaking the mold.”
“You’ve made it impossible for me to do otherwise. Any woman brave enough to smack me upside the head is worth a second look.”
I raised my hand to threaten another beating and he stole a kiss.
“I don’t usually like to use violence as foreplay, but in your case…”
He looked at me curiously. “I am in awe of your use of the English language, Miss Emma.” He laughed.
His fingers traced along my collarbone and my nipples tightened in response. I pulled his lips back to mine and our kissing became more urgent. The evidence of his desire pressed into my abdomen. Never had I wanted anyone the way I wanted this man. Not just in a physical sense, which at the moment was blinding, but in every way. I wanted to know him and love him and be loved by him. It was like a light had been turned on in my very core and now I could no longer imagine living in darkness. Not ever again.
My hand slid down his back, tracing the muscles through his shirt. I was desperate to feel his skin. There was far too much fabric between us which needed to be peeled away. With a tug I pulled his shirt from his pants so I could feel the heat of his flesh in my palms.
He looked down at me, his eyes full of questions.
Are we going to do this?
Both of us knew there’d be no turning back. I reached for his hand and brought it to my breast in answer. His eyes closed for a moment, as if this was the first time he’d touched a woman’s body. Maybe it was. Without another thought he lifted me with ease and carried me to the tack room. There was an old leather couch on the far side and we crashed down on that, never breaking our kiss. How he found his way so flawlessly in the dark was a mystery. I had given up long ago caring what was becoming of Isobel’s delicate blue dress. Miss Barnsby would most likely have a heart attack when she saw the state of it.
Henry lowered his body on mine until I felt the full weight of him. He reached around and loosened the snaps that held the top part of the dress snug against my chest. Finally I could breathe a little better. He leaned onto his side and with my breast in his palm my nipple hardened under his touch. His mouth brushed across my breast, the sensation sending a steady wave of pleasure through my body. Encouraged by my reaction he continued until I felt on the verge of orgasm.
An overwhelming desire to feel his skin on mine took hold of me. In a series of quick tugs I undid his cravat and popped the buttons off his shirt, revealing his perfect chest. For a man who had probably never seen the inside of a gym, nor done an ounce of physical labor, he was toned and muscular. I ran my hand over the lean contours of his body as he watched.
“Stand up.” His voice was almost hoarse, but full of command. “I want to see you.” By now our eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Moon slivers cut through the curtains overhead like the faint strokes of a paintbrush.
He helped me up and undid my dress. Heedless of the wrath of Miss Barnsby, he let it fall to the ground. Moving behind me he traced a line from my shoulders to my neck with his lips leaving a small trail of wet kisses. A pleasant shiver ran through my body as he got to work on the corset. When that fell to the ground he looked at my body through the loose-fitting shift. My nipples brushed against the delicate fabric. With one small tug the shift fell like a thin curtain down to my ankles. My skin filled with goosebumps and tingled with the warm summer air.
I reveled in the way he watched me. Instead of feeling vulnerable, as I always did even in front of a mirror, I felt strong and empowered. There was no judgment in his eyes, only love and acceptance. Next he slid down my drawers and stockings, tossing them aside like used-up paper.
Reaching out to him, I felt his excitement through his clothes. He held his breath for a moment before letting it out in shallow bursts. Now it was his turn to watch as I undressed him, letting his clothes join mine on the floor, a tangled mess. We were past the point of no return. Whatever might come, I wanted to bend to his will and have him bend to mine. I took him in my hand, feeling the extent of his need. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he picked me up and laid me down on the sofa. He kissed me all the way down to my navel, nipping and tasting indiscriminately. My body and mind surrendered to him completely. He paused at the small tattoo of a bird in flight just below my navel.
“What’s this?” He traced it with his finger.
“Oh, it’s just a silly little thing I did when I was young.” I hadn’t thought about how to explain it. Miss Barnsby had noticed it but she’d pretended not to see it. Isobel had certainly been intrigued with it, but I couldn’t imagine what Henry would make of it.
“It’s beautiful.” He traced the bird with his tongue. The whole time he snuck smoldering glances at me as my body contorted to his pleasure like a puppet masterfully manipulated by invisible strings. He smiled when I shivered involuntarily. My body had never responded like this to anyone. With him I felt like a different Emma, the Emma I was supposed to be. The woman inside me had finally woken up. There was no telling what Henry had unleashed.
When the teasing became unbearable he spread my legs and tasted me. My head fell back and I quivered under his tongue. He stopped only when he felt my whole body convulse, my hips rising up to him. The power of my orgasm was so strong that I struggled to catch my breath. But before I had recovered completely he slid into me.
Our eyes locked onto each other. How could this feel so right? But it did. Our bodies, our souls joined, speaking without a need for words. With each movement he went deeper inside me. Sweat dripped off his body and fell onto mine. We moved with more and more urgency, our breathing becoming ragged. I raised my pelvis to join his and urge him to enter further inside me and he did just that until both of us were on the edge and then convulsing together. We took shallow breaths, slippery with sweat. He collapsed onto me and kissed me until I stopped shaking.
We lay intertwined for some time before either us had the strength to move or even speak. He stayed inside me, still trembling himself. Naked and tired and blissful, cocooned within the safety of his body, I felt like I’d finally come to life.
His lips moved to my ear.
“I have desired you from the very core of my being and beyond all reason since first we met.” He looked at me with all seriousness. “I love the way you see the world and the pleasure you seem to take in living in it. It’s not like anything I’ve ever encountered.”
I kissed him slowly and then pulled away. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.” My feelings for Ben all this time had never come close to what I was feeling at this moment with Henry. How had I accepted such a mediocre amount of love and caring and passion? Maybe I hadn’t felt I deserved better? Perhaps a small part of me was always the child abandoned. The death of a mother and the neglect of a father had always left me wanting but never getting. Here I was getting the love that should always have been mine in the first place, one without fear or compromise.
“Nor I.” He traced the outline of my lips with his finger. “I was driven mad with jealousy when I saw you with John. I am dreadfully sorry for my appalling behavior.” We both laughed with the memory of our heated argument.
“You’re forgiven.”
He laid his head on my shoulder, his arm wrapped around my waist possessively. His heartbeat struggled to go back to a normal rhythm. When I felt the rise and fall of his steady breath I knew he had fallen asleep and I stroked his hair, getting as much comfort from the gesture as I hoped I was giving.
I was
n’t sure if I imagined the sound of shuffling feet or the blurred outline of someone in the doorway, but I felt another presence in the room besides us. Sometimes when you tried too hard to listen all you could hear was a ringing that seemed to get louder the harder you strained to hear. I gave Henry a small nudge at first, and then as I became more sure of it, I startled him awake. When he lifted his head we both heard the unmistakable sound of feet running from the stable.
Who had seen us? And what had they seen? Most importantly, who would they tell?
Chapter 24
A Little Bird Told Me
When I finally made it to my own bed I had trouble falling asleep. At any moment I imagined that the countess might barge in and drag me out by my hair, yelling, “You wretched whore!” We’d snuck back into the house undetected, but someone had seen us at the stables. My mind was a flurry of activity which I struggled to rein in. My wildest fantasies and worst fears battled to take center stage. What would happen now?
My body tingled and ached. I felt bruised. It was pleasure verging on pain. Our affections had been a little rougher than I was aware of at the time.
My lips were swollen and my face felt chafed. Maybe tomorrow would be a good day to stay in bed. The idea of Miss Barnsby’s face when she saw the state of the dress made me feel slightly ill. Or even the state of me. Surely she’d notice the bruising by morning. Her clucks of disapproval already echoed in my head.
That would be nothing compared to the scrutiny I would receive from the countess. Maybe I could come up with a story of falling out of bed. And then there would be Isobel. She’d be on tenterhooks to find out where I’d ended up and what had happened with Lieutenant Walker.
The skies were already the dull gray of early morning. It had to be about five am. The robins had started to chirp and soon the house would wake up too.
When oblivion finally did arrive it was short-lived. Some people were talking outside my bedroom door but I couldn’t make out who the voices belonged to until the unmistakable exuberance of Miss Barnsby shooed them off before knocking on my door. She no longer waited for me to answer. The door was flung open with no apology and she started to buzz about her business. There were a few dramatic intakes of breath, which told me she’d seen the blue dress. Maybe if I just kept my eyes closed and pretended to be asleep I wouldn’t have to meet her gaze and I could delay the inevitable scrutiny.
“You’ll need to get up, Miss Clayton, the countess desires an audience with you,” she said in a tone as if I’d been called to the principal’s office. There was almost pity in her voice.
Almost.
“Don’t want to keep her waiting.” She’d gone back to her singsong voice like I was a child in her charge.
“Ahhhhh!” was pretty much all I could manage.
“Are you unwell, child?”
“Maybe.” I knew I wasn’t ready to face the day. The thought of it made me feel quite ill.
“Nothing a little fresh air won’t cure.” She flung the windows open and set about putting out my clothes. “Now, I’ve got about five minutes to make you presentable.”
Might as well get it over with. I flung my feet out of bed, already feeling a little stiff. Miss Barnsby gasped when she looked up at me.
“Oh, this will take more time than I expected.”
My hair was a complete tangle of knots.
With gritted teeth I endured her rough brushing. I winced during the worst of it. She took a cloth to some of my bruises, thinking they were just dirty marks, and when she realized they wouldn’t come off she clucked judgmentally.
“What have you gone and done to yourself? Were you wrestling with an ox last night? Your wee arms are covered in bruises.”
I had to fight back the urge to smile when I thought of Henry, certainly as stubborn as an ox. My heart gave a little flutter as I imagined him fast asleep somewhere in the house.
Both of us had been on edge sneaking through the house last night like common thieves. Neither of us had wanted to be separated but it was impossible to take any more risks. He’d said he would find the right time to speak with his father. Did he mean to call off the wedding? What would that mean for us? Was that what I wanted him to do? Did no wedding mean no hunt tomorrow? That meant that his life would be saved. It also meant that he would be free to choose.
My heart started to beat faster at the thought that maybe we could be together. Ben’s face flashed before my eyes and I felt ashamed for my betrayal. Where did my feelings for him fit into all of this? What about getting back to my real life?
“Miss Clayton, did you hear a word I’ve said?” Miss Barnsby snapped at me.
She was pulling the corset strings a little tighter than I thought necessary. Perhaps she was as uneasy about my meeting with the countess as I was.
“Um, I’m so sorry. I guess I must be in a bit of a daze.”
“The countess will see you in the library. Shall I have some tea sent to you there?”
“Sure. I mean, yes, please.” Her thoughtful suggestion caught me off guard. Was I finally starting to win her over? The idea of being alone with the countess snapped me back to the moment. “Is anyone else awake?”
“Everyone, miss. It’s already half past two.”
“Oooh. All right then.” I’d had no idea that I’d slept that long. It had felt like minutes, not hours. “Thank you, Miss Barnsby. I really appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
She struggled to meet my eyes, like I’d somehow made her uncomfortable. Perhaps she was not used to being thanked.
With a pit in my stomach, I made my way down the winding staircase. What was I going to say? Did the countess know what had happened between Henry and I? This felt more like walking to the guillotine. Standing at the door to the library, I took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. The clock on the landing chimed three times. And then I caught sight of Henry coming down the steps. I willed him to look my way but he didn’t. Instead he went directly into his father’s study, his expression grave. Maybe he had reservations—or worse, regrets—about last night. Should I feel regrets?
It was amazing how all evidence of last night’s party had already been erased. If the scent of Lord Henry did not still permeate my own flesh, I’d question if it had happened at all. Every article of furniture had been placed back in its usual spot like it had never been moved.
As I walked in, the countess was sipping her tea. She seemed in surprisingly good spirits. The sweet smell of cigar smoke still lingered in the library despite the open windows. For the first time the countess looked at me and smiled—not a particularly warm smile, as I doubted her face could actually accomplish such a feat. I looked behind me to make sure she wasn’t smiling at someone else, but there was no one else in the room. Maybe I would be spared the lashings after all.
“Good morning, Miss Clayton, or should I say good afternoon?” Was she trying to be funny?
“Oh, right. Yeah, I guess I did oversleep a little.” My palms instantly started to sweat. It felt like I’d just walked into a job interview.
“No matter. I trust you enjoyed yourself last night?”
“You put on a very nice party, thank you.” Maybe she wanted to start fresh and get off on the right foot.
“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” She took another sip of tea and gestured for me to sit. “It appears Lieutenant Walker was quite taken with you. He was most distressed when he was unable to bid you farewell.”
Or maybe not.
Thoughts of the guillotine flooded my mind, or a noose dangling from a lonely perch.
“Umm, yes. I was suddenly not feeling well, so I took myself to bed early.”
“Of course.” She watched me intently, her steel-gray eyes unblinking.
One of the footmen came in carrying a tray with my tea and some biscuits. It was a relief to have something to focus my attention on. The countess had a way of making me want to crawl out of my skin and be absorbed into the furniture.
“It wouldn’t surprise
me at all if the lieutenant came calling again,” she said with a smile that carried enough warmth to freeze a shallow puddle.
I wasn’t sure where she was going with this.
After a sizable pause, the countess pursed her lips. “I have made inquiries about your mother’s family, the Farrars, but it seems I have reached an impasse. The Farrars we tracked down in the North have only four young sons and no daughters.”
I swallowed a huge gulp of tea and scorched the top of my throat. I’d never imagined she would go through the trouble.
“They have no knowledge of an Eileen Farrar either.”
“Oh. Well, my mother never spoke of her family. I’m sorry I’m not much help.” I could tell that she knew I was stalling. She had the right family, only a few generations too early.
“I heard you went to Oxwich yesterday. Did you have someone to visit there?” The noose was tightening.
“Ah, no, I just needed to return something.”
Harris hadn’t wasted any time.
“Return something?”
“A book. When I was there a few days ago I bought a book and realized that I didn’t want it after all.” Sweat started dripping down my cleavage. What was this, the Spanish Inquisition?
“With what money did you make such a purchase, dear?”
“Well,” I started, “Henry—I mean Lord Henry—kindly lent me some.” Had I said too much? Could I faint suddenly? Didn’t women always swoon during this time?
“I see.” She took a long breath. “And in what manner were you to repay him for this kindness?” She asked it innocently, but her words were like nails on a chalkboard.
She knew. She was toying with me like a cat played with a mouse before they ate it. She enjoyed watching me squirm. She knew there was no family to be found. She knew I hadn’t gone to bed early. It wouldn’t surprise me if she knew about Miss Crabtree, but what she didn’t know was what I was hiding.
There was a knock at the door and the earl, Lord Henry and another middle-aged gentleman walked in. The gentleman was dressed in nice clothes, but somehow they hung on his body more loosely than they should. Kind of like a teenage boy trying to wear his father’s suit. He was clean-shaven but did not hold himself with the confidence of the men he stood next to.
The Wayfarer: A Time Travel Romance (The Wayfarer Series Book 1) Page 15
