by Lauren Smith
Ashton’s animosity grew.
“Did he…did he force you? Did he get rough with you?” he asked, a dangerous edge to his words.
Emily shook her head.
“Then why are you crying?”
“It was what he said to me afterwards… He said he shouldn’t have asked a child to kiss him. A child!” She buried her face in his chest again.
Ashton was confused. He couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. What could lead Godric to say such an odd thing? Women were always natural kissers and caught on quickly. It was men who needed practice to master the art.
There was no reason for Godric to have said such a cruel thing, not when she’d done as he’d asked. “Emily, look at me, dear.”
She did.
“What did you do when you kissed him? Can you tell me?” Perhaps he might learn what had bothered his friend.
“I just kissed him. I thought about what you had told me about him, about his childhood and his father, and I kissed him. Did I do it wrong?”
The shadows underneath Ashton’s eyes lightened a little. “I’m sure you did not.”
“Then why?”
Ashton put a finger to her lips. “I believe you have done something to Godric that no one has done before. It scared him. He needs time to sort his feelings out. Can you be patient with him?”
“But what did I do?”
“You really don’t know, my dear?”
Emily shook her head.
“You kissed him from the depths of your heart.”
Her brows drew together as she considered his answer. “Isn’t that how everyone is supposed to kiss?”
It pained him to realize that she was as sweet and innocent as she appeared. No man under this roof was worthy of such a heart as hers. Ashton held her hands together, kissing them softly before he spoke.
“If everyone kissed as you do, men would never leave their lovers to go to war, fathers would never beat their children and wives would never worry about unfaithful husbands because there would be none. More of us should kiss with our hearts. No matter what Godric said, remember this. What you’ve shown in your kiss is priceless.”
And Emily had reminded Ashton that he’d once wanted something more from life. He silently thanked her for this epiphany by kissing her forehead. He helped her up and escorted her out of Godric’s study and back to her room.
“I have a matter to settle with Godric. May I ask you to stay here unguarded until tomorrow? Charles has wagered twice our previous amount that you’ll escape before dawn, and I would very much like to see him lose.”
It wasn’t the first time her escape attempts had been compared to sport, but how Ashton said it made Emily laugh. “In fact we were discussing giving you a ten minute head start tomorrow,” he added.
“You are?”
“Oh yes. On foot, of course. Then we’ll use horses and hounds to chase you.”
“You cannot be serious.”
Ashton grinned. “Of course not. But it made you laugh. Now, will you give me your word of honor as the daughter of a gentleman not to try and escape until tomorrow?”
Emily nodded, weary from the emotional onslaught she’d suffered but warmed by Ashton’s odd humor. “On my father’s honor.”
“Thank you.” He stroked her hair and pressed his lips to her forehead before he left her alone. He paused at the door, watching her as she fell back onto her bed and lay still, counting her breaths.
“I must always kiss from the depths of my heart…” she murmured to herself after he’d gone.
Godric stormed into the boxing room where Charles and Cedric had gathered to engage in a bit of pugilism. Charles, an expert boxer, loved to go a few rounds in the ring when in London. Of course, the rings Charles often found himself in were often less than reputable. Though he spent hours training at Jackson’s Salon, he preferred the rougher rings, in which he proved himself.
Cedric danced back as Charles attacked. “Godric? You look murderous.”
“The little brat twisting your trousers?” Charles joked as he swung a loose punch in Cedric’s direction, missing by several inches.
Godric tore off his waistcoat and started to roll up his sleeves. He nodded to Cedric who left the lined ring in the corner of the large leisure room.
“Shut up and fight me, Charles.”
Charles smirked, always ready to throw punches in Godric’s direction when the occasion arose.
They had only been at it for a few minutes when Ashton and Lucien walked in, both visibly upset. Lucien looked nervous while coldness burned behind Ashton’s face.
Godric was so startled to see that expression that Charles caught him off-guard and planted a facer. Ashton peeled off his jacket and vest, handing them to Lucien as he rolled up his sleeves.
It was then that Godric realized all five of them were without Emily.
“Wait a minute… Who’s watching Emily?”
Lucien answered. “She’s in her room. She gave Ash her word she would not escape anymore today.”
“And you believed her?” Godric shouted. “She could be miles away by now!”
“If she promised, then I believe she’ll stay put,” Lucien said with a coolness that left Godric more anxious than before.
Ashton, who’d been silent, came to the ring and spoke to Charles. “Mind if I step in?”
“No, you may not!” Godric didn’t want to fight Ashton when he looked the way he did, not if he didn’t even know from whence his friend’s anger stemmed. Godric had every right to be angry with Emily for what she’d dared to do, the way he felt as a result. What was Ashton’s excuse?
Charles looked between Godric and Ashton and, knowing any place was better than here at the moment, he bowed and fled the ring.
“Scared of a little competition, Godric?” Ashton’s words teased, but Godric sensed the veiled threat.
“You’ve never beaten me in the ring, Ash. Today will be no different.” It would be a pity, but he’d bloody his friend’s nose to prove his point.
“Good, glad to hear it.” The cold smile on Ashton’s face promised pain. He raised his fists and waited for Godric.
Godric danced a few steps to the right, Ashton mirrored him to the left, and so it began. But rather than box defensively, as he usually did, Ashton seemed eager to meet Godric’s every blow. It caught him off-guard and Ashton landed a blow to his stomach. Godric doubled over with the pain.
Ashton didn’t wait for Godric to right himself before he charged and knocked him so hard that Godric flew back several steps. Charles moved to intervene, but Lucien stayed him with a hand.
Adapting to Ashton’s ferocity, Godric retaliated. He snuck in a left-handed hook and caught Ashton in the right eye. It would blacken nicely by the next morning. But his victory was short-lived as Ashton returned the favor.
The fight continued for another five minutes. Ashton fought as though possessed. His relentless pursuit wore Godric down. None of the others interfered. Some things could only be resolved in a ring.
Godric fell back again, finally finding his breath.
“Dammit, man, why are you trying to pound me into oblivion?”
“Why?” Ashton punctuated the word with a blow to Godric’s lower cheek. Blood dribbled down from Godric’s split lip. “If I ever find out that you’ve made that dear woman cry even one more tear, so help me, Godric…”
Ashton spoke with such venom that Godric’s fists dropped. Ashton finished him off with an uppercut. Godric toppled backwards, landing on the mat with a loud groan. Ashton lowered his hands to wipe his bloody knuckles on his trousers.
“Well, I think my point has been made.” He took a few deep breaths, approached Godric and held out a hand.
He took it and Ashton pulled Godric onto his feet. “Point taken, friend. I’ve done her a great harm and needed to be reminded of my vow.”
Ashton clamped a hand down on his shoulder in approval. “Sorry, Godric, but I knew there was no other way to get thr
ough to you.”
“Just answer me one question. Was I off my game or have you always gone easy on me in the ring?”
“You will never find that out, I’m afraid.” He turned on his heel and retrieved his clothes from Lucien. Once they’d cooled off and were fully dressed, Ashton turned back to Godric.
“Now that this matter is behind us, I believe you owe a large stack of books and an apology to a certain lady.”
“She told you about…”
Ashton smiled. “She told me everything. She’s so traumatized by your cruelty that she’s convinced she was a wretched kisser. You know that is the worst thing men like us can do to a woman. We’re rakes, not bastards. We seek to love women, not spurn them.”
“What on earth did you do to that sweet kitten?” Cedric demanded.
When Godric didn’t reply, Ashton sighed. “Godric demanded a kiss, and when she did he dared to chastise her for kissing like a child. You’ll be lucky if she ever forgives you.”
Shame heated Godric’s face, but he reminded himself that he’d walked away for her sake and his. He couldn’t allow Emily to fall in love with him, but that was exactly what her kiss threatened.
As if reading this thoughts, Ashton put a hand on Godric’s shoulder. “I think she has feelings for you, Godric.”
The men left the boxing room and moved into the main hall. Simkins passed by and froze at the sight of his bruised and bloody master. “Your Grace?”
“Don’t worry, Simkins, just having a bit of fun.”
“Very good. I’ll send a maid to clean up, Your Grace.” Simkins looked over Godric into the boxing room. “Perhaps two are in order? And one of the larger buckets?” He bowed and departed.
Godric decided Ashton was right. For that one kiss Emily had earned a stack of books.
Emily was curled up on the window seat when someone knocked on her bedroom door.
“Come in.” Her eyes were focused on the gardens below. The faint ghost of her face reflected in the thick pane of glass. Emily put her hand on the glass and let the sun’s warmth heat her cool palm. For a moment she lost herself in the sensation, letting everything else drift away, before the world demanded she face it again.
“Emily?” Godric’s voice played like a forbidden symphony. She turned her head just enough to present him with her profile but didn’t look at him. She couldn’t bear it. She wanted to go back to despising him for his pig-headed nonsense.
Loving him would be the greatest mistake of my life. He’d break my heart. I’d be left with nothing.
“Emily, I’ve brought you something.” A rustle sounded from behind her, and items fell on her bed. The door settled in its frame as Godric shut it.
“Please, just go,” she said. But her heart ached to beg him to stay, to take back his cruel words.
“If that is what you want—”
She nodded.
“But I have something to say first. Will you please look at me?” Footsteps came closer, that scent so uniquely his, so close behind her.
Emily turned. Her lips parted in horror at his bruised and bleeding face.
“Godric, you’ve been hurt!” She reached up to his face but did not touch, afraid to harm him further. He patted her hands and she winced at his bruised knuckles. For a long second neither of them spoke. Something between them had changed. She was forced to admit she cared about him and he was revealing a tenderness she hadn’t thought he was capable of. His eyes met hers, a spark shared between them and a blush heated her cheeks.
“What happened?”
“Ashton and I had a discussion. A rather thorough one.”
He kissed her hands and released them then pointed to the bed. A stack of books had toppled over in a small literary heap. There had to be at least eight. Curiosity got the best of her. She climbed onto the bed to peruse the titles. It was an unexpected pleasure to find that he’d brought her more than she’d asked for. Emily dared not look at him, her eyes still red from the weight of tears. Instead she turned her attention to the gift he’d brought and what it might mean.
When she climbed up onto the bed, Godric wanted to catch hold of her from behind. She looked irresistible with the loose curls of hair on her neck and the sway of her bottom. She moved with the grace of a wood nymph. He knew she would be a playful bed partner, eager and delightful in her moments of rapture. What the blazes is wrong with me?
He fought off the heady rush of desire and focused on her. Emily’s hands caressed the covers of each book, her eyes roving over the selection, oblivious to him. Godric feared he would ruin the moment if he joined her, but decided to take the chance. He eased himself on the edge of the bed nearest her while she sorted the books into piles.
“I brought a little of everything. I was unsure as to your preference.”
Emily tucked up her skirts around her knees as she folded her legs to sit more comfortably.
“Philosophy, art, gothic romances, sciences.” She scanned the piles with such delight that Godric expected snow to fall outside, for her eyes lit up like a child’s during Christmas. He wished in that moment he was a poet or an artist, so desperate was he to capture the beauty of Emily’s soul. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, a blush coloring her face. In the afternoon light he could make out the faintest smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Most women would have hidden them with powder. Not Emily, she bore them without a thought. He adored that about her, she did not dwell on what other women would have seen as flaws.
“I’m intrigued by your choices. What makes you think I would be interested in science or philosophy?”
“You struck me as an intellectual reader, not one prone to frivolous reading such as books on sewing or manners.”
“Manners?” Emily scoffed. “A rather bold claim coming from you. But these are all excellent choices. However, you’ve brought me too many.” She pushed them all away save one, The Iliad and The Odyssey.
Godric leaned over and with the sweep of his arm brought the books back. “Consider the rest a prelude to my apology.” He caught her chin in one hand, his thumb sweeping over her chin and up to outline the bottom of her lower lip.
“You are apologizing?”
“Yes, and not just for what I said earlier, but for everything—the abduction, the lake and the laudanum. All of it.” He meant it too. Hurting her seemed akin to stabbing his own heart and he couldn’t bear it. She was weakening him, and he should send her away before she destroyed his solitary life. But the thought of not seeing her was equally incomprehensible. She leaned into his caress, like a cat seeking affection. That simple action seared him with a heated pleasure.
“Don’t apologize for everything.” Her lashes fluttered as she looked at him, a secretive smile on her lips.
“I’ve not wronged you by all my actions then?” He laughed.
“Not all your actions.” She studied the book she held, then opened the pages and sighed.
“My mistake: I forgot you could not read Greek.” Godric reached for the novel she held. While the title was typeset in English, the text itself was entirely in Greek.
“This is one of my favorite stories. My father never cared for novels, but he loved the classics and would read this one to me often.” She held it out to him. “Would you read it to me?”
“But you won’t be able to understand it. I suppose I could translate it for you.” He took the book from her curiously.
“I know the story by heart in English, and if you just read it aloud to me to me in Greek, I can imagine it myself and follow along. Consider it another part of your apology.”
Godric stretched out on the bed and Emily joined him, curling her body up against him, her head on his shoulder. He let the book fall open to the first page, took a deep breath, and began to read.
The next hour passed in soft sunlight and the murmur of a foreign tongue. He was a child again, reveling in the pleasure of a well-told tale and the comfort of Emily’s presence. He cherished the innocent fall of he
r head on his shoulder and tucked her against him by wrapping one arm around her waist.
When he reached a good stopping point, he marked his place with the purple satin bookmark and set it aside, turning his attention to Emily. How long had it been since he’d spent time with a woman on a bed, sharing an intimate moment that didn’t end in the shedding of clothes? Too long. This moment contained a fullness, a ripeness, that gave him a bottomless sense of peace. But something this grand and enchantingly perfect could never last.
He didn’t deserve her.
He wasn’t worthy of love, especially not Emily’s.
She’d return to her uncle and be married to that horrible Blankenship fellow just to settle a debt. Surely there had to be a way to save her from such a fate, but he couldn’t think of one. It was impossible to make her his mistress. She’d find him unworthy and her disappointment would kill him. Could he marry her? Offer her a life uncertain of love? Godric forced himself to stop thinking of something so wretched and tried to turn his mind elsewhere.
“Shall we go to dinner?” His breath stirred her hair.
She tilted her face up, lips brushing his so lightly it was more a memory of a kiss. “Yes.”
Emily moved away and in that moment Godric’s heart leapt to follow her. What if she was his, not just now, but always?
A potent yearning gnawed deep in him for such a life. The despair that followed required Godric to quiet the unfamiliar urge to rage and cry all at once, and master himself again.
He still needed to make sure she would not fall for him. It shouldn’t be too hard—he just had to be himself.
Chapter Seven
Ready to return to her room after dinner, Emily rose from her chair. “Do I have your permission to retire, Your Grace?”
Godric caught her by her right arm, tugging her right onto his lap. She ought to have struggled, she knew that, but she found it nearly impossible to summon any will to get away. It seemed her heart had finally decided to fight against her head.
“Will you stay in your room as you promised?”
