Yes, there was no doubt only one reward a man this brave and handsome should receive.
“Hero,” she whispered, her hand moving over his sculpted chest. His skin was smooth against her fingertips and sent a wave of pleasure through her body. “You have sacrificed everything for me, and in that act, you have earned a great reward.”
She took a deep breath, her heart soaring with excitement, and a bit of curiosity if she were quite honest, for what would happen next. How she loved dreams such as these! “My heart, soul, and body are now one with you, the man I love. I offer all three to you if you accept.”
“Gladly.”
Emma frowned. In her dreams, it was typical of her hero to speak of her beauty or perhaps of his love for her, but never had he responded so simply. Come to think of it, never had his voice seemed so real. Yet, as he pulled her closer, her breasts pressed against his chest, the touch of her skin against his made her breath catch in her throat.
Then he pressed his lips to hers, sending new sensations through her body. The kiss was urgent, possessive, hungry with desire. The kiss changed as he moved to her neck, soft, sweet, and a light tickle that made her giggle.
Her eyes flew open, and her heart nearly exploded. Raised over her was a man - Lord Michael Bracken to be exact - his grin wide and his eyes full of lust.
“You!” she cried as she pressed her hands to his chest. “You rogue! How dare you!” She sat up and looked around her. “Where am I?”
Then she glanced down. She wore not a stitch of clothing, and much to her horror, neither did he! With a scream, she scrambled to find something - anything - to cover her nakedness.
“Do you not wish to continue?” Lord Bracken asked, that lazy grin unperturbed as he leaned on an elbow.
She pushed him away, pulled at the blanket that lay over them, and covered herself as best she could as she attempted to pull away.
Unfortunately, that only exposed his nakedness all the more. Well, she could do nothing about that. It was much easier to avert her eyes than to keep the man from ogling her.
Again, she glanced around the nearly empty room with its single couch and chair. Behind her a fire roared in the large fireplace. Several empty glasses rested on a small cabinet that housed various decanters. Then she looked back at Lord Bracken, forgetting already that he was without clothing above the waist - thank goodness the blanket had remained covering his lower extremities! - but she could not take her eyes off his well-defined chest.
“How did I get here?” she asked. What had he done to her in her disoriented state? Then she gasped and her cheeks burned. “My virtue…you did not…?”
Lord Bracken laughed. “No, I did not take advantage of you, though you did offer yourself to me.”
“I did no such thing!” she said before her words echoed back to her in her mind. She had! “You are a horrible man! I was…”
“In my river close to death,” he said. “I heard the wolves and then your cry for help. I went to find you.”
The memories returned, and with horror, she realized it had not been a dream. She had fallen into the water, fearing her life was over. Then a man had come and pulled her from the icy flows, taking her into his arms and carrying her away to safety.
After all she had been through, he had taken advantage of her in her weakened state! No, he said he had not, but how would she ever explain lying naked on the floor with this man?
“Don’t cry,” he said as he reached out and wiped away a tear from her cheek. “You have lived to see another day.”
As the memories tumbled in her mind, she studied the man who wore a confident, and perhaps mocking, smile. Who could blame him? They had kissed and their bodies had been pressed together like lovers. That particular memory brought both shame and embarrassment to her. And a pleasant heat to her stomach, much to her chagrin.
“You saved me to bring me back here in order to remove my clothing?” she whispered, horrified. “Then you attempted to bed me in my weakened state.”
Sickness overwhelmed her as anger filled her. This rogue had taken advantage of her when she was in distress! If she had not realized it was not a dream when she had, the man would have very likely ruined her forever!
Lord Bracken snorted. “A typical woman,” he snapped. “Not thankful for what I have done. Instead, you accuse me of some sinister act.”
“Do you deny you were about to…have relations with me?” she asked in utter amazement. The temerity of the man!
“Do you deny that you asked me to?”
Emma glared at him. “That is not fair! I was dreaming!”
He threw his head back and laughed. “No need to pretend civility now,” he said as he went to stand. “We are quite past that point in our relationship.”
She reverted her eyes from his nakedness. “You are disgusting!”
This made him laugh all the more, and she dared to peek as he walked away. Why she allowed her eyes to roam over the baron’s naked backside, she did not know, but the warm flushed feeling she had experienced minutes before returned. Averting her eyes, she turned to the fireplace. She could not allow herself to act so brazenly!
“Here,” Lord Bracken said, dropping a man’s shirt and breeches into her lap. “Don these.”
Emma glanced up at the man in horror. Did he actually expect her to wear his clothes? It was not that she had never warn men’s clothing before, for she had on many occasions during her time in the forest, but to expect her to don anything he wore was asking too much.
“Or remain naked in my home,” he said with an easy shrug. “Trust me, I would not mind that a whit.”
“Please turn away if you have any decency,” she said.
He nodded and did as she bade, much to her relief, and she pulled the shirt over her head. When she rose to don the breeches, she found her legs weak and a lightness to her head. Shame filled her as she dressed, knowing their bodies had touched in ways only married couples should experience.
And you enjoyed it, you hussy!
“Are you sure you did not…” She could not finish the sentiment.
“Your virtue, unlike your mind, is intact, or as intact as it was when I found you.”
She turned and glared at the man. Had he just insinuated that there was a chance she was not pure? Yet, he did not wear the expression of a man who made such a suggestion, and she brushed it off.
“When I found you, you were soaked to the bone from your tumble into the river. The first thing I removed was your coat.”
Emma gulped. “Why would you…?”
“Because it’s heavy when it’s soaked,” he replied. “And carrying that extra weight was more than I could bear. Once we arrived here, I removed your clothing and held your body against mine to transfer heat. It was the only way I knew how to warm you quickly before you succumbed to the cold. At no time did I do anything inappropriate.”
“But you kissed me and…”
“My actions were only caused by your words.”
Emma looked at the floor. “I did not know. Thank you, my lord.”
He snorted. “Call me Michael. I believe we have moved beyond the need for formalities. We should at least consider ourselves friends.” He was grinning as he said this, and Emma almost laughed. That is, until his eyes moved from her face to her bosom.
She glanced down and gasped. Though the material provided decent covering, it also emphasized the swell of her breasts.
Michael laughed, and she grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around herself once more.
“Again, I have seen everything already.”
“Indeed you have,” Emma said with a sniff. Then she sighed. He had seen more of her than she would have liked, but in doing so, he had saved her life. When she looked back up at him, she noticed two angry gashes on his chest. “You were hurt! Was it the wolves?” Then she noticed the wrapping on his arm. “You were bitten!”
“It’s nothing,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I have experienced far worse f
rom women like yourself.”
The boldness of this man was beyond measure!
“I will go and prepare food for us,” he continued, seeming to ignore her look of indignation. “You must rest. Your body has been through much today.” He said this with a smile, and Emma narrowed her eyes at him. Oh, he was speaking of more than her fall in the river, that was certain!
“No.” She was pleased at the firmness in her voice. “I must leave at once. I should not have come here to begin with, and I must return home.”
“Your horse has gone missing, as has mine. And the storm has not let up in the slightest. If you wish to die, then by all means, go.”
Removing the blanket, Emma hurried to the window. Indeed, just enough daylight remained for her to see the great heaping of snow that had accumulated.
“I’m trapped here,” she whispered. Trapped with a man who did nothing to conceal his lust for her and who had come very close to performing an unspeakable act. Netted by a man accused of murder. A rogue. A drunkard.
And worst of all, she was stuck with a man so handsome and confident that if he asked for another kiss, she just may give it to him.
Chapter Five
The fire burned brightly in the drawing room as Emma sat in the chair holding the bowl of stew in her hands. She had kept the blanket wrapped around her, not for warmth, but rather to protect her body from Michael’s gaze. He had already pressed his body against hers, and she would not tempt him any more than she had.
Michael sat across from her on the couch, shirtless still, and he did nothing to cover his chest, or the gashes that adorned it. In her opinion, they were battle wounds, a mark of valor, and she thought them a testimony to his bravery.
For a moment, she considered what it would be like to boast to other women about how brave he was. She would tell them of the markings that he wore on his chest as medals. As the women looked on with jealousy, her pride would swell, for his heroic deeds had been for her and her alone.
“Do you like it?” Michael mumbled between shovelfuls of stew in his mouth.
“What will become your scars? Hardly. They do not impress me.” Of course, that was a lie, but she did not tell him so, for his arrogance was already more than any one woman could handle.
“I was speaking of the stew,” he said with amusement. “Does the stew impress you?”
“Oh.” She thought her cheeks were hot enough to ignite the drapes. “Yes, it is quite lovely.” She took another bite to emphasize her point.
To eat sitting in a chair while one held the bowl in her hands was awkward; she hoped she did not spill it down the front of her clothes. She glanced around the room. Was there not a table anywhere in the house?
When her gaze returned to Michael, he was grinning at her. She did not know the reason for it, but she could not stop herself from returning it with one of her own.
“I think you will be here for a few days,” he said, setting his bowl on his knee and taking a drink from his wine glass. “In fact, I’m sure of it.”
Emma glanced at the window. Snow piled on the outside sill. “I’m afraid you may be right,” she replied.
When she looked back at Michael, she could not help but wonder if the man was truly a murderer. He was unkempt and a drunkard, but she did not fear him as she should have. Then again, she had come to see him without a chaperon, so perhaps she had never been afraid of him.
“You gaze at me with desire,” he said. “I have never met a woman who was so forthright with her thoughts.”
“Then you are going blind,” she retorted as she set the empty bowl on a small cabinet beside her. “I’m not looking at you with desire. Far from it.” She took a drink of her wine, making a point of reveling in its fruity flavor. Let him believe she found the wine more pleasing than he!
He sighed, rose from the couch, and went to refill his glass with brandy. When he turned and ambled toward her, she pushed herself into the seat cushion and pulled the blanket in tighter. Had she been wrong? Was the man going to hurt her? Or perhaps he was overcome with lust and meant to force himself on her!
“I think it’s time…”
She gave him an indignant look. “I will not join you in your bed!” she said. “You will have to take me against my will, but I assure you I will fight you if you try!”
“…to retrieve our horses,” he finished. “They have returned.” He leaned over her to place his glass beside hers on the cabinet. “Please, remain inside. I do not want you to accuse me of any other ill motives, and if you become overly chilled again, I will be forced to find proper methods to warming you again.” Then he leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek.
Emma could not find words to rebuke the man as he walked over and pulled on a fresh shirt. The gall of him to kiss her and cause her heart to flutter!
“I will join you,” she said, rising from the chair. You will need help, and it is bitterly cold out there.” She dropped the blanket, and he looked up at her as he pulled on one of his boots. “I will need a coat, however.”
“Women only get in my way,” he grunted as he stomped his foot into the other boot. “Stay here and embroider a present for me.”
As he walked out of the room, Emma glared after him. How dare he be so rude to her! “Lord Bracken!” she said as she followed him to the door, “I will have you know that embroidery is boring and for old women. I partake in adventures outside the home, not resign myself to mundane tasks within it.”
Michael chuckled as he put on a heavy outer coat. “Adventure? If you mean by falling into an icy river and nearly dying, then yes, you do that.” He reached for the door handle and then stopped and turned back to her. “Now, I will want a hot drink when I return. Do you know how to make tea?”
Emma’s jaw fell open. “Surely no man is as rude as you.”
“You may be right,” he replied. Then he opened the door, and a blast of cold air entered, chilling her. “Now, hurry with the tea. I won’t be long.”
Before she could respond, he reached out and smacked her bottom, causing a light sting…and the oddest of feelings inside her. She was angry, yet confused, for how could it have brought pleasure?
“I have never…!” she stammered, though much of her indignation was forced.
“Tea.” He gave her a wink and then stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
Emma stared at the door. She was no longer scared, nor was she worried for her own safety. No, she was quite angry!
“A rogue and a rude man!” she shouted at the room, her voice echoing in the emptiness. “To think I allowed him to kiss me and that I enjoyed it!” She placed a hand over her mouth with a gasp when she realized what she had said. “No, that is not true. It was the coldness in my bones as they warmed that caused that feeling, not his lips.” Yet his lips and hands had brought warmth to her in more ways than she had thought possible.
No! She would not give into temptation.
Pushing the thoughts away, she returned to the drawing room and walked over to the kettle. With a sigh, she placed it on the hook above the fire. How strange that he used his drawing room as his kitchen. Why not simply use the kitchen?
“I should pour it over you,” she murmured. “It would serve you right for acting like such a beast!”
Yet, as she thought of scalding the man, she shivered. That was uncalled for. Michael had already been injured on her account, and she wished him no more harm.
Soon, the kettle was ready, and she was just about ready to pour the tea just as the front door slammed shut.
“The horses are fine,” he said as he entered the room. “I feared the wolves might have gone after them.” He set a bag on the floor and then reached into it, handing Emma a book she recognized. “This was in your riding bag.”
She took the book from him and held it against her breast. It was her journal, and she hoped beyond all hope that he had not read it. “Thank you. It holds important secrets.”
“Like gossip of the ton?” he asked.
Emma shook her head. He was truly daft. “No. They are secrets from my heart. Things for which I dream and wish.” She said this with a smile, expecting Lord Bracken to at least return it. Instead, he rolled his eyes. She clenched her fist. “Your tea is ready.”
Taking a cup for herself, she looked at the dancing flames in the fireplace. Let him pour his own cup!
Yet, when she heard a grunt, she glanced over her shoulder to find Michael with his hand to his chest and a grimace on his face. Red splotched his once white shirt, and she hurried over to him. “You are bleeding!”
He pushed her hand away. “It’s nothing.”
Emma sighed. Men were stubborn fools, and this man was clearly that and more. “You will need to remove your shirt so I can inspect your wounds,” she said. His grin returned, and she added, “After you drink your tea first.” Let him bleed to death for being a cad!
He chuckled, clearly not as hurt as she first thought. “This must be the most uncomfortable you have ever been in your life,” he said as he sipped at the tea. “Wearing men’s clothing in a home that is neglected and lacking servants. How will you ever survive?”
“I have lived in far worse conditions than this,” she said. “And not once did I ever complain.” She expected him to roll his eyes or perhaps laugh, but instead he gave a thoughtful nod.
Finishing the last of her tea, she set the cup on the mantelpiece. “I will need two rags, a bowl, and any ointment you may have.”
“I will get them now.”
He left the room, and Emma bit at her lip as a plan formed in her mind. She would tend to the man’s wounds for the simple reason it was the very least she could do as a just reward for what he had done for her.
She could not openly make eyes at the man, but she would smile to make him feel comfortable. Tomorrow, she would continue with the kindness, and hopefully, by the end of the day, she will have convinced him to sell Stephen the land he wanted. Then she would be free to make her way home, snow or not, and put all that had happened behind her.
Barons Always Win Wagers (Forbidden Kisses Book 3) Page 4
