Michael took a long drink from the flask before returning it to his coat pocket. With three long strides, he came to stand in front of her. “I’m sorry. You have been helpful and I unappreciative. I took you for a woman who was spoiled because of her beauty, and now I realize you are much more than that. Maybe there is more you can teach me before you leave.”
“I can do that.” Emma could not help but smile, her heart all aflutter. There was decency in the man after all, albeit small, but it was still there. His once cold blue eyes appeared warm, and Emma thought she could become lost in them forever. “I can teach you anything you wish to learn.”
“There are things I may teach you as well,” he said, a smile spreading across his lips as he placed the back of his hand on her cheek. “You certainly are beautiful.” He glanced up. “We should return to the house before we fall ill.”
Emma nodded and followed the man back inside. Confusion filled her. One moment, he was angry, the next kind. Yet, it was his words of her being beautiful that caused her the most confusion, for when he said it, all thoughts of her plan left her for a moment, and images of his arms around her took their place.
Chapter Seven
Michael had come to the realization that his opinion of women and what to expect from them would hinder his ability to lead Emma to his bed. It was when they were in the stable earlier in the day and he raised his voice to her when he realized this, and he took it upon himself to apologize for his behavior.
He had not expected the woman to accept his apology and then carry on as if nothing had taken place. What good fortune had been on his side! He most certainly did not want to test how much luck he had left with her.
Taking a sip of his brandy, he studied Emma as she gazed out the window that looked out over the front garden. She had been quiet for nearly an hour, and he was becoming restless. It had been a long time since he had seen this much snow fall in a single day. He might be a recluse in some ways, but that did not mean he meant to spend his entire life indoors.
“You are very quiet,” he said from the chair in which he sat. “Are you wishing to leave to return home?”
“No. Or rather, yes, I do wish to return, but it is not what is on my thoughts.”
She offered no further explanation, and Michael was curious what such a woman could be contemplating. Surely women had nothing more than what dress to wear or how best to arrange their hair about which to worry themselves. At least, so it was with the women of the aristocracy. Then again, Emma had proven to be much different than most aristocrats.
“You are many things,” he said with a laugh in hopes it would bring her out of her thoughts, “but quiet is not one of them.”
She turned and gave him a shy smile that made his heartbeat quicken. “I admit there are times when I speak, and I can do so without fear. However, sometimes being quiet is peaceful to one’s soul.”
What an absurd idea! Aloud, however, he said, “That is a wonderful way to think.” He rose from his chair and took her empty wine glass to refill it. “What do you think about when you are quiet? No mind is without thought.”
She nodded and turned back to the window. “Many things,” she replied. “Most typically concern the past. Does your past bother you?”
He had to fight back a frown. “No, it does not bother me,” he said, refilling his own glass with brandy. “Since we are talking in riddles, do you care to tell me what you think of in particular?”
“No.”
This woman was proving to be more of a challenge than he first expected. What he had hoped was to entertain her in conversation to help his cause, but what it did was simply confirm that this was all a folly. Taking a deep breath to keep his frustration under control, he walked to stand beside her at the window. Night had fallen, but the snow continued to gather on the outer sill. Would the blasted snow ever stop?
He peeked a glance at the woman beside him. She did not seem concerned at all, which he found odd. So many odd things about this woman…
“Would you like to tell me how you knew about the trough?” he asked, thinking back to the woman’s knowledge of things few women of her station would know. “Or how you find yourself comfortable on my couch whereas any other lady would rebuke an offer to sleep in such a setting?”
“I’m not any other lady,” she replied with a small laugh. “I have done things, great things. I told you before that I have had adventures. Well, it is in those adventures that I experienced things of which others only dream.”
She said this with such conviction that Michael actually believed her. She was an odd woman, full of fire and capability, yet she held many secrets that he wished to discover. Secrets he would discover.
However, he had asked enough for one evening. Plus, the brandy - and being so close to her - only increased his desire for her. If he did not retreat from her side, he may do something he would regret later.
“Usually if a woman were to tell me such things, I would dismiss them,” he said as he moved to the fireplace. How strange that it was cooler there than beside her. “Yet, I find myself believing you.”
For some reason she giggled. “Then I’m glad, for I told you before, I do not lie.”
“Then tell me this. Are you a woman who has seen many things?”
She pursed her lips. “That is what I said.”
He had to stifle a grin. “Then tell me about the Three Kisses of Midnight.”
Raising her brows, she asked, “Three Kisses of Midnight? I have never heard of such a thing.”
Michael laughed. “It’s as I suspected. Any person who is wise to the world has learned of it. Perhaps you are just a spinner of tales and I a fool for believing them.” He shook his head and took another drink of his brandy.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “It is silly to think that because I do not know of what you speak that I’m a liar. Tell me, what is this kiss?”
“No,” Michael said with a shake of his head. “You are a lady, and if I were to explain such a thing, you would be left in such a state of shock, you may never recover.”
Though Emma was strong in many ways, Michael had detected a sense of pride in the woman. The thought that she did not know something had to be driving the woman mad, and he wished to exploit this weakness. He caught himself holding his breath as he waited for her to respond.
“Tell me, please,” she said.
Michael released his breath. Just as he expected! He gave a dramatic sigh. “Very well, I will tell you. But first, you must answer a question. And you must answer honestly.” When she nodded agreement, he continued. “What was your true reason for coming to call on me?” His suspicions had been that she wanted to influence him in selling the land to her brother-in-law. Now to see if she always told the truth!
“It was as I said in my letter. I found that a conversation with you would be pleasing.”
He took her glass from her and set it aside. “To converse with me? That is all?” She blushed. Oh, she was not telling the entire truth! “Are you certain? No woman calls on a man in his home for simple conversation, not alone. So, tell me the truth.”
“I…” she whispered as she looked down toward the floor. “I thought you were handsome and wished to know what it was like to share in a kiss with you.”
His smile widened as he walked over to her and lifted her chin. She had not responded honestly to his question, but she had not lied, either. “Now I will tell you about the Three Kisses.”
***
Emma had found herself in many predicaments in her life, including kidnapping and murder, but she had never been in one that caused her such confusion. She had called on Michael in hopes of getting his agreement to sell the land, not to kiss him! Yet, if she told him the truth, he would surely make her leave - snow falling or no - and her entire plan would have been for naught. If she failed, she would never earn the admiration of her sisters. Plus, her pride would be hurt beyond belief.
“I…” she whispered as she looked down t
oward the floor, humiliation for the lie she was to tell washing over her, “I thought you were handsome and wished to know what it was like to share in a kiss with you.”
Her mind was in turmoil. How could this lie be better than the simple truth? Now she was in a proper pickle, and no amount of brining could have made it worse! What was the matter with her?
He walked over to her and lifted her chin. “Now I will tell you about the Three Kisses.” He clasped her hands - his were rough, as a man who used his hands would possess - and she thought she would faint. There was no escape for her now!
He turned her toward the window, placed his hands on her arms, and pressed his body to her back. A now-familiar heat entered her as he brushed her hair aside and whispered in her ear. “There is a secret that all men know, and some ladies, concerning the Three Kisses of Midnight. If a woman receives them at the appointed hour, she is overcome with such desire, she cannot control it no matter how hard she tries.”
“Is this true?” Emma whispered, finding speaking difficult.
When Michael placed a small kiss on her ear, she shivered. When he moved his hands up and down her arms, she trembled.
“Indeed,” he replied. “It is not that late, so you are safe. Of course, you do want to experience them, do you not?”
Proper upbringing warned her to answer that no, she did not want them, but her desires had already overridden any semblance of reason. “Yes.”
His fingertips trailed down her forearm. “The first kiss goes here.” He kissed just above her wrist.
Emma took a deep inhale of breath, but when he slipped his arm around her waist and placed a hand on her stomach, she nearly fainted.
For a moment all went quiet, and she hoped he was finished. She paused. Did she truly? She had no chance to contemplate this, for he then whispered, “The second goes here.” He placed a delicious kiss on her neck, just below her ear, and much to her embarrassment, Emma could not stop the small moan that escaped her lips.
However, the kiss did not end there, for his lips danced to the hollow of her throat, and she grasped his breeches in a desperate attempt to keep herself standing.
“There is but one more kiss,” he said, his breath leaving a hot trail up her jawline.
Emma’s legs could no longer support her, and she fell against him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her tightly against him, and pressed his lips to hers. It was the most sensual and rewarding kiss she had ever imagined. If the man wanted to carry her off to his bed at that moment, she did not trust herself to refuse him.
Yet, as the kiss continued, a flicker of doubt - perhaps even reason – appeared in her mind. Was this a true story? Or was it a ruse to get her to kiss him? No, only a foolish woman would fall for such a tale, and Emma was certainly no fool. Was she?
Much to her disappointment, the kiss ended, and it took several moments for her to steady her breath. “That was…wonderful,” she whispered.
He leaned in and kissed her once more, a quick chaste kiss that was like a splash of cold water. “My goodnight kiss,” he said. Then to her shock, he took his glass and walked back to the chair. He sat as if nothing had happened, and yet her body cried out for more.
Feeling awkward, Emma drank her wine in hopes of quenching the desire that burned inside her, but when she looked at Michael once more, the desire was replaced with anger, for he wore a smile that told her she had been duped.
Well, you were, she admonished herself. She had allowed him to do so, practically handed herself to him on a silver platter!
“You made up that story, did you not?” It was difficult not to shout at him.
“That is not what matters,” he replied in that arrogant voice he had possessed before. “The real question is, did you enjoy it?”
Emma lifted her chin and walked toward him. “That is not what I asked. Did you fabricate that story simply to kiss me?”
“Of course,” he replied simply. “However, I did it for you.”
“For me? I have never heard such a horrible and unworthy excuse!”
Michael laughed. “It was for you, if you are lady as you say, for no man would be able to kiss a lady like that and still be honorable. So, I crafted a tale to get what I wanted but also to allow you to get what you most clearly hoped to receive.” He leaned forward, his eyes filled with mirth. “That is what you desired, or so you said. To see what it was like to kiss me?”
Emma wanted to shout at the man for his crudeness and arrogance. To tell him that in fact, no, that was not what she wanted. Yet, had she not said that exactly? And to make matters worse, she desired more! What a pickle!
“I believe I will go to sleep now,” she said, the muscles in her neck aching from keeping her head high. “You should take some time and consider the horrible man you are.”
Michael chuckled as she walked over to the sofa. She had no other clothing than what she had worn on her journey over, and she was not about to strip down to her shift, so she pulled the blanket up to her chin and placed her back to him.
As she lay there staring at the back of the couch, guilt plagued her. Then a reassuring thought came to her. It was not she who had kissed him, but rather he who had done the act. It was due to her innocence that she had accepted it.
Yet as her eyes grew heavy, she knew beyond any doubt that she would accept his kisses again.
Chapter Eight
The following morning, much to her disappointment, Emma looked out the window to find that not only was it still snowing, but it also piled on the ground until even the tree trunks could not be seen. Her concern did not come from the fact she was away from home, for she would have been quite happy to remain here. Rather, it was she feared what she might allow Michael to do if she remained.
Having made herself a cup of tea, she looked at the sleeping form in the chair. He looked so peaceful, and for a moment, she found herself desiring to wake him with a kiss. But she did not. There was no need to make matters worse than she already had.
Instead, she looked around the empty room. What a sad place! What could lead a man - a titled man, no less - to sink so low? Had it been because he suffered from madness after killing his wife? Yet, she could not get herself to picture the man doing such a horrendous act.
“You look as though a great riddle has been presented to you,” Michael said, breaking her from her thoughts. She had not even noticed that he had woken.
“Not at all,” she said before taking a sip of her tea. “I was just thinking of matters, nothing more.”
He grunted and rubbed his eyes. “My head,” he groaned.
Of course your head hurts, she thought. You drank enough for ten men last night.
Rather than admonish him - this was his home after all - she said nothing.
“Make me some tea.”
Emma gripped her teacup and pursed her lips. “I’m a lady and will be addressed as such,” she admonished. How dare he treat her like some sort of servant! “If you ask kindly, I may do it.”
He rose from the chair and walked over to her. “You will make me tea now.” As he towered over her, she struggled to maintain an outward appearance of calm.
She ground her teeth. The audacity of the man! Yet, he glared down at her with such malice that she relented. “Fine,” she said, placing her teacup on the windowsill. Why would the man not have kept at least one table? She went over to the kettle as he returned to the chair and began donning his boots. “Little firewood remains,” she said as she poured water into the teapot. “I’m afraid we will run out unless we find someone to gather more.”
“I’ll do that today,” he mumbled as he stomped into a boot.
Emma stared at him. “You cut your own wood? Surely a man, a baron, would not do such a thing.”
Michael snorted. “I have completed many tasks few men of my rank have done,” he replied. “As I’m sure there are things that you have done that other ladies have not.”
“You are right,” she replied. “My apologies
. I had just thought…”
“Will you stop!” he said, and for the first time, Emma was truly scared. “You do not admit defeat! Every time you are incorrect, you retort with an excuse. Even after you have apologized for your misspoken utterance!” He stood and returned to stand before her, and Emma found herself taking a step back.
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend you.” She could not stop the trembling as memories of her stepfather returned. She had opposed him only once, and the punishment she received kept her tongue still. “I will not do it again.” She tried to keep her tears in check, but one managed to escape and she turned to the kettle to keep him from seeing it.
He must have noticed, however, for he placed a hand on her shoulder. “You did no wrong,” he said, his tone now regretful. “My anger should not have been directed at you.”
What an odd statement. “Then at whom is it directed?”
“It does not matter. Let us put this behind us.”
“That is fine.” She offered him a cup of tea, doing her best to keep her hand from trembling. “There you are.” Her tone was pleasant, but she had to force that calmness.
For a moment, a new emotion entered his eyes. Pain. But as soon as it appeared, it vanished. “Thank you,” he murmured, and Emma wondered if this was the first time he had ever spoken the words. “I will search more wood as soon as I finish my tea.”
As he returned to his chair, Emma glanced around the room. She did not want to remain here alone, but would he become angry if she said so? She offered him a smile. “May I join you?” she asked. “I know a woman has no place when a man does such a thing as taking down a tree, but perhaps it is a story I can share with my children one day.” She failed to mention that she, herself, had felled more than one tree at the camp, but that would get her nowhere. “They will be amazed that I witnessed such a spectacle.”
Michael smiled, and Emma’s unease dissipated. “I suppose I can allow this privilege.” He winked, which made Emma giggle, and though she had no idea why, her cheeks burned. He had not told her the source of his outburst, and she was curious to learn what had made him so angry. Now she would be able to do just that.
Barons Always Win Wagers (Forbidden Kisses Book 3) Page 6
