He sat beside her on the couch, and she took his hand in hers. He could not help herself.
“You may as well know the truth. I cannot sell it even if I wished to, for I no longer own it. Not the house or the land on which it sits.”
She sat back up, her eyes wide. Her mind was a haze, and his words made no sense. Why would he be living in a house he did not own? “This land on which you live…”
“Is owned by another,” Michael finished for her. “Lost in a game of chance. I have lived by the motto that barons always win wagers, but I was wrong.” He released her hand and she found she instantly missed it. Then he placed an arm across the back of the couch and closed his eyes. Had he fallen asleep?
“Is there nothing you can do?” she asked, not wanting the conversation to end without learning all she could.
Without opening his eyes, he murmured, “One day, I will win it back. Perhaps you can help me, for I need a friend…” His voice trailed off.
“I would like to help you anyway I can,” she replied softly. “For I need a friend, as well, and friends help one another. Whatever you need, simply ask.”
When he did not reply, she leaned forward and smiled. His face had the peacefulness of slumber. She placed a blanket over them.
“Sit with me, please,” he mumbled. “I fear what may visit me in my dreams.”
Emma stopped to consider the request for a moment. She knew firsthand how her nightmares often woke her in the middle of the night. With a nod, she slid beneath the blanket and rested her head on his chest once more. Her heart skipped a beat as he wrapped an arm around her, but whatever nervousness she had was replaced with peace and comfort, knowing that the hold was kind and not in lust.
“It’s funny,” Michael whispered, “a woman so beautiful who can cause a man like me to smile.”
And Emma did indeed smile as she placed the smallest of kisses on his cheek. Then she closed her eyes, hoping his sleep would be as peaceful as hers.
Chapter Twelve
Placing a hand on her cheek, Emma cried out as Lord Oswald glowered at her, lifting his hand to strike her once again. She tried to back away but her movement was stopped when her back hit a wall.
“Now you will come with me,” the man said through bared teeth, reminding her of the wolves that had hunted her the day she went to call on Michael. “I will have what I desire!”
“I will not go with you,” Emma shouted, or that was her intention. Unfortunately, her fear made it sound more a whimper.
The door swung open, and Michael entered the room dressed in his shirtsleeves. He narrowed his eyes at Lord Oswald as he rested his hands on his thighs.
“Michael, you have come to save me!”
“That I have,” the man replied. The roof above them disappeared and the sun’s rays flowed over them like a waterfall of light. “No man or beast will ever hurt you. That I promise!”
Emma sighed in adoration as Michael subdued Lord Oswald. The old man tried to fight, but Michael was too strong.
“I’m sorry!” the old lord cried. “Mercy, please!”
“There is no mercy for men like you,” Michael growled. “If you even look at the woman I love ever again, I will make it your last day on this earth.”
Emma clapped her hands together. She could fall into a dead faint at any moment, she was so overcome with adoration. When Michael sent Lord Oswald packing with a swift kick to his backside, she did almost faint.
“My love,” Michael said as he swept her into his arms, “are you all right?”
“Yes,” she replied in a whisper. Her heart fluttered as he wrapped his arms around her. “You are my hero.”
She waited for him to kiss her, but the oddest of sounds made her stop. Was that a snore?
Frowning, she clamped her eyes closed, but the sound happened again. It was a snore! When she opened her eyes again, she found herself wrapped in Michael’s arms. She had been dreaming, but the man who lay beside her was, in fact, snoring.
Sighing, memories of the night before came to mind. It had been a beautiful evening that started with the intention of persuading Michael to sell his land but ended with the sharing of their hearts.
Michael snorted and pulled her tighter against him, but though she loved being in his arms, she knew it would be best if she rose.
Carefully, she grabbed his hand and moved it away. He replied with a grunt, rubbed his nose, and turned on his back, almost knocking her to the floor in the process.
She giggled as she stood and walked over to the fireplace. Several embers still burned. Michael must have woken in the night and added more timber. She placed a log over the embers, hoping it would catch.
Walking to the window, she shook her head in frustration. Though not as heavy as before, the snow continued to fall. Would it never stop?
As she looked on, the familiar worry returned. She was not concerned about Constance, for she would not return for nearly two weeks. Mary was away in Paris with her new husband, Lord Anthony Greyson, so she would not be returning for some time. Mosley was the only person who would notice her missing. If he could remember she had left at all.
She glanced over at Michael’s sleeping form. Why had she dreamed the man was a hero when he was little more than a drunkard?
That was a callous thought, for he did have good qualities. The fact he did everything for himself was the sign of a man willing to do what it took to see his needs met. How many other men of the ton would have adapted to such a life as he had? Perhaps the dream was her way of wishing the best for him in life.
Last evening had been strange. They had opened up and shared their darkest secrets with one another, but out of all they had shared, it was the revelation that he had gambled away all his land that had shocked her the most. With that knowledge went her chance to prove her worth to Constance and Stephen. And sadly, that meant she would have to leave sooner rather than later.
The truth of the matter was she did not want to leave. She had grown to have a fondness for the man who cut his own wood and lived in a house with no furniture save a few pieces and large enough to house all of those in the camp in the woods. What she knew deep in her soul was that, if she were to leave him, she would be as lonely as he.
“Oh, my head…” Michael groaned. He sat up on the couch, holding his head in his hands. Emma could not help but giggle. “You laugh at my pain?” he asked, squinting up at her.
“No,” Emma replied. “Your hair looks as though two crows have fought over it.”
He shook his head but quickly set to smoothing his hair. Emma walked over to the now roaring fire and placed the kettle on its hook.
“I must check the horses,” Michael said with a grunt as he rose from the couch. The man wobbled for a moment. Was he still drunk? When he had to grasp the back of the couch, she knew he was.
“Let me help you,” she said as she followed him to the door. Taking his coat from the rack, she held it open for him.
“I’m perfectly capable of putting on my own coat.”
“I know that,” Emma said with all the patience she could muster. “Take it as a kind gesture on my part. Once the snow clears, I will be leaving, and you will have no one to whom you can complain.”
A glimmer of pain passed over his eyes, but he made no comment as he allowed her to help him with his coat. She followed that with a scarf, which she wrapped around his neck.
“You are treating me as a child,” he said as he tried to push her hand away. She pulled the scarf tighter. “Do you mean to kill me?”
“Yes, so stop your complaining and be thankful.” Emma did not know what came over her, but she could not stop giggling. She was so overcome with silliness that she poked him in the chest as she spoke. “Now, go and I will make us something to eat.”
Michael snorted. “And I thought I drank too much.”
This made her giggle all the more, but he ignored her as he went outside.
On her way to the kitchen, she giggled again as she thought of his unr
uly hair and his complaints of her helping him don his coat. The man was like a child and needed someone to look after him, a duty Emma would not have minded taking on.
As an egg sputtered in a frying pan, she sliced a portion of old bread as her mind returned to waking up in his arms. Arms that were strong and provided comfort. The thought of allowing the man to hold her one more time before she left sounded quite enticing. And as her smile grew, so did the feelings in her heart, for she wished to wake every morning in his arms for the rest of her life.
***
Michael had woken earlier in the morning before the sun rose to place more wood on the fire. As the timber crackled, the fire cast its light on Emma. The woman had been sleeping soundly, and truth be told, he liked holding her in his arms. In fact, he cherished it. How strange life was. One day he wanted nothing to do with women, any women beyond a passing fancy, and the next he was enamored by one.
He shook his head in wonderment as he chipped at the ice in the trough. Yes, life was all too strange.
When he returned to the house, Emma had breakfast waiting for him, the widest of grins on her face that never wavered the entire meal. Between that and her strange behavior at the door when he was leaving, all he could consider was that maybe the reaction to the wine from the previous night was still affecting her.
“How are the eggs?” Emma asked.
“They are fine. It was a kind gesture on your part.” He was thankful for the food, for it lessened the ache in his head.
She shrugged at his comment. “I do not mind. In fact, I enjoy cooking.” Her cheeks reddened before she looked away. Was the woman going mad?
He shoved the last bite of food into his mouth and pushed the plate aside. As he sipped at his tea, he thought more about the night before and the secrets she had shared with him. He had never met her stepfather, this Phillip, nor this Lord Oswald, but if he happened across them while out and about, he doubted he would be able to keep himself from hurting either of them.
However, that was not what was on the forefront of his worries at the moment. He had exposed the truth to Emma concerning Caroline and her affair. Was she laughing at him today, believing him a fool for what he endured? For what he allowed? If she thought less of him, who could blame her? A man forgiving his wife for her infidelity was one thing, but to be willing to raise a child conceived from that adulterous union was insanity.
Yet, when his eyes met hers, he realized she would not think of him as a fool.
“Do you plan to leave soon?” he asked.
“I believe so. The weather looks as though it may break soon, and I must return to Sweetspire Estates. Mosley will not know if I have been gone an hour or a year.” She looked down at her empty plate balanced on her knees. “I must admit, my intentions in coming here were not honorable. But as this week has passed, I have come to see you as a friend.”
Michael shook his head. Though his heart pulled him toward this woman, he knew that a friendship would only end in her hurting him. That was what women did. Yet, as he studied her, he wondered if she could be different. He decided to test her.
“Do you want the land?”
She looked up at him. “You told me last night that you lost it in a game of chance, so there is no way to sell it to me, is there?”
“No, I cannot. Therefore, we have no reason to be friends, since I can no longer offer you the land, would you not say?
She gave him a hurt look. “We shared secrets with one another last night. I value the friendship that has developed between us and would like to remain your friend. Last night, before you fell asleep, you asked me to help you in having your land returned to you. I promised I would, for that is what friends do.”
Michael rose and walked over to the window, confusion running through him. He looked upon the blanket of white that covered the ground. The clouds were breaking, and soon he suspected the roads would be safe enough for travel once again.
Yet, it was Emma’s questions that consumed him, and his heart and mind fought one another. The thought of putting trust in someone did not bode well in the light of day, and it did not help when she came and placed a hand on his arm.
“You seem worried,” she said in a low voice. “Is everything fine?”
How innocent her eyes were, and how contagious was her smile. She was pure of heart, and everything about her was flawless. Yet, he had been tricked before by a woman’s smile and kind touch. Was he willing to risk his pleasant solitude on the chance it happened again?
Memories flooded his mind.
They were here in the drawing room, Caroline’s stomach just showing signs of her pregnancy. She placed a hand on his arm and spoke sweet words.
“I will be fine,” she said. “I am to meet with Lily and her mother to discuss her wedding.”
He doubted her, but he wanted so much to trust her. So, he allowed her to leave. Early the next morning he learned she had been found on the side of the road dead, her horse wandering alone.
“Michael?” Emma’s voice broke into his thoughts, washing away the images as the tide washes away sand drawings. Was her touch given in comfort or as a means to soften him further in hopes to get what she wanted? How he wished to believe she was honorable, but could he risk his heart?
“Are you my friend?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said, her tone sounding hurt. “I have told you that my intentions were not honorable, but I swear they are now. You are my friend.”
Should he take another risk? Yes, he thought he could. “You are my friend, as well.”
She replied with a smile, and it was as though fresh air had been breathed into him and a weight was lifted from his shoulders. “What I said last night is still true today,” he said. “There is a way to get the land back, one that I have been planning for years. But I cannot ask you to help.”
“You do not have to ask,” Emma said. “I’m offering, for you have done much for me.”
He smiled. No, he could not ask such a thing of her. “It is a task that I could not allow a lady such as yourself to partake in,” he said. He turned to look out the window. “It involves a place of scandal and would surely ruin your good name.”
“I will do whatever is needed to help,” she replied.
He turned to look at her. “Anything?”
She nodded, yet she had no idea what would be required of her. What he needed from her was something so great, he would never ask another woman to be a part of it. But after what he had witnessed over the last week, Emma was unlike any woman he had ever met.
He took her hand in his. “Then you must sit, for what I will tell you will certainly shock you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Emma sat on the couch as Michael stood before the fireplace, his hand resting on his chin as though deep in thought. If any way for the man to reclaim his land - and perhaps his dignity - existed, she would help him.
Her reason for arriving at his home had changed, and now she realized it would be far better for him to own it himself once again. Perhaps if he won it back, the rest of his life would fall into place and the smile she had seen flit on his lips over the past few days would become permanent. In fact, the more she considered it, the less she cared about acquiring the land for Sweetspire Estates. He needed it much more than Charles.
This was no longer about her nor the estate Charles would eventually take over. It was about a baron, a man whose heart had been crushed and his faith in women broken, and it was no wonder after all he had endured. Emma would show him that good women such as herself did exist, and that happiness came from the heart, not from a bottle of brandy.
“Lord Whiskens is a man of great wealth,” Michael said as he sat in the chair across from Emma. “And he holds many deeds to property including does mine. It was during a drunken gambling indulgence when I lost everything I owned to the man. My estate, most of my business holdings, and a host of other things, including my pride. You must understand, the parties this man holds are nothi
ng like those you are accustomed to attending.”
“I have heard of his parties,” Emma said. “I must ask. Are the rumors true about what takes place at such gatherings? I have heard it said that all sorts of despicable things happen.”
Michael nodded. “That and much more. There is open debauchery - men with their mistresses engaged in sexual exploits, people playing games of chance, and the discussion of the vilest of plans in the midst of it all.”
“That is horrible! To engage in such acts of open affection…” She shook her head and shivered.
Michael moved to the place beside her on the couch. “There are wages placed there you would never find anywhere else. Men even offering their wives for a tryst in the sheets in lieu of money at times.”
Emma gasped. “Women share their beds with another man to ease the burden of a wager?”
“Yes. As I said, it is a place for vile acts. I regret the first time I attended one of his parties.”
“Do you still attend?” Emma asked, choosing her words carefully.
He looked down at the floor. “Regrettably, I do. The parties are never announced far in advance, for Lord Whiskens often is away. He typically runs one every weekend for a month, and then there is not another for six months.”
Emma’s heartbeat increased. “And these games in which women are offered? Do you participate in them?” She held her breath as she waited for his response.
“No, I have never wagered a woman, nor would I entertain such a notion.”
With relief, she breathed again. Though she wondered about the other acts that went on at the types of parties he mentioned, she did not want to know if he participated in any of those. Just the thought made her stomach churn.
“It has been some time since I have played cards with Lord Whiskens.”
“Are you afraid of losing again?” Emma asked. She was certain she would be unable to challenge a man who had taken everything away from her.
“That is part of my reasoning,” he replied. “But there is more. You see, I would need you to…” he stopped and looked down at his hands. “No, I cannot speak of it.”
Barons Always Win Wagers (Forbidden Kisses Book 3) Page 9
