He pulled away as if she burned him. “Do not touch me,” he growled. He stood and walked over to the brandy decanter. “Twice you have desired me, and twice you have pushed me away.”
“I’m truly sorry,” she said, her heart sorrowful. “I do not know what I am doing.”
He turned, his eyes alight with anger. “That is not true.” He downed the brandy in one gulp. “Perhaps you do not know, but it does not matter. I have allowed myself to trust a woman, and now I realize that, once again, I’m a fool.”
Emma shook her head. She had not wanted to hurt him. “I can only apologize,” she said. “If I could…”
“I do not wish to hear you speak,” he said as he walked over to the window. “Just leave me be.”
“I will,” Emma said, and she hurried from the room, taking with her one of the candles that sat on the mantle. She felt a sense of confusion, for she could not give the man the pleasure he sought - and that she desired. One only did such things in love, that had been the truth of it for as long as she understood what happened between men and women.
She changed back into the clothes Michael had given her, his clothes, and tossed the dress into the corner. When she returned to the room, Michael still stood at the window. He did not turn or acknowledge her entrance, and she made no comment to him as she poured herself a glass of wine.
Standing beside him at the window, neither said a word, and Emma realized that perhaps silence was likely the best course of action for the time being.
Chapter Fourteen
Looking down at the fragile beauty, her eyes alight with desire and innocence, had created a desire in Michael that he had not experienced in a very long time. With each short breath, her heavy bosom heaved, and he wanted to free himself of the restraints of his breeches.
Yet, Emma brought the moment to an end as firmly as if he had ridden Balder into a wall. Her innocent words of love tore at his heart, and that was what had brought him to the window to peer out at the snow-covered landscape illuminated by the moon.
Love. He had once loved a woman and believed she had loved him in return. And perhaps she had, in her own way. The majority of the ton married for stature and as a means to produce heirs. But not Michael. In fact, he had thought love should be the main reason for marriage, and he had dreamed of spending his life with Caroline.
Taking a sip of his brandy, he stood in silence as Emma joined him, the woman remaining silent, though she wiped at her eyes. Part of him wanted to tell her that it was not her refusal of him that brought him to anger. He had no right to take from her what she was unwilling to give to him freely. It was the stirring in his heart, driven by a lust that had long since disappeared from his life. It was a pure chord of wanting to comfort the woman and hold her in his arms. But as fast as it had risen in him, he pushed it away, scared of allowing it to remain.
What she wanted was a man to love her, and perhaps one day he could, but he would never be enough for her. She had spoken of a hero of her dreams, the man who would save her. A brave man who loved poetry. One who was not a failure. For one brief moment, he had thought he could be that man, for what they had shared had been beautiful. Yet, she had brought him back to reality in one swift moment. He was nearly destitute, a man with nothing. What woman would desire such a man?
“I know I have upset you,” Emma whispered, finally breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “And that I lost your trust. If you do not believe another word I say, believe this. I did not mean to make you angry, nor did I want to refuse you. I was lost in my own…desires.” She hung her head as though in shame, and Michael wondered why she would feel shame. That was his burden to carry, not hers.
An urge to apologize swept over him, an attempt to make the woman feel comfortable, for surely she was hurting. But as he considered taking such a step, memories of Caroline rose in his mind. Like her, Emma did not care for his heart or his desires. In fact, she only cared for herself. It was the reason she was here to begin with.
His anger returned, a warm familiar blanket he could wrap around himself. What he had told her was true. She was another woman who had earned his trust and used her body to sway him.
“I wonder,” he said, turning to her. “How many men have you seduced as you did me only to blame them for your own indiscretions?”
A look of pain crossed her features, and for a moment, he once again considered apologizing. “I assure you,” she said, her voice choked with emotion, “I have done no such thing. In truth, the only man who has ever kissed me besides you was Lord Oswald, and he took that without my consent.”
“You may be telling the truth,” he snapped, though deep inside, he knew she was, but he did not care. “Or you may be simply leading by the leading rope in some game you have devised to break my trust.”
“I swear to you,” she said, her voice rising as though in a panic, “I did not mean for us to carry on as far as we did. You must believe me.”
He took a drink of his brandy to give himself a moment to think. What was he doing? The fault was with him, not her! What kind of man used a woman as innocent as Emma and led her to his bed? A rogue? A lout? He sighed. A man such as he. “I know you have never done such things before, for you are a lady. I apologize for what I said.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
His heart ached at how easily the woman forgave his anger.
“I wish you to know,” she said without looking at him, “that I will continue to help you despite what happened today.”
“It is your choice,” he replied, though he was surprised by this admission. “I’m sure we have time to practice, for I do not know when the next party will be.”
He went to refill his glass, but she took it from him and refilled it for him. Regret for what had taken place washed over him once more. He could not allow himself to be carried away by his desires any longer.
She returned and offered him the full glass.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“Are you…still upset with me?”
He had to take a calming breath as she stared up at him with those innocent eyes. “No. I think we are fine now. The past is the past and the future will be wonderful. For both of us.”
“I agree,” she replied. Then she lifted her glass. “To our friendship and future. I, too, believe it will be lovely.”
Michael smiled. Yes, the future would be great for her, but he suspected that for himself, it would not be so wondrous. Failing to keep himself under control tonight only proved that the remainder of his life had nothing more to offer than more opportunities for failure.
***
The following morning, Emma woke with an aching head and a hurting heart, though she was unsure which was worse. She had not drunk as much wine as she had the other nights, but still her head pounded, and when she touched her face, she felt heat radiate from her skin.
However, it was the pain in her heart that she felt as she rose from the couch and looked at Michael asleep in the chair, his heavy overcoat pulled over him as a blanket. He looked so peaceful and innocent.
Yet, neither of them had been innocent the night before as their kisses almost led to the man taking her virtue. Or rather to her nearly handing it to him on a silver platter. She could not put the entirety of blame on him, for it was she who returned each of his kisses with her own, her desires taking over any sense of reasonable thought. That she laid at her feet.
Walking to the fireplace, she poked the embers and added another log. Then she went to the window and was pleased to see the sun peeking over the horizon and turning the sky a lovely pink.
Regret filled her for carrying on as she had the night before. There were words for women who did such things, and none of them were held in high regard. But it was not only what they had done but the feeling that had come to her heart. Though she did not love the man, she did have feelings for him that had moved beyond the fondness that had developed after her first day in his home.
Was
what she felt simply her desires masked as another feeling? Or was it just that she simply cared for the man?
Turning to look at Michael, she tried to piece together to what extent she cared for him. He was a friend, but would she allow him to court her if he were to ask? No, she could not imagine that happening, for the man’s drinking was out of hand, and the way he lived his life was far from her own. He had opened his heart to her, certainly, but too much scandal surrounded the man to consider courtship.
She almost laughed. The question was if she cared for the man. How had she moved her thoughts to courtship?
Yet, the thought of not being near him caused her heart to ache, for she feared Michael would not bode well alone.
The incessant arguing with herself was making the pounding in her head increase. The truth was, though Michael had saved her life, it was no reason to continue staying with him in his home. The more she thought on the matter, the more she realized it would be best if she left. The temptation to give in to her own desires would soon be unstoppable, and she could not allow that to happen. She was a lady of the ton, respectable, and that would come to an end if she continued this visit.
The truth was her actions over the last few days, beginning with the decision to journey to the home of a man to whom she was not promised, and unchaperoned, was disgraceful. Guilt choked her as she turned back to peer out the window. Guilt filled her for trying to appease Michael with her smiles in an attempt to acquire his land. No respectable woman acted as she did. And to allow him to kiss her? What had she been thinking?
She had not been thinking, that was the whole of it. Yet, she had wanted his kisses, and even now if he were to offer her another, she would not refuse it. It was for that reason, and more, that she knew it was best that she leave.
Then a thought came to mind. She had promised Michael she would help him get his land back. She had made the promise with honorable intentions of doing as she said, with a clear heart, but not with a clear mind. How could she ever attend such a wicked party with Michael and act his mistress?
“You are awake.”
Emma started and turned toward him. “I am.”
“Was your sleep pleasant?”
Emma grasped her skirts to keep from wringing her hands.
“What is wrong? You appear worried.”
It was difficult not to notice his unruly hair that stuck out in various places. Or his handsome smile as he gazed down at her. Or the kindness she heard in his voice that had replaced the curtness of when she first arrived. Her decision was not easy, and she felt terrible in making it.
“I must speak to you,” she said, wishing he would stop smiling at her. This would be so much easier if he were still angry with her! “I know you will be upset with me, but you must listen, please.”
Michael nodded. “Of course.”
“Last night was my fault for giving into my desires. I will not lie. What we did was…pleasurable.” Heat rushed into her cheeks. “Yet, though it may be tempting, I was afraid of what may have transpired from those feelings. What I mean to say is that I cannot be tempted any longer.”
Michael smiled at her. “So, you do not wish to kiss me again?”
With a frustrated sigh, Emma replied, “No. That is…yes. Yes, I desire your kisses but I do not love you and therefore cannot remain, for I will give in to them when I truly should not!” The last came out in a burst, and when she finished, it was as if everything inside her was depleted.
He said nothing for several moments, and Emma wondered if she had once again angered him. However, he simply asked, “What do you wish to do then?”
What he had to say pained her as much as her head ached, but she knew it had to be said. The time for games and adventure was over. “I will leave at once to return home. The weather has cleared and I believe my journey will be safe now.”
Michael took a deep breath and turned his gaze to the window. “So, another woman has entered my life only to leave me again.” His laugh that followed had a cruel and mocking sound to it. “Is this what you truly want?”
“Yes. I’m sorry that I…”
“Enough,” he said, raising a hand. “Do not apologize to me.” When he looked at her, his eyes were glazed with anger. “It would be best if you leave, as you say. There is no need to say anything else.”
“Will we remain friends?” she whispered.
“Friends?” he said with a laugh. “Tell me, what does a friend do?”
“I do not understand.”
“Do friends make promises and then break them? Do they bring a man hope and then walk away from him?” He took a step toward her. “Friends do not do those things.”
“I do not wish to hurt you,” she said, blinking back tears. “Please understand that I do not want that.”
“I do know that,” he whispered, much to her surprise. “My anger is at myself, not you.” He brushed back a strand of hair behind his ear. “You are a woman who needs a gentleman, not a baron who is a failure.
“You are no failure.”
Michael sighed. “You should leave before more people begin to travel on the roads. It will not do you well if you are caught out alone.”
Emma nodded with reluctance though her heart told her he was right. She glanced around the room. It had been a wonderful experience being here, and though the man did not believe so, she thought him a friend.
She changed into her dress, and as she and Michael walked to the front door, their steps echoed not only in the foyer but in her head, as well.
She reached for her overcoat just as he did, and for a moment she wondered if he was going to refuse to allow her to leave. The guilt returned when he offered to help her don the coat.
“Please, allow me, friend.”
“Thank you,” she whispered in reply.
He wrapped the scarf around her neck. “Take the main road. The fields will have too much snow and mud, and if you fall, you may become prey to wolves…”
She smiled. “You would not be there to save me.” Her head felt full of cotton wool. “I will be leaving now.”
He opened the door for her, and she knew it would be the last time she would call on him. It was possibly the last time she would see him, and the thought sent a sadness to her heart that she never thought possible.
Without consideration for what she was doing, she threw her arms around him and laid her head against his chest.
“Goodbye, Emma. May you find all that you seek.”
“Goodbye, Michael,” she whispered back. “And I hope the same for you.”
The embrace broke and a moment later, she stepped outside. The morning air was cool, but the sun was warm, melting the icicles on the roof so they dripped around her. It was strange, but she counted every drop that hit the ground as it echoed in her head.
As she stepped off the stoop, her head took on the feeling of having drank five bottles of wine, and she struggled to keep her footing. She would have to hurry home and get plenty of rest, for she had been awake all too late the past few nights.
The door closed with a muted thud, and she paused, wondering if she should return. But no, it was best to leave now. They had said their goodbyes, there was no need to put off the inevitable.
With a heavy heart, she began to walk. Another thud. This time it was not the door, but rather something inside her head. The world around her began to swim and she wondered how she was able to breathe underwater. And yet her mouth felt dry. It was a very strange sensation, and she did not like it. Not one whit.
“Michael,” she groaned, the dizziness increasing until blackness overtook her.
Chapter Fifteen
Goodbye was such a simple word, and Michael whispered it again as he closed the door that would separate him from Emma forever. It angered him that she was leaving, but he could not force her to stay. In fact, her going was the best thing for her, for she would only succumb to his failures if she remained. She was much too perfect to be forced to endure such a life.
>
“You are a fool,” he whispered to himself. “Why would a woman such as she ever consider a man like you?” He made a fist and drove it into the door, sending pain shooting up his arm. He ignored it.
She had called him a friend, and though it meant much, a new feeling tore at his heart.
“Love is for fools!” he growled. “You cannot allow yourself such luxuries, for you are not worthy!” He struck the door again.
If the notion of love was for fools, why did her face appear in his mind each time he said the word?
As he stood with his face pressed against the door, he paused. He was going mad, there was no doubt, for he thought he heard Emma call out his name. Yet no, it was nothing more than an illusion taunting him to watch her walk away. She had made her wishes clear. She was to leave and her farewell was forever.
He turned away from the door. What a fool to have imagined that she had called out to him. Did all men suffer delusions in such a manner?
Yet…it would not hurt to peek outside once more. If she happened to ride past the door on horseback, he could say he was simply looking at the sky to see if the weather was due to change again. It made little sense, but he could not stop his legs from returning to the door or his hand from turning the doorknob.
Peering out toward the stables, he searched the snow for her footprints, or the hoofprints of her horse saying she was already on her way home. There were none. He had no idea how long he assaulted the door, but it could not have been long. Then he looked at the bottom of the steps and gave a choked cry. There lay Emma, face down in the snow and not moving.
“Emma?” When she did not respond, he hurried down the steps, ignoring the cold of his bare feet. “Emma!” he shouted, his breath vapors leaving his lips.
Rolling her over, he was relieved to see her chest rise and fall, and he placed a hand to her forehead. “You are burning with fever!”
And as he had done before, Michael scooped her into his arms and picked her up, grunting as he did so. With slow steps, he made his way back into the house and down the hallway, placing her on the couch in the parlor.
Barons Always Win Wagers (Forbidden Kisses Book 3) Page 11
