Chapter Twenty-One
Finding love and being rescued by a hero. Those were the two dreams Emma had always had, and though the latter had come to pass with Michael, she wondered if the former was even accessible. She had been foolish enough to believe that perhaps Michael would be the man who fulfilled both, but now she was unsure. Granted, she was not even certain if she loved him, but when she had roused enough courage to ask his stance on love - the possibility of their love - he had become angry.
Indeed, Michael had saved her life on more than one occasion and now offered the appearance of marriage to keep her reputation from being sullied, but a true hero remained so in all aspects of his life. His terrible penchant for drink and the untidiness of his home were just two areas that would have sent her running if not for all he had done for her.
Granted, Emma did not understand the pain of his past - it was not as if he was forthcoming with such information, anyway - nor did she comprehend his current situation. A true hero pulls himself through whatever troubles he encounters and emerges like a shiny new penny. What concerned her the most was whether or not the man would continue to make the same mistakes.
Frustrated, she sipped at her tea and thought about their stroll about town five days earlier. A smile crossed her lips when the incident with Michael and that horrid Mrs. Benedict came to mine.
Was it Emma’s imagination or did the woman have a hint of desire in her eyes when she looked at Michael? The woman could sniff all she liked, but she did look him up and down with an appreciative gaze before it was replaced by that faux look of disdain. The more Emma replayed the scenario in her mind, the more she thought it to be true.
As she glanced out the window into the garden, she wondered if her time with Michael was disappearing as quickly as the snow had melted. Though she enjoyed the kisses they had shared, she also missed his company. Whether it was making him a cup of tea or the talks they shared, all of it seemed right somehow.
The door opened and she smiled when Sally entered the room.
“I’ll be leaving within the hour, but I wanted to talk to you before I left.”
Emma nodded and Sally came to her side.
“Now, I’ve already told you that I’ll be gone a week. I worry about leaving you here alone again.”
“You have no need to worry,” Emma assured the woman, but a pang of guilt rushed through her. She had not told Sally about the party; the woman would never have agreed to let her go. Emma hated the idea of doing something that she knew she should not, but she had made a promise. “I will pass the time teaching Mosley to play parlay.”
Sally laughed. “I don’t think Constance will be happy with that,” the woman said. Her laughter ended abruptly and she took a deep breath. “I won’t question you further concerning the party you want to attend. You’d only deny wanting to go anyway.”
Emma looked at the woman in shock. “How…?”
Sally raised a hand to forestall her. “You forget that my hearing is quite good. I heard what Lord Bracken told you in town while we were there.”
Placing her cup on a small table beside her, Emma swallowed hard. Blast it! She had forgotten Sally’s strange ability to hear even the drop of a pin from another room. With the door closed! Well, maybe her hearing was not that good, but she did tend to overhear even the quietest of conversations.
“I do not know what to say,” Emma said with a sigh.
“You’re no longer a child,” Sally said as she placed a hand on Emma’s arm. “You’re a woman and so you’ll have to make your own decisions. I can’t stay here and watch over you every moment, but I will say this. If you do decide to attend, keep in mind that you’ll hurt Constance if she learns of it. You also risk ruining your name and driving away any possible suitors who may want to call on you.”
Emma sighed. “I’m well aware of the risks,” she said. “But I will consider your words.”
Sally embraced Emma and then took Emma’s hands in hers. “I understand why Constance is so protective of you. You’re a good woman, Emma. Guard your heart with Lord Bracken. That is the only advice I can give you.”
“I will,” Emma replied. “And a safe journey to you.”
As Sally made her way to the door, a thought occurred to Emma. “Sally?”
The woman stopped and turned around.
“I am still unsure if my feelings for Michael come from a budding love for him or gratefulness for what he has done for me. How will I know?”
Sally sighed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have an answer for you. That hero you told me about, the one from your dreams?”
“Yes?”
“Consider the two of you in that dream, you the heroine and he the hero. Then perhaps you’ll be closer to an answer.”
Emma pursed her lips in thought. “I will. Thank you.”
Once Sally was gone, Emma returned to her tea. As she gazed out the window once more, her thoughts turned to the party that would take place in three days. She would attend that party with Michael, risking everything to help the man restore his life. The risks she was taking were great, indeed.
What she was doing for a rogue, a drunkard, would be frowned upon by everyone she knew, but she could not ignore the kind heart the man had. He may not be the hero from her dreams, for that man was perfect in every way, but so many times when she thought of that hero, it was Michael’s face that appeared.
She would do as Sally suggested and focus on her dreams. They all ended the same way: with love and something else that she had yet to grasp. Perhaps that final thing would allow Emma to know if she truly loved Michael or not.
***
Michael stood in front of his home, his heavy coat pulled tightly around him as the sun set over the horizon. In his hand he held a glass of brandy, which had not remained empty since returning from his outing with Emma. Granted, that was several days ago…
How many days? Had it been nearly a week? He glanced into his glass, empty once again, and snarled. His anger did not come from the inebriation that had become his life, but rather from the guilt that tore at his insides every time he thought of betraying Emma. He had rationalized what he would do time and again, for he deserved to have returned to him what was rightfully his. Yet could he do it at the cost of Emma?
The truth was Lord Whisken was powerful, so powerful that Michael never doubted the rumors that surrounded the man. Coercion. Blackmail. Murder. He was capable of so much atrocity, but the thought of him and his plans for Emma sent a bolt of anger through Michael’s heart.
Emma had asked Michael no less than three times if he felt anything for her, and each time he had replied with a resounding no. That was far from the truth. The woman had opened her heart to him, and now feelings he had once cherished returned. She was young and innocent and had no idea the risks it took to love another. What she was experiencing was likely confusion, for she had mistakenly thought of him as that hero in her dreams.
How could she have ever considered him some sort of hero? He lived in squalor and spent his days in the bottom of a brandy bottle. No hero lived such a life.
Taking a sip of his brandy, he looked back at the house. The estate had once been alive and filled with love, or at least on his part. Now the windows were cracked, the paint all but faded, and the stable beside it was a reminder of his life - ready to collapse at any moment.
“You brought this all upon yourself,” he murmured into his brandy glass. His head reeled. How many days had he wasted drinking? Emma was right; he had too many shortcomings to count.
“Caroline,” he muttered, “Why did you…?”
Overcome with rage, he pulled back his arm and threw the glass at the house. Bracken House had been in his family for over a hundred years, and after tomorrow night, it would be in his name once again. His land, the stakes he had once possessed in a variety of businesses, all of it would be restored. Yet, in all that, he would be the man who betrayed the woman he cared for, and dare he say, loved? What had begun as a p
ersonal wager to bed the woman had turned into something far greater - a wonderful feeling he wished would continue.
He snorted. What choice did he have but to do the bidding of Lord Whisken? The man would take Michael’s life.
And Emma? his conscience argued. What of her? Would she be in town one day, or perhaps in her own home, only to be kidnapped? Lord Whisken had threatened to take his anger out on her, which sent Michael’s mind into further confusion, and he held his head in his hands. Drat the drink! It made it even more difficult to think clearly.
Then, as if Emma stood beside him, her words returned to his mind.
“I speak of the man inside you, the one you keep hidden beneath your inebriation. Not the drunk who wallows in self-pity. The man who tends a woman when she is bedridden with fever. The man who risks his life as wolves attack another. The man who opens his heart and shares what it contains. That is the man to whom I find an attraction.”
The wind blew around him, carrying with it new thoughts of hope. A truth settled on him - to have everything returned meant nothing if he could not have Emma. He would not allow Lord Whisken to have her. Emma needed a hero, and Michael would be that man!
The plan opened before him. It was simple, really. When he went to collect her, he would reveal everything. How would Lord Whisken know? Her family could keep her close, or perhaps she had relatives to whom she could be sent.
As for Michael, he would wait at Bracken House for Lord Whisken, or whomever the man sent, to come for him. If it meant Emma remained safe, he would accept his fate and finally be the man she needed.
He smiled as an old motto came to mind, one he had told Emma while he was considering taking her to his bed. “Barons always win wagers,” he said with a laugh. “And I wager this promise. I will do everything possible to keep you safe, Emma Shepherd, even if it costs me my life.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Emma looked up at the sky, clear and blue with no signs of bad weather, unlike her last trek to Michael’s house. It was mid-afternoon, and though the air was cool, it was not overly cold. Daisy, her horse, trotted along at a slow and careful pace. After what had happened the last time she had called on Michael, she had considered taking the road, but the chances of someone seeing her was too high. She simply had to be more careful this time.
Emma was not making this unexpected call to confirm her decision to attend the party with him tomorrow. She had given him her word and she always kept her promises. No, what she needed from him was something altogether different. She had a deep desire to understand her feelings for him before she played the part of his mistress. If she did love him, her part would be easy, but if she did not, that was another thing altogether. It was not that she doubted her ability to playact - her sisters had done as much and more to garner information. If they could do it, so could she.
She had thought much on what Sally had said and had come to the same conclusion no matter how she looked at her dreams. They always ended with her in the arms of her hero as she proclaimed her love for him. Of course, the fact that she was in his arms meant that they would take that next step of becoming lovers, but for the moment, she pushed that aside. Ladies did not spend their days thinking of such things.
The fact was that she desired to understand what was between them. Not only was it what she required, but she suspected that he needed to know, as well.
Michael had sent her a letter a few days ago reminding her of the party and his regret of not being able to call on her before then. That had made her sad but with her new mission in mind, she was able to put that emotion toward what needed to be done.
Oh, how angry Constance would be if she learned of Emma’s plans! In fact, Emma herself should have been alarmed. She was purposefully putting herself in harm’s way to learn if she truly loved a man or not. What an idiotic thing to do! But she would not have stopped herself if she could, for she had to know!
What if she gave herself to the man and he still felt nothing for her? She would be left brokenhearted, and though the thought of such heartache tried to make her turn back, she trudged forward all the same.
Daisy snorted, and Emma glanced around the open field, glad that the wolves had not returned.
“We are safe, old girl,” she whispered as she patted the mare on the neck. “There are no wolves, nor anyone else for that matter.” A sudden terrifying image appeared in her mind. “Even Lord Oswald.” She shivered. What had made her think of that man?
She closed her eyes and pushed the image from her mind. Then she patted the horse again. “We are on our way to Michael’s house to see if I love him and he loves me. Do you think my plan wise?”
Daisy snorted and Emma laughed. “I would be considered mad talking to you,” she said. “But I do not care. There are many things I have done as of late that are quite mad.”
Her cheeks burned as she thought back over the week spent at Michael’s house, but the memories also made her heart flutter. Yes, this journey was important. Very important.
Bracken House came into view, and Emma sighed with relief. Despite her attempts to keep her courage, she could not stop herself from eying the line of trees. Would the wolves be hiding in the shadows there?
Of course not! she thought. That certainty became all the more sure when she rode up to the leaning stable.
She did not trust that dilapidated building, so she tied Daisy’s reins to a nearby tree branch before making her way to the front door. Rapping her knuckles on the door - even the knocker was gone! - she waited for Michael to answer.
Michael had allowed the stubble to return to his face, but Emma realized that she no longer cared if a razor never touched his chin again. His eyes, though warm, had a concerned look to them. “Emma? What are you doing here?”
“I must speak with you,” she said. He had a strong smell of brandy on his breath. She should not have been surprised. “May I come in, or should I send another letter?” She had meant her words in jest, but he did not smile as he moved aside to allow her to enter.
“I’m glad you are here,” he said. “We must talk of matters of great importance.”
Emma could not help but smile. Was he going to reveal that he cared for her as much as she did for him? Wonder of wonders! This had been the best idea she had ever had!
She removed her gloves as they entered the parlor. “I agree, but may I speak first?”
He gave a nod and then helped her remove her coat. She had chosen a yellow dress with a low neckline, and when his eyes went wide for a moment, she felt pleasure course through her. The dress did not belong to her and was at least a size too small, which made her breasts more prominent.
“Let us sit,” Michael said, his voice a soft rasp.
A fire roared as it had the week she had been there, and she realized that she missed the room. Or was it the man in the room she missed?
“I’ve tried to reduce my drinking,” he said, though he said this as he poured them each a drink. “Unfortunately, I have not done well.”
Emma closed her eyes to the realization of what she was going to do, for she hoped to give him the comfort he needed. “I understand,” she said, “and that is why I’m here. I’ve told you how I feel about you.”
He looked into his glass. “You have.”
“I have taken a great deal of time to consider the matter. I’ve not only thought of my feelings but of yours, as well. You said I was selfish, and you are right. I’m much more selfish than I realized, in fact.”
Michael snorted. “Those were the words of a drunk,” he said before taking a drink. “Pay them no heed. You are not selfish. Nor do you struggle with anything else that is wrong with this world. I have no way to bring you comfort.”
She moved closer to Michael. “You have no idea what your words mean to me,” she said in a near whisper. “And comfort? I can see you need comforting as much as I.”
“I’m afraid I do not understand.”
She placed a hand on the side of his face.
The tiny hairs tickled her palm. “Twice I have been in your arms, and twice I have refused what you need. Do you not see? Your feelings for me are hidden because a woman and her hero must be one. I will no longer deny you.” She leaned forward and kissed him.
The kiss began as a light touch but grew to a raging inferno. He pulled her into his arms, pulled her tight against him so her breasts were pressed against his chest. A fire threatened to consume her, and she wanted nothing more than to remain in his arms forever.
However, he pulled away. “No, you do not understand…”
“No,” she whispered. She reached behind her. She had chosen this dress because it had laces rather than buttons, making it easier to remove. “I do understand,” she said breathily. “If I give myself to you, you will open your heart. Then we can explore our feelings together.”
She moved the dress off her shoulder, ready to give Michael the solace he needed. Yet, to her shock, he placed a hand on top of hers and pulled the dress back up.
“Though I find your offer beautiful,” he said, “it is not for me. You must save yourself for a gentleman who will love you.”
Tears welled in Emma’s eyes. “But it is for you! We can find the love we both need if you only would see the truth. I believe you are that gentleman I have been searching for.”
Michael rose from the couch. “No!” he shouted angrily as he walked over to lean on the mantel. “What you desire from me I cannot give.”
Emma adjusted her dress and then stood to glare at his back. “You refuse me. Why?”
“I have my reasons,” he murmured. Then, to her surprise he turned to face her, his eyes not full of anger as she expected, but rather full of sorrow. “I must ask a favor of you, and it is one you cannot deny me. Promise you will do as I say.”
Confusion filled Emma. He had hurt her, but she also feared he meant to be rid of her. That she could not stand.
“I’m listening,” she replied. She would do what she could to make him see that they belonged together.
Barons Always Win Wagers (Forbidden Kisses Book 3) Page 16
