The Rejected Suitor (9 page)

"Nigel,
please!"

At that
moment Jared envied Nigel. Lucky chap.

Jared's
eyes trailed up a well-turned calf, and a shudder passed through him. Devil
take it! He needed Emily out of there before he went mad or did something he
would regret.

Without
another thought, he bounded off his seat, threw the book onto his bed, grabbed
hold of two tiny feet, and pulled.

"Whatever
could be keeping Emily and Jared?" Agatha asked, turning to Jane.
"Filmore mentioned that Jared returned from his ride a half hour
ago."

Jane,
dressed in a smart peach gown, grabbed her matching reticule from the sofa.
"Strange, and Emily is always on time. For both of them to be late . .
." Her lips puckered.

"Both
of them late, indeed." The older lady pulled on her white gloves and poked
her head outside the drawing room doors, glancing up the stairs.

Jane's
eyes sparkled with mischief. "Mercy. Do you dare think—"

"Fustian,
child!" Agatha shook her head and grabbed her parasol as she walked
briskly toward the stairs. "How could you even think such a thing, my
dear. And when the duchess comes to visit, you must keep thoughts like that to
yourself."

"Emily's
mother is coming here?"

"Yes,
I received a letter from her the same day Emily arrived. She wishes to surprise
the girl. I imagine she will show herself in a few days. So, mind your
tongue."

Jane
picked up her skirts and followed, her delicate brows raised in an impish grin.
"I only thought that Emily and Cousin Jared . . . well, goodness knows,
anything's possible."

"At
this point, the duchess does not need to hear something like that, Jane. Put
those thoughts right out of your mind. Besides, our distinguished Lord
Stonebridge is practically engaged to a Miss Susan Wimble, and that is
that."

Jane
stopped in the hallway. "Gracious, not that woman?"

Agatha
nodded sadly. "Unfortunate to be sure. I am not happy about it either. But
that is neither here nor there. The lady is your guardian's business, and I am
sorry for mentioning it. You are not to say a thing. Do you hear?"

Jane's
lips compressed into a grim line. "Yes, but I do not have to like
it."

"No,
you do not," Agatha said, continuing her march up the stairs, her parasol
tapping each step.

"But
drat, Agatha, how can he marry such a woman?"

"To
tell you the truth, Jane, it is beyond my comprehension entirely."

Nigel's
playful bark drifted down the stairs.

"Sounds
like trouble." Jane's lips curved into a smile as they hastened up the
steps. "Whatever do you think is going on up there?"

Agatha
stopped and turned toward her niece. "Do not let your imagination get away
with you, Jane. It may lead to dire consequences someday."

Jane's
entire face broke into a mischievous smile. "I can honestly say, Aunt,
that it is not my imagination I am worried about."

Emily
let out a gasp of shock when she was jerked from beneath the bed, turned on her
back like a pig on a spit, and thrown face-up, the rug brushing up beneath her.

Every
muscle in her body stiffened at the sight of Jared’s powerful body hovering
over her. He smelled of horses and hay. His dark hair hung over one eye while
his arms, clad only in a linen shirt with rolled-up sleeves, straddled each
side of her head. She avoided his amber gaze and fixed her eyes on the open
neck of his shirt. It was an admirable try, but it did nothing to rid her of
her wayward thoughts or her body's treacherous reaction. The man was devilishly
handsome.

A hot
flush began working its way up her neck. She had seen her brothers run around
half-dressed before, but this man was not her brother. He looked magnificent,
clad only in his breeches and shirt, but it was more than that. She realized
with a start that she still loved this scoundrel.

"Looking
for something, sweeting?"

Like the
jerk of a carriage coming to an abrupt stop, reality jarred her heart back into
place. She lifted her chin with all the dignity she could muster in such a feeble
position, glad of the shadows that hid the warmth in her cheeks. Insufferable
man. It was obvious he had been watching every minute of her disgrace with his
dog beneath that confounded bed.

"Indeed,
I am looking for a book I lost," she said sharply.

He
lifted his hand, and she flinched.

His
mouth dipped into a frown. "The devil, Emily. I am not going to strike
you, but heaven knows I should." He stared at her, leaning closer, his
eyes intent on her lips. Tension sparked between them like lightning in a
storm.

"Would
you perchance be searching for this?" He pushed the book of Wordsworth in
her face.

Emily
snatched it from his hand.

"Your
dog stole it," she said accusingly, her eyes frozen on his sinfully
attractive face.

"Nigel?"
He laughed, breaking the spell. "Why would my dog want a book of love
poems?"

Emily
felt as if he had slapped her. Had this man ever loved her? Of course not. How
long would it take her to understand the signs of a rogue? Her own brothers
took on the same attitude toward women as well.

"Take
it, then. I don't need it either." She shoved the book into his face and
squirmed from beneath his hold. When her hands pushed against his broad chest,
a deep ache began to grow in her heart, pushing its way up her throat, almost
stopping her from breathing. He had never loved her.

Dropping
the book, Jared grabbed her by the shoulders and peered into her eyes, keeping
her pinned beneath him. The tension mounted between them, making her extremely
conscious of the magnetic power coiled beneath his steadfast gaze. She felt the
warmth of his hands searing every nerve in her body. He opened his mouth to
speak, but answered by lowering his face and crushing his lips to hers. To her
surprise, the kiss immediately turned tender, his mouth breathing life back
into her scarred heart.

He
pulled back, his intense gaze becoming a soft caress.

Emily found
herself limp in his arms, too surprised to speak. Did he still love her? The
question no sooner popped into her mind than he spoke.

"Will
you ever forgive me, Em?"

Emily
stiffened. Forgive him? Was his kiss supposed to make everything better? What a
fool she had been. An utter fool! She had almost said something stupid, almost
fallen into his trap again. When would she learn?

"You
want me to forgive you?" she asked with a cynical smile. "For lying
to me in that book? Or are you speaking in regard to your little jest of making
me look like a fool three years ago. Or is it the kiss you just stole?"

A second
passed and he threw his head back and laughed, releasing her.

Dumbfounded
at his reaction, Emily sat up, brushing her skirt back into place. "And
what exactly do you find so hilarious, sir?"

"You,
sweetheart. You."

The
endearment crushed her heart. Why was he doing this to her?

He
lifted her chin with his finger, the touch blazing a path straight down to her
toes. "You are too beautiful and independent to be alone all your life.
Too much passion to be wasted, my dear."

He
frowned then, dropping his finger as if he had been burned, and in one fluid
motion, he pulled her upward and stepped away. She felt as if a sheet of ice
had fallen from the ceiling, separating them.

A
brittle smile crossed his face. "I hope your brothers find someone worthy
of you."

Emily
drew back in horror. How had he knowledge of her brothers' plans unless he was
involved? The situation finally became all too clear. "Pray then, you are
to guard me until Roderick returns, are you not?"

He
paled, looking as guilty as Fennington had standing in her bedchambers. "Guard,
you? Whatever gave you that absurd notion?"

Nigel
stood in the corner and barked as the tone of their voices intensified.

"Tell
me the truth this time." Emily could not hide the tremor when she spoke.
"I am your prisoner, am I not?"

In one
quick stride he was beside her, slipping a strong hand in hers. "Listen,
Em. It's not like that at all. Your brothers have obligations—"

"Obligations?"
She jerked back. "I am up to my eyeballs with that word. Do not deceive me
a second time. And you have no right to call me, Em. I am Lady Emily to
you."

He
grabbed her shoulders roughly. "You don't understand. I owed Roderick a
favor—"

"So,
now I am a favor?"

She
turned quickly and tripped on the rug, stumbling backward, but not before a
strong hand whipped around her waist in a steel grip, holding her to him,
pressing her back intimately against his chest. She closed her eyes, conscious
of his warm breath against her neck.

"Honor
demanded I comply with your brother's wishes," he said in a husky whisper.
"You have no understanding how difficult this is for me."

"Difficult?"
Tears clogged her throat. "Y-you are the one being difficult." She
struggled for him to release her, bending at her waist, feeling herself being
lifted off the floor, her legs dangling in midair.

"Confound
it, woman, be reasonable here."

"What
is the meaning of this?" Agatha's voice hit Emily like a blow to her
stomach.

"Emily,"
Jane screeched, standing at the door, staring at her guardian holding her
friend like an opera dancer—after hours. "Are you . . . ill?"

Emily
felt Jared stiffen. He cleared his throat, placing Emily's feet safely on the
rug beneath them. Emily straightened out her gown, her love for Jared dying off
like the bloom of a dried flower. Dead and gone. She was nothing to him but a friend's
sister. Owing a favor to Roderick because of his insufferable honor!

"This
can all be explained, Agatha," Jared replied with a half-smile. "This
may appear ... well, the devil... this is all a silly misunderstanding."

"Yes,
a misunderstanding," Emily offered helplessly, avoiding Jared's
impenetrable gaze.

Agatha
stood waiting at the door, her lips pressed together, one hand clenched at her
side, the other hand stomping her black parasol against the floor as if it were
a bayonet. "Indeed, Jared. I am waiting for an explanation."

At that
precise moment Nigel decided to slink past the agitated entourage and out the
door. "Traitor," Jared murmured to his dog. Emily almost repeated the
same word herself.

"I
am waiting," Agatha snapped.

Jared
splayed his hands, palms up in the air.

"I
was searching for my book," Emily broke in, "and silly me, I suddenly
recalled that Lord Stonebridge had borrowed it. So, of course, I came into his
chambers to search for it."

"Of
course." Agatha narrowed her eyes on Emily, then slowly shifted them
toward Jared. "A young lady prancing into a gentleman's bedchambers is so
very reasonable, I have no notion why I should ever have asked."

Emily's
eyes widened as she realized that Agatha was placing the entire blame on
Jared—no Lord Stonebridge, he was no longer Jared to her.

"Agatha,
this is preposterous. You must see, had I known Lord Stonebridge was in here, I
never would . . . well, I mean to say, he never . . . uh, we never . . ."

"Never
mind," the man beside her ground out. "Would you be so kind as to let
me explain?"

Raw pain
flickered in Emily's heart. Whatever slender thread had been between them was
broken forever.

It took
all of five minutes before the rest of the story came out and Jane was sent
downstairs with Emily, who had snatched her book from the floor, stuffing it
between the folds of her skirt. Agatha and Jared conveyed that they would be
coming shortly. The foursome would then attend the fair in the village as
planned.

Jared
paced the floor of his bedchambers taking in the scent of rose water and
lavender that clung to his memory like the aftermath of a spring rain.

Blast it
to pieces! Emily was in his blood as much as she had been three years ago. He
had been fond of Felicia, but Emily had been the light of his life. Yet he knew
if she were ever told the truth, she would always hate him for not confronting
her father, and in essence, he had to admit he hated himself as well. Emily
deserved better. She deserved a man her brothers chose for her. She deserved
the best.

His
mouth plunged into a deep, angry frown when he caught his aunt scowling at him.
"Believe me, there was nothing to it."

Agatha
sighed. "I believe you."

He
blinked. "You do?"

"Of
course, I do."

Agatha
leaned against the window seat, resting her parasol on one of the beige pillows
bunched in the corner. "Why would you want anything to do with Lady Emily?
She is far too independent for any man of your caliber. Not that I do not have
a great affection for the girl. I do. I do. But her independence is not an
asset in a wife, is it, my boy?"