Desired by a Lord (Regency Unlaced 5) (5 page)

It had been such a glorious afternoon, unseasonably warm for October, and she had so enjoyed the freedom of walking the grounds surrounding this beautiful manor house. For the first time in months—possibly years—she had felt young and carefree again. As she once had. Long ago. Before. For there was both a
Before
and an
After
in her life.

Before
, she had been like any other sixteen-year-old, full of romantic dreams for her future. Of the strong and handsome man she would one day fall in love with, and he with her, and how he would sweep her off her feet.

After
,
all those dreams had been shattered, and her life had never been the same again.

And yes, Edmund had been demanding and exacting as a husband, and he in no way fitted Emily’s romantic image of a tall and gallant knight carrying her off to a happily ever after. But he had not been a deliberately cruel husband, merely an indifferent one. The few times he had been angry with her, he had used silence as his punishment. Sometimes for days at a time.

Some would say that
was
a cruelty to a seventeen-year-old girl.

They would be wrong.

Cruelty was having her life, all that was familiar to her, ripped away, leaving her future to the capricious whims and fancies of others.

Cruelty was now being blackmailed by someone Emily had thought she could trust. Someone she should be able to trust but now knew to be vicious and vindictive enough to threaten even the quiet life she had made for herself in Ashingdon.

She had believed a few weeks in Yorkshire, working for Lord Whitney, would give her some respite. That perhaps she might feel better able to deal with her blackmailer upon her return.

Imagining she had seen her tormentor in the garden this afternoon told her that her nemesis might still be in corporeal form in Derbyshire, but that she had carried the presence of that threat with her to Yorkshire. Inside her. Tormenting her.

She gave a shake of her head. “I am not long a widow, my lord. It is only natural that from time to time I might feel a little melancholy—”

“You did not love your husband.”

She gasped. “You cannot possibly know that.”

His mouth twisted mockingly. “
Contentment
in a wife is not love.”

“Do you speak from personal experience?” she challenged.

He eyed her quizzically. “I have never married, if that is what you are asking.”

“That is not the personal experience I was referring to.”

Xander stilled as her meaning became clear. “Touché, Mrs. Marsden. That was a fine attempt at distracting me,” he complimented mockingly. “Unfortunately, it failed. But so that you are reassured, I am not in the habit of dallying with married ladies.”

Guilty color appeared in her cheeks. “I apologize, my lord. That was unforgivably rude of me.”

“Yes, it was,” he drawled. “Perhaps you should bear in mind,
you
are no longer a married lady.”

Her eyes widened before her gaze skittered away from meeting his. “I… You were in the right of it yesterday. I should return to Derbyshire. I can highly recommend Mr. Graham Foster as the man best suited to cataloguing and restoring the books in your library. My late husband spoke very highly of him.”

“I do not recall ever saying you should return to Derbyshire. Nor am I saying it now. We have agreed you will stay here for one week, at least. Now stop delaying and tell me what happened earlier today to upset you.” He eyed her impatiently.

Her lashes lowered over that revealing green gaze. “I decline to answer.”

Xander’s brows rose. He might admit to being new at being the lord of this country estate, but he was most certainly not accustomed to having anyone challenge or deny him anything he had set his mind on. Arrogance on his part, perhaps, but the name Lord Alexander Whitney carried substantial weight in London Society, and he had grown used to having his own way in all things. He was not willing to accept anything less from Emily Marsden.

“And I decline to allow you to leave the dining room this evening until you have answered me,” he stated again firmly.

Her head came up, chin jutting forward, her eyes glittering with rebellion. “I am your employee, not your minion,” she snapped. “You
will
excuse me.” She rose to her feet and left the table.

Once again, Xander caught up with her and grasped her arm before she had reached the door. His hold was not gentle this time, tightening even more as she began to struggle and push him away. She was surprisingly strong for someone so tiny and slender.

By the time the struggle came to an end, Emily was breathing hard, her breasts heaving as Xander held her still in front of him. “What is wrong with you?”

“You are hurting me.” Her back was against his chest, one of his arms securely about her waist. The other unfortunately rose to her head, and one of the buttons on the cuff of his jacket became entangled in her hair.

His body instantly reacted to her close proximity as heat surged the length of his cock. “Hold still, damn it.” He gritted his teeth as he removed his arm from about her waist and used that hand to try to untangle his button from her hair. Unfortunately, it appeared to have snagged on one of her hairpins, and when he tugged on it, her locks came tumbling down.

Perhaps not so unfortunately…

Allowed to flow loose, her hair was a glorious swath of bright red curls the color of the leaves of a copper beech tree, as it flowed down almost to the dip of her waist. Thick and glossy, her hair now framed her heart-shaped face, making her appear years younger than the prim widow she had appeared previously.

Which was perhaps the intention.

Whatever the reason for hiding this claim to beauty, Xander was no longer fooled by it. With her hair down, Emily Marsden was unmistakably beautiful. Her figure was also slender but had the necessary curves in all the right places. Her legs were shapely, from what he had seen of them this morning.

She was a beautiful and desirable young woman.

Emily was too stunned by this turn of events to do anything but stare at Alexander Whitney in alarm, her hair now a wild tumble about her shoulders and down her spine. A style hitherto revealed only within the privacy of her bedchamber.

Edmund had been very particular about how Emily styled her hair after the incident with the Wilton boy’s infatuation with her, and, not wishing to draw attention to herself, Emily had not bothered to change that style since Edmund’s death.

The way in which Alexander Whitney now stared at her told her she had been wise not to do so.

There was a frown on his brow. Those dark blue eyes glittered with heat, his lips were slightly parted, his jaw tense. “It is sacrilege to hide such glorious hair…”

Emily tossed her loosened tresses over her shoulder. “I must go to my bedchamber and tidy myself—”

“Scrape your hair back in that unbecoming bun, you mean,” Whitney rasped knowingly. “I will not have it.”

“You— I—” Emily gathered herself up to her full height of just over five feet. “It is not up to you how I choose to style my hair.”

“I agree, it is not. But I do not believe you
chose
to style your hair in that unbecoming fashion.”

Emily gaped at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged wide shoulders. “You are a beautiful young woman who was married to a man almost old enough to be your grandfather. I am assuming he decided on that unbecoming style for your hair and those prudish gowns because he did not wish younger men to ogle his wife.”

“Then you assume a great deal!” Emily glared at him. His criticism of her appearance stung. The fact that she knew he was right stung even more.

“Do I?”

She wanted to tell Whitney to wipe that superior smile off his face. To scream and shout. To pummel his chest.

To behave in a manner similar to that of my volatile-tempered father?

No!

She would not allow herself to lapse into a state where such fierce and uncontrolled emotion ruled her rather than her ruling it.

Instead, Emily closed her eyes and drew in several deep and calming breaths as she counted to ten, and then twenty, under her breath.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“I am endeavoring not to retaliate,” she murmured, eyes still closed. “Not to return rudeness with rudeness.”

“Isn’t it a little late in our acquaintance for you to start considering my feelings?”

Emily lifted one lid to look at him, hastily closing that lid again when he arched one dark and mocking brow at her. “This is not in the least amusing, my— What are you
doing
?” she had time to gasp before Whitney silenced her by claiming her lips with his own, his large hands cupping her cheeks as he held her face lifted up to his.

Not a fierce or demanding kiss, which Emily might—should—have objected to, but instead, a long and lingering touch of his warm lips moving gently against and over hers. Sipping. Tasting. Sending such heat and longing through Emily’s body, her knees began to feel weak, and she feared she might collapse at his feet.

Xander had no idea what devil had possessed him to kiss Emily, only that he had never tasted lips quite like hers before now. So soft and receptive, and trembling slightly beneath his rather than demanding or voracious, as so many of his lovers’ had tended to be.

That submission served to increase his own desire, and he deepened the kiss. His fingers threaded into her silky soft hair as he swept his tongue along the seam of her lips, before venturing into the heated pleasure beyond.

Her response was reserved at first, a mere tentative return of his tongue stroking the length of hers. Then she grew bolder, continuing those delicate and arousing strokes while she sucked his tongue deeper. And then deeper still, the heat of her mouth a parody of Xander’s longing to have her pussy wrapped about his cock.

Dear God…!

Xander groaned as his hands moved to grasp her hips, and he pulled her in tight against his throbbing and engorged cock. That throb lengthened and thickened against the echoing heat between Emily’s thighs. The softness of her breasts were crushed against his chest as his mouth began to devour and then lay claim to the heat of her mouth.

Emily had never experienced such pleasure as this. Her breasts were firm and aching, between her thighs hot and swollen, slick and welcoming. The perfume of her arousal once again permeated the air about them.

This heat of passion was beyond anything she could ever have imagined. Beyond resisting. Beyond all control—

No!

Emily began to panic, her hands rising to push against Whitney’s chest even as she twisted and wrenched her mouth away from his, breasts quickly rising and falling once she was free to stare at him in shock.

She had only met Xander Whitney for the first time yesterday. Admittedly, she had found him attractive from the onset, but just now she had—she had—

“Emily—”

“No.” She gave a vehement shake of her head as she continued to hold him away from her. “Whatever you are about to say, no! Maintaining control is everything to me. I cannot—I will not allow this!” She pulled completely out of his arms.

Xander was absolutely dumbfounded as he watched Emily run across the room and throw open the door before running out into the hallway, her hair flowing wildly behind her.

Should he go after her?

Apologize for whatever it was he had done wrong?

Had
he done anything wrong?

Until those last few seconds, he had been sure Emily was enjoying being kissed as much as he was enjoying kissing her. Damn it, he might have initiated the kiss, but Emily was the one who had eagerly licked and sucked as if it was his cock she had in her mouth rather than his tongue.

He had been able to feel the heat of her core rubbing against his cock, breathe in the perfume of her arousal, feel that her nipples were hard and engorged as she pressed herself into his chest.

What was it she had said before she ran from the room?

“Maintaining control is everything to me.”

The implication being she had been out of control.

As had he.

Xander readily admitted he had forgotten where they were, that the two of them were halfway through eating dinner. Only Emily, the wild beauty of her hair and the fierce unexpectedness of her passion and body, had mattered to him at that moment. He—

“Will Mrs. Marsden be rejoining you for dinner, my lord?”

He glared his displeasure. “Go to hell, Clarke!”

The butler looked taken aback by the verbal attack. “I was only enquiring, my lord,” Clarke said stiffly. “Mrs. Marsden seemed upset when she passed me in the entrance hall.”

Xander was pretty sure that, with her hair loose about her shoulders, her eyes overbright, and her lips slightly swollen from the kisses they had shared, Emily had looked well and truly ravished rather than merely upset when she ran past Clarke.

He drew in two deep and steadying breaths before answering. “I apologize for my outburst, Clarke. And no, Mrs. Marsden will not be rejoining me for dinner.” He had no intention of addressing the reason Emily had looked upset.

“Very well, my lord.” The butler withdrew, probably with the intention of going to the kitchen for the next course.

Xander had no interest in eating the rest of his dinner, his thoughts all occupied with Emily and her last remark.

Why was it so important to her to remain in control when her response to his kiss had been so receptive?

Lord knows he liked to be in control himself. In fact, he insisted upon it. But Emily’s near horror of being out of control had bordered on panic.

Nor had he succeeded in getting to the bottom of what had upset her this afternoon.

He now sensed there was more, so much more even than he had thought, to Emily Marsden.

Perhaps he should contact Brooketon after all? He had no doubt he could rely on the other man’s discretion.

Whatever secret Emily was hiding, Xander intended discovering what it was.

Chapter 6