Desired by a Lord (Regency Unlaced 5) (6 page)

“I wish to apologize for my outburst last night.”

Xander glanced up from looking at the estate accounts. He had been so engrossed in them, he had not heard or seen Emily enter the study.

Her beautiful hair was once again pulled back in that severe bun. Her lashes were lowered so that he could not see the expression in her eyes, but her cheeks were flushed in a face that was otherwise pale. Her gloved hands were also clenched tightly together in front of her.

“I shall quite understand if you do not wish me to continue working here,” she added as he made no reply.

Xander had already noted that she was wearing that unbecoming gray gown from the day of her arrival, rather than the red-and-green check she had worn to work in yesterday. He leaned back in his chair. “You do not think I am the one who owes you an apology?”

She gave him a startled glance. “Oh no, my—Whitney.” She lowered her gaze again. “I should not have reacted so…so childishly to what was, after all, only a kiss.”

His brows rose. “You are accustomed to receiving ‘only a kiss’ from your employer?”

“I have never had an employer before you,” she admitted. “I only ever accompanied Edmund in the past. I… You must think me something of a hysteric to have reacted so irrationally.”

Xander did not believe Emily wished to know what he thought of her.

He had given much thought to that kiss during the night, and to Emily, when the continued and heated throbbing of his cock had kept him from sleeping.

He accepted that their kisses should not have occurred, but he was equally sure Emily had not been repelled by the depth of them. On the contrary.

And yet neither had she responded like a woman who had been married for five years. Her responses had been tentative, almost shy to begin with, becoming more emboldened only when she had felt the physical evidence of Xander’s arousal pressing against her.

Admittedly, Emily was nothing like the sophisticated and experienced women he had bedded in the past, but she
had
been a married woman. What sort of lover had Marsden been that the heat of Xander’s and her own arousal could send her into such a panic?

All questions Xander required answers to. But not from Emily; he knew better now than to expect her to confide in him. That being the case, he had already written to Brooketon this morning, and he hoped to receive word back from his friend as soon as possible.

In the meantime, Emily was still waiting for his answer. “Please continue with your work, Mrs. Marsden.” He rose to his feet. “I shall be out for the rest of the day, seeing to estate business.”

Emily’s eyes widened. “You wish me to continue cataloguing the books in here?”

Whitney eyed her haughtily from his superior height. “Have I not just said so?”

Well. Yes. He had. But she had felt sure, after last night, he would want her to remove herself from his house.

Emily now had another
Before
and
After
in her life.

Before
Xander kissed her, and
After
Xander kissed her.

Before that kiss, she’d had only her blackmailer to worry about. Only!

After the kiss, she had all these strange and unfamiliar passions awakened inside her. An ache, a longing, to have Xander kiss her again. To do more than kiss her.

She had looked like a wild thing the previous evening, when she glanced at herself in the mirror once she reached the privacy of her bedchamber. Her hair loose and in disarray. Eyes fevered. Cheeks flushed. Her lips swollen.

It had been even worse once she undressed and washed before going to bed. Everywhere she touched seemed sensitized. Her breasts felt heavy, and the merest accidental brush of her hand against her nipple had caused her to groan as it swelled and engorged to the color of a small ripe strawberry. Between her thighs had been slick, the little button above swollen to twice its normal size as it peeked out, red and throbbing, from beneath its protective hood.

The merest touch of her fingers there had resulted in pleasure beyond description. Another gentle stroke only increased that pleasure.

Once begun, Emily could not seem to stop, the slickness between her thighs acting as lubricant to the increasing fervor of her stroking fingers. Until the nubbin swelled and pulsed, and the juices flowed copiously between her legs as she rocked into the intensity of what was a euphoric release that engulfed her whole body for several long and intense seconds.

Her whole body shook and quaked in the aftermath, her legs trembling as she moved to the bed and dropped down to sit on the side of it, before they refused to support her.

She wondered how much more intense that pleasure might have been if it had been Alexander Whitney’s long fingers stroking her to release.

Emily had never dreamed… Had never imagined there was such ecstasy to be had within the depths of her own body.

Perhaps she should feel ashamed for having touched herself so intimately. Her nursemaid, when she was growing up, had certainly told her it was a sin even to look at her own body, let alone touch it. Instead of shame, Emily now longed to experience that pleasure again.

“Emily?”

She raised startled lids, having no idea how long she had been lost in the memories of last night’s pleasure. “My lord?”

Xander’s mouth tightened at the return of the formality. “I will see you at dinner this evening.”

He had no idea what thoughts had been going through Emily’s head these past few minutes. Whatever they were, they had brought a flush to her cheeks, and her eyes had glittered with fever when she looked at him.

She was a strange creature. One minute so prim and proper, the next as skittish as an unbridled mare. If he did not know Emily had been a married woman for five years, Xander would think… But no, Marsden might have been a man in his fifties, but he could not have failed to see and appreciate the beauty and sensuality of his young wife. To have taken every opportunity to enjoy that sensuality.

As Xander now wished to do.

Emily’s equilibrium was completely returned to her by the time she joined Whitney that evening in the green salon before dinner.

“Have you had a pleasant day?” he enquired politely.

“I have, thank you.” She nodded. “You?”

“The same,” he drawled before taking a sip from his glass of sherry, Emily having refused to join him.

Emily’s day had been productive—and undisturbed—as she immersed herself in cataloguing the farming journals into her ledger. After enquiring, and at her request, Clarke had served luncheon to her there on a tray. He had also provided, unasked, tea and cakes in the late afternoon. She had taken another walk in the garden after tea, this time without glimpsing the specter that had haunted and disturbed her yesterday.

Whitney had been true to his word and remained away all day on estate business.

All in all, it had been a very
pleasant day
.

Except an increasingly tense silence now seemed to have fallen between herself and Whitney.

He appeared relaxed as he sat in the armchair opposite her own, and his evening apparel of black with snowy white linen was as elegant as ever. Even so, Emily sensed a maelstrom of emotions churning behind his hooded gaze, which caused her to watch him warily in return.

“Is something amiss?” she finally felt compelled to ask.

“Nothing more than usual,” he dismissed.

“Which is?”

He shrugged. “I do not enjoy living in the country.”

“Then why—” Emily bit her bottom lip as she realized she was delving into personal matters, something she had pledged to herself she would not do. The only way she could continue to work here was if she kept a polite distance between herself and Whitney.

“Why am I here?” Xander stood up restlessly. Indeed, it was a restlessness which had dogged him all day.

He had dutifully accompanied his estate manager on a tour of the fields planted with winter crops. Made himself smile and listen to the complaints or otherwise of the tenants on his estate. To behave graciously when they visited the village tavern for luncheon. Before having to endure more of those infernal visits to his tenants.

And all the time he did so, he had wondered what Emily was doing. If she was safe using the ladder. Whether anyone had thought to provide her with luncheon. If anything had happened to disturb her today.

If she is thinking of me in the same way I am thinking of her.

Such behavior was completely out of character for him, and not to be tolerated.

He took another swallow of sherry before answering Emily’s unfinished question. “My father’s death four months ago gave me little choice in the matter.”

“I disagree.”

Xander frowned. “In what way?”

She shrugged narrow shoulders, wearing another unbecoming gown, of dark brown this time. Although it did have the advantage of not clashing with the red of her hair. “You have stated you prefer your life in London, so you could quite easily have ignored your responsibility to this estate.”

His mouth twisted. “As I have ignored it these past fifteen years?”

Emily’s eyes widened. “Is that how long it has been since you were last here?”

“Since my mother died, yes,” Whitney confirmed.

“Was this not your father’s principal residence?”

“Yes.”

Her brow cleared. “You were estranged from your father.” It was a statement, not a question.

Whitney gave a humorless laugh. “I would describe it as being more a mutual dislike.”

“Were things always that strained between the two of you?”

His frown showed his irritation with the question. “I do not believe discussing the past serves any purpose.”

Emily could respect that opinion. Lord knows she had no intention of discussing
her
past with Whitney.

It was interesting, though, how much their histories had in common, when on the surface of things, they were nothing alike.

Her adored mother had died young.

So had Whitney’s.

She had not been close to her father.

Whitney had distanced himself from his father.

The differences were, of course, she was a woman and poor, and Whitney was a man and obviously very wealthy.

Luckily, she was saved from making any reply by Clarke arriving to tell them dinner was ready to be served.

Xander waited until Clarke had seen them seated in the dining room, served their soup course, and departed with the empty tureen, before speaking again. “What have you done to my butler?” he prompted curiously.

Emily glanced up from drinking some of the soup. “Done to him…?”

Xander nodded. “He was positively fussing over you just now.
Are you quite comfortable, Mrs. Marsden? Is the soup to your liking, Mrs. Marsden?
” he parroted.

A blush warmed her cheeks. “I believe he was merely being solicitous.”

“Exactly. I have been here four months now, and not once has he asked me if I am
comfortable
.”

She shook her head. “You are exaggerating.”

Xander was not prone to exaggeration. “I assure you I am not.”

Emily appeared puzzled. “Clarke has shown me nothing but kindness all day, brought both luncheon and afternoon tea to me in the study.”

Perhaps because Clarke believed Xander had been
un
kind to her the evening before. He had a feeling that might be part of the explanation for the elderly man’s uncharacteristic behavior. The other part no doubt being it was impossible not to like Emily.

She gave the appearance of being a sedate and capable widow, but Xander knew that was only a front, that beneath the façade was a vulnerable young woman. He had no doubt that Clarke had also recognized her vulnerability.

“I am glad.” He nodded.

“That Clarke likes me and not you?”

Xander chuckled. “I would not have put it in quite that way…but yes.” He nodded.

“Perhaps you are the one who shows prejudice toward him…?”

He bristled. “What the devil do you mean?”

“Clarke was your father’s butler?”

“Yes…”

She nodded. “And you did not get on with your father. Perhaps you are projecting that antagonism onto Clarke? Seeing dislike from him where there is only uncertainty as to what changes, or otherwise, you might make now that Whitney Park is yours to do with as you wish?”

Such as dismissing the whole lot of them, every one of the household servants, including Clarke. Which had been Xander’s original intention.

“Have you spoken to the household staff all together since your arrival here?” Emily prompted.

“Why would I do that?”

“So that you might offer them reassurances as to their future employment with you,” she explained patiently.

It was interesting that Emily should know to make such a suggestion. As if she had firsthand knowledge of the workings of such a large household as this one. Xander was curious to know whether it had been as a servant or a member of the family who lived there.

“I will give the idea some thought.” He nodded. “In the meantime, I am pleased that Clarke likes you well enough to ensure you are eating properly, at least. You are far too pale and slender, need to put some flesh on—”

“I am perfectly capable of feeding myself. I certainly do not need your charity, or anyone else’s.” Two bright wings of indignant color now appeared in those pale cheeks.

“I did not mean—”

“I am well aware of what you meant.” Her eyes glittered the color of emeralds. “It is no wonder Clarke does not like you when you are so—so unpleasant.”

“And you deserve a sound spanking for that remark.” Xander scowled his displeasure with her outburst.

Emily gaped at him. There was no other way but slack-jawed to describe the manner in which she now stared at him, her mouth agape.

She could not believe Lord Alexander Whitney was threatening to give her
a sound spanking
.

She had not been spanked since she was in the nursery, and even then only rarely. She had mainly been a placid and well-behaved child, as opposed to her fiery and unpredictable parents. The thought of being spanked as an adult was—was—