Her Reluctant Groom (6 page)

After dinner, Daniel, the footman Marcus had sent to Patrick's, still hadn't returned. Marcus pulled out his pocket watch. “We have at least half an hour before the messenger will be back. Shall we discuss those new gowns?”

Emma shook her head. “Marcus, you don't have to—”

“
Nonsense,” he said, cutting her off. “You won that wager. You're getting the gowns.”

She frowned. “That's not what I was going to say. I know I won that wager, and I'd hold your nose and force you to drink two glasses of that awful lemonade if you so much as thought of reneging on buying me those gowns. But what I was going to say was that you don't have to make small talk with me while we wait. I know you're probably itching to get off that stiff chair and prop your leg up on the ottoman you keep stored under your desk.”

“
You're right. I'll just be on my way.” He scooted his chair backward and stood up. He'd been building castles in the clouds, thinking she'd want to talk to him while they waited.

“
Wait, Marcus.” She gained her feet and came to stand in front of him.

He looked down at her. She wasn't tall, but she wasn't short, either. Right at six foot, he was what most would consider above average. Next to him, the top of her head barely reached his chin. “Yes?”

She blinked at him then an unusual, almost nervous smile spread across her lips. She cleared her throat. Then again. “Marcus,” she began, her voice terribly uneven for having cleared her throat twice before speaking. “I just wanted you to know the reason I drank all that dratted lemonade wasn't because I didn't want to kiss you, but because I
need
those gowns.” She came up on her toes and softly pressed her supple lips against his rough cheek.

Chapter 4

Emma's cheeks burned with embarrassment. She had no idea what had come over her and moved her to kiss him like that. Not that she regretted it; she didn't. However, that still didn't change the fact that she was standing inches in front of him and his big body was blocking the only exit, making it impossible for her to run down the hall and hide.

She chanced a quick peek at his grey eyes. They were staring straight at her, making her cheeks burn more. “I—I'll be in th-the drawing room,” she stammered, hoping he'd let her by.

He sidestepped to the left and she hastily quit the room, mentally chastising herself for kissing him. Her sister had caused him a lifetime's worth of grief and embarrassment with all her female games years ago. He must think her no different now that she'd kissed him like that. But, oh how she was different. Unlike Louise, Emma truly loved Marcus. She always had. She hated that her sister treated him so poorly. Not just for jilting him—for everything. For all the stupid games she'd played with him before jilting him. Louise had treated him horribly, and Emma had no doubt he'd always hold her at arm's length because of it. Kissing him would likely result in his complete avoidance of her.

She sighed. Did it really matter? He'd never wish to marry her anyway. She needed to stop hoping that he'd one day notice her and accept the reality of becoming a governess.

Being a governess was not what all little girls dreamed about for themselves for when they became adults. No, little girls dreamed of marriage to an honorable man—it was a boon if he was titled, of course. Young ladies also dreamed of marriage, otherwise they wouldn't attend endless balls and musicales and routs in order to find a husband. Spinsters dreamed of being governesses. Those were the unfortunate young ladies who had passed their prime and saw they had no place on the marriage mart. They didn’t wish to become a rich man's mistress; nor did they wish to knit and embroider with an old woman while she yelled, stomped her cane, and made them do everything for her because they were her “companion”.

After Emma’s parents died eight years ago, Gregory, Louise's husband, had become Emma's guardian until her twenty-first birthday. What she didn't realize was Gregory freely dipped into the account that was to be her dowry, and by the time she was one-and-twenty the money was gone. She had continued to live with Louise and Gregory because she had nowhere else to go.

Following her parents’ deaths, Gregory had inherited the small cottage near Ridge Water in which she and Louise had grown up. Most of the year, Emma lived there and kept it running smoothly in exchange for a paltry allowance. Now that Gregory and Louise had made their intentions of disassociating with her clear, the hope of ever seeing that cottage again was gone, let alone living there. That only left being a governess.

Compared to how she'd been treated by Louise and Gregory, she'd gladly embrace life as a governess.

Now all she had to do was wait for Lord Drakely's reply.

Emma kicked her slippers off and propped a pillow under her head. Living in the country for so much of her life, she'd never been one to stay up too terribly late. She closed her eyes and thought to take a quick nap while she waited for Marcus to let her know Drake’s decision.

A little while later, the door creaked open, followed by Marcus’ uneven steps. Emma smiled. The poor man couldn't sneak up on anybody with how loud his footsteps were.

“
Emma,” he whispered, leaning down to smooth back her hair.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. The few candles she'd lit before lying down had burned out, and the only source of light was the moon flooding in from the open window. She struggled to sit up. “What did he say?” she asked, bringing one hand up to hold the top of her hair while her other hand groped around on the settee to find the hairpins that must have slipped out while she was sleeping.

Marcus' fingers found her wrist and pulled her hand away from her hair. “Let it fall,” he said, his voice husky and uneven.

She met his eyes and let him bring her hand away, half her hair following suit. Marcus reached up and slipped out the remaining pins, then handed them to her.

“
What did he say?” she forced herself to ask.

Ignoring her, Marcus ran his fingers through her silky blonde locks. “I had no idea your hair was so long.” He twisted a lock between his thumb and forefinger. “It's very soft, too.”

“
I wash it with lavender oil,” she blurted.

He brought the lock between his fingers up to his nose. “Indeed.”

“
Marcus,” she whispered as his hand dropped her hair and caressed her cheek.

Marcus didn't answer. Not with words anyway. He bent his head and captured her lips with his. His kiss was gentle and sweet as his lips moved on top of and in between hers.

She wound her arms around his neck. She loved having his big, powerful body so close to hers. His kiss became more demanding as he focused his attention on her bottom lip and drew it between his lips where he nipped and soothed her sensitive flesh. She sighed, intoxicated. He continued his delightful ministrations on her lip, and she sighed again, forcing the faint creaking noise she heard far from her thoughts.

“
Emma?”

Emma's whole body jerked at hearing her name and her eyes snapped open, landing right on Marcus. Except, instead of it being dark, several candles were lit. She reached up and touched her hair. It was still perfectly pinned. She blinked at Marcus' grinning face and sighed.

“
Good dream?” he asked, still grinning.

She grabbed the pillow behind her and flung it at him. “Yes. And then you had to go and ruin it.”

“
Care to tell me what you were dreaming about?” He ducked from the pillow she'd just hurled at him.

She grabbed another. “No.” She blushed and hurled that pillow at him for good measure.

He caught it against his chest. “Must have been a terribly good dream,” he mused.

“
I don't think terribly and good should ever belong in the same sentence.” She sat up on the settee and put her feet back into her slippers.

Marcus took a seat next to her. “Perhaps not.” He reached his hand up and smoothed back a stray lock of her hair. “But all the same, would you care to tell me what has stained your cheeks such a fetching pink and made you sigh so sweetly?”

“
No, I wouldn't care to,” she retorted, grabbing at the missive in his hand.

Marcus didn't try to move the paper away, he let her have it and leaned back to watch her as she read it.

“
Here?” she squeaked. “He's having them brought here tomorrow morning at nine?”

“
That's what it says.” Marcus’ voice reminded her of Louise talking to her three-year-old son. “He probably just wants to make sure it’ll work out before you move into his house. Think how upsetting it would be to the girls if it didn’t work out.”

“
That is the most convoluted thing I’ve ever heard.”

He shrugged. “That may be. But that seems to be his offer. Accept it or don’t.”

She nodded and swallowed, then started wearing a hole in the rug. Did she have a choice? If he was to be her employer, she needed to heed his commands. No matter how asinine they may be. “All right. If I start at nine, that means I'll need to leave Watson Estate by eight at the latest. Which means I need to get up—” she bit her lip— “no later than five if I want to wash my hair. Hmm, if I don't wash my hair, that takes off the forty-five minutes it takes for it to dry. But I'll still need to bathe and—”

“
Emma?”

Her eyes flew to Marcus and she blushed fiercely. “Oh, sorry, I forgot you were still here.”

“
I don't give a hang that you were discussing personal bathing in my presence,” he said. “I just wanted to offer a solution.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. What solution could he possibly offer? He wasn't a woman. He didn't have long hair to wash or a gown to get into. When he still hadn't shared his ill-suited solution, she asked, “Yes?”

“
Stay here. If you stay here, you'll have an extra hour.”

Her eyes couldn't decide whether to blink at him or go wide and bulge out. In the end, they did a bit of both. “I can't stay here,” she burst out. “That is most improper. Everyone will think I'm a...a...strumpet.”

“
Who exactly is everyone?” Marcus placed a throw pillow behind his head.

Her mind raced and she couldn't think. “Umm...Caroline. I'm supposed to be staying with her. She'll know I'm staying here. And don't forget Alex.” Her eyes grew larger. “All their guests will know, too.” She shook her head wildly. “I cannot have it so widely known that I've even been here so long without a proper chaperone as it is.” Panic filled her as she started thinking of all the guests at Caroline's party who had likely already arrived and might already be speculating on what she was doing. “I need to go. I'll be back in the morning before Drake drops his daughters off, I promise.” She snatched up her reticule and started for the door.

“
Emma!” Marcus grunted as he pushed to a standing position and hobbled across the room. “Stop running,” he ground out as she flew down the hall. He was following her as fast as his leg would allow, which was surprisingly quick considering how pronounced his limp was.

“
No, I really must be going,” she said over her shoulder, not slowing her pace.

“
Emmaline Green, stop.” Marcus reached for her wrist. “You're not going anywhere. I doubt Caroline or Alex are going to care you've been gone so long. As for you continuing your stay at Ridge Water, I'll send them a discreet note letting them know you'll be acting as a temporary governess for Patrick's daughters. Don't worry, I'll conveniently leave off where you'll be staying, and naturally they'll assume you've gone to stay at Briar Creek. Will that suffice?”

She swallowed. “But what of all their guests?”

“
Emma, since when have you ever cared what others thought of you?”

Inclining her chin, she said, “Since I accepted the post as governess to Drake's daughters. It might hurt my employment if everyone thinks I'm a fallen woman.” That was a lie. She'd started to care what others thought about her a split-second after Gregory had accused her of having inappropriate relations with Marcus, not that she'd ever tell Marcus that.

Marcus nodded. “I understand that. But nobody is going to know, I promise. I’ll send a discreet note to Watson Estate.” His voice softened to a near whisper. “Surely you know Caroline and Alex are not going to tell their guests where you're staying or what you're doing. Caroline cares too much about you to do that.”

“
I know that,” she admitted. Caroline would never do anything to intentionally shame or embarrass anybody.

“
Then who are you afraid of finding out? Her guests? By my guess, they’re all Alex’s cousins, which means you have nothing to worry about. That bunch is as scandalous as they come. And it’s not as if any of them are planning a trip here, so they’ll never know.”

“
I know that, too,” she said, shifting her gaze. “But Drake will know I stayed here, and he’ll terminate my employment on the spot when he realizes I stayed the night alone with you.”

“
No, he won’t,” Marcus said flippantly. “When he gets here tomorrow, he’s going to be so relieved to get those girls off his hands; he’s not going to want to sit around for tea and chitchat. He’s going to leave, and the last thing on his mind will be where you spent the night.”

She stared at him. Actually, staying here might be a good idea, after all. At least if she was here, she’d have a valid reason not to be attending any of the games, dinners, or other nonsense Caroline had planned. Nor would she have to have an uncomfortable conversation explaining where she was going and why if she were caught sneaking out of Watson Estate in the morning. Not to mention, and perhaps this was the most compelling reason, she’d get to spend time with the man she loved. “But I brought nothing with me,” she protested weakly.