Her Reluctant Groom (9 page)

He frowned and took the book from her. “I don't know how much more enlightening it could have been. Everything's there.”

She gestured to the book. “That picture is ridiculous.”

Marcus glanced down at the picture. “No it's not. The man is naked. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? Your curiosity should be satisfied.”

“
It's not,” she said with a pointed look at his groin.

Sighing, Marcus closed the book. “That picture has all the same parts I do; I can assure you of that.”

“
Not hardly.” She snorted. “I doubt any man truly looks like that.”

He opened the page again and glanced down. “Yes. I'm fairly certain we all do.”

She held out her hand and he gave her back the book for another peek. “While I still have my doubts a man's...er...whatever you wish to call that thing, is that size, I do wonder why you have a book with a naked man in it,” she mused, cocking her head and looking at him curiously.

Embarrassment and perhaps a tinge of shame flooded him. “My father gave me that book. He was a rather temperate man and claimed it would give me all the experience of a brothel with none of the diseases.”

She blinked at him. “When?”

He knew she hadn't meant to ask it aloud, but he answered her anyway. “Before.” It was an answer he was sure she could deduce his meaning from, seeing as there were so many possibilities. Before his accident. Before his broken engagement. Before, during a time in which the knowledge of how to properly bed a woman would have actually been useful. Now it was just a book he kept stashed away partly because it had been a gift from his father and partly because from time to time he liked to read it. If that made him an immoral person, then so be it.

She sat back down on the edge of the bed and looked at the picture again, a dubious expression on her face. She grabbed the corner of the page and flipped it backward.

He quickly reached out and took the book from her grasp. “You've seen quite enough.” He closed the book with a snap and tucked it under his arm.

Pursing her lips, she reached forward and tried to take the book from him. “No, I have not. I don't for one minute believe that picture was correct. I want to see the others.”

Marcus moved out of her grasp. “In comparison to the rest of his body, I would say that was a fairly accurate depiction.”

“
I doubt that,” she said, shaking her head. “I imagine a man drew that and embellished it greatly.”

He shrugged. “Think what you wish, but you're not seeing the other pictures.”

“
And why is that? Are they just as exaggerated?”

“
I'll admit the male part in the other pictures appears a bit larger. However, I stand by my earlier statement. For that man's body, his penis is drawn accurately,” he said as smoothly as he could while striving to ignore the heat creeping up his face. “Why are you rolling your eyes? It's true. And for a woman who hadn't seen one until two minutes ago, I wouldn't think you'd have any basis for doubts.”

Her face turned crimson and her gaze fell to the floor.

“
You've seen a naked man before.” He wasn't sure if he meant his words as a question or a statement.

“
Curiosity satisfied,” she croaked, still not looking at him.

Marcus stared at her, fighting the urge to ask who she'd seen without his clothes on. The only person he could think of was that reprobate her sister married. And while it wouldn't surprise Marcus that Hampton had exposed himself to Emma, he hated the idea so much his stomach lurched and bile rose in his throat. “Good,” he clipped, walking across the room to put the book away.

“
Marcus?”

“
Yes?”

“
Why did you show me that book?”

“
Because I thought you were curious about what a man looked like under his clothes. Since I know you're relentless, I decided the easiest thing to do was to satisfy your curiosity.”

“
You could have done that without the book,” she pointed out.

Marcus ground his teeth. “My anatomy is not for display.”

She twisted her lips. “Of course not. I'm not Louise.”

He didn't respond. He couldn't do anything more than stare at her. What had or hadn't happened between him and Louise all those years ago was not up for discussion. “Get some rest,” he barked, walking stiffly to the door. “I'll have a dinner tray sent to you.”

Chapter 6

Emma stared blankly at the door Marcus had just gone through. Most young ladies would be berating themselves if they'd just had that conversation. She snorted. No, most young ladies wouldn't have even
had
that conversation. Nor would any of them have even
suggested
, let alone thought to suggest, he take off his clothes. She sighed. Not only that, but they wouldn’t have accused him of denying her request because she wasn't her sister. That usual crushing pain which settled in her chest when she thought of Marcus and Louise together, suddenly hit her like a smithy’s hammer.

Only two weeks after Louise married Gregory, she became very ill. When Louise’s physician in London examined her, he announced she'd miscarried. Emma had been in the room and asked Louise who the father was. Emma might have been young, but she was no fool. She'd seen the way Louise had behaved with both Marcus and Gregory prior to her elopement with Gregory, only days after Marcus’ accident. Louise hadn't given Emma an actual answer on the father’s identity. Instead, she just smirked and said, “Who do you think?”

That was the only time they'd ever spoken of it. It was enough to confirm the notion in Emma's head that Marcus and Louise had been intimate. Though she'd known that Marcus and Louise would marry and they'd be intimate, she'd always chosen to push that hurtful truth from her mind. But when Louise had miscarried and all but claimed Marcus was the father, the knowledge of how close they’d been had become a reality. For some reason Emma couldn't justify, she was hurt.

Now, thirteen years later, she was still a bit hurt when she thought about it. Marcus had been so badly injured at the time; she wasn't sure how he'd learned of the miscarriage. It was all immaterial now, though. As the hurt feelings should be, too. She had no right to be hurt, and yet she still struggled to overcome it.

She carefully slid out of the bed, determined not to think about it any longer. Marcus and Louise hadn't married. That should be good enough.

Emma hadn't paid much attention to where Marcus had gotten the book he'd shown her, but she'd been paying attention when he put it back. She was seven-and-twenty, well past the blushing debutante age, and she was curious. So why not satisfy her curiosity? She knew if anyone, especially Marcus, were to ever know what she was doing; they'd be shocked to the core. But nobody would find out. She'd just flip through the book to see the pictures, then put it back.

She took her first tentative step and winced. Her leg hurt. Badly. She widened her stance and took another step, taking care not to let her legs rub together as she padded over to the box he'd put that naughty book in, then frowned. He'd locked it! Her eyes quickly scanned the shelves and the vanity for the key. She didn't see it anywhere. She sighed and reached up to her hair. She'd used a hairpin to pick a lock before; she just have to do it again. Pulling out a pin from the top so as not to compromise her entire coiffure, she bent the pin to make it straight and jabbed the end into the keyhole. She jiggled the pin for a second and smiled when the click of the lock broke the silence.

For good measure, she threw a glance over her shoulder before opening the lid. “
Lady Bird's Ladybird Memoir
,
” she read aloud. She hadn’t caught the title earlier. The shock over Marcus even owning a book with naked pictures was too much for her to care about such a trivial matter as that. Then Emma knit her brows. There wasn’t a single mention of a Lady
Bird
in all of
Debrett’s
.
And she'd know—she’d memorized the entire dratted thing, after all. Not to mention the fact that she’d spent countless Seasons in London without ever encountering a single mention of such a person. Who was this Lady Bird?

No matter. She carried her treasure back to the bed. Careful to climb in so she wouldn't bump that extremely painful cut on her leg; she adjusted the covers and ran her fingers over the lettering on the front. Nervous excitement raced through her. Taking a breath, she opened the cover and used the tip of her index finger to flip past the first few pages. She got to the table of contents page and blinked. “'Chapter One, The Differences Between a Lord and Lady'. I'd sure hope she'd know the difference,” Emma muttered, dropping her eyes down to the title for Chapter Four. “Hmm, 'A Man Versus a “Gentle”man'. Interesting.”

Impatiently, she flipped the page to chapter one and thought her eyes might pop out as she started reading. The author of this book had written real stories about her lovers, using enough hints for just about anyone to recognize who she was talking about.

Emma devoured the first page, and then the second, followed by the third and fourth. Before she knew it, she was sprawled out face-down on the bed, face flushed, heart racing, nearing the end of the fifth chapter. When she'd first started, she'd occasionally glanced at the clock that hung just above Marcus’ vanity to make sure it wasn't nearing dinner and she wasn’t about to be interrupted. Now she was too enthralled to care.

Taking a quick break, she put her finger in the book to mark her page and flipped through the rest to see how much further she had. She sighed. There was too much there to read in an hour's time. She'd have to get as far as she could today and sneak it back out again later.

Keeping her place marked, she went to that page Marcus had shown her earlier. The night Gregory had decided to show up naked in her bed was not the first time she'd seen him naked. Thankfully, it was the last. As a double reason to rejoice, she hadn't actually seen that specific part of him that night. It was either covered by the sheets or his hands after she kneed him. However, she hadn't been so lucky a few months back when his robe “accidentally” came untied just as he entered her room to ask if she'd like him to stoke the fire. She cringed. For years she'd had to endure his subtle hints and uncomfortable innuendo. It wasn't until about five months ago he'd become more bold with his advances.

Pushing the image of Gregory and his unattractive body out of her mind, she looked down at the drawing of the man in the back of the book. Perhaps Marcus had been right. From the five chapters she'd read, “Lady Bird”, who Emma was convinced now more than before was a fictional name, had described in detail many male members. Some long, some short, some thin, some wide, all different. She blushed. These were
not
thoughts for proper young ladies. Then again, neither was reading such a scandalous book. She sighed. She was an old spinster governess now. She'd never have a chance to be with a man anyway, so what was the harm in reading the book? Nobody would know, and after she finished, she'd just put it back and pretend to be the naive girl everyone thought her to be.

Curiosity urged her to flip back a few pages and look at all the pictures. She'd read enough stories to have an idea of what she'd find. Just as her finger grabbed hold of the paper and had it nearly flipped back, two sharp knocks sounded at the door.

“
Don't come in!” She didn't know how long she could keep her guest outside and dared not take a chance walking across the room to return the book. Instead, she crawled up to the head of the bed, shoved the book behind the mountain of pillows, then turned around and sat with her back leaning against the pillows. “All right, you may come in now.”

The door opened and a frowning Marcus walked in. “What were you doing in here that I had to wait in the hall?”

“
Getting dressed,” she said airily.

He blinked. “You seem to be wearing the same thing you had on when I left.”

Emma grabbed the edges of the robe and held them closed, trying in vain to scowl at him. “Not that it's your concern, but I had my robe off,” she lied.

Nodding, Marcus took a seat in an empty chair. His face looked slightly pink and every time he looked in her direction, he'd shift and jerk his eyes away.

“
Did you come in here for a reason?” she asked after he fidgeted in his chair for a few minutes.

“
I wanted to talk to you about earlier. Emma, I was only trying to take care of you. I didn't mean to—”

“
I know,” she cut in. “It's of no account. I was embarrassed then, but I'm not now.”

“
Are you sure? I don't want you to avoid me because I saw you naked.” The intensity of his steely stare was enough to make Emma catch her breath.

“
I won't.” She didn't think he could do anything that would make her want to avoid him in earnest. “Anyway, it's not like you haven't seen it all before,” she added as casually as she could, belying the sharp pang of hurt in her chest. Louise and Emma looked so much alike they could almost be confused as twins. If he'd seen Louise naked, he'd practically seen her naked, too.

Marcus lowered his eyes and stared at the floor for a few seconds. “Would you be interested in having a dinner companion?” he asked, meeting her eyes again.