Lady Em's Indiscretion (2 page)

This was going to be difficult. But she had
kissed him back, giving him hope he’d nearly abandoned.

“I’m afraid, my dear, you have no
choice.”

* * *

Em gave up arguing as Mark carried her down
the path through the woods. Perhaps if she refused to talk to him,
he would give up this mad scheme to reclaim her. She would have to
be strong to resist his protestations of love. To resist allowing
him to lead her into any further . . . indiscretions. But he was
already muddling her brain, holding her close as if she were
precious to him, as if he would never let her go.

It was all a sham, of course.

In a few minutes, they emerged on the other
side of the woods, past the point. At the end of the lake stood the
small Greek temple, a broad terrace in front of it surrounded by a
marble balustrade, all reflected artistically in the water. Of
course, the folly. That was where he was taking her.

Her pulse quickened at the thought of
spending a whole night there resisting his advances. Her body would
betray her. He was already seducing her, just by holding her, his
touch reminding her of other, more scandalous liberties he’d taken
with her . . .

He reached the folly and bore her up several
steps to the terrace. A marble bench stood there, placed for a view
of the lake and flanked by large urns filled with roses. For an
instant Em thought he would set her down on the bench. Instead, he
lowered himself to the seat, holding her sideways in his lap. She
caught the sharp intake of his breath, felt him harden against her
hip. It meant nothing. He was a rake, easily aroused. She sat
stiffly, trying to ignore it and the answering heat inside her. Her
body was a traitor indeed. All the more reason to keep her mind
resolute!

She turned her head, so the brim of her
bonnet hid her expression from him. His fingers brushed her throat
as he untied the strings of her bonnet. Despite her protest, he
removed it and flung it away.

“That’s better. At least now I can see how
angry you are. Perhaps I can change that.”

“Do not cherish false hopes!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the
hint of smile on his lips. Curse him, he could tell she was not
indifferent.

He bent his head toward hers. “I have missed
you so much. Shall I tell you what I have been doing?”

“I appear to have no choice in the
matter.”

“None at all.” He cleared his throat. “I
hope you believe me when say that the day you cried off from our
engagement was the lowest of my life. The worst was when you
accused me of being a fortune-hunter.”

“It was nothing but the truth!”

Mark had made no secret of the fact that his
father had left him with a pile of debts. He’d even admitted going
to Almack’s to look for a bride, on the advice of his family and
his man of business. Despite all this, and despite her brother’s
objections, Em had believed him when he’d said he was in love with
her.

“The truth was I wanted to become worthy of
you. When you cried off, I knew I could not pursue another
heiress.”

As he spoke, he stroked her arm, a gentle,
feathery touch on the bare skin that sent shivers elsewhere. She
stiffened, looking away across the lake, trying to pretend she was
not sitting in his lap, accepting his caresses. She was not strong
enough to fight him, except with words.

“Perhaps you could not find another heiress
who would trust you,” she retorted.

He paused in his caresses. And fool that she
was, she wished he would continue. A moment later, he did.

“I never looked for another heiress,” he
insisted. “Instead I conferred with my agent. We sold my father’s
racing stud, all the hunters, most of our carriages, along with
some of the paintings at Denby Hall. Together they brought enough
to satisfy the worst of my creditors. I struck new bargains with
the rest and then turned my attention to the estate. I was quite
the greenhorn, but I have been learning. You would not believe how
intelligently I can discourse now on crop rotations and sheep
breeding!”

She caught herself looking at him. He
ventured a smile and she averted her face, not before seeing a pang
of disappointment cross his face. Good God, she was starting to
feel sorry for him, even to believe his tale of being a reformed
character.

“I even went to the sheep-shearing at
Holkham Hall, in Norfolk, to learn what I could from Mr. Coke
himself,” he continued. “I met Westhaven there. He was cold at
first, out of loyalty to you. But being landowners in the same
county, we were thrown together a good deal and in time we became
friends. It took longer to win over your friend Georgiana, but she,
too, has come to trust me, and support me in my goal.”

“Your goal?”

“To prove myself to you and your brother. I
hope to restore the Denby fortunes, with or without your help. I’m
no longer the careless wastrel you knew. I want you as much as
ever, Em, but whether you come back to me or not, I am going to
finish what I have began.”

She’d never heard such decision in his
voice. He did seem different somehow . . .

He paused for breath and continued.
“Although I was a fool not to realize how long it would take. You
can’t imagine what it was like, reading the newspapers, dreading to
learn of your engagement to some other man. While you remained in
seclusion at Sandhurst Court, I held onto hope. But when Westhaven
wrote of your imminent engagement to Lamford, I knew I had no more
time. You can’t imagine what I felt, hearing that he was courting
you and that you were encouraging his advances. I don’t believe it.
You cannot be in love with him!”

His arm tightened around her, rousing the
traitorous hunger within her. It was all deliberate, just like his
earlier betrayal. She tried to shift in his lap, but it only made
her more aware of him. “My feelings for Lord Lamford are none of
your business,” she said desperately.

“I know you. If you loved him, you’d have no
hesitation in proclaiming it to everyone.”

Damn him, he sounded so sure of himself. Did
he remember how she’d once defended him to William, to anyone who
objected to her choice?

“Perhaps I have learned to be more
discreet.”

“I don’t believe you are in love with
Lamford. He’s not the sort of man to make you happy.”

“You believe yourself to be an authority on
that matter?”

He exhaled, fluttering the curls at her
nape. “I made you happy once. You believed I loved you. What
happened?”

She looked away. “Nothing. I merely came to
my senses.”

“There must be more. Something caused you to
change your mind. The Westhavens hinted as much, but they said it
would be better for me to hear it from you.”

She couldn’t do it. It was too mortifying
and then she’d have to hear some tale concocted to justify his
betrayal.

“Tell me. There is no way I can make it
right, if I don’t know what I did wrong!”

Something in his voice struck a chord inside
her. Oh, what an actor he was! Did he not know what Will had
discovered?

He kissed her neck. A tingle spread through
her. “Tell me.” He pushed down the tiny sleeve of her sprigged
gown, baring her shoulder.

“There is nothing to discuss. Let me
go.”

“Em . . .” he murmured. He slid his hand
down her shoulder. He reached inside her bodice and corset, found
her breast. Her nipple swelled against his palm. “Tell me why you
cried off.”

He brushed her nipple lightly with his
thumb. Exquisite sensations shot through her, sensations she had
not felt in two years. Her mouth went dry; the moisture all seemed
to go
there
.

She gathered all her strength of will and
pulled away. “Stop it!”

The desperation in her voice must have
reached him, for he loosened his hold. She leapt up from his lap
and turned to face him. “If you think such tricks will fool me
again, I tell you they will not!”

He stared at her, stark yearning in his
eyes. Or was it more acting?

“Then stay and talk to me. I shan’t touch
you again unless you wish it. I promise!”

“How can I know you will keep your
word?”

“If you will not trust me, trust your
friends. The Westhavens would never forgive me if I caused you
harm.”

“Perhaps they are mistaken in their trust.
As I was.”

“Stay and listen to me. I can’t let you give
yourself to Lamford. You need passion. You need love. You will be
miserable with him.”

For a moment, all that could be heard was
the sound of a lark, twittering and carefree, somewhere high above
them.

“Stay, Em. Tell me why you cried off. Tell
me, so I can make it right.”

She knew she ought to run, but a perverse
impulse kept her standing there. She ventured a glance at him; she
saw the torment in his face. Had Georgiana been right? Perhaps
there was some explanation. Or more lies. She would never know
unless she confronted him.

She squared her shoulders. “Very well. I
will tell you.”

C
hapter Three

Mark took care to keep his distance as Em
took a seat on the far end of the bench. He wanted her sweet bottom
back in his lap, her soft breast in his hand, her scent in his
nostrils. But the slightest move would make her bolt. He’d lose his
last chance to convince her mind of what her body already knew:
that they belonged together.

“Tell me the truth. What happened two years
ago?”

She shot a wary glance at him. “I came to
believe that . . . that William had been right about you all
along.”

Mark remembered how Em had defied her
brother. William had only permitted the engagement from fear that
she might otherwise elope, perhaps hoping she would change her mind
before it was too late.

“What did he say?” he asked. “Did he tell
you I was a fortune-hunter?”

“Yes.”

“But we had spoken of that before. There was
something else.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Whatever it was, she was finding it painful to speak of it. Perhaps
he could make a guess. Surely the answer could not be too
complicated or mysterious.

Of course.

“Did you think I was unfaithful,
darling?”

Her cheeks flushed and then paled. He had
his answer.

“But why? You knew I parted ways with my
last mistress soon after meeting you.”

“You did tell me that.” She raised her chin.
“But then, William—”

“What did he tell you?”

Her voice was low and steady. “William
intercepted your letter to Mrs. Wood, promising your continued
support.”

“Your brother interfered with my
correspondence?”

“He was less trusting than I. He bribed a
servant to spy on you. Can you deny he was right to do so?”

“He should have been more careful in his
investigations!”

She stared at him blankly.

He lowered his voice. “I should forgive him.
If I had a sister like you, I suppose I would have done everything
to protect her too.”

“
You
? Forgive
Will
? This is
madness!” She bounced up from the bench but he leapt up and blocked
her escape.

He took her hands in his. “Give me a chance
to explain.”

Her eyes clouded with doubts. He wished he
could kiss them away, but he’d already failed at that.

“Yes, I did write that letter. What you do
not know is that Mrs. Wood wrote to me first, to tell me she had an
inflammation of the lungs and could not manage her affairs, let
alone seek another protector. I only wrote to tell her she could
rely on me to help. There was nothing more in my letter. Was
there?”

She gave a slight shake of her head.

“I would have told you about it. But neither
you nor your brother said anything other than accusing me of
fortune-hunting. I had just written that letter and had no idea
he’d got hold of it.”

She met his eyes with that solemn regard he
knew well. At least she was thinking about what he had said. The
care she took in forming her opinions was one of the things he
loved about her. It was his best hope.

“William said you would have some tale to
explain it,” she said noncommittally.

“It is the truth.”

She considered him for another long, painful
moment. Then, in a low voice, she asked, “What happened to her? To
Mrs. Wood?”

“Her physician feared her illness would lead
to consumption if she did not remove to a milder climate. I helped
her sell her jewelry and gain passage to Italy. There she not only
recovered but managed to snare an Italian count. So her tale ended
happily. I hope ours can, too.” He brought her hands up to his lips
and kissed them. “Do you believe me?”

She watched the sky, streaked with salmon to
the west. Dusk was approaching.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“I could prove it to you, in time. But I
wish you would trust me. I wish you had trusted me enough to ask
before.”

“I was . . . afraid of being taken in.
William said that men like you did not commonly value females for
their good character, that you preferred quite a different sort. I
remembered having once seen Mrs. Wood at the opera. She was so
striking. So tall and golden and so very sure of herself. If that
was what you wanted, I couldn’t compare. I saw no reason to
try!”

“I loved you then and I still love you. You
are more beautiful to me than all the Mrs. Woods in London. Let me
prove it to you.”

He pulled her back into his arms. She
trembled a little but did not move away.

He kissed her forehead, then her temple,
then her cheek. She flushed, averting her face. He kissed her ear,
then nibbled her lobe. He caught the small, yearning sound she
made. He kissed her neck; how sensitive she was there! How
charmingly her breasts rose and fell as her breath quickened.