Lady Em's Indiscretion (4 page)

“So wet you are,” he murmured. “Like
honey.”

So wet, so agitated she was, that a wave,
half embarrassment and half excitement, washed over her. She knew
what was coming. He’d brought her that rapture before, what he’d
told her was called
la petite mort
. But they’d always done
it together. Now he was going to watch her, alone in the throes of
her passion.

It was intriguing and alarming all at
once.

“I don’t think I can . . . with you
watching,” she said.

He pulled her close against him. “Resist if
you will. It will only increase your pleasure in the end.”

He kissed her neck, and she melted back
against him. He opened her wider, then slid one finger, then
another, inside her, while pressing his thumb against her sensitive
bud. It was too much. She thrashed in his arms, but he tightened
his hold around her waist. Somehow his hold made her feel safe.
Free.

He kissed her roughly on the neck, his
fingers pushing inside her, his thumb outside, wickedly clever,
coaxing her toward a peak. She sensed it coming and stiffened.

He paused, grinning.
The rogue.
“Shall I continue?”

She made an incoherent, begging sound and he
resumed his love play, each movement a little quicker, a little
deeper than before. It was glorious and she tried to hold onto the
moment. But soon she lost the struggle, closing her eyes as her
inner muscles flexed around his fingers.

“Don’t close your eyes. Look!”

Her eyes flew open. She saw herself as he
saw her, body arched and quivering, her face contorted in rapture.
He renewed his caresses, sending a wave of almost unbearable
pleasure through her. She cried out for mercy and still he did not
stop. She had reached the peak; she couldn’t bear any more. If he
didn’t stop, she would . . . she didn’t know what would happen.

She would lose herself.

“Mark! I cannot . . .” She tried to free
herself, but he trapped her against him so she could scarcely
breathe. He kissed her neck so fiercely she was sure to bruise, and
yet she felt no pain, only intense pleasure.

“You can. You are strong. You are
magnificent.” He moved his fingers within her, finding a new and
more sensitive spot deep inside and ruthlessly caressing it.

She twisted in his arms, calling his name as
he forced her from one peak to the next. Her body—beautiful, as he
said it was—shone in the candlelight and firelight, safe in his
embrace, magical in its ecstasy. Motes of light danced around her.
She shuddered in a final climax. Light was all around her; she
became part of it, glowing for a moment before sliding into
mindless bliss.

Chapter
Five

Mark lowered Emmeline to the chaise. She
sighed, but her eyelids remained shut. For a moment, he drank in
the sight of her. So deliciously nude, perfumed with lovemaking,
silky brown curls tumbled around her. He was still hard as Jove,
but he would have to wait. It was no matter. She had come
splendidly alive in his arms; in her ecstasy, she’d become Venus
and the Three Graces all in one.

She was his again.

But she had had a long day of travel, even
before the exertions of their lovemaking. He could wait while she
rested. He got up and opened the nearby chest. It was too sultry a
night for blankets; a sheet would do. He draped it over her. She
shifted and curled up like a cat, her shape outlined clearly
through the sheet. He doubted there would be any sleep for him.

He gathered up her tumbled clothing and
piled it onto the chest. His own clothes he placed on a nearby
table. Carefully, he moved the mirror back to its place, not
wanting Em to bump into it if she woke during the night. He snuffed
out the candles, leaving the room illuminated only by the fading
light of the fire. Then he glanced up at the skylight above him.
The sky was a deep, velvety blue. The stars were just coming out.
He gazed up at them and marveled at his good fortune. Em was his
again. He lay down behind her, wrapping his body around hers,
leaving the sheet tucked around her. With his hand resting softly
on her breast and her bottom in his lap, he was more than warm
enough.

Sleep might not come, but he could think
happy thoughts until he could make love to her again.

Tomorrow, he’d help her write her excuses to
the Lamfords. They would be annoyed. There would be a stir. It was
nothing they could not weather. Winning over her brother William
was more important. Together they would manage it. The Westhavens
would support them. Then a quick wedding, by special license, and
he’d have her at Denby Hall. It had been lacking a mistress for too
many years. Em would make it their home. Perhaps they would build a
folly of their own.

Lost in plans for the future, he drifted
into sleep.

* * *

“Em! Em! Are you in there?”

The voice and the tapping at the door
dragged Em up from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes. The moon
shone down through a high window. For a moment she wondered where
she was. Then, feeling Mark’s arm around her, she remembered. And
she recognized the voice.

It was Will.

She sat up, heart thudding in her chest,
suddenly and painfully awake. Mark sat up behind her, tightening
his arm around her. The door burst open, revealing her brother,
dressed for riding.

His gaze widened as they all stared at each
other. All Em could think was that this could not be real. This was
not how matters were supposed to unfold.

“Em! What the devil are you doing?”

She pulled the sheet up around herself, cold
with fear at the anger in his voice. “Unhand my sister, Denby!”

“Do not worry,” Mark said in an attempt at a
reassuring voice, but keeping his arm around her. “I have every
intention of marrying her.”

“I know. How else can you get your claws on
her money? Em, come away from that scoundrel!”

“Will! Calm down. It is all right.”

“Have you lost your mind? Come away or so
help me, I’ll kill him!”

She caught the glint of a pistol in his hand
and gasped. She broke free of Mark’s hold. Clutching the sheet
around herself, she staggered off the chaise longue to position
herself between the two men.

“Very well,” she said. “Mark will leave and
then we shall talk.”

“We should discuss this like gentlemen,”
Mark protested.

“You’re not gentleman!” Will spat.
Meanwhile, Em rounded on Mark. “You should go,” she said, silently
commanding him to trust her.

Perhaps seeing the fierce determination in
her eyes, he gave a slight nod.

She turned back toward her brother and
mustered all her dignity. “Please leave us for a moment, so we may
dress,” she said.

He stood for a moment, obviously unwilling
to leave them together, even for a moment. He seemed ready to cast
Mark out of the folly naked but she feared that would lead to a
fight.

“We will be out in five minutes, I promise.
Now you must leave us.” She put all the force of her will into the
words, although her heart ached for the agonized disappointment she
read in her brother’s eyes as he reluctantly turned to leave.

As the door shut behind him, she looked
about for her clothes and saw them lying on the chest. Mark reached
them first and handed them to her, speaking in a low voice. “I
don’t wish to fight your brother, but—”

“Then don’t provoke him,” she whispered
sharply. “I am sure he is listening.”

She turned away and went back to the chaise
longue to dress. She put her shift and stockings on quickly but
could not manage her corset. She felt Mark’s breath on her neck and
his hands against her back. She flinched.

“Let me help you.”

She submitted, her flesh tingling at his
touch while fear for his safety wracked her. As he pulled the
corset tight, she caught her breath on a sob.

He kissed her shoulder. “Don’t let him come
between us,” he murmured.

“We cannot speak now,” she said, pulling
away. “I will write to you. I promise.”

She donned her petticoat and then her gown,
keeping her back to Mark. She could hear him moving about and knew
he too was dressing. She needed help once more, with the fastenings
of her dress. She turned and flashed him a mute request. He came
forward, fully dressed, his expression grim.

But she dared say no more. He would have to
trust her.

Her dress fastened, she gathered her
flagging courage and moved resolutely toward the door, before her
brother could interrupt them again. But Mark caught her and spun
her back into his arms. She resisted but he pulled her tight and
gave her a kiss, hard and fierce, as if to claim her forever. She
yielded, just for a moment, then broke away.

His jaw clenched as he stared at her.

“I will write to you,” she promised in a low
voice.

Then without looking back, she headed out
toward her waiting brother. William was pacing along the terrace,
but turned abruptly as they came out.

“You had best go now,” she said to Mark.

He made a slight bow in Will’s direction. “I
shall bid you a good night, then. I will leave but know this: that
I shall not despair. I love your sister and I intend to marry
her.”

“Don’t get your hopes up!”

Em heard the renewed ire in her brother’s
voice. “Go!” she said desperately.

Mark nodded, but his face wore the same
expression she’d seen two years ago, when she’d broken off their
engagement. He feared she would once again yield to her brother’s
influence.

She looked away, knowing that would force
him to leave. She listened to his footsteps on the stone terrace.
When she turned back, he was just a shadow moving across the
lawn.

She dropped onto the bench, knees shaking.
At least Mark was safe, she thought. But William . . .

She patted the space beside her, but he
continued his pacing. She heard a snort and the stamp of a hoof in
the nearby stand of trees.

“Will, I am so sorry to have worried you so.
I did not imagine . . . Come. Sit down. You must be tired.”

“Rest? When I’ve caught my sister cavorting
with a damned rake? Are you mad?”

There was no good reply to that. She
suppressed a shiver and resolved to keep him talking. “I hope you
did not rouse the Westhavens.”

“No. I jumped the hedge and came here
directly.”

“But what made you think to come here?”

“A friend in London warned me that the
Westhavens had befriended Denby. I thought something might be afoot
and decided to set off after you. Then I heard in the village that
Denby had stopped there on his way to Westhaven Park. I remembered
you talking about wanting to see this curst folly and I decided to
look here first. But I still could not believe you were planning an
assignation with that blackguard!”

“I did not know he would be here.”

“Then he came here in secret, and spirited
you away from the Westhavens?”

She remembered how Mark had swept her up in
his arms, despite her struggles and her objections. How she’d
yielded to the wish for him to make love to her once more.

“No,” she said, hoping the moonlight did not
betray her guilty flush.

“You don’t mean to say the Westhavens were
in on this plot?”

“Yes, but—”

“I thought them a respectable couple!”

“They are respectable. You should speak to
them tomorrow and discover why they have come to trust Mark.”

“I fully intend to! What could have led them
run mad this way . . .” He slowed his pacing and stopped before
her. His voice broke a little as he asked, “How could you do this,
after how he betrayed you?”

“But he didn’t. Mrs. Wood was ill, and he
helped her remove to Italy. That was all.”

“What a tale. You believed him?”

“Yes.”

“You believed
him
, a wastrel who only
wants you for your fortune?”

“Not a wastrel anymore. A man who is doing
everything he can to restore his family fortunes.”

“Denby has bewitched you!”

She shivered, thinking of the rapture Mark
had given her. It was a sort of magic, indeed. A sort she didn’t
know if she could do without.

Will sat down next to her, put an arm around
her shoulders. The last time he’d done that she’d been eleven,
grieving for her deceased canary. “Come home, Em,” he said,
softening his voice. “Forget about Denby. Forget about Lamford,
too. I should never have encouraged that match.”

“We both made a mistake there.”

“So don’t make another one. Come home with
me. What—whatever happens, I will take care of you.”

It struck her that he feared a child might
be the result of this interlude.

“Do not fear. No harm will come to me from .
. . from this night,” she said. “You are the kindest brother one
could wish for, Will, but you will not always need to take care of
me.”

He withdrew his arm, and she wished she
hadn’t reminded him that in a few months she would be free to marry
without his approval. She still wanted his blessing.

“Do you think Denby will treat you
properly?” he asked, his voice harsh again. “He’s a known rake. He
lusts for you now, but will he remain faithful? What proof do you
have that his feelings for you will endure?”

What proof indeed? Besides Mark’s glorious
lovemaking, that made her body sing and her mind turn to jelly. Em
cast about for a reply that would satisfy her brother, but she had
no proof. Nothing he would not dismiss as romantic foolery. He
would say she was only repeating past mistakes.

“I see you have no answer. Think on it. If
he tries to come round you again—”

“Do not fight him! I could not bear it if
either of you were hurt.”

He rose and resumed the pacing that so
frightened her.

“Promise me you will not call him out!” she
pleaded.