Sweet Deception (35 page)

“But—”

“Perkins is having a room made up for me. The Blue Room, I think he said.”

“But that’s right across the hall from me!”

“The better to protect you, my dear.” The slow smile that accompanied his jest was decidedly wolfish.

Yes, but who was going to protect her from herself?

“Don’t you think you should sleep downstairs, closer to George?” she tried. “He’d be the one truly in danger.”

Derick stepped close to her, the smile fading from his face. “Station an additional footman to guard your brother if you wish, Pygmy. But your safety is more important to me.” He reached out and cupped her face with one hand, his thumb dragging slowly across her cheek.

“Don’t call me that,” she said automatically, but there was no heat to it. A slow smile spread across his face, and then he turned and was gone.

Oh my. How on earth was she going to sort out any of her jumbled thoughts and feelings knowing that Derick slept mere feet from her?

And more importantly, how was she going to keep herself from going to him in the night?

D
erick sat in an armchair in the Blue Room, next to the crackling fire that had been laid by one of Wallingford Manor’s footmen. The unnaturally dyed blue leather had made him quite leery at first glance, but it was more comfortable than it looked. He was glad of it, as he doubted that sleep was in his near future.

He settled deeper into the cushion, slouching low as the leather creaked in protest, and raised a cut-glass snifter to the level of his eyes. Swirling its contents round and round, he watched the fire through the crystal, the flames distorted by the brandy inside his glass. The effect gave the amber liquid the appearance of being lit from within. Just like Emma’s golden eyes.

He sat the brandy down on the table beside him, untouched. He might never be able to drink the stuff again, which was a damned shame. He
liked
brandy. But it would forever be a reminder of Emma, and of what he was choosing to leave behind.

And leave her behind he would. She was part of his past—maybe the only good part, but part just the same. And his past was what he intended to forget, along with
all of the painful memories that went with it. It had worked for him before, and it would again.

So why did the idea of departing for the Americas all of a sudden leave him feeling empty and hollow?

He cut his eyes to the snifter on the table. A drink might fill the void, at least temporarily. He may be swearing off the stuff when he left Derbyshire, but it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy a taste while he was still here, would it?

Of course not. He reached for the glass and took a swallow.
It wouldn’t hurt to enjoy your last few days with Emma, either,
his conscience whispered darkly.

Derick choked as the liquor burned its way down his throat. Oh yes, it would hurt. Either her or him, or both, but it would most definitely hurt.

He set the snifter aside, the heavy glass clicking against the wooden tabletop, and rifled a hand through his hair. How the hell had Emma gotten under his skin so deeply so quickly? How many years had he made it through, how many women, without letting anyone inside? And now that he was
this
close to putting it all behind him, one tiny, stubborn slip of a woman had burrowed her way in and he feared she might never leave, even when he did.

It must be because she’d always been there. Not consciously, or even obviously, but rather like a single gold thread woven into the tapestry of his life. When he was young, he wouldn’t have noticed it, instead drawn to the rich colors—the reds, the greens, the blues. But those vibrant shades had long been sullied, turned dark and dull, making the gold shine out even more. There all along, and all along the most valuable thread of all.

And now, as a man well aware of the preciousness of gold, he could no longer miss it—no longer miss her—and he greatly feared that now that he’d noticed her, she could never be unseen.

But he would do his damnedest.

A soft knock floated across the room, neither hesitant nor forceful. Emma. Every one of his senses shifted into sensual alert. It would be dangerous to allow her in now. He should pretend to be asleep…

But she didn’t give him the choice. The knob turned and she entered like a whisper, reaching him almost as quickly. The clean scent of lavender filled his nose as she passed by him, coming to stand before the fire.

“You’re awake,” she murmured.

Derick’s grip tightened on the arms of his chair. Emma stood before him in her night rail and wrapper, a plain, simple combination of pale green that was more alluring than even the most intricately revealing lingerie he’d ever uncovered. She’d clearly just bathed, as her skin was rosy from warm water and scrubbing, and her hair—her glorious chestnut hair—fell down her back and around her face in damp, drying curls.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he answered, aware that his voice had gone husky with the raging desire she always seemed to elicit in him.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t.” She looked around her for a moment, then dragged a stool over and settled herself on it, just in front of him. So close that if she reached out she’d be able to place her hands upon his knees. She looked directly into his eyes, holding his gaze. “But I’m not going to leave unless you demand that I go.”

He swallowed, somehow unable to say the words, even though he knew he should. And Emma saw it, he knew, saw his hesitation. Saw it and pounced on it.

“I thought not.” She did reach forward then, caressing the tops of his thighs with both hands.

At his groan, she actually smiled, a slow, sensuous thing that threatened to undo him. “Emma…”

“I have a question I must ask you. And remember, you promised earlier you’d always tell me the truth as
long as I was certain I wanted to know it.” Her smile had faded, and despite her confident tone, her hands trembled upon his thighs. He felt the tiny quaking to his bones. She must very much fear the answer to whatever she was about to ask.

His heart sped. He was fairly certain that whatever she asked, he wouldn’t want to answer as much or even more than she apparently wanted him to. But he nodded his head. He
had
promised. “All right.”

Her trembling increased. Derick moved his own hands atop hers, pinning her palms against his thighs.

She took a breath.

“When you—” Emma swallowed, shaking her head. She started again. “When we made love, was it a means to an end? A tool of your profession, as you claimed it to be with all of the others?”

Ah, hell.

“Did you feel nothing for me?” she whispered.

Lie!
his mind shrieked, like a damned scared old woman.
Lie to her! It would be kinder.

But the vulnerability he saw in her eyes wouldn’t let him. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let her think she’d meant less than she had.

Derick squeezed his eyes shut and a muscle ticked in his jaw. He felt it leaping in time with his pounding heart. “I’ve never experienced anything like what I felt with you in my arms, Emma. It was like…” He opened his eyes then, looked deeply into hers, and gave the most honest answer he knew. “It was like it was my very first time.”

Speaking the words aloud broke something within him. A dam, a wall, a shell. And it hurt, a sharp, piercing pain through his heart.

“It was your first time making
love
,” she whispered, nodding slowly as if he’d confirmed something she’d suspected. She turned her hands beneath his, now gripping
him palm to palm. “It was mine, too. But…” Her tongue came out to wet her lips nervously. “But I don’t want it to be my last.”

He choked on a cross between a laugh and the unfamiliar tightness in his throat. “It won’t be your last time. You’re an incredible, desirable woman. There will be another man, a better ma—”

“No,” she whispered fiercely. “There was ever only you. There will only ever
be
you, Derick.” Emma dropped to her knees between his, kicking the stool away behind her and settling back on her heels like an entreating angel, swathed in green, preparing to pray for the soul of a lost sinner. “If you turn me away now, you will doom me to a life without love. I will awaken every day with your name on my lips. I will mourn every lonely night in my bed. I will always, always want you. And I think you will want me, too.”

He suspected he would. Every moment. But that didn’t mean they should be together. “Emma, you deserve more.”

“But what if I don’t want more?” she cried.

“Then I want more
for
you,” he growled. God, he felt trapped. He couldn’t bolt to his feet with her kneeling between his legs without kicking her, couldn’t yank his hands from the tightness of her grip without hurting her. Sweat popped out on his brow, and his skin began to itch. “More than a bastard, more than a deceitful cad, more than a bloody impostor with no country of his own.”

“Oh yes?” Emma rose off of her heels, as high as she could while still kneeling. Her face was very near his and her eyes blazed with indignation, or passion, or both. “Well, I want more for
you
, too. More than unwarranted shame, more than undeserved self-loathing, more than a bloody future with no
home
of your own.” And then her voice and her gaze softened. “Not like the one I could give you.”

He’d stopped breathing at her fierce avowal, whereas her breasts rose and fell rapidly as she took in great gulps of air.

She pulled her hands from his, and pressed them once again upon his thighs to help herself to rise.

Thank God. He burned to leap from the chair and put some distance between them—would as soon as she bloody moved away.

But she didn’t. She simply stood firmly between his thighs once she’d gained her feet. She reached out and grasped either side of his face between her hands and leaned into him.

“Derick, no matter what has come before, no matter what you’ve done or who you’ve been…I don’t care. You can start over. With me. Because no matter any of it,
I know you
. And I love you.”

She brought her lips to his, a sweet, trembling kiss that was there and gone almost before it registered.

“Won’t you love me, too?” she whispered against his mouth.

Derick’s pulse drove hard and fast, desire—both physical and dangerously, unfamiliarly, emotional—pumped through his veins, pushing away his resistance beat by beat by beat.

She deserved better than him. And he deserved so much worse than her. But…

Could he have a fresh start with Emma? Could her love wash away his past? How could he forget the bad if she were always with him, a reminder of who he’d been and where he’d come from?

He reached out and cupped her face between his own hands, just as she still held him. He eased her back just enough that he could see her eyes, and his breath caught. They brimmed with an emotion he hadn’t felt in years. One he’d almost forgotten. One he desperately needed.

Hope.

He widened his legs as his hands left her face and
pulled at her shoulders instead. He tugged Emma down upon his lap, cradling her across his thighs as he took her lips with his. She whimpered as his mouth crushed hers, but in relief rather than fear, he knew. Still, he gentled, his hands returning to her face in tender caresses.

God, he trembled like a boy as he touched her skin with reverent strokes. It was as if what he’d told her earlier was true, as if he’d never done this before. And he hadn’t, he realized. Not even when he’d been with her, because then he hadn’t
known
he loved her.

“Oh, Emma,” he gasped between kisses, not wishing to part from her even long enough to draw breath. “I need you,” he whispered, the truth falling from his lips before he could stop it. He closed his eyes so that he could breathe her in, experience her through his other senses. “God, how I need you.”

“I know,” she moaned. “I’m only glad you finally figured it out.”

Derick’s eyes flew open and he barked a startled laugh. Leave it to his darling Pygmy to say just what was on her mind. He pulled back and caressed her cheek. “Well,” he chuckled, “we’re not all as brilliant as you, love. It takes some of us longer than others.”

Emma flushed a delicate rose. “I didn’t mean it that w—”

“I know.” And he kissed her again.

He spent long minutes simply playing about her lips. Their tongues intertwined, rubbed along each other, caressed, danced away, and caressed again. Never had he experienced such intimacy. He thought of nothing else but the pleasure to be had between just her mouth and his.

“Derick,” she moaned. “Please…” She tugged at his wrist, as if begging him to move his hands from her face and touch her anywhere. Everywhere.

He blinked, trying to pull himself out of a daze. Lost as he’d been in her, he’d nearly forgotten there was anything
in the world beyond her kiss. Had he ever felt this way? Such a desire to meld with another person, to melt into her so that he didn’t know where he ended and she began?

No. It was amazing, this ability to lose himself, to forget. But now that she’d brought his attention to their burgeoning need, he felt it keenly. He slipped an arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, gathering her to him as he rose from the chair.

“Where are we going?” Emma asked as she pressed tiny kisses against the corners of his mouth.

“I’m going to take you in a bed, properly this time.”

Emma turned her head to the massive four-poster, draped in blue velvets of varying shades. “No, please. It’s too dark. I want to see you when you touch me…” Her lashes fell, as did her voice. “When you’re inside of me.”

At her words, a fierce primal instinct clamored. Damn, how he wanted that, too. And then she raised her gaze to him. The intensity blazing from her eyes sent a hot shiver through him. “I want to see you when I touch you, too,” she purred.

Her words stilled his feet, but sent his pulse racing faster than it ever had, even those times when he’d been nearly captured with information that would have gotten him tortured and killed.