Tempest of Passion (11 page)

“
Emily?”

He repeated her name and watched an array of emotions play on
her face: Desire, disbelief, outrage, nervousness. She gnawed her
lips between her teeth, sunk in her cheeks. The carriage tipped
lightly to the left and she further fell over his lap. Color
flooded her cheeks. His heart swelled. Innocent angel, how he loved
her. With a firm hand, he helped her sit up. He did not however,
release her.

“
Will you not let me sit properly?”

“
I see no problem with this arrangement, my love.”

“
Of course, you wouldn’t, you egotistical worm. Do you not see
that in this position I will develop a stitch in my
side?”

“
Sit over my lap then.”

Her mouth
opened and closed like a fish´s out of water. The glare she gave
him would have dissuaded any man. William burst out laughing. She
swore under her breath and he laughed harder. She was furious, and
rightly so, but there was still an undercurrent of desire in her
scent. There was a spark in her eye that spoke of anger and sadness
but there was also a hint of amusement. Dare he insist?

“
You are uncouth.”

“
I merely wish to dally with my wife.”

Immediately her face fell. The spirit in her eyes vanished
and her lips disappeared into a thin line. Sadness choked
him.

“
Forgive me, Emily.”

He released her and she scrambled to sit as far away from him
as possible. Her posture stiff, she kept her back to him, staring
out the window. He watched her for a few minutes. What was he to
do? Her scent was ingrained in his system like a pup’s wolf song to
the moon. He wanted her, needed her, loved her. She was his mate
and there was no one like her. If only he could make her see, make
her feel what he felt every time they were close. If only he could
regain her trust. If only he could woo her like she deserved and
convince her that he loved her. That he did not care for an heir,
for money, for anything more except her company. All he wanted was
to see her smile, to watch her fiery nature thrive.

Yet, he’d ruined everything. If she did not care for him, if
she did not love him, there was nothing he could do. He would
provide for her, ensure she was well cared for, and eventually, he
would fade.

William sighed and looked out his own window. Gone was the
perfect day they’d set off in. Grey clouds had rolled over the
horizon, threatening rain and matching his gloomy thoughts. He
pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the time. Reeves should
have left Brookenshire already. The omega would be following them
on a single horse to ensure that no other unknown beasts shadowed
them. He would send word if it was otherwise.

Chapter Thirteen

Emily was careful to maintain her stony façade. She would not
allow him to see the tremble in her hands. She clenched her skirts
hoping against hope that only she could hear the strident beat of
her heart. She could not feel anything for the boorish devil at her
side. She would not. She adamantly refused regardless of the way
her heart squeezed and thumped every time he looked at her.
Regardless of the way butterflies flooded her synapsis every time
she was near him. Regardless of the way her quim heated and wetted
every time he touched her. To the devil with him. He was a wolf in
lamb’s skin. He had forced her into an undesirable marriage, and he
deserved her wrath. Yet…

Emily chewed on her bottom lip. Yet, he was a bubbling
cauldron of emotions. She had been wrong to think that his eyes
showed naught. They were windows into his core. Certainly, there
was sadness in them, impenetrable sadness, the source of which she
could not yet figure out, but there was also mirth and laughter and
happiness. Emily shut her eyes. Especially, when he looked at her.
When he looked at her his gaze softened, his lips curled at the tip
and his manner became gentle. It was almost as if her mere presence
was a source of happiness for him. That could not be. Would not
be.

God, why
had she touched him? What devil had driven her to inch toward him
and trace his scar? She closed her eyes and opened them wide
seconds later. It was the dream. That was the reason she’d
approached him so boldly. It wasn’t the first time she’d had
it.

In it, they would be standing outside, staring into each
other’s eyes. The harvest moon would rise higher, the round orb
lighting up his eyes and bringing out the flecks of gold. William
would cup her cheek and she’d lean into his touch without a second
thought. She’d close her eyes, comforted by his presence. He’d step
away and she’d open her eyes to find him gone. In its stead there
would be a beautiful red wolf. The animal would gaze at her in
adoration, its lips parted into a grin, drawing out the scar that
ran from above his lip to his eye. Like William’s. She wouldn’t be
afraid. She would kneel in front of him and just as she reached out
to touch him, she would wake up.

The idea of touching him, of running her fingers over his fur,
of dusting kisses on his scar always stayed with her for a few
minutes after that dream. It was no different in the chaise. She’d
woken up itching to touch William and feel the softness of his
flesh beneath her fingertips. When she saw that he was asleep,
she’d scooted closer. He didn’t budge, and before she could
question the insanity any longer, she’d touched him.

The madness. She’d poised over him,
observing him while he slept. Gone were the lines of worry that
marred his features during the day. He was relaxed like she’d never
seen him and it tore at her heartstrings.
Tentatively, she’d reached for the scar. How had he gotten
it? Had he been in pain? It gave him character, she’d decided at
that moment.

Her fingertips tingled as she remembered the smoothness of the
flesh, so different from the coarseness of his five o’clock shadow.
She sighed. If only the coach hadn’t lurched at that moment she
would have been able to move away without him noticing her. Her
breath hitched as she remembered the moments after. She brushed her
palms over her skirt. He’d force her to place them on his chest and
goodness. He was hard pressed muscle beneath his clothes. Her body
had quivered and she’d felt her cheeks redden. How could they not
when she was tempted to give into desire at any moment?

Emily took in a deep breath. She couldn’t and wouldn’t. She
could resist temptation. She would resist it. She was Mrs. Dalton
now and surely William expected children from her. It was his
right, but that didn’t mean that she’d do it willingly. She pressed
her legs together as a tingle formed in her core. She tugged in her
lips. She would die before letting him know that her body desired
him. That was it. It was only her body. He would have her body but
not her mind. She refused to give it to him. She would hold back,
not out of pride but out of principle.

Marriage was an iron chain that strangled her and he’d been
the one to place it around her neck. It was the end of her life as
she’d known it. Had she asked for it, things would have maybe been
different, but she hadn’t and her life would inevitably change for
the worse, as she was now a woman trapped in a household with no
purpose but to serve her husband.

Emily stared at the dreary weather that had built up outside.
In the distance the wind shook the trees making them dance a
macabre tune that only they could hear. Tiny raindrops pattered
against the window in a prelude of the storm that was sure to
come.

Why could no one understand that she had no desire to be
married? That she was content with the way things were? That she
did not care for material things? What she’d wanted transcended all
that and now it was gone. She blinked back tears. Enough. She’d
already cried enough. It was time to stop crying and to think of an
alternative. What could she do to improve her situation?

She glanced at William. His chest rose and fell evenly and his
head hung awkwardly to the side. A loose strand of hair fell over
his eyes. He was asleep again. Emily clasped her hands together.
Balderdash, why was it that every time she looked at him she wanted
to get closer? She turned her head and closed her eyes. It’d be
best if she too slept. She had to remember that William was a
hateful man that deserved naught but horrible things.

She
winced. Even she didn’t believe those thoughts.

***

“
Emily.”

Something
soft touched her cheek. She swatted at it.

“
Emily.”

“
Zooks! Let me sleep.”

She turned away from the annoying creature. She bit back a
curse as she heard voices and a quiet chuckle she recognized as
William’s. Goosebumps rose on her flesh. She groaned. Why could she
not remain peacefully asleep and oblivious to the world around
her?

Her eyes snapped open and she cried out as strong arms slid
under her knees and around her back and easily lifted her from the
chaise. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his
neck.

“
You deuced devil, let me down.”

His reply was to pull her deeper into his embrace and laugh.
The rich sound reverberated through her as he moved into a scarcely
lit house.

“
William,” she began.

“
Hush, Emily. You will wake up the other houseguests. I will
not release you until we are safely ensconced in our bedroom,” he
whispered.

Her mouth snapped shut as his last words sliced through her
sleepy haze. Their bedroom. They were husband and wife. They were
going to share a room. A bed. Good God. What was she to do? She
closed her eyes. All of a sudden William’s presence became much
more menacing. He wasn’t only carrying her up the stairs––he was
touching her, and leaving behind a warm glow, which was quickly
spreading throughout all her body. If it were only that, perhaps
she could fight it off, but his fragrance was addictive. Even after
a day of travel he still managed to smell delectable. She heard the
creak of a door and felt William turn. Were they already
there?
“Should I leave you the lamp, sir?”

“
No, it’s not necessary, thank you,” William
replied.

“
Very well. The pitcher is full and should you need anything
else, do call. Have a good night.”

The pitter-patter of the woman’s feet grew
distant. The door closed with an ominous click.
Have a good night
. Her cheeks
burned. There was no doubt the woman was expecting them to
consummate the marriage. Emily held her breath. She wanted to get
as far away from William as possible but she was afraid that if she
moved, he’d do something. Her quim quivered with anticipation.
Faith, what was she to do?

Abruptly,
William moved. Every step he took clapped loudly against the wooden
boards as he neared their unknown destination. Dare she
look?

“
Go back to sleep, my love.”

Gently, he lay her down on the mattress. She stilled, breath
abated. That was it? Go back to sleep? She almost screamed as his
hand unexpectedly wrapped around her ankle. Eyes wide open, she
stared at him. His jaw was set as he deftly slid first one shoe and
then the other off her feet and set them at the foot of the bed.
Without glancing at her he moved away from the four-poster and to
the dresser. The pitcher’s white porcelain stood out in the gloomy
room as William tipped it over the basin. Her mouth fell open when
instead of dipping his hands into the water or grabbing the linen
cloth, he brought them to his neck and started undoing the buttons
on his coat. The light of the hearth reflected over each one making
them gleam like sunlight over a mirror. Her mouth dried when he
shrugged off the garment and hung it over a nearby chair. Her hands
curled over the bedding as his fingers moved over the buttons of
his dark green waistcoat.

Somewhere at the back of her mind she chastised herself for
looking. It was not her place. Yet, the vicar’s words kept bouncing
in her skull: husband and wife. They were married now, for life.
Surely, there was no harm in watching her husband remove his
clothing? Verily, she loathed him but there was no doubt he was a
fine male specimen. She swallowed the lump in her throat as he
dropped his waistcoat near his coat. He remained with his back to
her for a few seconds, fumbling with something. Curious, Emily
lifted herself on his elbows. What was he doing?

Comprehension dawned on her when he shook his cravat off his
neck, folded it and laid it on the chair. He started to turn around
and she threw herself back on the bed, eyes shut, afraid that he’d
see her ogling and think she cared. She didn’t. She had an
inquiring mind. That was all. She’d read about the male anatomy and
was curious to see it in the flesh. Maybe, even touch
it.

She pressed her legs together. Would William be as hard as he
looked? Would his flesh mold beneath her fingers? She heard the
heavy drop of his boots as he removed them. What would come next?
His trousers, or his shirt?

Carefully, she snuck a peak. Disappointment coursed through
her. He’d pulled his shirt from under his trousers, the long
garment hiding the bottom half of his anatomy from view as he
discreetly removed what was left of his clothes. Reason told her to
go to sleep already, but her treacherous body had other thoughts.
Mesmerized, she stared as he bent over the washing basin again and
splashed water on his face. Oh, but to be water at that moment.
Droplets clung to the shadow of his beard like shining stars in a
dark night. Some rolled downwards like falling stars, vanishing
down his neck and the open V of his shirt. Was that chest hair she
saw?