The Forbidden Lord (24 page)

But she couldn’t tell him. He didn’t want love or “any of that nonsense.” So instead she showed him, giving up her body to his hot thrusts, reveling in the way they sent her reeling into a mindless dream.

“My darling,” he whispered as he drove into her with an almost frantic pace. “Yes…yes, Emily…”

Then he plunged into her so deeply, she thought he’d reached the very center of her soul. And at that moment, the tension broke inside her with a burst of light and unbearable release. She was still arched against him, her fingers digging into his back, when he cried out her name and spilled himself inside her.

For a moment, the world ceased to exist. There were only the two of them joined together, suspended in sweet intimacy.

Then he collapsed on top of her. And as she floated slowly back to consciousness, sated and
rapt and near to swooning with pleasure, it dawned on her that it was over. Now. Forever. She would never have him again.

That’s when she turned her face aside and wept.

At first Jordan was conscious only of the most marvelous sense of fulfillment he’d ever experienced in his life. Emily was completely his. Despite his fears for her, she had entered into their lovemaking with an enthusiasm that was endearing. He felt sure he’d pleased her. God knows she’d pleased him.

He buried his face in her slender neck, marveling once more at the softness and delicate fineness of her skin. Then he heard the sobs.

She was crying! He pushed himself off her in alarm. Good God, he’d hurt her more than he realized!

Stretching out next to her, he cupped her cheek in one shaky hand. “I tried not to hurt you, darling. I’m sorry, so sorry.”

She shook her head wildly, struggling to regain her breath between hiccuping sobs. “You didn’t…hurt me.”

The tension in his chest eased a little. “Then why are you crying?”

Scrubbing tears away with her hand, she gazed at him with reddened eyes. “Because it was so…wonderful. And I’ll never get to do it again.”

A laugh escaped his lips before he could stop it. “Even I can’t do anything about that. I’m afraid a woman can only be deflowered once in her life.”

The words sobered him: only once. He’d done the unthinkable—he’d taken a woman’s innocence. He waited for the anger to come, the sense of betrayal that she’d managed to accomplish with trickery what no other woman had. Yet all he felt was
happiness that it had been him and no one else.

“I…I don’t mean the deflowering,” she stammered. Color suffused her face as she glanced away. “I mean, you and I shall never make love again.”

“I don’t see why not.” He stroked her golden hair, a strange peace settling over him as he made the only possible decision he could. He’d always known what would be expected of him if he ever made love to a woman like Emily. But he hadn’t thought he’d be so pleased about it. “Certainly we must be discreet until we marry, but after that—”

“Marry!” She sat up, crossing her arms over her breasts in a vain attempt at modesty. “You aren’t going to marry me, Jordan! You can’t!”

Her reaction surprised him. “Of course I can. And I will, now that I’ve taken your virginity. I’m not such a cad as to debauch a woman, then send her home without so much as a fare-thee-well.”

“Then give me a fare-thee-well. But you needn’t marry me—I told you that from the beginning. This was a bargain, that’s all. It was the only way I could think of to keep you silent.”

Slipping from the bed, she hurried to where her chemise lay and pulled it on. He stared down at the red stain she’d left behind.
A bargain, that’s all
. The horrible words pounded into his brain. Did she truly see it that way?

Well, it didn’t matter how she saw it, he thought wearily. It didn’t change anything. He sat up, wishing she hadn’t left the bed so quickly. “Emily, be practical. We must marry. It’s the only thing that will save your reputation.”

“No one knows of this. It needn’t affect either of our lives.”

“Too late for that.” He climbed from the bed and approached her. He gathered her in his arms, and
though she stood stiffly, she let him hold her. “I could never let you walk away now. What if you find yourself with child?” Tipping her chin up, he stared into her anxious face. “Would you deprive the child of his father?”

“No, but…it’s not likely, is it? We only…I mean, it was just once—”

“Believe me,” he said bitterly, thinking of his parents, “just once is all it takes.”

Her face turned ashen. “I’ll deal with that problem if it happens. But I shan’t let you marry me. I know you must think that I planned it all along, but truly, I didn’t come here expecting you to marry me!”

“I
know
that.”

“I-I thought you would be delighted to have me without any obligation. I didn’t expect anything else. Truly, I didn’t! I would never force you into marriage!”

He didn’t know whether to be pleased or insulted by her frantic eagerness to convince him. “I believe you, darling.” He cradled her close. “I’m offering marriage because I choose it. I
want
to marry you.”

“No, you don’t. You’ve said a thousand times you have no use for virgins.”

“I know what I said. If matters had been different, I wouldn’t have sought one out. But I’ve already had the virgin, so honor dictates I must marry her.”

She twisted away from him, her face filling with hurt. “Honor? That’s why you wish to marry me? To preserve your honor?”

“Now, Emily—” he began in a soothing voice as he reached for her.

Swatting his hands away, she caught up her
gown and pressed it to her chest like a shield. “I don’t want your honor!”

With a scowl, he found his drawers and drew them on. This was turning into a lengthy discussion, the last thing he wanted right now. What he wanted was to take her back to bed and make love to her again.

But it appeared she would have none of that. Obviously, she wanted him to make some foolish vow of love. Well, she was
not
getting that from him. Bad enough he was so obsessed with her that even the thought of marrying her made his blood race and his hands itch to hold her again. That was all the power over him he wished to give her.

“We are going to be married, Emily,” he said evenly as he advanced on her. “That’s the only way to fix this situation.”

“There is nothing to fix!”

“Isn’t there? Come now, Emily, you were so desperate for my silence that you ruined your entire future to obtain it. I’d say there’s a great deal that needs fixing, and marrying me will certainly do it! Nesfield won’t be able to touch you then.”

Frantically, she scrambled into her gown. “You don’t understand! I have to continue my masquerade, and you mustn’t stop me! I won’t let you stop me!”

“Why?” He grabbed her by the shoulders as she tried to pull up her gown. “What is so important about this masquerade that you’d go to such lengths to protect it?”

For a moment, he thought she might actually tell him. She looked as if she wanted to tell him. Then her face stiffened, and she shifted her gaze to the door behind his back. “Let me go, Jordan. Unless you intend to keep me a prisoner here, I’m leaving. Now.”

He dug his fingers into her shoulders, fighting the urge to shake her senseless. “What do I have to do to prove I have only your welfare at heart? You said once that you couldn’t trust me because I felt only lust for you. But I’ve offered you marriage. If that doesn’t prove you can trust me with the truth, what will?”

She slumped in his arms. “It’s not a matter of trusting you. If I…tell you, then I risk a more certain ruin than anything so paltry as the loss of my virginity. More than that I cannot say.”

“Nesfield, devil take him. I won’t let him hurt you, do you hear?”

“You can’t stop him.”

He thrust her away and strode to where his clothes lay on the floor. “We’ll just see about that,” he snapped as he dressed.

“No!” She jerked up her gown, then ran to him and grabbed his arm. “No, Jordan, you
must
leave him alone!”

“He’s taking advantage of an innocent young woman. I will
not
leave him alone!”

“You promised!” she cried as she clung to his arm. “You said if I came to your bed, you would keep silent!”

He froze, looking down at her pale face and the panic in her eyes. Her unfastened gown—that damned scarlet gown—hung so low he could see the lacy edge of her chemise, and beneath it, the creamy swell of one breast.

“I did my part,” she said in an aching voice. “Won’t you do yours?”

Deuce take her. He couldn’t refuse when he knew how much she’d relinquished for his silence.

And yet…She’d asked him not to say anything to Pollock or Nesfield. He could only assume that
she would also consider his speaking to Lady Dundee a violation of their agreement.

But there was one person whom he
could
speak to, someone who could make her recognize the wisdom of marrying him.

“All right.” When she stared at him warily, he straightened her gown on her shoulders so that it hid her most obvious temptations. “I won’t say anything to Nesfield or Pollock, if that’s what you wish.”

“That’s what I wish.”

“As for marrying you—”

She touched a finger to his lips. “No more about that. I don’t expect you to sacrifice yourself for propriety’s sake.”

“It wouldn’t be a sacrifice,” he whispered, and meant it.

“All the same, you needn’t marry me.” When he went rigid, she added, “Please, let’s not discuss it anymore. I only want to go, before they discover I’m missing. The hackney coach is waiting outside—”

“I’m not letting you ride about town in a hackney at this hour,” he said firmly. “I’ll take you home in my coach.”

“What if someone sees us together and guesses—”

“At three
A.M
.? No one will see us. And if it makes you feel better, I’ll stop a short distance from Nesfield’s.”

She looked relieved. “Thank you. To be truthful, I didn’t fancy the long ride back with that…that awful man in the hackney coach. I think he was a little drunk.”

“No doubt. Now, why don’t you get out of that gown and wash up over there.” He gestured toward the basin of water on his dressing table. “I’m
sure I can find one of my sister’s gowns for you to wear home that’s not so…provocative.”

At her blush, he nearly smiled. Somehow even in her “fallen” state, she managed to be as pure as ever.

“While you’re dressing,” he added, “I’ll rouse the coachman.”

And tell him to prepare for a trip—a long trip
. Because no matter what she thought, this night was not over yet.

E
mily climbed into the Blackmore carriage and sat on the far end of the seat facing forward. Her gown was a little snug and too long—Jordan’s stepsister must be tall and slender. But at least it didn’t show as much of her as the other one had.

When Jordan entered a few moments later, he sat next to her. After ordering Watkins to drive on, he took her hand in his. “You look tired. It’s been a long night for you, hasn’t it?”

“Yes.” In truth she was utterly exhausted. Seduction had its pleasures, but it was certainly draining.

He closed the curtain, casting them into nearly complete darkness. Then shifting so that he sat with his back braced against the side of the coach, he drew her onto his lap and cradled her head against his chest. “Here, why don’t you rest a bit? I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

As he wrapped his arms around her, she relaxed against him. She
was
tired. If she could only close her eyes for a moment…“I’m not hurting you?”

“Not at all. Besides, it might be the last time I can hold you like this.”

Sudden tears filled her eyes, and she was thankful he couldn’t see them in the darkness. Yes, the last time. Although lying in his embrace was an indulgence she could ill afford, she couldn’t bear to throw the moment away.

But she doubted she’d be able to sleep. So much had happened, so much she wanted to think about….

It seemed like only seconds later that she was startled awake by a rumbling noise. A somber gray light filtered into the carriage from behind the curtains, dulling the brilliant gold of the brocade cushions.

Still, there was enough light that she could see everything in the carriage clearly, where before it had been pitch-black. They must be nearing her street, which was well lit by oil lamps.

Another low rumble sounded from behind her, and she shifted to look up at Jordan. He was snoring, of all things. That was what had awakened her. She smiled. It was an endearingly normal activity, one she wouldn’t have connected with the Earl of Blackmore. Earls weren’t supposed to snore. Or sneeze or eat or do any of those human things the rest of the population engaged in. They were supposed to have servants to do those things for them, she thought wryly.

Who would ever have thought that she’d grow so familiar with an earl that she’d be listening to him snore?

She touched his cheek, rough with its evening growth of beard, and gazed fondly at the features
relaxed in sleep. A bittersweet pang made her jerk her hand away. It was too tempting to look at him like this, to think that she could see this sight every morning if she were only willing to sacrifice her self-respect.

She couldn’t believe he’d offered to marry her. She’d expected him to be delighted not to have to wed her after bedding her. Obviously, she’d misjudged his character entirely. If she’d guessed he would feel that way, would she have been so ready to offer herself to him?

Glancing up at his slightly curving mouth, she sighed. Yes. She was such a weakling. She didn’t regret a single moment of their night together. It was no wonder young women fell so easily under the spells of wicked men. If other men were half as adept at seduction as Jordan…

For a moment, she imagined what being his wife might be like. They could make love whenever they wanted. During the winter they would cuddle under the blankets, kissing and touching and doing all those scandalous things he’d done to her tonight. During the summer, they could make love in the garden—

She blushed. The very idea! To make love outside where anybody might see them…What a wanton thought! It proved how far she’d fallen.

Yet nothing had changed from before. He was as forbidden to her as ever. Perhaps she might ignore the difference in their stations, the fact that he’d spent his entire life avoiding marriage, and even the fact that he didn’t love her—but there was still one glaring reason she couldn’t marry him.

Her masquerade. Once he found out why she’d been pretending to be Lady Emma, once he discovered that Nesfield wanted to ruin his closest friend’s plans for happiness, he would recoil from
her in disgust. How could he forgive her for deceiving his friend and thus deceiving him?

With a sigh, she gingerly disentangled herself from Jordan’s limp arms, then slid off his lap and took a seat opposite him. She drew the curtain aside, fully expecting to see the lambent glow of oil lamps on wet streets.

But there were no cobbled streets, no houses looming dark in the still night like hulking beasts awaiting the dawn. Dawn was already here—overcast and gloomy, but still dawn. And all she could see through the drifts of dust raised by the coach’s wheels were miles and miles of green fields crisscrossed by hedges.

She jerked the curtains open, her heart skipping a beat. For goodness sake, they were not in London—they were in the country!

“Wake up, Jordan!” she cried, leaning forward to jerk his arm. “Your mad coachman has taken us into the country!”

Jordan’s snoring halted abruptly, and he opened his bleary eyes to stare at her. “What the devil—”

“We’re not in London! I don’t know how far outside the city we are, but it’s morning, so we must have gone quite far! You must make your coachman turn back! If I don’t get into the house before someone discovers I’m gone…” Despair overcame her.

Jordan sat up, then groaned. “Deuce take it, my leg’s gone to sleep.” He rubbed it with both hands.

“All of you went to sleep, curse you!” She grabbed one of his arms. “Stop that! There’s no time to waste! Make him halt and turn back!”

“Who?”

If she’d had a reticule, she would have hit him over the head with it. “Watkins, of course! Your fool coachman has taken us into the country!”

As if finally comprehending what she’d been trying to tell him for the last few minutes, he glanced out the window. “I think you’re right.”

Exasperation made her voice strident. “Then stop him, for goodness sake! Make him turn back!”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t? Of course you can!”

“When Watkins gets it in his head to go off for a drive in the country, there’s no stopping him. We’ll just have to settle back and enjoy the ride.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! You don’t have to—” She broke off, eyes narrowing. He looked entirely too nonchalant. Obviously, the wretch had planned this. “Where are we going, Jordan?”

“I have no idea.”

“Curse you, this is no joking matter! Answer me! Where are we going?”

His eyes met hers, steady and clear. “You’re right, of course. This is not a joking matter.”

“
Where are we going?
”

“North.”

That stymied her. “North?”

“As I said earlier, we
are
going to be married.”

It took a moment for his meaning to sink in. But when it did, she stiffened in outrage. “You’re taking me to Gretna Green? Against my will? You…you wretch! You despicable, deceitful—”

“Watch it, my dear, you’re talking to your future husband,” he said with a smirk.

She pounded on the ceiling with her fist. “Stop the coach, Watkins!” she shouted. “Stop it now!”

The coach rumbled on.

“He won’t stop unless I command it,” Jordan said. “Besides, what good would it do if he set you down here in the middle of the road? Will you walk back to London?”

“If I have to!”

“You might as well stop fighting it. You know marrying me is the only solution.”

“You can’t
force
me to say the vows. You’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming into the church!”

Her vehemence seemed to startle him. Then his eyes narrowed. “If I have to,” he echoed her earlier words.

A howl of rage tore from her as she looked for something, anything to throw at him. His hat sailed across the carriage and then his leather gloves. He dodged them both, alarm crowding his features.

She’d just lifted one of the cushions when he grabbed her hands. “Pax, Emily! Good God, you’d think I was taking you to your execution!”

The fight drained out of her all of a sudden, and she slumped against the seat with a groan. What would Lord Nesfield say when he found out she was gone? How long would it be before he assumed she had simply run off? Then how long before he took it upon himself to act?

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” she whispered mournfully.

He squeezed her hands. “Then tell me, darling. I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes to free you from Nesfield’s control.”

She lifted her gaze to his, torn unbearably between the urge to unburden herself and the sure knowledge that she couldn’t. If she told him about Lord Nesfield’s threats, he’d no doubt race back to London in a rage and threaten the marquess with bodily harm. A lot of good
that
would accomplish. Lord Nesfield had an ironclad case against her, and no blustering or threats on Jordan’s part could change that. Indeed, Jordan’s interference would prompt the marquess to act on his threats. And there was nothing Jordan could do to stop it.

No matter how much influence Jordan had, he couldn’t undo the events leading to her mother’s death. Or to the strange quirk of fate that had given Lord Nesfield power over her.

Much as she longed to tell him, she couldn’t. She mustn’t.

Her only recourse was either to convince him to turn back…or find some way to escape him between here and Gretna Green. The journey was long, after all, and they’d have to stop periodically. That’s when she would make her escape. And if she did it soon, she might even reach London before too much damage had been done.

She glanced at his expectant face. In the meantime, she had to put him off.

“Emily?” he prodded. “Why don’t you tell me all of it?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He grimaced, apparently sensing how close she’d come to revealing the truth. “It matters to me.”

“I’ll tell you. But not now.”

“When?”

What could she say that would pacify him until she could make her escape? It came to her in a flash of brilliance. “I’ll tell you after we’re married.”

Suspicion darkened his eyes. “So you’ve changed your mind? You’re saying you’ll marry me?”

She hated lying to him, especially about this, but what choice did she have? “Yes.”

“Why?”

She threw her hands up in a helpless gesture. “Because you’re giving me no choice, you ninny. I’m practical enough to realize I can’t fight you. So I’ll marry you.” When he still looked skeptical, she
added bitingly, “Though you can’t expect me to like it.”

His lips tightened into a grim line. “You needn’t make it sound like a death sentence.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that…this will alter my life dramatically.”

“For the better, I hope.” Releasing her hands, he leaned back against the cushioned seat. “There’s no reason to wait until we’re married to tell me the truth, you know.”

“Once we’re married, I’ll be sure I can trust you. Then I won’t be afraid to reveal everything.”

His eyes glittered darkly. “Devil take it, you know you can trust me now.”

It tore at her to see the hurt in his face, especially now, when he looked so unlike an earl, all rumpled from sleep with his hair tousled. But she had no choice. “Please, Jordan,” she said softly, “you’ve already won. What does it matter if you wait a week or two to hear my sad tale?”

A strange light flickered in his eyes. “A week or two? No, I don’t suppose it does matter.”

She relaxed against the seat. Now she must figure out how to escape him. First, she had to stop the coach. Then she had to distract him long enough to escape. Hardest of all, she had to procure transportation to London. How in the world could she manage that?

Suddenly her stomach growled, providing her with a flash of inspiration. “Are you planning to starve me until we reach Gretna Green?”

“I wasn’t planning to starve either of us,” he said tersely. “I thought we’d eat breakfast in Bedford. I’m known at the White Cloak Inn. They’ll take good care of us.”

She didn’t want to be taken good care of, and
she certainly didn’t want an inn where he was known. “How much farther?”

He knocked on the ceiling and repeated her question to Watkins. The answer made him frown. “I’m afraid it’ll be another couple of hours or so. You woke up sooner than I expected.”

“So,” she clipped out, “you
do
intend to starve me. What a wonderful way to begin a marriage.”

He sighed. “All right then. We’ll stop at the next inn we come to. Will that be to your satisfaction, milady?”

“Perfectly.”

“You’d best eat hearty,” he grumbled. “I’d like to reach Leicester by this evening.”

Not if she could help it. Though she would dearly love to wait until tonight to escape, she didn’t dare let that much time elapse.

The first inn that came into sight was a wretched affair indeed, aptly titled The Warthog. A ramshackle, timber-framed house with a weathered sign, it nonetheless had a bustling inn yard filled with carts and mail coaches and the occasional gig. It obviously catered to travelers of a poorer class, who could only afford the few pence it took to purchase sausages and oat bread for their breakfast.

Even her pinchpenny father would never have stopped at a place like this. But it suited her needs perfectly, for its customers were the sort of people more likely to help her than those of a richer and more wary class.

“Here,” she announced. “Let’s stop here.”

Jordan cast a contemptuous look over the inn yard. “Well, my dear, you’re nothing if not brave. Aside from the unwashed customers with whom you’ll be rubbing elbows, you’re likely to find a rat or two at your table.”

“I don’t care. I’m hungry.” She tossed him a
taunting glance. “Besides, you’re an earl. Can’t you make sure we have a private dining room?” That would make everything so much easier.

“Trust me, I intend nothing else.” A calculating look passed over his face. “I’m never averse to privacy.
If
the innkeeper can produce such a thing.”

As it happened, the innkeeper, whose bristly chin and warty nose seemed appropriate in light of the inn’s name, was happy to oblige, especially when Jordan laid an impressive number of sovereigns in his hand. The man was already staring at Jordan with undisguised awe, but at the sight of the gold, he looked positively radiant.