Wicked Designs (The League of Rogues) (30 page)

It irritated her that he didn’t believe her, even if she was lying. “We have. Let me go, Godric.”

“Now, now, I’ve had to play the gentleman all evening and I’m not able to last another minute behaving like a bloody saint.” His hands on her waist curled around her back and slid farther down over the curve of her bottom and clenched hard, lifting her into him.

Emily gasped.

He pressed her back against her door. The corded sinews of his muscled arms were taut beneath her hands as she tried to push him away. She had to keep her senses unclouded if she was to escape tomorrow, but it was nigh impossible to do so.

Godric thrust a thigh between her legs, the pressure flaming to life. Emily’s head fell back, offering him her throat. He dragged his mouth down from her jaw to her shoulder.

Emily barely had time to prepare herself, before he robbed her of her control, assaulting her mind and heart with a deep kiss. They moved away from the door and he turned her so the back of her knees bumped the bed and they toppled over, Godric on top. With a soft laugh, he nuzzled her cheek and rolled them over until she lay sprawled across his chest. He gazed up at her, his eyes warm, fingers gentle as he traced her spine in soothing strokes.

“What’s that look for, darling? You seem concerned.” He laughed and moved his head up to nip her collarbone affectionately.

He fascinated her. One minute fiery and possessive, and the next tender, and heart-breakingly sweet. Emily’s heart skipped. Would this be the last moment she would have with him? If she escaped tomorrow, it would be.

Tears stung her eyes and she bit her bottom lip, hoping that pain would distract from the stabbing wound in her chest. There would never be moments like this again.

“Don’t cry…please don’t cry. We’ll go slow. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Godric sat up, keeping her straddled on his lap. His thumbs brushed away her tears and he eased the ache with feathering kisses along her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her forehead.

At last he tucked her against him, and Emily surrendered, burying her face into the groove of his neck and shoulder. They remained locked this way for a moment, the mere touch enough to calm her.

When she finally wasn’t falling apart on the inside, she placed a kiss on his shoulder. Then, despite her tears and sadness, craving him desperately, she nipped him. He groaned as she flitted her tongue against the spot she’d bitten.

“You little imp!” He laughed and cupped her chin, raising her face to his. “You know I’ll get back at you for that.” He palmed her breast and when her nipple budded beneath his hand, he tweaked it. “Shall I start here? Or—” he slid his hand down her side over her thigh and onto her bottom “—here, perhaps?” He tightened his hold on her buttocks and Emily squirmed as desire flooded between her thighs.

Emily raised her eyes to his, eyes challenging him. “I think you are all talk, Your Grace.”

“I am, am I?” He growled and rolled her beneath him. Rather than undo her gown he flipped her onto her stomach, grabbed a pillow from near her head and lifted her hips, settling the pillow beneath her pelvis. Trembling, Emily looked over her shoulder at him, confused at what he meant to do. He knelt between her spread legs, and unfastened his trousers. The wicked smile he flashed her when he caught her looking sent new shivers down her legs.

Godric slid his palms up under her gown at her knees, raising the gown and petticoats out of the way, until she was bare to him. He stroked her bottom, his fingers drifting down until they reached her sex.

“So hot, you’re so wet, darling. You undo me. I can’t wait another second.” He placed himself at her entrance and, bracing one hand next to her shoulder on the bed, thrust home.

They shared a mutual cry of bliss at the connection. Part pleasure, a hint of pain as he slid out and rammed deep. Emily cried out at the ecstasy. Godric continued, dragging the tip of his arousal along her inner walls, striking a spot deep inside her that made her mindless with passion. Desperation tore through her, she needed him, more than she needed his body, this clash of bodies and souls could be their last time. Panic forced a sob from her throat, yet pleasure stole her breath.

“Em…oh Em. Darling…I love the way you feel…push your hips back…YES!” Godric’s ragged panting and rough praises unraveled her heart and soul. She came apart, blasting into a million pieces around him.

She was vaguely aware of his echoing shout, and the heavy weight of him on her back. His huffing breath against her neck was a sensual reward.

After a few moments, he recovered, his breathing more controlled as he fell onto his side. He reached for her, and Emily fit her body to his, for perhaps the last time. Tears burdened her cheeks, but Godric didn’t see them. His eyes were closed, dark lashes spiked across his cheeks.

“I love you. No matter what happens. I love you,” she whispered. He didn’t stir.

She kissed his chest where she felt his heartbeat strongest. If he’d heard her, she didn’t want him to say anything back. If he didn’t love her, the reality would wound her. If he said it, it would kill her.

Godric held Emily’s body loose against him. One of her bare legs stretched over his abdomen, and he rested a possessive hand on the soft skin of her outer thigh. Her head rested on his chest and her faint breaths betrayed her deep state of sleep. He’d worn her out tonight, she was still adjusting to his voracious appetite. She was bolder too, but she still made love with that strange mixture of wanton innocence.

It would be a lie to deny his joy at the enthusiasm and boldness in her responses. She loved him, he heard her breathe it once while asleep, and today, she’d said it without the influence of passion. She’d not taken it back, and for that he was glad.

No one had ever claimed to love him before, no woman besides his mother. He was loved by Simkins and the League, but Emily was different. He’d always assumed a woman’s love would be a burden, but it wasn’t. Her affection and loyalty strengthened him. She knew him for who he was, but she loved him anyway, loved him enough to declare her reputation worthless, but it mattered to Godric. The thought of anyone speaking ill of Emily churned his stomach.

He would do whatever was necessary to protect her honor, even if that meant giving her up. He’d told her she could stay as long as she loved him, but the truth was she could never leave him. There was only one option left for her, and for him.

Marriage
. He had to marry Emily to salvage her reputation. In return, she would have a life she wished to live, and he would give anything to see to her happy.

In the bright light of day, he knew that marriage to Emily was a terrible idea. His reputation in society was far from unsullied and while it had never mattered to him, it would affect her. Would she ever be accepted as the wife of a duke, or simply be seen as a glorified mistress? At night, though, he couldn’t help but wonder how happy they might grow to be.

He allowed himself to imagine a lifetime of nights during which Emily wound her warm body around his, and her hair spilled across his pillow like amber wheat. In his dreams she would always be there, his cunning little vixen. In a few years, babes in cradles would fill the empty ghost-ridden corners of his life, and he’d possess a family he’d never expected. He’d buy Emily a stable full of horses, a thousand hounds, whatever she desired.

Emily shifted against him, stirring slightly. Godric pulled the covers up about them to keep her warm. Only when she was asleep could he savor her—the full breasts now pressed against his chest, and the smooth muscular thighs and calves. Those legs gripped him tightly about his hips whenever he mounted her. She was sweet…and real. Nothing like the sculpted perfection of Evangeline who never liked a hair out of place or a gown rumpled. She did not really live, not like Emily. He adored the way she embraced life.

His hand slid up towards the juncture between her thighs. He slid a finger inside her, and she stirred again. Godric smiled, gently toying with her. She made that adorable sound of drugged pleasure. It took all of his willpower to stop teasing her and torturing himself. She needed sleep after the day she’d had.

Emily nuzzled his chest, rubbing herself against him as she settled down again. It struck Godric then that this moment felt right, frighteningly right. Everything he’d ever known had changed when he’d put that unconscious young lady on her bed that first night. How could it be that she’d only entered his life less than a week ago? What would happen when they were forced to accept their situation? He didn’t want to think about it. His chest tightened and his fists clenched.

The abduction of Emily Parr hadn’t changed just him. The League’s bond epitomized the hard love men shared with each other, but when it came to Emily, they were all helpless. Ashton admired Emily’s purity of soul, Charles her playfulness, Cedric her love of the outdoors, Lucien her cleverness, and Godric—he loved
everything
about her.

The thought shocked him. If he could love all the things within a person, did that not mean he loved the person? The question plagued him.

He ran a hand through Emily’s hair, coiling a silken tendril between his fingers. Never in all his years could he have expected such a creature, so different from him, to make him so happy. He lived to see her smile, to make her laugh, to kiss her. He wanted to spend all day reading with her, all night loving her. Find every ticklish spot and every place that made her moan and sigh. He wanted a life with her, but it wasn’t possible.

“Godric?” Emily’s voice cut through his brooding. He hadn’t realized she was awake.

“I’m sorry, darling, did I wake you?”

“I am a light sleeper.” She raised her head a little, her violet eyes pale and silvery in the moonlight. “May I ask you something?”

Godric fought the urge to smile. “Oh, I suppose.”

“Ashton mentioned your father, and how he—”

Godric’s smile faded. “How he disciplined me?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?” His tone was harsher than he meant. The ache of that old wound still stung.

Emily put a hand on his chest, right above his heart. “I am sorry he hurt you.”

“That is not a question.”

Her forehead creased. “No, I suppose not, but…but I wish he hadn’t hurt you. I don’t know how anyone could want to hurt you.” She pressed her lips down on his chest, in an enticing kiss. It was so pure in its affection, in its tenderness, that Godric’s throat tightened. He didn’t know how to tell her that her words meant everything to him.

Instead, he wrapped his arms about her waist and slid her up several inches, to his mouth. Her lips parted. Her fingertips stroked his jaw, and she sighed contentedly.

“I have another question,” she said at last. “A real one.”

He was amused by the shrewd gleam in her eyes. “All right then, my dear, let’s hear it.”

“When you and the others abducted me, how did you know I was in the carriage? I thought I’d fooled you with the false bottom of that seat…” She laid her palms flat on his chest and pushed up a little, which gave him a pleasing view of her breasts.

“You had me quite fooled. Ashton, however, noticed a piece of your evening gown sticking out. He devised a plan to wait for you.” Godric grinned as the memory of that night flooded him, the adrenaline, the sheer exhilaration of chasing her, fighting her, capturing her…

Emily frowned. “And what if I hadn’t gotten out of the carriage? I might have suffocated.”

“I dare say it couldn’t have been airtight.” Godric tried to lift his hips, but Emily slid an inch out of reach.

“Did you really have to use laudanum? I despised that.” She scowled now, which somehow resembled a puppy growl.

“We used it at Ashton’s recommendation. We were worried you might scream for help.”

“Why didn’t you just gag me?”

“And have you squirm in my lap the entire way? You could have fallen and injured yourself.”

“Your lap?” Her eyes were warm, but her nose wrinkled in consternation. “You carried me?”

Godric tugged one a lock of her hair, winding it around his finger. “Absolutely. Once I set eyes on you, I refused to let any other man have responsibility for you. I wanted you all to myself, which, let me assure you, was quite a battle. I had to endure nearly an hour of Charles’s grousing. He’s a dreadfully sore loser.” Godric chuckled.

Emily digested all of this in silence.

“Did you plan on seducing me before you saw me?”

That was a volatile question, and Godric decided the truth was best.

“I only meant to ruin you by bringing you here, I didn’t really intend to physically er…ruin you. There was no thought of seduction until I put you on this very bed. You were so dirty and dusty from your attempts at escape, but when I set you down… I was entranced… I had to touch you…so I did.”

“You did?”

“Only a touch, I held your face in my hands. Your cheeks were covered in dirt and I rubbed it away. It took every bit of my self-control not to kiss you. That was when I knew you had bewitched me.”

Emily was surprised, pleasantly so. She remembered little from that first night, but she had a vague memory that a handsome prince had stroked her face and nearly kissed her, a fanciful, fairytale dream, she’d thought.

Emily slid off Godric and tucked herself up in the warmth of his embrace. Sharing a bed with him now made her realize how lonely she’d be tomorrow. There would be no good morning kisses, nor more quiet afternoons in his study. There wouldn’t be any warm masculine body to cuddle up to at night when shadows lengthened across her bed.