Page 61 of To Catch an Earl

Alex whistled softly.

“The Sancy diamond,” she sighed reverently, inspecting the jewel in her right hand. “A pale yellow, shield-shaped diamond. It weighs over fifty carats and was purchased in Constantinople in the sixteenth century by the French ambassador to Turkey, the Seigneur de Sancy. He brought it to France, where Henry III, who was sensitive about being bald, used it to decorate the cap he always wore to conceal his head.”

She smiled at the jewel, clearly delighted by the history behind it. “During the next reign, when Sancy was made Superintendent of Finance, Henry IV borrowed it as security for a substantial loan to hire soldiers. A messenger was dispatched with the jewel, but never reached his destination; thieves had followed him. Knowing that the man was utterly loyal, Sancy searched for him, and when his body was discovered in a shallow grave, Sancy had him disinterred and cut open.”

Her eyes widened at the gruesome tale. “And guess what? They found the diamond in the servant’s stomach. He’d swallowed it to prevent it from being stolen!”

Alex grimaced. “I hope it’s been thoroughly washed.”

She grinned. “It ended up in the possession of Cardinal Mazarin, who gave it to Louis XIV.”

She held up the pink stone in her other hand. “This is the Hortensia diamond, from India, named after Hortensia de Beauharnais, Napoleon’s stepdaughter. Napoleon used to wear it on the fastening of his epaulette braid—until Father stole it from the Ministry of the Marine.”

“Amazing,” Alex muttered, and he wasn’t sure if he was talking about the treasure or the woman in front of him. Her joyous spirit was infectious. He loved the way she was always game for an adventure. She was one ofthose women who would follow their man anywhere, even into battle, like the wives and mistresses who’d followed the drum around the Peninsular and even to the fields of Waterloo. He wanted to catch her up in his arms, swing her around, and kiss her.

She dropped the jewels back into the tin with a clatter and dusted the soil from her hands, then glanced over at him with a mischievous grin. Alex looked down to see what was so amusing and groaned inwardly at the state of his clothes. He’d absentmindedly wiped his muddy hands on his thighs. His breeches were covered in grass stains from where he’d been kneeling, and his boots were never going to be the same. His bootmaker, Hoby, would be horrified.

Her teasing laughter bubbled up. “What a sight! The illustrious Earl of Melton, covered in mud like a pig in a sty!”

Alex narrowed his eyes and feigned indignation, but all he could think of was how goodshelooked. Her skin was flushed, her pelisse molded to her figure in the most provocative way, and his body warmed despite the evening chill.

He took the box from her lap, placed it beside her on the grass, then took her hand and helped her to her feet. A sudden blast of wind shook the trees, and the first fat raindrops spattered around them, bouncing the leaves. Alex barely noticed. Her face was turned up to his, her lips parted invitingly. The impending storm hung in the air between them like a static charge, and anticipation made the hairs on his arms stand up. His gaze dropped to her mouth.

Her smile faded as a new awareness filled her face, a recognition of the fact that they were alone in the middle of the forest, with no one around for miles. She licked her lips and took a step back toward the cover of the trees.

He followed.

“We’ve had terrible weather recently,” she murmured, and Alex almost smiled at the sudden nervousness in her voice. “They’re calling it the year without a summer.”

He closed the gap between them. She gave a little gasp as her back hit the trunk of a huge horse chestnut tree.

“Is that right?” he asked lazily.

She nodded, eyes wide. He regarded her from beneath his lashes and enjoyed the flush of pink that crept up her neck to her cheeks.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said breathlessly.

“Like what?”

She shook her head and gave another flustered laugh. “As if you’ve just come to a decision.”

“Do I look like I want you?” His boots touched her skirts. “Do I look like I’m thinking of all the depraved things I want to do to you? Because I am.”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and he would have laughed if desire hadn’t been riding him so hard.

“I’ve wanted to join you in that carriage all day,” he admitted, ruthlessly holding her gaze. “I wanted to climb in there, push you back on the seat, and make love with you again.”

He leaned in, so his chest touched hers and he could feel her little pants of arousal. “I want to see you. All of you. I want to see my hands on your skin. Your nipples wet from my mouth. I want to see the look on your face when you come.”

Emmy could barely catch her breath. The way Harland was looking at her made her heart hammer against her ribs and heat pool between her legs. She’d been fighting her attraction for him all day. It was impossible to watch the grace and power of his movements and not imagine the weight of him on top of her.

His eyes were the same blue-grey as the clouds above them. Thunder rumbled overhead, as if someone were rolling barrels over the flagstone floor of heaven. Another gust of wind shook the trees, and the rain started in earnest, a steady hiss pelting the leaves and hitting the ground.

A matching wildness rose up inside her. She loved storms, the ferocity, the drama. She reached up, caught the lapels of his coat in her fists, and raised herself on tiptoe.

It was all the encouragement he needed; he kissed her, deep and openmouthed. It was hard, almost bruising, and it released a flood of dark hunger so intense that Emmy shuddered against him. She could taste the anger in him, the frustration. The desire that matched her own.

She groaned into his mouth at the forbidden pleasure of it. Her knees buckled, and she clutched his coat in her fists just to stay upright. His hands pulled up her skirts with rough urgency, and she gave an excited whimper of assent.

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