Page 45 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
Chapter 16
Andrew’s eyes fixed on Emmeline, who stood frozen in the doorway, her posture tense and her breath quick. She looked as though she might die of fear, her big green eyes wide and round, her body twisting towards the door as if she wanted to run. He reached for her, resting his hand on her shoulder.
“Shh. Emmeline. It’s just me,” he said gently. “Sorry. I did not mean to startle you,” he added with a smile. He had not thought about how much of a shock she must have had—she was in her night attire, and she must have come down to find something to read. She did not, evidently, expect anyone to be there.
“Andrew,” she breathed. She slumped forward. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“I imagine not,” he said, his lips lifting in a smile. She was dressed in a long silky nightgown in grey silk, and underneath it, she wore a long white nightdress that reached her ankles. The satiny fabric of the nightgown clung to her feminine curves. Her feet were in grey silk slippers. Her long hair was tied back with a ribbon, its long, red strands like fire around her shoulders. In spite of himself, a stab of longing hit him. She was so beautiful. Her skin was pearlescent in the lamplight, her lips dark red.
She still looked mistrustfully at him.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said quietly.
He grinned. “Me neither,” he admitted. “I came down to find something to read.”
“Me too.” This time, she did smile. His heart soared. She had such a lovely smile, genuine and warm, her lovely red lips revealing white teeth in a brief flash.
“What would you like?” he asked, his voice light with interest. “We have all sorts—some horridly dull, some shockingly racy. Not much in between.”
She giggled. It was a bright, happy sound and it lifted his soul. He had been too worried about Grandma to sleep, and that delightful giggle lit his heart, easing his fear.
“I don’t know what might be better. Something boring, to make me sleep, or something racy, to distract me. What would your recommendation be?” she asked archly.
He laughed. “The latter. When I can’t sleep, I read something racy. Nothing better than a bit of honest distraction and foolery to ease your worries.”
“Really?” Her green eyes sparkled with amusement and curiosity. “I would not have imagined you in favour of racy reads.”
“No?” he smiled. “Do I seem so boring, then?” he asked, then regretted asking. He knew her well enough to know she would tell him he was boring if that was her honest feeling.
She tilted her head, making his heart race. When she looked at him with that studying, considering look, it made him flush with warmth. Her gaze seemed to linger on his chest and shoulders, and he wondered, just for an instant, if she had anything like the desire he did. A prickle of longing traced down his spine.
“No,” she said after considering him carefully. “No, I do not think you are boring. Mysterious, yes. Difficult to understand, certainly. But not in the least boring.”
“Mysterious?” He couldn’t hide how much of a compliment that seemed like.
She looked at him steadily. “Yes. No matter how often we talk, I feel as though I know nothing of you. You are hard to fathom.”
“Something must be clear, surely?” he asked, feeling a little upset by her cold assessment. At first, it had sounded like a compliment, but now he was slightly affronted. Was it not plain to see how much he liked her? Was his fondness not very obvious?
She tilted her head again. “You are remarkably stubborn,” she told him.
He roared with laughter. “Is it that obvious?” he asked, delighted in spite of himself. His grandmother had always called him stubborn, and he had never quite believed her, so to hear the same word from Emmeline was a happy thing. He frowned, as the thoughts of Grandma returned him to his worries from earlier.
“I would say it’s rather obvious,” Emmeline said slowly. He saw her frown, too, and he wondered why.
“May I help you to find a book?” he asked, longing for her to stay just a little longer. He so rarely had the chance to talk to her with nobody else present—even less than usual now that the cousins had arrived. He had not expected to encounter her tonight, let alone in her nightgown. The quiet intimacy of the moment was a rare pleasure he was reluctant to let slip away.
“No. I should return upstairs,” she said slowly. “It is late.”
Andrew looked around, aching to find some other topic to discuss. “It’s not that late,” he commented, his gaze hastening to the clock on the mantel. “It’s only half-past ten,” he added, squinting at the hands, which were just visible in the wavering light from the fireplace.
She looked at the clock. “I should sleep,” she said, her voice weary. “We will both need our strength tomorrow to support Lady Rilendale.”
“Yes,” he whispered. His hand made a fist. “I don’t know if she will wake up,” he continued, his throat aching with emotion. “Dr Wainwright said he cannot say for sure that shewillwake, or when.” He could not hold back his tears.
To his surprise, Emmeline rested a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, then relaxed at the soft warmth of her hand and took a deep breath.
“She will wake,” Emmeline said softly. “I am certain of it.”
