Page 117 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
“How sweet of you to compliment an old woman.” The dowager countess’s eyes twinkled. “I was only eighteen when Andrew was born.”
“So young,” Emma said softly.
Although, really… was it?
Emma herself was only twenty, and she was with child. At least, he dearly hoped she was. She would not even be forty before their first son or daughter was grown.
A disturbance on the stage captured their attention, and they took their seats, since it seemed the performance was soon to begin.
“I understand that I have you to thank for ensuring my husband got home safely after his jaunt to Essex,” Emma murmured to Longley.
One side of Longley’s mouth hitched up. “He would have been fine anyway. His coachman takes good care of him.”
“Nevertheless, thank you. It was a relief to know he wouldn’t be alone.”
Vaughan squirmed. He knew he’d behaved poorly that day, but he hadn’t realized how worried Emma had been. He was ashamed to have been the cause of it.
“I won’t alarm you like that again,” he promised.
To his surprise, she laughed. “I’ll admit that I don’t know a lot about men, but I know enough to suspect that you certainly will be driving about soused at some point in the future. It’s enough to know that you will be careful and have someone with you who can watch over you.”
“I’m always careful.” Except, perhaps, when it came to people’s feelings. “You never need worry about my safety when traveling. I take the necessary precautions.”
She turned to him, her expression soft. “Thank you.”
At that moment, the performance began, and they fell silent.
Vaughan watched without speaking, but beside him, Emma and the dowager countess conversed quietly throughout. Emma made insightful comments about the performance and the play itself. He was so proud to call her his.
He took advantage of the dim lighting to touch her as often as he could. When he shifted position, his arm brushed hers. When he moved his legs, he rubbed his thigh against hers. And when he couldn’t resist for any longer, he raised her hand to his lips.
They spend the intermission talking among themselves, and after the opera drew to a close, they parted ways from Longley and the dowager countess and drove back to Carlisle House. He escorted Emma to her front door and paused on the threshold. She tilted her face toward his, her eyes shining in the dark.
He was tempted to pack her back into the carriage and take her to his home where she belonged, but he needed to be patient. Instead, he cupped her face and gave her the gentlest of kisses.
She pressed against him, silently begging for more, and he obliged, dipping his tongue into her mouth, tasting her unique flavor, and rocking against her abdomen. His pulse picked up, and with a groan, he drew away.
He wasn’t going to defile his wife tonight. Not out here where anyone could see, and especially not after he’d promised he’d woo her.
Resting his forehead on hers, sharing breath, he asked, “May I call on you again tomorrow?”
After two weekson the receiving end of Vaughan’s courtship, Emma could barely think straight around him. He called on her every day and escorted her to balls, the park, and to the gardens. He gifted her enough flowers to fill the drawing room—and, when no one was looking, he slipped her a box of the most exquisite chocolate she’d ever tasted.
He’d even returned with her to the bookshop, where they’d perused the shelves and discussed what they’d each been reading. He’d been the perfect gentleman. Every day, she craved him more, yet he always bid her farewell with nothing more than a kiss.It was driving her mad.
He was treating her as if she were a virginal miss, and she wasn’t sure what to think of that. She ached for his skin against hers and his cock inside her. He’d introduced her to a world of pleasure, and now she missed it.
Still, she had to admit that she enjoyed his attention. There wasn’t a moment she spent with him when he didn’t make her feel cherished, but she wouldn’t have minded if he’d taken her to the bedchamber and ravished her either.
She tried to corral her thoughts—and desires—enough to concentrate on the present moment. It was a sunny but cold afternoon, and they were walking in the park. The breeze carried the scent of damp earth and the ground was dappled with sunlight and shadow.
It was cool enough that she was tempted to close her eyes and bask in the slight warmth every time they passed through a sunny patch. She kept them open, though, because really, one ought not to walk around without being able to see where they were going.
Their conversation about a ball they’d attended the previous evening tapered off, and they walked in amiable silence.
Emma’s stomach fluttered. She’d been intending to broach a subject with him for several days now, and she wouldn’t get another opportunity as perfect as this. She hesitated, though, because she’d been enjoying their time together and didn’t want to cause any awkwardness.
“What is it?” Vaughan asked, glancing over at her. “You seem anxious.”
