Page 71 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
She straightened her skirt, which was slightly rumpled from sitting. “I shall do that.”
He hesitated. “You comported yourself very well with the Snowes. I was proud to call you my duchess.”
A faint flush highlighted her cheekbones, and a smile broke across her face. Too late, he realized that his praise might have nurtured any misplaced romantic feelings she had toward him.
“Thank you, Vaughan,” she said softly. “I am glad to have pleased you.”
His cock stirred again, as her words brought to mind other ways she could please him. He gulped. He needed to distance himself from her as soon as possible. It made sense that she would get attached to him. He was her first lover. But he couldn’t afford for the matter to go any further.
“Emma….”
She looked at him expectantly.
He tried to make his mouth shape the words. To tell her that he would be leaving tomorrow. But instead, he clasped her shoulders and kissed her.
Her small intake of breath urged him on, and his hands journeyed down her body to settle on the swell of her hips. His tongue delved between her lips, tasting sweetness and a hint of vanilla.
He clutched her tighter.
“Oh!” The squawk came from behind them.
He released her immediately and used his body to shield her from the maid, who’d entered unannounced. The maid excused herself, but the mood had been broken.
CHAPTER 17
Norfolk,
December, 1819
The first dropof rain landed on the top of Vaughan’s head just as he guided the horse to a stop outside the stables. He glanced over his shoulder at Ashford Hall and tried to ignore the flash of guilt that arose from the knowledge he’d been avoiding Emma.
He hadn’t gone to her last night, and then he’d left to go riding soon after dawn this morning. She didn’t deserve that. He needed to get over his dread of having an uncomfortable conversation and just do it.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he dismounted. He rubbed the horse’s neck and slipped him a treat, then looked up at the sky, where the clouds were rapidly darkening from gray to ominous black.
“Your Grace,” the stable master called as he jogged out from the stables, shielding his face with his hand. The rain was still light but growing heavier with every passing moment.
“Here.” Vaughan handed him the reins and stroked the horse’s soft muzzle before he was led away.
Vaughan hurried toward the house, hoping to get inside before he was soaked. If he got wet, he’d be tempted to delay the conversation with Emma again, and he didn’t need any more excuses for doing that. He’d already been cowardly enough.
What did it matter if he liked the warm, open way she gazed at him, or how passionately she came apart beneath him? This wasn’t a love match—it was a marriage of convenience, and they both needed to remember that.
He took the stairs two at a time, relieved when he entered the foyer and was sheltered from the rain. He checked the morning room, where Emma liked to spend time, but she wasn’t there. Undeterred, he knocked on the door of her bedchamber, and when there was no response, opened it and looked inside. The room was empty.
Knowing he could search the house for hours without finding her, he went to the room behind the kitchen, hoping Mrs. Travers would be there. She was jotting notes on a worn piece of paper, squinting at the words as though having difficulty reading her own handwriting.
“Have you seen the duchess?” he asked.
She rose to her feet, frowning. “She took a hamper from the kitchen earlier and set out on foot to find you. I think she was hoping to share a picnic lunch.”
His stomach sank. Emma was out there, somewhere, in the rain?
“She hasn’t come back?” He sounded more pleading than he’d have liked.
“I’m afraid not.” She pursed her lips. “She isn’t in her bedchamber?”
“No.”
