Page 11 of If I Loved You
“Whoa,” he said soothingly, but steadily as he strode across the room to her. “Slow down.”
“I am here under false pretenses,” she prattled. “I shouldn’t have come—I shouldn’t have accepted your aid. I thought you knew.... I never imagined you considered that your father—oh, it doesn’t matter. We shall be gone shortly. I’ve asked Mrs. Conklin—“
He took her arms firmly in his grasp, giving her a small shake. “You needn’t run off, Miss Ainsley.” Zach used a gentling tone, concerned over this very real anguish. She tried to pull from his hold but he held tight. “Regardless of who Bethany is or isn’t,” he said, thinking it not the time to investigate her lies, “my father’s will still provides for you and her. You are welcome here. Miss Ainsley, do you hear me?”
“Yes, my lord, you are speaking very loudly,” she said, but seemed to have an inability to meet his eyes.
“Wherever would you be going dressed as you are, anyway?” he thought to ask.
She shook her head fretfully, still held by him. “Mrs. Conklin was to bring me something less... fine. I would pay you back. I wasn’t stealing. But I would also need a few changes of clothes for Bethany and something warm to bundle her in.”
“Enough. You are going nowhere. Might I remind you—you haven’t anywhere to go.” He bent his head, trying to engage her eyes. She remained resistant.
“I—we—cannot stay here.” Tears threatened again, pooling around the blue of her eyes.
“Miss Ainsley, tell me why you won’t admit that your daughter was sired by my father. Do you expect a wealth of anger from me?”
This did bring her eyes to his. The blue was troubled and dark and desperate. “My lord, Bethany is not even my child, and I only met your father less than a year ago.”
Zachary remained skeptical. Truth be told, his skepticism increased with this bold statement. “Then explain to me why my father thought it necessary to include a provision in his will to care for her.”
“I don’t know. I was shocked to learn of it from you. He tried many times to give me aid, and I refused—“
“Holding out for more?” He asked bitingly, unable to resist.
Emma did now shake him off, hugging her arms about her and moving away from him. “Think what you will. It matters not to me.”
“Make me understand!” This, furiously, wanting so much for her to give him some plausible reason to trust her, to believe her. Inside, somewhere deep where male pride lived, he wanted her to prove to him that she had not been his father’s mistress, even as he deemed this impossible.
“My lord, pardon my seeming ingratitude,” she said with such frostiness, he wondered that she was the same person who’d bravely held back tears only moments before, “but I owe you nothing. My relationship with your father was our business. What he did for me was his decision. And none of it—then or now—should be of concern to you.”
“Those are now my coins afforded monthly to you, so I beg to differ,” he contradicted sharply.
“Which I have repeatedly refused. Consider yourself freed of the burden.” She turned away from him with this, but was spared further verbal assault when Mrs. Conklin entered, appearing jumpy and ill at ease. She carried several dark garmentsin her hands and gave a questioning, worried glance to Zachary. At his answering stiff nod, the housekeeper mutely laid the garments on the end of the bed and trotted off quickly, pulling the door closed behind her after only one more nervous peek at Emma.
Zach stood stiff and still while she sorted through the apparel, choosing what appeared to be one of his housemaid’s plain black gowns and then disappearing into the dressing room. Indecisive—but resolved that she must remain here—he worked his hands through his hair and waited for her to reappear. When she did in a very short amount of time, she was clad in that black, unadorned gown and once more wore her own heavy but serviceable shoes.
“Dare I ask what you are planning?” He tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to keep the irritation out of his voice.
“To be away from here, that is all,” she answered shortly and did not bother to spare him a glance as she walked purposefully to the door.
“Wait,” he called, heaving a frustrated sigh, but she did not and Zach then moved quickly, reaching the door just as she made to pull it open. His palm flattened on the thick wood and slammed it closed. “Wait,” he demanded, this time sharply. “Think about what you are doing—where might you go? How might you support Bethany?”
She didn’t turn around, but only bowed her head, one of her hands still on the door knob, the other flattened against the wood below his. He saw only the silken tresses, piled so artfully atop her head, saw the exposed creamy skin at her nape, and the despairing slump of her small shoulders. “Let me be,” she pleaded softly.
Zach shook his head slowly, but she did not see this. He should, he knew. He should let her go, exorcise her from his home and mind. “I cannot,” he admitted gruffly. “No less than before. If what you say is true, then I must know what it is about you that so captivated my father that he deemed it necessary to care for you as he did.”
She spun around quickly at this, suddenly alarmed then to find herself so close to him, for their faces were only inches apart. “Can you not imagine that he simply pitied me, and that is all? I did not invite his pity. I did not encourage it, but possibly that is all there was to it. He was kind to me, and I enjoyed his company. At times, I thought him a lonely soul who might have actually looked forward to the time he spent with Bethany and me. He was...my friend.” She’d started out slowly, stumbling, but her voice grew in steadiness as she proclaimed this likely truth. “And I miss him so,” she said with a cry.
Zachary heard her words—her response did register—but his eyes and several other senses were keenly attuned to just her lips. He watched the fullness of them move around her words, saw her tongue snake out to wet them, and knew he could only guess at their taste and texture. Unless he dared....
Without further thought to the conflict his actions might cause, he simply lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. Softly, he glided his mouth over hers, taking in her startled stiffness and indeed, the very soft heat of her mouth. He dared further, shifting his body to be nearer, resting one hand at that naked nape, drawing her closer. He felt a moan—half resistance, half unpracticed desire—escape her. Seizing upon this indecision, he pressed his lips fully unto hers just as his body leaned entirely against her. She gasped at this head-to-toe contact andZach took advantage of this as well, grazing his tongue along the seam of her lips and then satisfyingly within, touching his tongue to hers, dancing around it as he had only previously dreamed.
He felt the weight of her rounded breasts pressed against his chest, and then the evaporation of that stiffness of her form. For the smallest space of a second, she melted into him, and his body responded with a soaring desire. But this surrender lasted only a heartbeat and in the next instant she was pushing her hands between them and against his hard chest.
“No.”
That was all she said. Firm and determined, she gave a final push, and moved herself away from being trapped at the door.
