Page 51 of If I Loved You
“And kissing,” he added. “Don’t forget the kissing.”
As if she could!
Something occurred to Emma just then. Perhaps what he called courting—and its ultimate goal—and what she knew courting to be—and her idea of the desired end result—were two different things. Now, this made more sense. Now she understood. Oh, she didn’t doubt that he wanted her. She was not blind to his watchful and appreciative glances, nor a stone to be unaffected by his kisses, but she felt deep inside her that his desires were to be a short-lived thing, and immediately an image of her sister came to mind. Men such as the earl only embarked onrelationships with girls like her for one reason. And, as they so often did, Lady M’s cautionary words haunted her just now.
She met his eyes, her own filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry, my lord. I...I have no desire to be courted by you.”
His expression did not change. She could well sense that he was trying to read her, while his eyes remained maddeningly inscrutable. A vein in his neck bulged and faded, and then repeated the motion, so that Emma was sure he wrestled internally with something, perhaps holding back words inside his clenched teeth.
She didn’t have to feign mournfulness, only attempted to project it on to him, and not at herself. “I may have given you the wrong impression,” she lied, “that I...desired or enjoyed...your kiss. I have only my inexperience to blame, and I hope you’ll pardon my lapse in judgment, and certainly anything else I may have done to give you the idea that I would want to be...courted.” Dear Lord! As thrilled as she was to have been able to utter those remarks with some conviction, she was sure no words have ever tasted more grotesquely false coming from her lips.
He continued to stare at her. Glare, really. He was glaring at her.
After several moments, when she’d become very afraid that holding her breath so frantically as she was might prove deadly, the earl stepped forward and passed Bethany over to her. Surprised, Emma received her daughter, and then felt immediately a modicum of peace, that the child created a bit of a barrier, to which she clung.
The earl strode to the door, his steps measured and stark. He turned and said to her, “Of course, you are lying to me,” which shattered any peace she might have gained. “But I’ll give youtime to get used to it. Cut MacKenzie loose, Emma. You are mine.”
It wasn’t right that a man could do that—woo you with promises he hoped you’d believe, and all in an effort to effect your own demise, in the end. She would not be a party to her own downfall.
AT SIX-THIRTY IN THEevening, Emma and Bethany set out on foot for Perry Green, Emma having dressed Bethany in her nightclothes, assuming the child would fall asleep before they returned home. They had barely started down the lane when Callum MacKenzie pulled up alongside them.
He didn’t bother to pretend that he was here for any other reason but to drive Emma to her job. She smiled happily at him—he truly was a fine gentleman. “Honestly, Callum, you are too good to me,” she protested as he lifted Bethany up onto the seat next to him. “I don’t expect you to cart me around everywhere.” She climbed up as well, and Callum gave a “Git on,” to his team and they were off.
“I don’t like the idea of you walking into Perry Green even at this hour, Miss Emma.”
Emma laughed, holding her hat in place as it was a bit windy tonight. “Callum, when are you going to drop the ‘miss’ and just call me Emma?”
If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the big man sitting on the other side of Bethany actually blushed before he answered,turning his sheepish smile upon her. “That depends on you, I guess.”
“On me? I’ve already given you leave to do so.”
“It’d not be any of my business, Miss Emma, but exactly what is the fancy earl to you?”
Emma removed her eyes from him, just the smallest hint of guilt coloring her own cheeks. “He is nothing to me,” she said and knew, even as she spoke the words, that they were false. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Methinks she doth protest too much,” Callum said gently. “Frankly, Miss Emma, if you were mine, I’d call you Emma. But I’ve a feeling your heart lies elsewhere.”
She suspected as much as well, dreadful as the very idea was to her. She cast her misting eyes to Callum, who watched her carefully with a wan smile, and could do nothing more than shrug, that one motion expressing a wealth of turmoil and sadness.
They pulled up in front of the modiste just then and even before Emma could move, she felt his hand upon hers in her lap. “I’ll be here at ten,” he said.
Emma shook her head. “You needn’t be. I don’t want you to think—“
He squeezed her hand. “You’re still my friend. True, I’d wish more, but I can see that your affections are otherwise engaged.”
Sadly, Emma nodded, “And that,Iwish otherwise.”
“Can’t tell the heart whom to love,” he said sagely and let go of her hand.
EMMA ENTERED THE SHOPon High Street just before Madam Carriere might have locked up for the night. The little French woman was coming down the stairs of the beautifully appointed shop, a tape measure thrown around her neck, and a plump pin cushion cinched at her wrist. She stopped, near to the bottom of the stairs, staring at Emma with a confused expression on her face.
Emma smiled and greeted the woman, who slowly descended the remainder of the stairs. “I’m here to start working for you,” Emma said, when the woman seemed to not understand why she might be here.
“Non,ma petite,” Madam Carriere said. “The big man—the earl—he was here to see me. He said you wouldn’t be taking the job after all,” she went on in heavily accented English. “I’ve hired a girl—even now, she is upstairs, scrubbing.”
Emma’s jaw gaped. How dare he! So absorbed was she in her fury, she paid no attention to Bethany, who was beginning to climb all over the modiste’s fine furniture. Madam Carriere’s widening eyes, trained on the child, alerted Emma of trouble. She scooped Bethany up and apologized hastily to Madam Carriere, making a quick exit before her tears ran fully down her cheeks.
Seething, she glanced up and down High Street, wondering if Callum were still about, but he was not. Walking so briskly, Bethany had to skip to keep up with her, Emma began to headhome, her anger at this moment greater than any she could ever remember. He had no right! He didn’t own her!
