Page 74 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
Damien rolled as the soil collapsed into the roaring cataract below. The pain was intense in his shoulder, and he blacked out.
“Father… I won't let you… Not ever again. Harry…” Damien mumbled.
Emma knelt beside him, not understanding what had hurt Damien so much that he had collapsed into unconsciousness. She grabbed his upper body and pulled with all her strength to draw him further from the edge. Her will for self-destruction had evaporated in the face of Damien's imminent danger.
I knew how unstable that bank was—it always had been. How many times did Mama warn us about playing near the waterfall? I went there hoping that nature would make the choice for me—to end the burden, to ease the weight. But I will not place Damien in jeopardy!
When she was satisfied they were both safe, she ran her hands over his body, searching for the source of his pain. When she touched his right shoulder, he moaned, writhing away, trying to contort his body to protect it. Soothing him, she undid the laces of his shirt and gently put her hand beneath. A dressing was in place, and she could see the blistering around it.
A… burn? How did he come by that?
Touching him, she could feel the fine lines of scars she had seen that day in the Black Lion. Again, she wondered at the misadventures of his past that had caused them. Or were they in thepastat all? Damien's eyelids fluttered, and Emma stared into sapphire pupils.
“You're safe,” he whispered, “I thought I was going to lose you,”
“Would it not have solved all of your problems?” Emma grimaced, almost bitterly.
Damien touched her face, caressing her cheek.
“No. I have never been more afraid. Not even when I believed my father...” his voice trailed off, his eyes fixed on hers.
Lifting his head heavily, he kissed her.
It lasted long enough to leave Emma breathless. As Damien lay back down, she came with him, supporting herself with herhands. When her body came into contact with his shoulder, he groaned once more.
“Don’t do that again,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry…” she winced, pushing away from his wounded limb.
“No,blast! I could care less about that—the damned ledge I mean…”
Emma gently settled her head against the crook of his bicep. “I am sorry, it was childish of me. Sometimes, with it all, the noose gets too thick, and I can’t think. I am ashamed to say it has happened before during my sabbatical, and it was Elsie who came to my rescue. But… why do you—”
“Just don’t do it again,” Damien grunted, making a visceral effort to look at her.
His gaze met hers. Emma felt as though a veil had been lifted from behind his eyes. Suddenly, those eyes, the color of pure sea ice, were no longer opaque. She saw emotion shining through them, into the heart of the man she had despaired of ever being allowed to know.
Damien opened his mouth to speak—but Emma silenced him with a kiss. She devoured him with lips parted and breath shallow, claiming the words before they could form. And when he kissed her back, groaning low in his throat, she felt her body melt against him. His hands tangled in her hair, tugging gently,then more fiercely as he drew her closer until her breasts were crushed against his chest.
His hands found her waist, strong fingers curling beneath the fabric of her dress, caressing up her spine and then down her ribs. She shivered beneath his touch, and still, he went on, letting his palms glide along her sides—knowing, she realized, exactly where her scars lay hidden...
When his hand came to rest on the mark she still flinched from, she froze, breath caught halfway in her throat.
But Damien didn’t recoil. He didn’t pause or avert his touch. His fingers lingered, warm and firm, and his voice found her ear like a benediction.
“You are perfect,” he murmured. “Let me show you.”
The panic passed.
Her smile was slow and sure as she leaned into him again, her kisses deepening, devouring. She could feel the unmistakable pressure of his manhood growing between them, hard and insistent beneath layers of cloth. Her hips moved against it instinctively, drawing a guttural sound from his throat that made her shiver.
“Emma…”
It felt so delicious to hear her name on his lips in such a moment. Such an intimacy. It gave her a feeling of ownership over him.
He rolled her dress, agonizingly slowly down her shoulders as he kissed a line down her throat, fingers fumbling now with need, not nerves. He was too slow for Emma's growing desire.
“I can do it,” she whispered, breathless. She took over, rising to straddle him, her thighs bracketing his as she yanked open her gown with more urgency than finesse. Her stays and petticoat soon followed. Her breasts spilled beneath only the fabric of her chemise, nipples already peaked and aching to be touched.
