Page 96 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
“There is my brother. I must break the news to him that I am giving up our revenge,” Damien said.
“He will understand. He will want you to be happy above all,” Emma smiled.
“I feel free for the first time in my life. Free of fear. Free of the weight of duty. As though I can choose my direction from this point on, steered by nothing but my own will. And yours.”
Emma's hand caressed his chest which was almost transparent from the soaking. She traced the outline of his pectoral muscles, bringing a shiver to him. His own questing fingers followed the line of her back, savoring the feminine delicacy of her body. She was holding tightly to him, her cheek pressed against his chest, over his heart. Her hand explored the ridges of his ribs. She spread her fingers over his stomach and he felt his muscles tense involuntarily. His hand came to rest on the swell of her buttocks.
“How lonely a place is this?” Emma asked.
“Not lonely enough,” Damien replied.
“I see no one.”
“A farmer or a farm hand could be along at any moment.”
“We are covered. None can see where my hand rests.”
At that moment, her hand moved slightly downwards. Her spread fingers came into contact with his loins and Damien felt his body respond. Emma's touch deepened, moving lower, and adopting a stroking motion.
“They will certainly not, though my reaction may give the game away,” Damien breathed lowly.
Emma peeked up at him from beneath long lashes.
“Then do not react. Keep your face straight,” she smiled mischievously. “Are you up to it?”
Damien groaned.
“If the wrong answer means that you stop what you are currently doing, then yes. Yes, I am!
Emma chuckled but Damien could hear her own breathing coming in increasingly ragged gasps. He lowered his head to kiss her but she leaned back, smiling in a way that maddened Damien's manhood.
“That cannot be disguised. A kiss is a kiss. We must behave demurely.”
“Let them see,” Damien said and seized Emma, planting a passionate kiss on her lips. She melted into his arms and her touch increased its pressure and vigor. His hand stroked her thigh and pulled at her skirts when the sounds of a cart reached them. Moments later they sat apart, straightening their clothing as a cart drawn by an ox appeared from behind them. The farmer driving the cart tugged his forelock. Emma giggled behind her hand. Damien grinned as he returned the man's salutation.
“Come wife, let us return to our home,” he said, feeling the familiar words as though they were new to him. Emma squeezed his arm as he took the reins, holding him close.
“Your Graces,” Wilkins greeted them both after they had disembarked from the trap in Redmane Manor's stable yard. “It is my duty to inform you that aSir Silas Sutherlandhad arrived, requesting your presence, while you were out.”
Emma felt Damien tense beside her. She herself tensed, her stomach clenching with anxiety. She had become unaware of her scar while in Damien's company, particularly during their intimate moments. His obvious desire for her helped to erase it from her mind. Now it returned with a vengeance. The very mention of Sutherland’s name, the knowledge that he had been present in her home brought the memories back to her.
“What did he want?” Damien asked icily.
“To speak to Your Graces. When he was denied entry to the house, he became... troublesome,” Wilkins said, gravely.
“To what extent, Wilkins?” Emma asked. “Did he become violent?”
“No, Your Grace. But he did become threatening. Making threats and accusations in increasing volume until I was forced to allow him inside, if only to keep him quiet.”
“Is he still here?” Damien asked ominously.
“He is not, thankfully. Lady Josephine took it upon herself to speak to him and he left soon after.”
“What on earth can he be after?” Damien wondered aloud, frowning.
“He left this note, Your Grace,” Wilkins offered a folded piece of paper.
Damien opened it, and as he read, Emma saw his face darken.
