Page 99 of Once an Angel
The countess drew herself up to her full four feet eight inches. Her voice quavered in righteous indignation. "I must say, I've never seen such a scandalous display."
Emily popped another shrimp into her mouth. "I concur heartily. Those little pink bows on Cecille's drawers shocked the bloody hell out of me."
Every eye turned to her. She stopped chewing. Perhaps now would be a good time to retire, she thought. She rose, slipping a bowl of shrimp under her arm, suddenly ravenous.
"Emily." The single word was spoken in a tone of velvet command.
She paused, then kept walking. Only three more steps to the door. She counted them in her head. One. Two.
"Emily Claire Scarborough!" Justin thundered.
The silver rattled. The crystal drops of the chandelier tinkled like tiny bells. No one even dared to
breathe.
Emily pivoted slowly on her heel. "Yes, sir?"
He pointed a finger at her, his face livid. "You little . . ." He looked at Cecille, then back at her. His
hand started to shake. A furious snort escaped him, then another.
Suddenly he threw back his head and roared with laughter. They all gaped at him. One by one the maids came peeping around the dining room door frame, their white caps bobbing. Gracie stood aside so they could see what they'd never seen before—the brooding master of Grymwilde Mansion howling with laughter. Justin sank into his chair, clutching his stomach, then rolled from the chair to the floor, still guffawing.
As her only son disappeared beneath the tablecloth, the duchess rose. "Perhaps we should retire to the drawing room for dessert," she announced as if it were the end of any flawless dinner party and the heir to the Winthrop title and fortune wasn't a raving lunatic.
"I've lost my appetite," the countess snapped, dragging Cecille toward the door in the wake of her icy wrath. "Come, darling. We're going home. And we shan't come back until we are offered a formal apology."
The rest of the family filed out, Harold and Herbert grumbling over being deprived of their after-dinner brandy and cigars. The door to the kitchen swung shut. Emily set the bowl on the sideboard and crept toward the end of the table as if approaching a mad boar. Justin was snuffling rather like one.
She stood on tiptoe and peeped over the edge of the table. Justin was doubled up against his chair, shuddering with laughter. He wiped tears from his sparkling eyes and sucked in a wheezing breath.
"Every time I think . . . dancing a jig on the table . . . those ridiculous pantaloons ... I just can't . . ." Wheezing for breath, he made pinching motions against her ankles with his long fingers. Emily giggled.
Soon her giggles deepened to chortles. Her knees folded and she dropped to the carpet beside him, hugging her own stomach as the dam of hilarity she'd stemmed all week burst with a vengeance.
Justin pounded his fist against the floor, struggling for control.
Emily gasped for breath. "I haven't seen Cecille move that fast since I waxed the soles of her ballet shoes."
He collapsed against her shoulder. "I shudder to think of it. God, you must have been awful."
"Incorrigible," she admitted modestly.
They relaxed against each other, knowing one would fall without the other. The stilted conversations
and awkward silences of the past week melted in the warmth of their nearness. It seemed only natural that Emily would reach up and brush a strand of hair from his eyes. Only natural that he would capture her hand in his own and caress her palm with his eloquent thumb.
His smile softened. "Whatever am I to do with you?"
Suddenly their faces were very close. Close enough for her to see the spark that lit his eyes. Danger scented the air, as sharp and acrid as the smell of lightning on a summer day.
"Come here, you wicked girl," he whispered. "Sit on my lap and I'll tell you a bedtime story."
Emily moaned softly as he drew her into his lap and touched his mouth to hers. It was like touching
flame to hot wax. Her lips melted beneath his, deepening his tender kiss to the ravenous flick and thrust
of his tongue against her own. A sweet, interminable ache licked through her. She tangled her hands in
