Page 58 of His Scandal
Emmeline glanced over her shoulder and saw Blythe and Maxwell giving her curious stares, and Alex, so tall and imposing, following her. She wanted to run.
Behind the tavern, a small garden was laid out around a well. A welcoming bench sat in the sunshine, but she couldn’t stop; Alex was bearing down on her, a determined, amused look on his face.
“Emmeline, stop!”
“No!”
He was gaining on her.
“Just talk to me.”
She skirted a pair of apple trees. “You have no hold on me, Alex Thornton!”
She gasped as he caught her arm and tugged. She found her back against one of the trees and Alex looming over her. Oh, how he made her weak and sent her thoughts in treacherous directions.
“Stop this foolishness!” she demanded. “Blythe will see.”
“The tree is shielding you, love. And I can see who approaches.”
Something inside her gave a painful wrench. “Why are you calling me that! Don’t you know how much you hurt me—how much this whole day has been a humiliating farce?”
He put his hands on her shoulders, holding her still. “There’s nothing humiliating here, Em.”
“Don’t call me that either!”
He lowered his voice, leaning over her. “You looked so sad when you first saw Roswald that I wanted to give you something else to think about. This was the first idea that occurred to me.”
“Well, it was foolish!”
She tried to push against his chest, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he trapped her hands with his own. She could feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath her palm.
“I don’t think so.”
He was so close, she could see that his darkeyes were depthless, like a pool at the base of a waterfall. Her breathing was labored, and suddenly she was too warm.
“I was able to spend the day at your side, talking to you—” He slid his hands up to cup her face, tilting her head back until her mouth was only inches from his. “—touching you, and now maybe—” His thumbs brushed her trembling lower lip. “—kissing you.”
As his mouth covered hers, Emmeline surrendered to every sensation she’d been fighting and closed her eyes. He tasted of ale and wickedness. Her hands slid up his back, feeling the heat of him along every curve of muscle, shamelessly pulling him against her body because she couldn’t get close enough. She wanted to lose herself in him, to forget what she was, what she’d become. When her tongue entered his mouth, she felt his knees almost give way and he pressed her hard against the tree trunk.
