Page 84 of His Scandal
She realized with satisfaction that although Alex’s tutoring had helped, it was Maxwell’s true, more confident self that Blythe seemed interested in. But her other suitors were still a part of her life, and Emmeline had to remind herself that she had interfered enough.
She had not seen Alex since the card party five days before and told herself it was for the best. When he sent a missive asking to see her, she ignored it. She had no illusions that Alex wanted more from her than merely satisfying his physical needs.
But she couldn’t help the curiosity that kept her awake at night. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering about the man who’d masqueraded so successfully as his brother. Surely that meant he’d had much practice. Before his ruse for the good of the country, why would he have pretended to be Spencer?
As if Emmeline’s thoughts had magically produced him, she saw Alex the next day.
She had agreed to go boating with Blythe and Maxwell, and sat on a cushion at one end of the boat. At the far end, beyond the two servants rowing, Blythe reclined amidst dozens of pillows, with Maxwell seated at her side. Netting hung from a canopy about the two of them to keep out the insects, and it might as well have blocked their voices, because Emmeline could hear nothing but low murmurs and occasional laughter. They sat properly apart, so she had little cause to watch them.
Instead, she pushed her canopy back a bit, so she could lift her face to the sun. The lazy rocking of the boat relaxed her, soothed her.
“Lady Emmeline, Lady Blythe!” a voice called out across the water.
Alex.
Emmeline opened her eyes with a snap. She expected to find him on the shore, but he was in another boat.
She calmly lifted a hand, even though her heart seemed to bounce about in her chest. As he turned his back to row, she admired the way his white shirt clung damply to his back, revealing muscles that she had pressed her palms against. She remembered every caress, every kiss. Her body heated clear to the depths of her stomach as he approached.
And kept approaching. Surely he would turn away from them, she thought uneasily.
But when he continued to row, she called, “Alex, you’re getting too close.”
He didn’t turn around. Behind her, their oarsmen began to row harder, but it would be too late. She heard Blythe gasp, and Maxwell call out a warning. Without thinking, Emmeline stood as if she could push the boat aside.
At the last moment Alex glanced at them, steered his boat suddenly sideways, then caught Emmeline about the hips as he passed. She cried out, finding herself dumped at his feet, the boat rocking precariously enough to splash her. Coming up on her knees, she gripped the edge and looked back at Blythe’s boat. Because it was larger and more stable, it merely swayed in the current. She heard the merry peal of Blythe’s laughter as the boats drifted apart.
Emmeline turned and found herself kneeling between Alex’s knees. All thoughts of a lecture on safety fled her mind as her gaze drifted up his thighs, past his powerful hands on the oars, to the width of his chest. His face loomed over her, dark and mesmerizing.
“My, what a lovely position you find yourself in, Em,” he murmured.
Though she tried to stop herself, her gaze fell back to his thighs, and she remembered being held tightly to his hips, feeling the powerful evidence of his desire for her.
He groaned. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
She quickly sat on the bench behind her and straightened her back. “If you really knew what I was thinking, you’d be apologizing profusely. You quite endangered us all.”
He heaved a dramatic sigh and began to row away from Kent Hall.
“Alex, what are you doing?”
“Your servants told me you were boating. It seemed a perfect time to tell you of my fantasy.”
Emmeline’s throat tightened and a sudden wicked feeling swirled through her belly. “What fantasy?”
Alex rested his elbows on the oars, allowing the current to guide them. “Do you remember when I found you drunk at the Paris Gardens?”
“I was not inebriated,” she sniffed.
He leaned closer and his voice lowered. “Then do you remember caressing me with your eyes and your hands?”
Emmeline was too stunned to move. That had been almost two months ago, before they’d even kissed. “I couldn’t…I didn’t—”
“You could and you did, love. In fact, you told me I was ‘sinfully handsome.’”
She should be embarrassed, for that day’s memories were vague at best. But since then, her actions had only proven the powerful emotions she felt in his presence. She watched his mouth, remembered his kiss.
“And why are you telling me this now?” she whispered.
