Page 95 of His Scandal
It didn’t go well. He felt every movement, heard every sound she made. He knew when she slipped into sleep by her deep breathing, and the way she relaxed and cuddled back into him. And all through it, his erection throbbed between them.
Night dragged on endlessly, and finally in the early morning, Alex slept a few hours. When he awoke well before dawn, Emmeline was facing him, her head pressed to his chest, her arms twined about him against the cold. For some strange reason, he imagined waking up in her arms every morning.
He told himself it would be boring, that her charms would fade for him. But he found himself kissing the top of her head just before gently shaking her awake.
She moaned and burrowed even tighter against him, nestling her warm face against his neck. He steeled himself against her softness and pushed her away. When she opened her eyes she seemed puzzled, until reality flooded back.
“Alex, come back here; it’s not even light yet.”
He’d heard that from more than one mistress, and he chuckled.
“What is it?” she asked suspiciously.
“Nothing. But we need to start back the way we came. Wouldn’t you like to break your fast at a comfortable inn? And wouldn’t you like to get there without my enemies finding us?”
Without another grumble, she stood up and the cloak dropped to the ground. She clutched at her gown as it sagged off her shoulders. Alex felt his mouth go dry even as she presented her back.
“Could you lace me up, please?”
Where was his prim Emmeline, guardian of her sister’s virtue? Just last night, she had wanted to give hers away.
And he had refused. God, he was a fool.
After two hours of walking, which tore holes in Emmeline’s town slippers, they reached a small but clean inn north of London. Alex made a lame excuse to the proprietor about their coach breaking down, while Emmeline tried not to look guilty.
After all, what did she have to feel guilty about? She’d been captured and had barely managed to escape.
And she’d wantonly offered herself to Alex Thornton.She was acting just like every other woman he knew.
But she hadn’t been able to stop herself.
Alex secured a private room for their meal, then whispered in her ear that he was dangerously low on funds. Luckily she had enough coins in the purse at her waist.
It seemed to take forever, but soon there was hot porridge and apple cider and warm bread spread out before them. Emmeline had only taken one spoonful of porridge, when the door was suddenly thrown open and two plainly dressed men blocked the entrance.
Even as their faces struck a chord in her memory, Alex surged to his feet and stepped before her. She couldn’t help leaning sideways to see.
In the sudden silence, she said, “You’re the men who attacked Alex at the Rooster.”
They pushed the door shut behind them, and the affronted anger in their faces was proof of the truth.
Alex said, “You obviously know who I am, but I am at a loss as to why you’ve been pursuing me.”
It seemed almost comic when the taller kidnapper pulled the hat from his head as he said, “I’m Kenneth Langston, and this is my brother Harold. Do you recognize our name, Thornton? Because you’ve dishonored it.”
“Then I don’t owe you money?”
The younger brother spat on the floor at Alex’s feet, while Kenneth said, “Money will not solve your problem. Our family’s honor is at risk, and we won’t allow that.”
“Enough with the riddles and the stalking,” Alex said. “Just tell me what I’ve supposedly done.”
“You have dishonored our innocent sister, and now you’re going to marry her.”
Nausea swept through Emmeline, and she gripped the edge of the table until slivers pricked her fingers. She desperately wanted him to deny it.
Instead, he asked, “What is your sister’s name?”
“Elizabeth.”
