Page 92 of His Scandal
“You can’t mean the seduction,” she said, giggling at her own joke.
“No,” he said, lowering his voice. “’Tis an honor I claim all my own.”
As silence grew, Emmeline found she could not stop looking at Alex. In the growing darkness he appeared even more dangerous, with the shadow of stubble on his face, and the wicked gleam she so adored in his eyes. But there was a seriousness there as well that was unfamiliar to her.
She frightened herself, because the danger oftheir situation had retreated, and only the excitement of being alone with him remained. She couldn’t stop the thrill of adventure that made her shiver. She’d never been away from London alone with a man—especially not a man like Alex, with mysterious depths he was only just beginning to reveal.
In the next hour, he surprised her yet again. She watched in amazement as he cleared the brush from the base of tall hedges that blocked them from the road. He cut branches for them to sit on with a knife he kept in his boot. When she returned with kindling, he grinned and produced flint and steel from a pouch at his waist as if by magic. Soon they were sitting side by side just above the bank of the creek, with thick hedges at their backs, and a cheery fire at their feet.
Their silence was rather comforting, and Emmeline thought that Alex was the one person she’d want to be stranded with. Being alone with him had its own danger, but he made her feel safe from everything else.
Then her stomach growled loudly.
She groaned and hugged herself. “Forgive me, Alex; I can wait until tomorrow to eat. But I guess my stomach can’t forget that you were going to offer me a meal worthy of kings.”
From that same pouch, he removed a bulgingwallet. “Did you think I meant at the finest inn in London? I am much more original than that—and ’tis a good thing, too, for here is our evening repast.”
Smiling, she watched as he shook out a napkin over the grass. On it he placed lumpy cheese, flattened bread, some rather crushed strawberries, and two apples. Their eyes met over their feast, and Emmeline experienced such a feeling of sweet contentment, of—rightness. She hoped she wasn’t falling in love. But tonight, she would not think about how disastrous such a thing would be with Alex Thornton.
“Ah, sir, how you do woo me,” she said, pulling off a chunk of bread.
“Such high praise.” Grinning, he tossed some berries in his mouth, and licked the juice from his fingers.
Emmeline felt her smile die away, replaced by a deep longing. What was wrong with her? Why was she so foolish as to wish that she could understand Alex? He’d seemed jealous over Maxwell’s friendship to her—he’d said no one could touch her but him. He would have considered it an “honor” to seduce her, as if he hadn’t done such a thing to other women.
She was afraid to hope, but could not help it—could he have feelings for her that he didn’t recognize? Why else would he want to spend time withher? Why else would he show only her the competent man that he truly was?
But he’d tried to be honest when he’d said he wouldn’t marry. She should listen to him.
Dazedly, she put a berry in her mouth and chewed. Alex watched her as if eating food were something new and fascinating. There was a drop of strawberry juice on the corner of his lip, and she wanted to lick it with her tongue. His smile died, as if he read her mind and was willing to complete “The Seduction of Emmeline.”
She was willing, too, regardless of the risk.
To distract them, she said, “Tell me more about what it’s like to be a twin.”
He merely blinked at her, then looked down to wrap bread about a small piece of cheese. He popped it into his mouth, and after he’d swallowed, his guarded gaze rose to meet hers.
“Where do these questions come from, Em?”
She shrugged and picked apart her bread. “When you posed as your brother the other night, you seemed so good at it. I couldn’t help thinking that you had done such a thing long before Queen Elizabeth asked it of you.”
He leaned back on one elbow at her side, staring into the fire. Endless minutes passed before he spoke, and she’d begun to think he wouldn’t answer.
“It was natural, I guess, for Spencer and me toplay at being each other. The servants began it first, by confusing our identities so often. By the age of eight, we learned that trouble could be avoided by blaming the other brother.”
“Was that not cruel?”
He shrugged. “We both thought it was funny to see who could get the other in the most trouble. As long as we did nothing bad enough to involve our parents, the servants were content to deal with us themselves.”
She tried to understand. “But wouldn’t the innocent brother protest with the truth?”
“And risk being unable to get his revenge the same way? No, it was too good a scheme.” Alex’s fond smile faded. “As we grew older, I sometimes took his place when it was necessary to display the ‘heir.’”
She hesitated. “That must have been difficult.”
“I hadn’t thought so at first. Then it became uncomfortable, and I began to resist Spence’s requests for help.”
“Why was it uncomfortable?”
