Page 33 of Never a Bride
As Alex felt the insistent pressure of her breasts, perspiration broke out above his lip. When he gave her a little push upright, she stumbled and staggered ahead of him.
“So why are you here?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. He stayed behind her just to watch her hips sway, then realized what this might look like to other men.
Suddenly her feet went out from under her, and he caught her from behind, his arms beneath hers, his hands overflowing with her breasts. His palms burned as he felt her pointed nipples. With perfect aim, her backside landed against his hips, and his erection went from a possibility to a certainty.
He stood her upright so fast she almost went face-first into a ditch. He grabbed her elbow and steered her across a little river of sewage, trying not to breathe in the odor.
“Where are we going?” she demanded.
“Down to the river. I’m going to make sure you arrive safely home.” He leaned nearer and whispered, “Unless you wish to return to my lodgings. I live nearby, you know.”
“I know.”
Though her voice had a huskiness that intrigued him, she also sounded guilty, and he tried to read the truth in her face. Had she been to the Rooster today? Was shefollowinghim?
For a moment, he desperately wanted to take her to his chamber, because from the look on her face, she wouldn’t refuse.
Desperation?he thought suddenly. Was that what Emmeline Prescott had reduced him to? No, he would have none of it.
He escorted her through an alley to the river’s edge, then tossed a sovereign to a waterman standing near his boat. The man gaped into his hand and back at Alex.
“Let me borrow the wherry,” Alex said, helping Emmeline in and stepping down beside her. The craft almost capsized as she sat back heavily on the wooden bench. “I need to take the lad across while I speak to him alone. I promise to return this to you within the hour.”
The man fisted his hand about the coin and bobbed his head. “Aye, guv’nor.”
Alex settled down between the oars as the man gave them a push away from the dock. He began to row slowly, watching Emmeline. Their knees practically touched, and her gaze was almost a caress. He had to think of something besides the unfulfilled passion gnawing a hole in his gut.
Shehadbeen following him, he reminded himself. Why?
He knew she probably wouldn’t answer such a direct question, so he let the rocking of the boat and the cry of the gulls relax her. Gradually they pulled away from the city traffic as they headed upstream.
Emmeline swayed, then straightened stiffly. Her gaze narrowed on him, and when she spoke, her words were cautious and slurred. “You obviously know you are sinfully handsome.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you sound like me.”
He could barely keep from gaping. She reached to touch his hand when it neared her as he rowed. He pulled back hard on the oars, cursing their lack of privacy.
“There’s another bench behind you,” he said. “Why not lean back?”
She hesitated, then glanced over her shoulder. With a sigh, she leaned back on her elbows and lifted her face to the sun. The cap fell off and her auburn hair tumbled down her back. Alex felt a hitch in his breathing as he watched the sun highlight the red in her curls. The pace of his rowing slowed.
How could she not understand how truly beautiful she was?
He studied her face, devoid of the paint so many women used to whiten their skin. She glowed with health and a touch of the sun. Her nose was pert and her lips the perfect fullness for kisses. Leisurely his gaze traced a path down the long elegance of her throat. With her elbows back and the doublet gaping, the shirt was tight across her breasts, which she had not bound.
His throat went painfully dry as he stared at her dusky nipples thrusting against the white fabric. She was laid out like a feast before him, her legs spread apart, the line of her throat begging for his kisses. He imagined finding a tree at the water’s edge, its branches drooping to trail in the water and form a natural bower. He would row beneath, and the leaves would close over them like bed curtains. In the dim coolness he would rise above her, then settle between her thighs. He’d start with her magnificent breasts, suckling them to hard points until the damp shirt was transparent.
“You’re not rowing,” Emmeline said.
Alex gave a start and glanced about them, noticing that the city had given way to the sloping lawns leading up to the mansions along the Thames. Hellfire, he’d almost come undone at the idea of merely touching spinster Emmeline Prescott.
It wasn’t as if he would take advantage of a drunk virgin anyway, he thought as he adjusted his breeches. He picked up the pace of his rowing.
Unable to help himself, his eyes were drawn again to her relaxed body. He couldn’t stop thinking about what her breasts would look like in a damp shirt. Mischievously cupping a handful of water, he splashed her chest. He thought she would jump up indignantly, but she only laughed, and he ogled the spreading wetness as it enveloped one breast and practically revealed her nipple. It tightened into a little point and he almost groaned.
