Page 36 of Never a Bride
“And they’re surely a lovely sight. Shall I describe how they make me feel?”
With a gasp, she covered her breasts with her hands. A groan rumbled through his chest, vibrating deep within her.
“Maybe I don’t have to describe what I’m feeling,” he whispered, leaning down over her. “Can’t you tell?”
He slowly ground his hips into hers, and she felt something long and hard and dangerous. She gaped at him in shock, so embarrassed that she felt suddenly warm and wet between her thighs. What was the matter with her?
Alex lowered himself even farther, until their mouths were dangerously close. She saw nothing but his face; her world was the strength of his body, and she was frightened because it felt so right.
“Don’t I even deserve a kiss for all you’ve put me through?” he murmured.
“A kiss!”
She pushed against his chest and he rolled to his side almost too easily. She scrambled up and away from him, brushing down her skirts, feeling for leaves in her hair.
“No kiss?” he asked in mock sadness.
She meant to give him her best glare, but he suddenly rolled onto his back in the yellow daffodils, folding his bare arms behind his head as if she’d just left him in bed.
Oh, my lord. A wild, wicked side of her wanted to lie back down with him. What was he doing to her—no, what was she allowing to happen?
“Why the sudden blush?” Alex asked.
“Was not your—your—groping enough of a reason?”
He looked so relaxed, stretched out at her feet, as if he was not nearly as affected as she was. She whirled and stalked away, but he quickly rose and appeared at her side.
“Emmeline, surely I deserve to know why you’ve been following me.”
“Is it not obvious?” she retorted.
“Have you been reporting my activities back to your sister?”
She caught her breath and looked away. “Not…everything.”
“And what does that mean?” he asked, tugging on her arm and pulling her to a stop.
How could she explain? She hadn’t told her sister all the truth, not because of Alex, but because of her own unusual behavior. Every decision she’d made where he was concerned turned out wrong. Even if she told Blythe that she’d been following Alex for Blythe’s protection, was it true? Or was it only her own curiosity, the fact that she was enjoying his scandalousness too much?
She’d become a different person somehow, a woman who truly understood how much she was missing, what she’d never have in her life. And it hurt.
“I have to go, Sir Alexander,” she said formally, trying desperately to push her foolish emotions aside.
“It’s Alex,” he whispered, reaching to cup her cheek. For once he wasn’t smiling, and he looked more intense and handsome than she could have imagined.
For her own sanity, she broke away from him and ran.
Alex watched her go, trying to remember the wager, Blythe, anything instead of the beguiling sight of a flustered Emmeline. Strands of her hair had come loose to tumble temptingly down her cheeks and neck. Why hadn’t he touched them when Emmeline had lain beneath him?
Because her hair wasn’t what he’d been thinking about then. With a sudden overwhelming need, he’d wanted to lift her skirts and settle himself between her soft thighs. He’d wanted to kiss every part of her skin, smell every scent, until she blushed for him alone.
The thought of that damned wager made him sigh with regret. Unless…would Edmund agree to modify it? Surely a spinster was just as much of a challenge as a girlguardedby a spinster?
Then he remembered the way her expressive eyes had dimmed when he’d asked if she was reporting his activities to Blythe. Did she truly think him so unworthy?
Gritting his teeth, he strode back through the corridors of Whitehall until he reached the tiltyard. He found Edmund straddling a bench, a dipper of water in his hand. Alex took the dipper, slurped the last of the water, picked up his sword, and went out into the center of the yard.
Edmund stared at him.
