Page 57 of Never a Bride
“Was it?”
“No.”
For the first time, Emmeline realized how seriously he was taking these threats against him.
“Perhaps you need to tell all this to a justice of the peace.”
He came another step closer, and she hugged herself even tighter.
“No, Em, for what would I say? I have no clue to their identities, no guess at their motives.”
His voice softened, his gaze dropped, and she felt his hand suddenly slide up her arm.
“Alex,” she said with a warning in her voice, but she didn’t retreat, could barely think with the heat of his skin separated from hers by only fine linen. She had to think of something—anything—else. “Though I did not care for the game you played against Clifford, I did appreciate your kindness to him.”
He nodded almost absently, his gaze still on his hand where he rubbed her arm. “It wasn’t difficult. He was…tolerable.”
She licked her lips and tried not to imagine her arm afire where he touched it. “I’m not surprised. I get on well with both of you, so you should be able to tolerate each other.”
His hand stopped moving, though he still seemed to have trouble concentrating enough to form words. His gaze flickered up to her eyes. “Why, Em, do you consider me a friend?”
“W-what do you mean?”
“You ‘get on well’ with me—or so you said. How should I take that?”
She could no longer think, and didn’t want to answer his questions. “Alex, why did you really come for me?”
He hesitated, and his eyes returned to hers. “I don’t know. I thought about you there, just across the hall, wearing so little.”
His gaze dipped down to her chest again, and when she hugged herself tighter, he groaned and closed his eyes.
“You always do that,” he said hoarsely, “and instead of hiding yourself from me, it’s as if you’re presenting your luscious breasts for my admiration.”
She inhaled swiftly, feeling embarrassment burn her cheeks even as she dropped her arms to her sides. “Don’t say such a thing! I’ve told you before that you don’t have permission to discuss my—me so personally!”
“I want permission.”
His words were almost a groan, and made her feel like her world and all she believed were no longer solid around her.
His hand slid up to rest on her shoulder, his thumb gently rubbing her collarbone. His eyes gleamed at her in the low light, intense, hooded, knowledgeable about things of which she was innocent.
And she would remain innocent, she told herself. But his other hand settled on her shoulder, too, and the weight of him felt…more than pleasant. Suddenly those hands slid down her back, pulling her forward. Without a corset, she could feel every sensuous touch of his fingers. When her breasts brushed his chest, her nipples contracted with a painful pleasure that made her moan.
Oh heavens, how he made her feel! She couldn’t look away from his expression, now so intent. As if in a dream, his hands continued their slow slide down her back, following the curves until he cupped her backside in both hands. She gasped as he pulled her up against his hips and ground her against him. She had to catch his shoulders to keep from falling. He took advantage of her swooning weakness by pulling her knee up to his waist. The pressure of him between her thighs, against her most private womanly parts, swept over her like the evening tide. Every part of her burned and ached, and she wanted to rub back against him, his hardness against her softness.
She couldn’t hide from him, for he watched every emotion on her face, knew her for the wanton she was. Pulling her even tighter against him, he kissed her hard, slanting his mouth over hers, with none of the gentle teasing he’d shown before. He thrust his tongue into her mouth as he pushed his hips between her legs, and it was incredible and exciting. Their breaths merged, their tongues mated, and she had no will left of her own. Though he still held her hard against him by her knee, his other hand slid up her ribs, hesitating just beneath her breast, his knuckles brushing her curves.
“Emmeline,” he breathed against her mouth.
She had no voice, no will to stop him, and worst of all, an incredible desire to feel him touching her. His hand closed on her breast, cupping it firmly but gently. A shudder swept through her. Her skin was so sensitive and aware. Then his fingers moved and caressed, and unimaginable pleasure burned a path from her breasts to the depths of her stomach. He rubbed his thumb over and over her nipple, until she wanted to beg him to stop—and beg him to continue. His tongue swept hers, his hands molded her, and she knew she would gladly give in to whatever he wanted, if only she could feel this just once in her life.
He suddenly released her knee and stepped away, and she reached for him unsteadily. He caught her hand.
“Stand still, love,” he murmured as he shrugged his doublet from his broad shoulders.
She had no choice, for surely she would fall with even one step. He unbuttoned his billowing white shirt at the neck and pulled it over his head.
Emmeline’s breathing quickened as she stared amazed at her first sight of man’s naked chest. Scattered with dark hair, it gleamed in the firelight and showed curving shadows where his muscles sloped and bulged. Such impressive breadth called to her, and she reached out a hand, then stopped at her own boldness.
