Page 77 of Never a Bride
“Just look,” he whispered, pointing over her shoulder toward the spinet.
The men had gone, and she had a clear view of Maxwell and Blythe—laughing. He was leaning close to her, fingering a spot at her shoulder that had perhaps torn. But he wasn’t blushing; he didn’t seem to be stuttering. Could it be—
And then Lord Seabrook approached, obviously asking Blythe to partner with him. He led her away, and Emmeline groaned, feeling a total failure. But just before she turned away in defeat, Maxwell looked at her—
And smiled. He mouthed the words “Thank you,” crossed his arms at his chest, and watched Blythe walk away.
To Emmeline’s amazement, Blythe looked back at Maxwell and smiled.
“There,” Alex said. “You have done your sisterly duty. Now I think it’s time you proved your proficiency at cards.”
She turned to face him, gazing up at the scandalous man who’d become a friend. “I am quite good at cards.”
“You are quite good at many things, and I have yet to discover them all.”
She wasn’t sure she knew what that meant, but perhaps she could find out. She laughed and followed him to a table.
~oOo~
Over the next few days, Maxwell came alive as a suitor. He sent Blythe gifts and flowers, and even visited every day. Many times Emmeline came upon them in the parlor or the garden, their heads bent together in conversation as if Maxwell’s stuttering had never existed.
She realized with satisfaction that although Alex’s tutoring had helped, it was Maxwell’s true, more confident self that Blythe seemed interested in. But her other suitors were still a part of her life, and Emmeline had to remind herself that she had interfered enough.
She had not seen Alex since the card party five days before, and told herself it was for the best. When he sent a missive asking to see her, she ignored it. She had no illusions that Alex wanted more from her than merely satisfying his physical needs.
But she couldn’t help the curiosity that kept her awake at night. She could not stop herself from wondering about the man who’d masqueraded so successfully as his brother. Surely that meant he’d had much practice. Before his ruse for the good of the country, why would he have pretended to be Spencer?
~oOo~
As if Emmeline’s thoughts had magically produced him, she saw Alex the next day.
She had agreed to go boating with Blythe and Maxwell, and sat on a cushion at one end of the boat. At the far end, beyond the two servants rowing, Blythe reclined amidst dozens of pillows, with Maxwell seated at her side. Netting hung from a canopy about the two of them to keep out the insects, and it might as well have blocked their voices, because Emmeline could hear nothing but low murmurs and occasional laughter. They sat properly apart, so she had little cause to watch them.
Instead, she pushed her canopy back a bit, so she could lift her face to the sun. The lazy rocking of the boat relaxed her, soothed her.
“Lady Emmeline, Lady Blythe!” a voice called out across the water.
Alex.
Emmeline opened her eyes with a snap. She expected to find him on the shore, but he was in another boat.
She calmly lifted a hand, even though her heart seemed to bounce about in her chest. As he turned his back to row, she admired the way his white shirt clung damply to his back, revealing muscles that she had pressed her palms against. She remembered every caress, every kiss. Her body heated clear to the depths of her stomach as he approached.
And kept approaching. Surely he would turn away from them, she thought uneasily.
But when he continued to row, she called, “Alex, you’re getting too close.”
He didn’t turn around. Behind her, their oarsmen began to row harder, but it would be too late. She heard Blythe gasp, and Maxwell call out a warning. Without thinking, Emmeline stood as if she could even hope to push the boat aside.
At the last moment Alex glanced at them, steered his boat suddenly sideways, then caught Emmeline about the hips as he passed. She cried out, finding herself dumped at his feet, the boat rocking precariously enough to splash her. Coming up on her knees, she gripped the edge and looked back at Blythe’s boat. Because it was larger and more stable, it merely swayed in the current. She heard the merry peal of Blythe’s laughter as the boats drifted apart.
Emmeline turned and found herself kneeling between Alex’s knees. All thoughts of a lecture on safety fled her mind as her gaze drifted up his thighs, past his powerful hands on the oars, and to the width of his chest. His face loomed over her, dark and mesmerizing.
“My, what a lovely position you find yourself in, Em,” he murmured.
Though she tried to stop herself, her gaze fell back to his thighs, and she remembered being held tightly to his hips, feeling the powerful evidence of his desire for her.
He groaned. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
