Page 17 of Never a Bride
“And what does she call you?” she heard herself ask, some part of her curiously eager for the answer.
“The best dance partner in all England,” he replied brightly.
She rolled her eyes.
“And since your sister enjoys dancing, I do not see the harm in allowing me to partner her. Blythe knows her own mind.”
“And as you can see, her mind clearly told her not to come out and meet you this evening.”
“And the next words out of your mouth would be, ‘because she has sense’?”
Alex liked the quirk in her lips when she hid her smile.
Her sense of superiority should grate on him. He should remind himself that she preferred men her noble equal, not second sons like him. She was the daughter of a marquess, related to royalty—
Yet a sadness lingered about her faintly, as if he looked hard enough, he could see the reason why. But always he turned his head too quickly and her sadness darted back into the mysterious shadows around her.
“Blythe does have good sense,” Emmeline replied. “She also has the sense not to anger our father.”
“Ah,” he murmured, leaning against the rail of a stall. The horse behind him nickered and bumped its nose insistently against his back. “And why is it all right foryouto risk his wrath by seeing me?”
A little frown line marred the smooth perfection of her forehead. “Of course I do not wish to flout my father’s rules. I should not be here, either.”
“Yet you are.”
“Just out of consideration that you came all this way for nothing.”
Was that all she felt, he wondered, even as he remembered the tremors of her soft body against his. “That’s hardly nothing,” he said. “You do admirably well for a man’s evening. Surely you’ve been told that by many a suitor.”
He immediately regretted his words as a formal stiffness drew up her impressive height. In the gloom of the stables, her eyes glittered.
“You mock me, sir. I am beyond marriage, beyond a man’s interest. And there was never much interest to begin with.”
When she whirled away and clutched the wooden rail of the opposite stall, Alex realized she regretted revealing her pain. He thought again of the man she’d rejected, wishing he knew more of the story. Why was she sad, when she only had herself to blame?
Was there a different Emmeline beneath her cool capability—an unsure, vulnerable woman?
He turned away from her and absently petted the horse’s neck. He did not want to know. He only wanted to care about his pleasure, not worry about everyone else, as he’d begun to do when posing as the viscount. But it crept back on him insidiously, this need he’d never had before to take care of people. He still remembered the overwhelming feeling of awe he’d had the first time he realized a decision he’d made had enriched someone’s life. It wasn’t his appearance as the viscount that had mattered, but the knowledge that he’d shared. It had made him want to educate himself on the newest inventions to ease a workman’s labor. But it had all been for nothing when people found out the truth, that it was not Spencer but he who had shared his advice. Though they tried to hide it, he knew the bailiffs of the estates went back to examine every decision he’d made.
Suddenly Alex heard the slowly rising voices of men in the garden as they approached the stables. With his luck, it could only be the marquess himself. Before he could even make a decision about how to protect Emmeline, she pushed him aside, unlatched the gate of the stall and dragged him inside with her.
She shoved him into the corner closest to the interior of the stables, then surprisingly covered his mouth with her hand. Did she think he did not understand the need for silence?
My, she was amusing—and strong, too. He quite liked the way she leaned against him. He almost felt…forced, a novel and intriguing sensation. Her head was turned aside as she listened to the voices now within the stable itself. He heard the invasion of the groomsmen, saw the eerie shadows of oil lamps in procession.
Should he be wary of being caught alone with a rich virgin who’d given up on a husband? Perhaps she did this deliberately, to ensnare him.
But no, she was too honest, too forthright. And, he thought with a touch of bitterness, she could have someone better than him.
But for now, there were many ways to provoke a reaction from the proper Emmeline. Very deliberately, he licked her palm.
She yanked her hand away with a stifled gasp, then promptly covered her own mouth, eyes wide with horror.
The man’s voice boomed just on the other side of the wall. “Wait until you see the stallion I just purchased, Stokesford. He’d been smuggled in from Spain.”
The horse inside their stall had given up sniffing them for food, and now leaned his head out. Was their luck so poor thatthiswas the horse the marquess wanted to display?
But the party kept on moving down the stables, and the flickering light went with them. He could feel Emmeline sag against him with relief. What lovely breasts she had, so full and proud. He rested his hands on her waist, barely resisting the urge to slide them up her sides and cup her fullness. He breathed in her scent, and thought about how her hair would feel against his face.
