Page 41 of Sinfully Wed
If her appearance, smell, and morbid curiosity about the world didn’t put him off, Odessa was doomed. The strawberry had been her last hope. Looking up at Emerson, their eyes caught. A soft exhale left her. What an arresting combination, all that brown and green mixing together. She’d always thought hazel eyes to be somewhat dull. Not worth mooning over. But—
Odessa’s heart thumped inside her chest. He was staring at her with a great deal of intensity.
“I came to inform you today, Miss Whitehall, that I must depart London for a time. I didn’t wish to convey my leaving in a note, but thought the news would be better received in person.”
“You areleaving?” Odessa blinked at him and stopped scratching at her arm, stunned by finally hearing the words she’d longed for.
“Don’t look so distressed, Miss Whitehall,” Emerson said in a solemn tone. “I realize now may not be the best time to depart, when we are finally becoming accustomed to each other, but there are matters at my country estate which require my attention. Matters which cannot be ignored. Not even for you.”
“Of…course not, my lord.” The rashhadworked after all. He was merely being polite. She allowed him another glimpse of her blackened teeth before he could change his mind. “I do hope it isn’t anything serious, my lord.”
“Nothing that cannot be fixed in a fortnight or so.”
“A fortnight?” She tried to temper the excitement in her voice.
“Possibly longer. Depending.” Emerson made a vague gesture with his free hand. “Estate matters can be complicated at times.”
Oh, this was wonderful news. Hewasgoing to beg off. But not until he could depart London and the orbit of Angus Whitehall. The fortnight would stretch into another week, possibly more. From a safe distance, Emerson would inform Papa of Odessa’s unsuitability. Cowardly, to be sure. She’d thought better of Emerson. But Odessa didn’t carehowshe rid herself of the overly spectacular Emerson, only that she did.
He leaned over, nose mere inches from her face.
She had to keep from crossing her eyes at the enormous bump forming at the end of her own nose. Emerson’s clean lime scent wafted over her in a warm rush, flooding her senses. She could do nothing but breathe in Emerson and his big, solid form.
He’s too close. He’s—
Going to kiss me.
Shockingly.Impossibly.Emerson’s mouth lowered and brushed lazily over hers, his lips barely moving.
Odessa gasped, nearly sucking a piece of tar into her throat, stunned to the marrow of her bones. His lips trailed over her mouth with practiced decadence. Emerson, Odessa’s dazed mind whispered, knew how to kiss a woman properly. The barest graze of his lips conveyed more promise than any kiss Odessa had ever experienced. Her hands floated upward, palms flattening over his chest, feeling the press of muscles beneath her fingertips. Odessa arched into Emerson, willing those roughened hands to take hold. Tug at her hair. Pull her beneath the willow tree and—
Emerson took a step back, taking his mouth from hers. The green of his eyes had deepened, mixing further with the brown. A ragged sound escaped him, but no regret for taking such a liberty. Emerson wasn’t the sort of man who kissed a woman and then apologized.
A ripple caressed Odessa’s skin, followed by a quaking sensation along the lower half of her body. She lowered her eyes to the path beneath her slippered feet, having no idea what to say, or even if she could speak.
“I’ll show myself out, Miss Whitehall,” Emerson said, saving her the trouble of deciding. “Until we meet again. Good day.”
*
What a reliefnot to smell onions today. She must have rushed the application of tar because she’d blackened the wrong teeth. Jordan had toyed with taking hold of one fleshy lump, the one moving beneath her skirts in the direction of her ankle, but thought he’d be unable to stop laughing. Only the rash had been real. There was no faking the tiny bumps decorating her cheek, neck, and the end of her nose. She must have applied stinging nettles to her skin to cause such irritation, or something equally abrasive.
Had he not seen Odessa on Bond Street, one look at her skin would have sent Jordan back to his carriage. It wouldn’t have stopped him from marrying her. Nothing would. But he would have been disgusted.
He’d only meant to tease her a bit with his false departure from London. Odessa had been so bloody hopeful. Plump lips parted, with no scent of onion on her breath to deter him.
Jordan smoothed down his coat as he jumped into his carriage. Tugging at the cravat circling his neck, he instructed his cock to stand down.
I shouldn’t have kissed her.
That hadn’t been his intent. Nor had Jordan thought one kiss would—arouse him to such an extent. Not even the taste of tar mixing with a bit of lemon and mint had put him off. But that plump bottom lip of Odessa’s—he’d been consumed with dragging his teeth over the delicate bit of flesh since their initial meeting when Jordan had assumed her to be a troll.
He imagined Odessa in, perhaps, only her chemise. Honey brown hair spilling in a halo around her head as she lay beneath him. Legs and lips parted in welcome.
A small groan left him.
Part of the attraction for Odessa was that she didn’t wanthim. A rare occurrence for Jordan where women were concerned. What manner of manhadgarnered her affections? One who didn’t mind her gruesome observations. Or care that she was the daughter of Angus Whitehall.
Bedding Odessa, once improbable, was now a consideration, especially after that kiss. He reasoned the marriage had to be consummated to make it legally binding. It didn’t mean anything. They would still live apart and lead separate lives. He would still abandon her.
