An Accidental Seduction (4 page)

If Emily agreed to wed him, he would gain his own independence from his family’s meddling. His parents would have no choice but to abandon their matrimonial quest if he returned to London with a wife.

The more he considered the idea, the more it held merit. Theirs could be a quiet wedding, perhaps an elopement in Scotland.

A resounding crash struck the window of his study, shattering glass everywhere. Upon his desk, Stephen saw a rock. When he looked outside, he saw a horrified Emily sitting on a tree branch. Now, how in the world had she managed to climb up, wearing a gown and petticoats?

He crossed over to the sill, stepping over shards of glass. “Why, in heaven’s name, would you break my window?”

Emily chewed at her lip and offered an apologetic smile. “I’d meant to throw pebbles at your window.”

“
That
was a pebble?” He held up the rock, which was the size of his thumb.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw it that hard.” She pulled up her hood, but her shoulders were shaking. By God, the woman was laughing. “I only thought to see if you wanted to come outside.”

“I do have doors, you know. There was no need to bring the snow inside.” From the look of it, at least two panels of the window would have to be replaced, if not the entire thing.

“I really am sorry. I only wanted to see you, since you’ve been avoiding me all week.”

“Wait there,” he warned. After hastily throwing on a cloak and hat, he pocketed his grandmother’s ring. Then he gave instructions for Farnsworth to order repairs for the window and sweep up the glass.

Outside, the snow had begun to fall again, and Stephen walked around the perimeter of the estate until he reached the tree outside his study. Emily was seated on a large branch, both arms clinging to the trunk.

He spied a small ladder, built of pieces of wood nailed into the trunk. And then he recalled that they had built the tree ladder when they were children, after they’d stolen a hammer from the gardener’s shed one summer.

It took only seconds to climb up to her. She wore a black cape covering the blue ragged tarlatan gown. Though he’d given her money to purchase new clothing, she hadn’t ordered anything from the village yet.

Her cheeks were bright with color, her brown eyes amused. “Are you going to take the cost of the window out of my wages?”

“I’m not paying you anything.”

“I can give you this old gown as remuneration,” she offered. “With your dark hair, the blue might be a fetching color. It even has a printed shawl.”

He slid an arm around her waist, pressing her against the tree bark. “There are better ways you can repay me.”

Her expression grew strained, and he corrected himself. “I meant with a kiss, Emily. Nothing more.”

She shivered a little, leaning forward to brush a light kiss against his lips. It wasn’t nearly enough, and he took her mouth deeper, nipping at her lips, his tongue sliding inside.

“I’m going to lose my balance,” she whispered, breaking away. He let her go, wondering how to broach the subject of marriage. He’d never proposed to a woman before, and there was no way of knowing whether or not she would agree to his suggested arrangement. Emily was the least predictable woman he’d ever met.

They sat together in the tree while a light dusting of snow drifted from the clouds. It coated her cloak, melting upon her nose. She reached up to touch his cheek. “Something is bothering you, Whitmore. Does it have to do with why you’re avoiding me?”

“I avoided you to keep from seducing you again.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and her cheeks colored. “Well. That was honest.”

“I didn’t think you would appreciate it if I had my way with you on top of the dining room table.”

A laugh escaped her. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He only smiled at her. “Wouldn’t I?”

Emily picked up a handful of snow from the tree branch, crunching it into a ball. She tossed the snowball in one palm. “Daniel isn’t going to come for me, is he? I assume you haven’t heard from him.”

“No.”

“So now what will become of me? Shall I return to Hollingford House?”

“I’d burn it to the ground before I’d let you go back there.”

She crumbled up the snowball, letting it sift through her fingers to the ground. “Am I to become your mistress, then?”

“No.” Stephen reached into his pocket and pulled out his grandmother’s ring. “I was thinking you would become my wife.”

Had she really agreed to this? After days riding in a coach to Scotland, she was about to get married. Emily stared down at the heavy ruby ring Stephen had given her, her heart sinking. Though she’d dreamed of this day for all of her life, her instincts warned her that the Earl had other reasons for wedding her. Reasons that had nothing to do with love.

She could tell from the way he’d spoken of the marriage like a business arrangement. Although there was no doubt he desired her, she didn’t know if it would be enough. Everything had happened so fast. She hadn’t even had time to purchase a new gown but had borrowed another one from his sister’s wardrobe.

“The blacksmith will carry out the ceremony,” he explained, leading her toward the smith’s shop, “but I’ve also bestowed a goodly sum for the magistrate to register the marriage.”

Such measures would ensure a fully legal marriage. But why then, was she feeling so uncertain? With each step she took, her fears multiplied. And when they stood before the Scottish blacksmith at last, her trepidation transformed into wild fear.

If she married the Earl of Whitmore, she would become a Countess. It was easy to hide away as the Baron of Hollingford’s forgotten sister. She had no social duties, and hardly anyone knew of her existence. But by becoming Stephen’s wife,
everyone
would have an opinion about her. And not a single one would be complimentary.

“Wait.” She gripped his sleeve. “We need to talk first.”

The expression on his face was less than pleased. “Now?”

“Yes, now.”
Before it’s too late
, she thought desperately.

He seemed to sense her panic, for he excused them from the blacksmith and took her into the stables for privacy. Though it was dark inside, she didn’t miss his displeasure. “Have you changed your mind after we’ve come this far?”

She couldn’t give him an answer. While her heart was irrevocably lost, her head was ordering her to do the right thing. Let him go.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I can’t marry you.”

“Why?” The question was clipped, a wellspring of anger contained in a single word.

Because you don’t love me. Because you’re holding my heart in your hands, and I’m afraid you’ll break it again.

“Because I’ll never be a fitting Countess. There’s nothing but scandal surrounding me. And I care about you too much to bring that shame upon you.” She drew off the ring and pressed it into his hand, her eyes blurred with tears. “I should have told you before we left England. But I wanted so badly to marry you. It was what I dreamed of, more than anything.”

He took the ring, remaining silent for a time. She waited for him to rage at her, to complain about all the trouble she’d been. Instead, he glanced up at the rafters. “Do you remember the last time we were caught in the stables together?”

Of course she did. But why would he bring that up now? A moment later, he took her into his arms and kissed her soundly. His fingers dug into her hair, fitting her mouth to his, while he conjured up the memory of that Christmas evening, ten years ago. He dried her tears, lifting her cheek to rest against his.

“I hurt you that day, when my father forced us apart. And there will be times when I might hurt you again, without intending to.”

He drew back, his gaze solemn. “But there is something good between us. Something I never expected to find. And I think it was worth waiting for.”

He stepped back. “You’re stronger than any scandal surrounding your family name, Emily Barrow. And so am I.”

And with that, he walked toward the stable entrance. “I’ll wait for you, if you’ll have me. The way I should have waited, so many years ago.”

Nearly an hour passed, and Stephen called himself every kind of fool. She wasn’t going to come. She’d made her decision, and he was wasting the blacksmith’s time. He should have known that Emily Barrow wouldn’t let herself be used by any man.

But he wasn’t just any man. He was her friend and lover. The man who was going to change her life for the better, giving her everything she should have had all her life.

“I’ve got a lot of marriages to perform, my lord,” the blacksmith remarked, his patience wearing thin. “It’s St Valentine’s Day, and there are others waiting.”

“Let them wait.” The words contained all of his frustration, his anger at himself. Stephen didn’t care if they had to wait all night.

He wanted to marry the woman who would throw snowballs at him and break his windows. The woman who baked him ginger biscuits and kissed him softly, touching his heart as she slept beside him.

“Stephen?”

He turned to the door and saw Emily standing there alone, a vision in blue. She’d gathered up a bouquet of holly and evergreens, for there were no flowers to be had. Slowly, she walked toward him, her blond hair tucked away in a blue silk bonnet. Her eyes were wet, but she braved a smile.

“I’m ready now.”

He took her hand, relief washing over him. “Are you certain this is what you want?”

“I’ve dreamed of this, all my life. I’m in love with you, and though I may be the worst sort of Countess, I’d be even more miserable without you.”

He ignored the blacksmith and the witnesses, taking her into his arms again and kissing her. “I’m going to take care of you and your family, Emily.”

She smiled and took his hand in hers. “We’ve waited long enough. Now give me the ring and become my husband.”

One week later

Stephen came to bed late that night, sliding his hands beneath her nightgown as he kissed her. Against the thin fabric, she felt his warm male skin.

“I fell asleep,” she murmured, meeting his kiss with her own.

He removed her nightgown, covering her with his naked body. “You can sleep, if you’d like. But I’m still going to touch you.”

When he took her nipple into his mouth, arousal speared through her. He nibbled and tasted, his mouth moving over every inch of her torso. “I have to leave you at dawn, to return to London.”

His hard shaft teased at her wet entrance, and she grasped his hips, guiding him home. When he was deep inside, he began to move. Emily gripped the sheets as he slid inside with long, arousing strokes.

“Why do you have to go to London?” she asked, fighting to control the wild tremors building up inside. She didn’t want him to leave her for a single moment.

“It’s your brother. I received word tonight that his creditors are hunting him, and he’s in danger.” Stephen reached for her breasts, rolling the nipples with his fingertips. “I’ll take care of his debts and see to it that he’s safe.”

She shuddered when he changed tempo and entered her in short, staccato strokes. “Bring him home, Stephen. And promise me that you’ll return as soon as you can.”

“I promise.” He forced her to arch her back, and drove himself harder against her aching center. The friction brought her to the edge of her climax, and she shattered against him, shaking as he claimed her.

He rolled her over, guiding her onto her hands and knees. From behind, he entered her womanhood, and the new position excited her even more. With his hands at her hips, he drove himself in deep, riding her hard until she came once again, crying out his name.

Moments later, he erupted within her, lying atop her and making her feel completely loved.

He withdrew and pulled her close, tucking her head beneath his chin. “As soon as I’ve found Hollingford, I’ll come back.”

“Don’t forget about me, while you’re in London,” she teased, bringing his hand to her heart.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they fell asleep with their limbs intertwined, Emily didn’t allow herself to worry about the future ahead or what his family would say when they learned about her. She had the man of her dreams, lying in her arms.

And it was even better than she’d imagined it would be.

If you liked this story by Michelle Willingham, try more of her sensual historical romances always available in eBook format:

HER IRISH WARRIOR

THE WARRIOR’S TOUCH

HER WARRIOR KING

THE VIKING’S FORBIDDEN LOVE-SLAVE

THE WARRIOR’S FORBIDDEN VIRGIN

TAMING HER IRISH WARRIOR

Plus, don’t miss the continuation of Emily and Stephen’s love story in THE ACCIDENTAL COUNTESS.

Enjoy more passion through the ages with the sensual Harlequin Historical UNDONE titles on sale now:

NOTORIOUS ELIZA by Barbara Monajem

THE MAID’S LOVER by Amanda McCabe

AWAKENING HIS LADY by Kathrynn Dennis

SEDUCING A STRANGER by Christine Merrill

THE CAPTAIN’S WICKED WAGER by Marguerite Kaye

THE WELSH LORD’S MISTRESS by Margaret Moore

THE WARRIOR’S FORBIDDEN VIRGIN by Michelle Willingham

AT THE DUKE’S SERVICE by Carole Mortimer

HIS SILKEN SEDUCTION by Joanna Maitland

A NIGHT FOR HER PLEASURE by Terri Brisbin

DISROBED AND DISHONORED by Louise Allen

THE UNLACING OF MISS LEIGH by Diane Gaston

A NIGHT OF WICKED DELIGHT by Joanne Rock

PLEASURED BY THE ENGLISH SPY by Bronwyn Scott

THE RAKE’S INTIMATE ENCOUNTER by Ann Lethbridge

NOTORIOUS LORD, COMPROMISED MISS by Annie Burrows

Craving something a little longer? Find more historical romantic adventure from Harlequin Historical at www.eHarlequin.com or your local bookstore.

Interested in writing for Harlequin Historical UNDONE? Send your submission to [email protected].

Michelle Willingham
grew up living in places all over the world, including Germany, England and Thailand. When her parents hauled her to antiques shows in manor houses and castles, Michelle entertained herself by making up stories and pondering whether she could afford a broadsword with her allowance.

She graduated
summa cum laude
from the University of Notre Dame, with a degree in English, and received her master’s degree in Education from George Mason University. Currently she teaches American History and English. She lives in south-eastern Virginia with her husband and children. She still doesn’t have her broadsword.