The Seduction of Emily (23 page)

It felt as thrilling as it did frightening.

She closed her eyes. “I will meet you outside in twenty minutes, Mr. Samson. Don’t keep me waiting.”

When she walked away, her legs trembled. She reached the bottom of the staircase and looked back. Will had yet to move an inch.

She’d turned away and slowly walked up the stairs with her beautiful behind shifting nonchalantly from side to side. All Will could do was stare after her, feeling as though he’d been slapped across the face with a wet kipper.

He swallowed as his trousers tightened across his groin. He was in far too deep to be comfortable. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. A woman who would never be his. He closed his eyes and eased his head against the horse’s nose. Its soft velvety texture mixed with the general stench of horsiness and hot breath, which felt strangely soothing to his fraught nerves and confusion.

“How could I have let this happen, boy?”

“Whatever you’re asking him, I can quite assure you Carrington will not provide the answer.”

Will abruptly straightened and heard the crick in his neck.

Emily smiled, seemingly ignorant of the pain shooting along his tendon on a wave of heat.

He could handle that. The real cause for concern was the way his heart kicked against his ribcage. “You look wonderful.”

Her cheeks flushed and her gaze dropped to the folds of her dress. “I thought it such a beautiful day it would be perfect to wear my favorite dress. I’m grateful for your compliment.”

“It’s more than the dress.” He stared and warmth spread through his cheeks. “It’s you.”

Feeling like a complete ass, Will stepped away from Carrington, who promptly nudged him hard in the back. He stumbled forward.

She laughed. “Whoops.”

He turned to the horse. “Thank you for making me look like a complete moron in front of the pretty lady, my friend.”

Emily laughed. “Don’t blame Carrington. He’s only looking after me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Will turned to face her. Her soft rosy lips were open, showing clean white teeth and the delicate pink of her tongue. His gaze lingered there, on the mouth he longed to kiss more than anything in the world. The final part of his heart he’d been fighting to keep under lock and key melted.

If they had been born in a different time, met under different circumstances, he would have fought to the ends of the earth to make her his.

She cleared her throat. “Shall we go?”

The embarrassed tone of her voice shook Will from his coma. He blinked. “Of course.”

He held out his hand and her gloved one slid against his palm.

Throwing him a final smile, she stepped up into the gig and settled on the front seat.

He inhaled a shaky breath before walking around to the other side and jumping up beside her. “Ready?”

A strange look passed over her gaze. “As I’ll ever be.”

“What do you . . .” He shook his head. “On second thought, don’t tell me. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.”

They exchanged grins. He couldn’t remember seeing her look so happy. Foolishly hoping he was the one making her that way, he slapped the reins against Carrington’s rump with a
thwack
and the gig jerked away, leaving the cobbled street of Royal Crescent behind.

The next half hour passed in silence, punctuated only when either of them commented on the increasing temperature or the ever-changing ladies’ fashions on the clothes-conscious streets of the city. The vivid color of the lush summer trees and flowers served as a further distraction. The meat of why they were taking this trip was yet to be tasted. He could smell its juices nicely roasting from the moment they pulled away from the house.

As they left Bath, Will’s shoulders came down from around his ears. The pressure of sitting next to her and not sliding his hand into hers or brushing the hair from her neck was pitiful. The
clip-clop
of Carrington’s hooves softened as they moved from the streets to the dirt paths leading to the endless countryside surrounding Bath’s borders. The changing smell of soot into lavender and stone to bark soothed the tension in his neck and arms.

He glanced at Emily and his stomach clenched with anticipation. He had a good idea what this trip would entail and relished the beginning of her interrogation. Every now and then, she turned to him as though to speak but then turned away. Time and again, she had a shaky intake of breath and then released it. He would’ve found it amusing if she didn’t matter so much to him. The notion she might be uncomfortable around him didn’t fit well.

He was no stranger to interrogation but this was entirely different.

Gentlemen whose pockets he’d emptied had questioned him, shopkeepers he’d “borrowed” certain items from demanded explanations. He’d been questioned by the good blue-uniformed, silver-buttoned Bristol constabulary, even stood in front of the wigged personage of a fine upstanding English courtroom, and none of them had come close to bringing a drop of sweat to his brow.

Will was not afraid to admit weaknesses. His biggest right now was silently preparing to question him. Beautiful, intelligent, and witty, Emily would sooner or later turn her soft, dulcet tones and big chestnut-brown eyes on him, expecting answers. There was no doubt in his mind she suspected his reasons for making her acquaintance had nothing to do with a missing nephew and everything to do with Milne.

He grimaced. There was little he wouldn’t do or tell her. Including the real reason behind his presence in Bath. Lying to her was not an option. The problem was, once he told her, Will instinctively knew he’d lose any chance of making Milne pay for what he did to his mother. Emily might dislike the man, but she didn’t have the cold-blooded hate running through her veins he did. Why would a woman as good as her, as visionary as her, want to hurt a man on hearsay? As Laura had challenged him, what tangible proof could he give other than his word that Milne had hurt his mother?

He had the names of the women Laura had given him—who might or might not testify, should the time come—and Katherine’s fragile promise of support. Other than that, it was his word against Milne’s. Will wasn’t entirely convinced Emily trusted him enough to accept his words, despite how she felt about the man she was expected to marry.

He swallowed against the bitter taste of failure. Emily didn’t have the image of his mother trying to talk with blood filling her mouth tattooed to her memory. Nor the remembrance of her thin body as she lay in his arms, her skin marked with bruises like black spots painted on with charcoal.

“Will, you’re shaking.”

He jumped as if she’d struck him. He turned. Fear filled her gaze, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she inched closer and carefully eased the reins from his clenched fists.

“Let’s stop and rest a while. We’ll find some trees to provide some much needed shade.”

A soft smile curved her lips but concern shone in her coffee-brown stare.

Will forced a smile. “Good idea.”

Her hands shook on the reins as she steered Carrington onward.

Guilt burned behind his breastbone. He rubbed his hands over his face. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. The last thing I want is for you to be afraid of me.”

“Will Samson, stop talking right now.”

He arched an eyebrow in amusement. Never before had a woman told him to be quiet. Well, except his mother. He pursed his lips.

She flashed him another smile. “I could never be afraid of you. Ever. If you want to apologize for your unforgivable silence for the last half hour, on the other hand, I completely understand. Don’t you know a lady likes to be entertained by a gentleman if he takes her out driving for the day?”

He smiled. “I rather thought etiquette wouldn’t be relevant on this trip.”

She turned. “Why ever not?”

Will fell headlong into her gaze. She wanted something from him, yet still cared enough to literally take the reins. She handled Carrington with ease, even though something real and tangible gathered momentum between them. Something that would either erupt and destroy or envelop and protect.

Will stared at her mouth and shook his head. “Ignore me. I’m teasing. I want to thank you.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth and time suspended as they continued along the road, neither of them watching nor caring what was ahead. Seconds ticked by as fate waited for one of them to close those few vital inches between them. She wet her lips and turned away, staring straight ahead. “For what?”

Will followed the direction of her gaze as his heart pounded with the trepidation of taking the next step. “For getting me away from Bath for a while.”

“You needed some time away?”

He blew out a breath. “Something like that . . . but more, I wanted to spend some time alone with you.”

Silence.

He glanced at her. Her cheeks shone pink. He hoped with pleasure. “You’re my friend at best, my host at worst.” He swallowed. “Unless, you see us as more than that. In which case—”

“You are a”—a smile lifted the corner of her mouth—“a friend, I think. A friend who has come into my life for a reason and it is that reason I want to uncover. Right here. Right now.”

He exhaled. The time had come. She wanted answers. Nerves stole into his belly. He could no longer deny what she meant to him. There was no option but to keep her from knowing why he infiltrated her family home. She could not suspect anything other than flirtation.

The thought of disappointment in her eyes should she discover how he deceived her for the last three weeks caught like a spike in his chest. The tenderness in her gaze would be replaced with mistrust. Her laughter with contempt.

He forced a laugh. “Do you know you can be quite scary sometimes?”

She grinned, her chestnut eyes wide with feigned innocence as she looked at him. “Me? How could I ever be scary? You, of all people, can handle anything and anyone—”

The carriage shook violently. Will reached for the reins. He was too late.

They hit something hard and unyielding with a resounding
thud
. Emily’s scream cut through Will’s blood like ice water. The harsh snap of wood and Carrington’s terrified neighing filled the air. Gripping Emily by the waist, Will lifted her into his arms as the gig tipped. Her bottom came down on his thighs and he curled his body around her like a protective cage.

They tilted as one until Will tumbled backward with Emily above him.

She stared down at him, terror mixed with disbelief and unbelievably, a hint of laughter. They fell from the carriage, hitting the grassy embankment with an almighty bump. Will’s breath left his lungs on a rush but, aware she was slipping from his grasp, he tightened his grip. They rolled over and over, away from the debris of the breaking gig. Tumbling through grass and weeds, mud and leaves until they came to an abrupt halt inches from a jagged rock.

Will’s heart raced but the relief Emily was still in his arms was all that concerned him.

“Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

She stared, her eyes wide but unafraid. “I’m fine. Thanks to you.” The tone of her voice slid over his skin like a soothing balm. Soft and husky, full of invitation and raw femininity. Their gazes locked and their harried breath fell into sync. Neither made a move to extract themselves from the other’s embrace.

Will lay on his back, with her atop him. With her dark tresses loosened from their pins and her hat askew, she’d never looked so unkempt or beautiful. Will stared, unable to speak.

His blood heated as the atmosphere changed from cold fear to hot needful attraction. Her breasts pressed enticingly against the thin cotton of his shirt, and her pelvis lay level with his. The first whispers of arousal brushed over his skin and through his blood. Their bodies fit like two pieces of a whole and Will didn’t want to let her go. He drank in the sight of her, knowing the moment of holding her ticked away with each passing second.

“Kiss me, Will.”

Shock bounced around his body. He looked to her soft pink lips, open and waiting. His penis ached and hardened. His heartbeat pounded. The deepening color of her cheeks told him she felt his need yet she didn’t move away. They were alone. He wanted her. This was a situation more dangerous than him, Milne, and a loaded gun. This was suicide.

“Emily—”

She relaxed her body into his. “Don’t talk. Just kiss me before I start to think. Please.”

He ran his gaze over her hair, her face, and finally her mouth. Taking his hands from her body, he cupped her jaw and drew her closer. With a final look into her eyes, Will covered her mouth with his and closed his eyes. It was like kissing the season of summer. Her lips tasted of fresh strawberries and cream, the inch of her skin beneath his nostrils smelled of freesias in July.

She sighed into his mouth and her fingers slid into his hair. Will shivered and increased the pressure of his lips. Her mouth dropped open and his tongue sought hers. She hesitated and fear struck Will’s heart. Fear she would struggle from his arms in disgust, leaving him flailing in the grass, scared of never again feeling the way he did then.

Instead, her tongue gently, tentatively touched his and he groaned knowing she was taking a risk—a risk that meant she trusted him. Trusted him not to deceive her, trusted him never to tell they kissed while lying in the grass alone on the side of a country road.

Even though guilt over deceiving her in other ways cruelly seared his heart, she was right to trust him. He held her tighter. Heat and passion were offered and accepted. Will’s body awoke with a need to make love to her and worship every inch of her, inside and out.

She broke away.

Her heart beat against his as she stared, her wonderful chestnut eyes wide and her breathing heavy. He wanted to shout out
No!
and grab her to him once more but instead, Will forced a smile and reached up to remove a stray length of grass from her hair. “Well, that was . . .”