Godric cupped her cheek with one hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb lightly over the curve of her lower lip. The warmth of his breath and the hint of his scent tangled her senses and rationality until she was a jumbled mess. Fear sparked inside her, like flashes of lightning hidden behind black clouds.
Godric could very easily take her, brutally and completely, and she had no way to defend herself. She had to say something, something to placate him and protect herself.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
Without warning, his hands were at her waist, his fingers moving teasingly at the right spot to make her burst into a fit of giggles. She kicked out of pure instinct, trying to cease his fiendish attack at her weak spot.
“Stop! Please!” she gasped. “Please, I beg you!”
Only when tears were burning in her eyes and she was all but hysterical with laughter, did he stop. The whole time he had hovered over her with a wolfish grin, torturing her with those featherlight touches.
“I did warn you about exacting a price. I won’t hesitate to use such weapons again.” He wiggled his fingertips. If he was going to resort to such weaponry when dealing with her, she would have to keep her distance. It was impossible to maintain her dignity and insist he treat her like the lady she was when she was too busy laughing and gasping for breath like some helpless peahen.
He eased off her and helped her to her feet.
“Shall we try this again?” His voice was low and husky.
Did he have to be so tall and…and intense? Her instincts still screamed for her to run.
Dazed, Emily managed a shaky nod. Her body still trembled from the aftermath of his tickling.
“Would you like to accompany me to breakfast, Miss Parr?”
When she nodded again, he tucked her arm in his and led her to the dining room.
If she couldn’t outrun him, perhaps she could try a different tactic. Emily believed in the power of good, solid conversation. Maybe she could convince him to see reason, though that seemed as likely as convincing an angry bull not to charge. She frowned and worried her lower lip with her teeth.
“What on earth are you frowning about?”
Emily ducked her head, hoping to hide her face from him. “Nothing, Your Grace. I am weary from last night’s exertions, that is all.”
She could have sworn he muttered something about a different kind of exertion last night, but she hadn’t aclue what he meant. Before she could speak again, they reached the dining room.
Morning sunlight illuminated a large room with a table that could easily seat twelve. The bottom half of the walls consisted of cherry wood panels, and the upper half was painted a warm butter yellow. Massive portraits hung from them, where dark-haired men from various eras stared back at Emily, each of them hiding a hint of a smile in their eyes.
This room was different than the rest of the house. It felt more intimate and oddly rustic given the tall, wide windows that covered the wall opposite the sideboard. A wealth of Forsythia shrubs reached halfway up each one, the vivid yellow a bright contrast against the tangling emerald ivy that laced the windows’ edges. Emily felt as though she had walked into an enchanted world surrounded by flowers.
Rather than seem out of place, Godric ruled his lands like a god of nature. He did not swagger. Rather, his stride was graceful, almost feline, when he led her into the dining room.
Emily suffered a strange moment of pride at the thought that a man like him had offered her to join him in bed. He’d slept with scores of women, that’s what rakes did, but still…he’d declared his interest in her. As foolish as it was, she relished being wanted, until she reminded herself that she must stand strong against him and his merry band of rogues.
On the sideboard behind the table someone had spread out an array of fruits, ham, beef and eggs. Three men sat near one end of the table. A handsome manwith red hair and hazel eyes read a newspaper and offered a calculated smile as Emily and Godric entered.
She glanced down at herself and realized how wrinkled her dress had become. Did he know that just outside the door, Godric had tickled her into submission? It still upset her that his means at subduing her were so effective.
The man holding the paper rose along with the other two men. They all bowed politely when Godric pressed her down into a seat across from the man who resumed his perusal ofThe Morning Post. Godric’s hands lingered heavily on her shoulders, the pressure a clear message to keep her bottom planted in her chair or suffer the consequences.
The red-haired man set his paper down and held a rack of toast out to her. “Good morning, Miss Parr. Did you sleep well?” Emily kept her head declined as she took a piece, her hand shaking as she set it on her plate. The three men exchanged glances. A silent conversation hummed in the air between them.
“Yes, thank you. I slept quite well.”
Emily became increasingly self-conscious of the fact she sat in a room alone with four powerful lords. The pale blond man on her right was Lord Ashton Lennox, a wealthy baron. She’d caught a glimpse of him two nights before, at her first come out when Anne Chessley had pointed to him. He’d been near the refreshments, drinking a glass of wine and speaking to a lovely young lady, a girl whose father was one of the owners of Drummond’s Bank.
Godric chose the seat on her left, while the thirdman, Cedric, sat down next to the man with the paper. The seating arrangements had her entirely boxed in.
Her hands fisted in her lap.
Breathe, Emily. Breathe. She drew in the scented air and forced her body into calmness. If she couldn’t flee the room, she would learn as much about her captors as she could. “Pardon me, but are you the Marquess of Rochester or the Earl of Lonsdale?” she asked quietly of the fourth man.
