He shook his head in exasperation, then lifted her feet to stand atop his. He pressed her close, and memories welled up inside. He had held her in his arms like this before they’d run away to be married. At the time, she had believed it to be wildly romantic, and he, the daring hero. Now she saw their impulsive wedding as the mark of fools.
“I am sorry about the way I treated you back there,” he murmured. “But after tonight, I don’t want to put you or the children at risk of attack. I wouldn’t forgive myself if they harmed you.”
She didn’t acknowledge the apology but shivered at his warm breath against her cheek. When the music ceased, he held her for a moment.
The faint light of the moon cast shadows over his face. Upon his collar she saw the faint stain of blood, and it bothered her. He had almost died tonight. She found herself watching him, her breath rising and falling in rhythm with his.
Lord help her, she remembered too well what it was to love this man. Her hand moved up to his face, as if to memorize it. The warmth of his skin, the striking features of his face captivated her. His dark gray eyes melted away her inhibitions.
And this time, she kissed him. At first, the lightness of his lips against hers was like a soft breeze, barely there. Then, he slanted his mouth to take her more deeply, his tongue touching hers. The wet sensation made her relive every moment of her wedding night in his arms.
He had been every dream come true, both gentle and passionate. She’d loved him so much, believing that he loved her, too. The memory shadowed her, the past colliding with the present.
Don’t think of it. Just be with him now.
The seduction in his eyes held her spellbound, stealing her breath while intense heat spread through her skin. Her breasts tightened against the delicate fabric, as his mouth moved away from hers to trail down to her shoulders.
She closed her eyes. “You don’t remember anything of what it was like, do you?” Her own memories haunted her, of feeling his hardened body atop hers. “Our wedding night.”
“I want to remember it.” His mouth nipped at her ear while his hands skimmed over her spine. “Perhaps you can show me tonight.”
She inhaled the crisp spring air, trying not to think of how he’d forgotten her. He hadn’t loved her then. And he didn’t love her now.
“You married me to escape Miss Hereford,” she said slowly. “I was a means to an end, not someone you wanted to wed.”
“That wasn’t the only reason, and you know it.” His fingers grasped her wrist, softly tracing a pattern over her skin. “Don’t shut me out, Emily.”
Thoughts of his carnal embrace invaded her mind. She wanted to be with him, more than anything. And yet, if she shared his bed, what if she were nothing but an evening’s entertainment?
She wanted to be more. Although he had broken her heart, she still cared for him. And one night would never be enough.
She stepped away, not even knowing the words that escaped her mouth before she picked up her skirts and fled. She ran through the gardens to the front entrance where the carriages waited.
Gravel cut into her feet as she hailed the coachman. She climbed inside the carriage, clenching her fan in a death grip. Minutes later, her maid Beatrice joined her, after a footman located her.
All through the ride home, Emily tried to harden her heart. She shouldn’t want to be a part of society, or desire to taste his world.
But when he’d danced with her alone in the garden, in that moment he’d once again become the man she had fallen in love with. Handsome, strong, and capable of fulfilling her every desire, it had taken all of her willpower to resist him.
And worse, was the knowledge that he desired her, too.
Stephen swirled the brandy in his glass, watching Lord Carstairs pour his own glass. He’d chosen his father’s study for their meeting.
“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Whitmore. I am glad to see you are well after everything that has happened.” Carstairs sat down, slightly agitated. “I’ve not seen you since the night you left my house.”
“I apologize for my sudden departure,” Stephen replied, watching the man for any suspicious gesture.
Carstairs shrugged. “Understandable, given the circumstances. But honestly, Whitmore, you should have waited for my men to assist you. Going after Hollingford on your own was not wise. I am surprised you lived to tell the tale.” His face turned serious. “Did he give you the list?”
Stephen wasn’t certain what list Carstairs was speaking of, but he played along. “No. I did not find it.”
“Damn. We need the names of the other investors.” Carstairs took a sip of his brandy.
Stephen kept his face neutral, wondering just why Carstairs was so interested in a list of names. He ventured a guess. “The investors inThe Lady Valiant, you mean?”
“Yes, of course.” Carstairs’s eyes narrowed. “Have you any idea of where Hollingford kept his records? Did you send men to his residence?
“No. I’ve only just returned to London.” From the desperate tone in the viscount’s voice, Stephen suspected there was more to the stolen shipment. “Has something else happened?”
