“And are you still afraid?”
When she didn’t answer, he drew her back into a dancing position. Without asking permission, he moved in a gentle circle, waltzing with her. “Do you remember the first time we danced?”
Emily nodded, her heartbeat quickening. “It was in the stables at Lady Woolthrope’s house party.”
“Ten years ago,” he said, releasing her. He sat down in a chair before the fire, propping his feet up. “I was seventeen.”
She was hesitant but joined him, sitting within arm’s reach. So many memories of their past. As an adolescent, Stephen had trod on her toes more times than she could count. He hadn’t wanted to embarrass himself in front of the family at his first public gathering. Emily had known as little about dancing as he did, and they’d crashed into the horse stalls more than once on a bad turn.
“You fell into the muck,” she said.
“I’d been trying to forget that part.”
He edged his chair closer to hers, and she didn’t pull away. The fire warmed her stocking feet, and she couldn't suppress a smile. “That was the best part.”
He pulled off his socks, setting his bare feet beside her. “What else do you remember?”
Hiding from her parents while they argued over what to sell next. Lying back in the summer grasses next to the boy whom she’d dreamed would rescue her. Experiencing the thrill of her first kiss.
Emily’s skin prickled, aware that he was only a few feet away from her. “You hated your father,” she whispered. “I remember that.”
He grew somber at the mention of the marquess. “You used to make me laugh. When nothing else would.”
He stood and knelt before her. In his eyes, she saw a hint of the boy he had been, so desperate to win his father’s approval. And how many times he had been disappointed.
He rested his hands upon her knees, closing his eyes. Emily almost reached out to touch his dark hair, to kiss him.Don’t, she warned herself.He’ll only break your heart.He didn’t see when she pulled back.
His hands moved beneath her skirts, to caress her legs. Although a thin layer of fabric protected her from his bare palms, her imagination remembered full well what it was like to feel him caressing her thighs. Dear God, what was he doing?
Heat blazed through her as he reached up to unbutton her gown, lifting it away. Her mind cried out for her to stop him, but her body remained frozen, trapped by her own rising desire. She didn’t protest, as she should have. As each petticoat, stocking and crinoline joined the discarded dress, she grew more nervous. Then he unlaced her stays, his hands warm and seductive.
Clad in only a chemise and drawers, she felt completely exposed. Even when they had been intimate, it had always been dark. He had never seen her unclothed.
She didn’t move when he lowered his hands and took her foot into his lap. His thumb glided over her arch, his hands squeezing gently as he massaged the soreness from them.
She closed her eyes, wishing she had the courage to pull away. But, oh, his hands felt so good.
Needing to fill the silence with conversation, she fumbled for the right words. “Thank you for finding Royce.”
“Look at me,” Stephen said firmly. Though she didn’t want to, he waited until her gaze met his. “I know you’re still afraid. But I won’t let anyone harm the children. Or you.”
“Promise me.”
“You have my word.”
Before she could breathe, he drew her legs around his waist in a shocking embrace. His mouth captured hers in a feverish kiss. Mindlessly, she kissed him back, her body remembering his.
“I don’t love you,” she whispered when his mouth tugged at her ear.I can’t. I won’t.
He tugged at her chemise, exposing her breasts. Slowly, he circled her skin with his tongue. Her sensitive nipples rose up, aching for his kiss. His thumb grazed the tip, and she shuddered.
“You want me. And you belong to me.”
Between her legs, a wetness made her crave him. She hadn’t forgotten a moment of the nights they’d shared after their wedding. With each caress of his fingers upon her breasts, a dark need welled up.
He covered her breasts again and tasted her through the soft cambric, scraping his teeth against the taut nipple. She nearly came apart at the rough sensation of wet fabric and his hot mouth.
“Stephen,” she whispered, holding on to his shoulders and trying to urge him closer. Desire battered against her sense of reason. She didn’t understand what he was doing when he moved back from her.
