With the snow falling against her hood, a few flakes landed upon her lashes. Her brown eyes were dark and mischievous, like the eyes of the girl he’d known. In that moment, he no longer cared that it was the middle of the night, and they were caught in a snowstorm. It didn’t matter that he was an earl with a respectable reputation to uphold.
He strode forward with a snowball in his own hands. “Do you really want to play, Emily?”
Before he could throw it, his foot caught on a patch of ice and he stumbled forward. He grabbed Emily’s hands, trying to regain his balance, but he tipped over, dragging her with him.
She laughed, smashing snow into his collar. He didn’t find it amusing at all, but with her body straddled atop him, unexpected desire roared into full force. His hands moved into her hair, dragging her mouth down to his. Though her lips were cold, he didn’t care. The spiraling attraction made it impossible to think clearly, the kiss tempting him beyond reason.
He kept waiting for her to strike out at him, but she didn’t. Instead, she cupped her hand to his face, seeking comfort. She nipped at his upper lip, and when her silken tongue touched his, it took everything he had to break free from the spell she’d cast upon him.
“Emily, stop.”
His hardened erection pressed against her body, and right now he wanted to unfasten his breeches, burying himself inside her warmth. He wanted her naked skin against his, her body at his beckoning. “This isn’t a game anymore.”
It was becoming physically painful to have her body so intimately pressed against his. Gingerly, he lifted her off him and stood. “Let’s go inside.” Or better yet, she could go inside, and he could go stand in a snowdrift to cool his ardor.
“Wait. I want to watch the snow for a moment.” A wistful smile curved at her lips. “I used to love seeing it fall against my window during the wintertime. I’ve always thought it was enchanting.”
To indulge her, Stephen stood while the snow swirled around them. Emily didn’t look at him, but her fingers brushed against his in silent invitation. He took her cold hand in his, trying to warm it.
The wild flakes blew wherever they wanted to, gracing tree branches and bushes with a rich icing of white. There was no pattern to it, nothing predictable. Only freedom in its purest form. And in that moment, he understood why she loved it so.
Though her teeth were chattering, he waited until Emily was ready to return. Her hair was dotted with white, for her hood had slipped off.
“That was foolish of me, I know,” she said, when they entered the house once more. “My clothes are soaked.”
He walked her to the stairs. “I’ll put some hot water on the stove for you. You can bathe and warm yourself.”
“But the wood—I need to make it last.”
“We’re going to use it all up tonight, Emily,” he informed her. “I’ll be sending you coal in the morning.”
She sobered, then gave a nod. “I suppose.” Even so, she appeared uneasy, almost afraid of him. It was his own fault for touching her.
“I’m not going to ask anything of you tonight,” he swore. “You’ll get warm and sleep in your own bed. I won’t come near you.”
Her brown eyes gazed into his, and with trembling hands, she reached out to him. He saw the same aching desire that he was feeling, mingled with her fears.
“What if I want you to?”
Chapter Four
Emilywaitedfornearlyan hour before Stephen brought up the last of the hot water. He’d added it to the small hip bath, mixing it with snow to bring it to the right temperature. Heaven help her, she’d been fascinated by his muscles straining as he lifted the heavy pots, pouring the water into her bath.
He didn’t have to work this hard, nor had she expected him to assume the role of a servant. When the last of the water had been added, he turned to leave.
“Stay,” she whispered. She pushed away all thoughts of how wrong her invitation was. The chances of her marrying anyone were slim, and she didn’t doubt that Whitmore would leave her again. This might be the last moment she would ever be alone with him.
The old feelings of unrequited love threatened to bury her. In her girlish dreams, she’d hoped that one day they might marry. And though he’d never spoken a word of his own feelings, she’d known they had friendship.
They still did. For tonight, it was enough.
He crossed the room to stand before her. A thin sheen of sweat lined his skin, and he’d loosened his cravat. His steel-gray eyes bore into hers. “I can’t stay with you, and you know it.”
“I’ve been alone for so long,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to go.”
Emily didn’t speak of the feelings she’d locked away, deep inside. If she did, she might break apart. Right now, she was offering herself to him, hoping he wouldn’t abandon her. There would be no other man for her, not at her age. She would never know what it was to lose herself in a man’s touch, to yield beneath his body and unlock the mysteries of taking a lover.
But honor shielded him. He wouldn’t touch her as long as he believed he was taking something away from her. Didn’t he know he was granting her a gift?
