“How? By sabotaging the carriage?” The flicker of interest in her eyes made him wish he hadn’t made the sardonic remark.
“I will do whatever it takes.” And with that, she left his bedchamber and stormed off to the adjoining room.
Emily couldn’t breathe with the suffocating fury infusing her. Sleeping was utterly impossible. If Stephen thought he was going to take the children from her, then he was sorely mistaken.
She paced the floors of her room, trying to think. What could she do? She dismissed the idea of tampering with the carriage, for that would only hurt the children.
In the looking glass, she caught a glimpse of herself. Her pale face appeared haunted and drawn. Blonde hair tumbled about her shoulders, looking desperately in need of attention. Raising her palms to her cheeks, she realized she would make any man run in horror. Simply dreadful.
After removing the pins, she began to brush her hair. She had to stop Stephen from leaving the house. Somehow, some way. If he couldn’t leave, then he couldn’t take the children.
Would seducing him change his mind? She knew a woman could control a man with her body. Emily glanced down at her own form, doubtful that she could do the same.
Yet, she didn’t rule out the possibility. Her skin prickled at the thought.
She pulled on her wrapper and padded downstairs to the kitchen. The scullery maids were sleeping in a corner of the room, and Emily tried not to awaken them while she made herself a cup of tea. The scent of burning coal mingled with the faint aromas from the evening meal. The large wooden table held knife scars where the servants had sliced vegetables.
As she rubbed her cold feet near the stove, an idea formed. There wasn’t much time. But it might work.
She opened a drawer and searched for the sharpest knife she could find. This wouldn’t be easy. But then again, nothing worth doing was easy. She lifted the knife and headed upstairs to Stephen’s bedchamber.
The next morning, Stephen did not wait for his valet to help him dress. He’d slept poorly that night, wishing he could have coaxed Emily to go with him to Nigel’s residence.
He pulled on a shirt and waistcoat, fumbling with the buttons in the darkness. When at last he was fully dressed, he reached for his riding boots and slid them on.
His foot went completely through the sole. The bottom of his boot hit the floor with a loud thunk. He cursed and forced his foot into the other boot. Like the first, the boot had no sole.
When he opened the wardrobe, he realized someone had butchered every pair of shoes he owned. And he knew just who that someone was.
He strode barefoot down the hallway to his wife’s room. With a loud crash, he threw her door open.
“Good morning,” she muttered sleepily, yawning.
“What did you do to my shoes?” he demanded. “And you’ve ruined my best pair of riding boots!”
“Yes, I did. Now you won’t be leaving the house.” She yawned and rolled over. “Close the door. I’m going back to sleep.”
He obeyed but only to keep the servants from hearing their argument. “If you think such a childish trick will prevent me from leaving, you are wrong. I’ll simply borrow shoes from Farnsworth.” He sat down on the bed and threw back the covers. He’d not allow her to sleep through this disagreement.
“You don’t wear the same size.”
“I’ll leave whenever I damn well please, boots or not.”
“Do you truly wish to leave?” she asked softly. He saw suddenly that her nightgown was of the sheerest silken fabric, completely revealing every curve. “Or would you rather do as you please?”
His words caught in his mouth. “You don’t control me, Emily.”
“No?” Her hands stripped away his waistcoat and shirt until he sat bare-chested beside her. He didn’t know what her intentions were, but so long as she was removing clothing, he did not particularly care.
“We’re not finished arguing,” he informed her.
In response, she lowered the bodice of her nightgown and pressed her breasts against his skin. “No. We’re not finished. I can see how angry you are.”
Anger was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. It took only moments to strip himself of the rest of his clothing. “I’m furious.”
He pushed her onto her back, pulling her hips against him. She wore nothing beneath the nightgown, and his body responded instantly.
Too fast. He needed to slow her down, to take control of the situation. He suspected she intended to seduce him. It was a blatant ploy to get her way. But he had more restraint than she knew.
