Emily handed him the packages meant for Stephen. “See to it that Lord Whitmore receives these.”
Phillips bowed and took the parcels away. Afterwards, she sat, folding her hands in her lap. She tried to don a calm presence of mind. With each passing minute, she longed to pace the room. Where was Stephen? Would he refuse to see her?
The sound of movement drew her attention. Anger punctuated the earl’s stride, fury lined in every muscle of his frame. Callous gray eyes incinerated her with the full force of his wrath.
“You were supposed to remain in the country where it’s safe,” he said in a tight voice. He was holding back his temper, and she knew that she had best tread lightly.
“I am glad to see you, too.” She rose from the sofa and noted that he made no move to embrace or greet her.
The earl turned his back on her, staring out the window. Tension ridged his spine, his knuckles resting upon the windowpane. “You put yourself in danger by coming here.”
“Myself in danger? You were the one who came here alone to confront your enemies.” She walked to stand beside him. The scent of his shaving soap evoked the memory of his naked body atop her own. She closed her eyes, unable to stop herself from thinking of it. He kept his distance, and she wondered what it would take to break apart the wall between them.
“Did Nigel escort you here?”
“Yes. And the children. My uncle intends to introduce me into society properly.”
His temper erupted. “It’s not safe, Emily. Why would you bring all of you here? Does he intend to parade you in front of my attacker?”
She bridled at his accusation. “Should I have remained at Nigel’s home, alone, while he came to London? He brought most of his household with him. It was safer to accompany him.”
“You don’t understand what you’re dealing with, Emily.” Stephen advanced upon her, closing the distance. Dragging her to her feet, he grasped her nape. “Show some sense. Twice, someone has tried to kill me, and yet you behave as though you are immune to peril.” There was worry in his voice, echoing her own fears for him.
“You’re behaving the same way.” She covered his hands, only inches away from his mouth. Without letting him speak, she leaned forward and kissed him. Right now, she needed to be in her husband’s arms.
His lips touched hers with such gentleness, she wanted to weep. Dear God, if anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself.
His gray eyes grew troubled. “I want you to return to Nigel’s estate. Wait for me there with the children.”
She shook her head. “You shouldn’t be here alone, Stephen. I don’t want you to die.” It was unthinkable to imagine losing him.
“I have no intention of dying.”
“Neither did Daniel. But intentions cannot stop a bullet.”
His palm caressed her nape, his fingers threading into her hair. The familiar touch, the sudden transformation of anger into desire, made her shiver. His thumb grazed a path toward her ear.
He embraced her tightly, and though he spoke nothing of his own feelings, no words were needed. His nose brushed against her temple, his mouth against her cheek.
“I investigated the will, as you asked. And Nigel is indeed the guardian of Victoria and Royce,” Stephen said. “I could argue the matter in court, if you want me to pursue it further. But I doubt if we’d win.”
“I want them back,” she admitted. “But he has taken good care of the children. And of me.”
He stepped back, his gaze passing over her rose gown. “You look lovely today.”
She blushed. “I have a different gown for tomorrow evening. Uncle Nigel plans to escort me to Lady Thistlewaite’s ball.”
“No.” The edge in his voice held a warning. “You’re not going. It’s not safe.”
“I will be in public,” she argued. “Nothing will happen.” After a slight pause, she added, “I saw your mother today, and she thinks I trapped you into marriage.”
“That’s not true.”
His immediate defense emboldened her. “I know, but…I want to be the sort of countess you need. I need to face thetonand find my place among them.”
Her anger flared up, but he continued, “I don’t want you to be hurt, Emily. Not by the man who wants me dead. And not by the society matrons who would cut you down.”
Before she could protest, he stole another kiss. Temptation beckoned her to lose herself with him once more. Without thinking, she reached up to touch his dark brown hair, letting her arms settle around his neck. “The matrons would not cut me down if you acknowledged me as your wife.”
