In his daydreams, he had made love to her for hours upon languid hours, lavishing attention on her until finally she begged him to stop. Reality had not been so flattering to his ego—yet the feel of her made it plain that she was highly aroused. Evidently she had not been lying; she enjoyed his eagerness as much as he had enjoyed her performance.
“I love you,” she whispered, and finally began to move. She rolled her hips slowly, just enough that sensation burned hot and heavy through him, yet not enough for him to immediately reach the point of no return. She built him up gradually, seconds turning into minutes, the minutes stretching golden like sunlight. He kissed every part of her he could reach; cupped her breasts and told her, over and over again, how perfect she was for him. How much he adored her.
At last, however, as her breath fractured, it became impossible to hold back. He did his best, trying to give her as much time as he could, but his release could not be denied.
“I’m close.” He didn’t have the words for anything more poetic, though they hardly did justice to everything she had done to him. “Where should I—”
“Inside me.” She kissed him again, smothering any doubts he might have had. If Emily ever decided something, she did not do it on a whim. And he was too far gone to argue, too far gone to do anything except hold her tight as his release came upon him.
She rode him until he squirmed underneath her, and then a little more until he pulled her free and turned her, laughing, onto the bed.
“Marry me,” he said as he collapsed beside her.
“You know I will. I asked you first.”
“Stay with me.”
Her eyes turned soft and limpid. “This is my room.”
“Love me.”
“I already do,” she said, and pulled him into her arms.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Emilydidn’thavethechance to speak with Isabella until after breakfast, during which Isabella’s appearance—dictated, no doubt, by Louisa—was characterised by sulky silence.
“Come, Oliver,” Louisa said, picking up her letters and sweeping from the table. “We have lots of preparations to make.”
Emily stayed where she was, sipping at her tea and trying to pretend as though Oliver had not slipped from her bedroom earlier that morning.
Isabella glowered at her plate, her eyes red-rimmed.
Emily should have known this wouldn’t be an easy conversation, but sometimes the most necessary ones were the least pleasant. She had the benefit of being in a gown far finer than she was accustomed to, engaged to the youngest son of an earl, and hosted by a marchioness.
There were worse things in life.
“Are you going to marry him?” Isabella asked at last.
Emily nodded, putting her teacup back on its saucer. “I am.”
“And you love him?” This question was phrased somewhat belligerently, but Emily merely nodded again.
“Yes.”
“Do you not think you ought to have let me marry him instead?” Isabella demanded, suddenly passionate. “He promisedmehe would marry me.”
“He did,” Emily said, “and believe me, that was my original intention. And I am sorry for any distress it may have caused you. But, you see, Oliver never fell in love with you, and I don’t believe you loved him either.”
“That isn’t thepoint.” Isabella turned tearful blue eyes on her sister. “He was mine first.”
“That’s not how people work, Bella. You don’t own them or their choices. He shouldn’t have flirted with you and suggested you might marry for the sake of his inheritance, and you should not have encouraged him to, though I can understand why you did.”
“I don’t want to go back to the life we had before! Am I supposed to just accept my position? We were born as gentlemen’s daughters, and yet we lived in drudgery. How is any of thatfair?” Isabella looked glassy-eyed at the table. “You seemed content with it, but how could I be?”
“Content?” A bitter laugh left Emily’s lips. “What would you know about how I felt, Bella? Did you ever ask me if this was the life I wanted? If I missed the days of having servants and not having to crawl about on the floor lighting fires? Tell me what you did to help with the household chores, hmm?”
A line appeared between Isabella’s brows. “I don’t understand.”
