“Good afternoon, my lord,” she answered and stared down at his hands.
Hands that had touched her intimately less than twenty-four hours before.
“My lord?” The teasing in his voice was unmistakable.
“Emerson,” she said. She might be pretending to be someone other than herself, but it was foolish to pretend nothing was happening between the two of them.
Had happened.
But even as she did her best to convince herself she’d not succumb to this attraction again, her heart and body sounded a chant that grew more persistent with each heartbeat. One last time. One last kiss. What difference would it make now?
“I thought you might have gone with the others.” He shook his head a little and then strolled out from behind his desk. However, rather than come forward, he placed his hands on the surface behind him and rested against it.
“You asked me not to.” Because, he’d said, they needed to talk.
He surprised her by twisting around, and when he faced her again, was holding an official-looking document.
“I had this drawn up.” He didn’t tell her what it was but instead held it out for her to take.
Addendum to Marriage Contract. It was written in elaborate script, followed by smaller but just as elaborately formed letters that, as far as Priscilla could tell, consisted mostly of legal speak.
She frowned and then flicked her gaze back to his. “What is it?” Even as she asked, she couldn’t help admiring the lines of his freshly shaven jaw and his mouth, which could be tender and demanding at the same time.
“You have refused my offer of marriage.” Emerson grimaced, his words bringing her back to her mission.
She dipped her chin. “Yes.”
“And haven’t provided me with a single compelling reason. So today, we will address your concerns.”
Priscilla felt her mouth drop open but then shut it. She’d not been wrong, but this wasn’t the sort of meeting she’d envisioned. She’d hoped it would be short and to the point.
Emerson, it seemed, had other ideas.
With a steady hand at her back, he steered her to a leather settee placed opposite the giant hearth. “Shall we get comfortable?”
The last time she’d sat beside him alone had been in his chamber… She mentally reprimanded the butterflies threatening to take flight in her chest and inhaled a fortifying breath. “Very well.”
She couldn’t allow her imagination to distract her from what she needed to do.
Or her dreams.
Or the longing that grew stronger every time she looked at him.
“This addresses your independence as my wife.” He pointed at the first codicil. And as he explained the details, Priscilla’s gaze focused on his blunt nails and his long, elegant fingers rather than the words on the page.
He’d stroked her intimate flesh with those fingers. He’d driven them deep, providing her immeasurable pleasure.
“You will have free will as to where you will live, your own funds, and equal access to our children for the duration of our lives. I realize you’re a young woman who values her independence. Is that what has been holding you back?”
Is it?
No. That’s not it. It’s because I’m not Allison Meadowbrook.
The words hovered on her tongue. Tell him.
But she couldn’t speak.
He was so good. So very, very kind. “I’m sorry.” She tore her gaze away from his hand.
