She lifted her gaze and met his, holding it there for a beat, then two. Until it became too long, until something heated flared low in his belly.
“Because of me?” he asked, his voice now rough.
She swallowed and he watched her delicate throat work with the action. “Yes,” she murmured, her own tone much lower and huskier.
“Abernathe?”
He jolted at the sound of his name, said loudly from the other end of the table where Meg was holding court. He jerked his gaze to her and found that virtually every eye at the table was focused on him. On Emma.
Emma seemed to recognize it too in that moment and she blushed as she ducked her head a second time.
“Yes?” he said.
“I said perhaps it’s time to end supper so everyone can ready for the ball.” Meg lifted both eyebrows as she stared first at him, then at Emma.
“Excellent notion,” he said, pushing to his feet. “Ladies and gentlemen, please join us in an hour in the ballroom.”
The others began to rise, their talking filling the room as they began to roam out in pairs or small groups. Emma took a long moment to stand and her hands shook as she placed her napkin on the table. James saw her mother waiting, attention focused entirely too closely on the pair of them. They only had a moment before she approached.
“Emma,” he said, barely resisting the urge to take her hand.
She glanced up at him. “Yes?”
“Will you walk with me in the garden?”
She blinked as if she didn’t understand the question. “Walk with you? Now?”
He nodded. “There’s an hour to the ball and I would have you back in time to get ready. Please, walk with me.”
Her lips parted and she whispered, “Why—”
But before she could finish whatever she was going to say, her mother rushed up to them, her eyes lit up with frenzied pleasure. “Yes! Of course she’ll walk with you, Your Grace.”
James pursed his lips, for he didn’t want Mrs. Liston’s acquiescence. He wanted Emma’s. Even though what he wished to discuss with her was little more than a business arrangement, he still wanted her…surrender.
A realization that put him a little off kilter.
“Is that a yes fromyou, Emma?” he asked.
She shot her mother a look and her cheeks were flame red as she nodded. “Of course, Your Grace. I would very much like that.”
He wasn’t certain if she was being honest with him in that statement, or just trying to appease her mother, who stood by them now, practically bouncing. Meg also stood near the exit, watching them with interest bright in her dark eyes.
In that moment, he didn’t care. He was going to get his way. And as he took her arm and led her from the dining room, he felt a thrill of excitement he hadn’t experienced for a long time.
Chapter Seven
Emma gripped her free hand at her side and tried to ignore the fact that her opposite one was locked around the Duke of Abernathe’s bicep. His very muscular bicep. And he smelled good, too, damn him. Like cloves and leather. It was entirely unfair.
He guided her down the stairs, into the garden and through the winding pathway. They had not spoken since they left the dining room a few moments ago, and Emma finally pulled away from him and turned to face him on the path.
His face was lit by both the moon and a few lanterns that guided their way. In that soft half-light, she caught her breath. God, but he was all angles and curves. All hard maleness and it made her feel small and soft standing beside him.
But she didn’t want to feel small and soft, because that meant vulnerable and foolish. She feltthatquite enough already in this life she had so little control over.
She drew in a harsh breath and tried to forget that he was close and watching her with those intense eyes. She released his arm, placed her hands on her hips and snapped, “Why did you do that?”
He drew back in surprise at her tone and stared at her with exactly zero understanding on his face. “Do what?”
