“And has her family come into more money or any other thing that might give her more value in the eyes of some?” Sheffield pressed.
“No, of course not,” James said. “What are you getting at?”
“We both know that this plan of yours is more beneficial to Miss Liston than it is to you.” Sheffield folded his arms across his chest. “You may pretend not to care, but I recognize that you want to help her. And that is not the worst impulse. Many people have…” He hesitated. “Have things that happen that are not in their control. Things that damage them. And good peopleshouldhelp. So if you are asking me what I think you should do, I think helping the young woman is still the right thing to do.”
James stared at Sheffield. No one had spoken to him about his plan in those terms. If he abandoned Emma now, just because he was uncomfortable with the desire she inspired in him, was it being fair to her? After all, he had dragged her into this idea. She never would have asked to be in this position without his prodding.
“I know you are right,” he said at last.
Sheffield smiled, and there was some relief to his expression. As if he were truly invested in the idea of James helping Emma. James looked at his friend more closely.
“Why are you up so late?” he asked.
Sheffield shifted. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “And I thought a book might help.”
James frowned. “You’ve been of great help to me tonight. Can I be of some to you?”
Sheffield held his gaze for a moment and then he shook his head. “No, my friend, I think not. Thank you for the offer, though. I do appreciate it.” He pushed to his feet. “I’ll be off to bed now. You should do the same. It seems you have some damage to repair with Miss Liston tomorrow. I hope you will make it clear to her that I have no intention of speaking to anyone about finding you two in the library tonight.”
“I will,” James said, holding out a hand to Sheffield. They shook. “Thank you.”
Sheffield shrugged. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Good night.”
He left the room then, leaving James to stand and stare at the flames dancing in the fire. Tonight he had gone too far with Emma and he should have felt sorry for it. He didn’t. In fact, all he felt was a stronger urge to do it again. To do more.
And all he could do was try to control that part of him that wanted to take and claim her. To focus on the true matters at hand and not let Emma Liston’s unexpected charms veer him from his course.
Chapter Ten
If Emma had hoped that a good night’s sleep would help, that was not to be. First because sleep had not come at all, second because no amount of time or space could change what she had done with James in the library.
Now she sat at the breakfast room table, staring at her plate, reliving every heated, passionate moment between them. Could the others see it on her face? Would the Duke of Sheffield tell anyone about their encounter?
She had no idea, but she trembled at it and the knowledge of what either of those things could do to her. And in truth, she trembled at her memories too. Wrong or not, what James had done to her when he touched her was nothing short of magnificent. She’d never felt such pleasure. Even now her toes curled when she thought of it.
It was all very confusing.
As if the universe sensed her confusion, James came through the breakfast room door at that moment. She made a soft, strangled sound in her throat as he paused, his dark gaze sweeping over the room until he found her. Their eyes locked, and in the depths of his smoky stare she saw passion and heat and promises that would never be fulfilled.
She turned her face to break the eye contact and focused on slowing her breathing as best she could. To no avail.
“Good morning,” James said to those who were already awake and eating. It was not their entire party, that was certain. Only about half those in attendance were downstairs, but those who were called out greetings.
James strode through the room and plopped himself in the seat across from Emma. She felt the eyes of the ladies track to her, and blushed as she glared at him.
“Don’t,” she said through clenched teeth. “Don’t.”
His expression softened as stared into her eyes, concern written across every line of his handsome face. “Emma,” he said softly.
“Your Grace,” she said back, sending him a look to remind him they were in public now, not a private garden or on the dancefloor or in a…library.
He pressed his lips together hard and glanced up at the servant who brought him coffee and a plate of food. Once they were alone again, he leaned in closer. “I want to talk to you.”
She shook her head slightly. “Here?”
“No,” he said. “Too many people. Excuse yourself and meet me on the terrace off the parlor across the hall.”
“Everyone will watch us leave together.”
