“Isn’t that the plan?” he asked.
She sighed. The plan. God’s teeth, after last night she’d all but forgotten his plan. His plan to find her some other man to marry, a man who wouldn’t know that the Duke of Abernathe had put his hands up her skirt and made her world turn to rainbow colors and intense waves of unimaginable pleasure.
Damn him.
“Fine,” she said, pushing aside her half-empty plate.
She rose and departed the room with just a few words here and there to those in attendance. Thank God her mother and Meg both weren’t up yet. Emma was quite certain each of them would notice the odd interaction between Emma and James. Meg because was too sharp not to. Mrs. Liston because she was obsessed with every move Emma made when it came to the prospects of a duke.
She stalked across the hall, into the parlor and out the French doors onto the terrace. The late spring morning sun hit her face and she drew in a long breath of fresh country air. Her heart rate began to slow as she did so. Her hands stopped shaking and for the first time since last night, her wild mind calmed and let her think clearly.
But all she could do was think of James touching her. Of her body doing things she had never imagined were possible. Things she’d liked, if she were honest with herself.
All her life, she had been forced into situations she didn’t enjoy. She’d been forced to be afraid thanks to her father’s antics. Forced to dance when she did not wish to. Forced to pretend that rejection didn’t hurt. Forced to hide her intelligence.
But last night it was if the chains of all those things, all those situations, had been lifted from her and she’d flown beneath his hands. Spiraling up to the sky until she feared she’d burn in the sun. And it had felt damned good.
“Emma?”
She jumped at James saying her name and turned to find him closing the terrace doors. He moved toward her, hesitating, his expression uncertain. Her heart sank at the sight. He must regret what they did, especially since his friend had seen them together in what would be a compromising position by any definition.
“Good morning,” she said with a sigh.
He tilted his head. “Are you…well?”
“If you are asking if I slept well, I did not,” she said, looking away from him so he wouldn’t see her blush.
“I admit neither did I,” he said, his tone almost relived. “I-I couldn’t stop thinking about the library, Emma.”
She dared to look at him and found him focused so intently on her that it felt like he imprisoned her with his stare. Her lips parted and she took a half step toward him. “I have also thought of it a great deal since last night.”
“What I did…what I did was ungentlemanly, Emma,” he said. “And dangerous.”
“Your friend…the Duke of Sheffield—” she began, but he cut her off.
“Baldwin will not say a word, I vow that to you. He is a good man, he has no desire to hurt either of us,” he said. “Our secret is safe with him.”
She let out a short breath of relief. “And yet you still regret what you…did?” she asked, hating to hear the answer but knowing she needed to hear it. Only the truth would wake her from this dream that somehow this man really wanted her.
He swallowed hard before he spoke. “That is not what I said, Emma. I said what I did was wrong. I did not say I regretted it.”
She gasped and shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“I wanted you,” he whispered. “And that wanting took over my reason, which was wrong. I put you in a situation where you could have been damaged greatly by my actions. But as far as touching you went, as far as making you come…that was a pleasure.”
“You liked it?” she asked, shocked.
He nodded slowly. “Very much. But I know I must apologize because I am far more experienced than you are. I never should have coerced you into allowing me such liberties, no matter how strong my desire for you was.”
She moved forward again, and now they were dangerously close. Not quite inappropriately, but edging toward it. And she didn’t give a damn.
“James,” she whispered, breathless. “What happened last night…that was the first time I have felt alive in…in a very long time. I didn’t even know it was possible to feel like you made me feel.”
He lifted a hand, and in that moment everything slowed. He clearly wanted to touch her and she so desperately wanted him to do just that. But then his gaze slid to the door and he lowered his hand with a frown.
“I’m glad you don’t regret it,” he said softly.
Relief flowed through her, as well as desire she was starting to understand. “Could we…do it again?”
