“Time will tell, I suppose. But I do think my coming here will prevent unfavorable gossip. Your father is going to tell anyone who asks that you and I have decided to come here together.”
Emily nodded. “If you need anything, I’m in the next room.”
Her mother said nothing until Emily had almost shut the door behind her. And then she murmured, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Emily replied. The door clicked shut and she blew out a deep breath that seemed to sweep away all the tension she’d harbored inside her veins since her mother’s arrival. Drained and exhausted, she walked to her own room and prepared for bed.
8
Awakenedby a bright beam of sunshine falling in through the window and onto her face, Emily blinked and pulled her quilt up over her head with a groan. She’d forgotten to close the curtains last night and was now paying the price, although judging from the color of the light, it was time for her to rise.
With a sigh, she flung her quilt aside and pushed herself into a sitting position. She squinted, rubbed her eyes, and drew her hair back from her face. There were now three guests in her home, and all would have to be fed. She pondered that thought for a moment. Eggs and toast would be the simplest solution.
Satisfied that she knew what to prepare, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood, and proceeded with her toilette. The chilly floor nipped at the soles of her feet, causing her toes to curl inward. So she washed quickly, tied her hair in a knot, and put on a long-sleeved day dress cut from faded burgondy cotton. Over her shoulders, she placed a fawn-colored shawl which she crossed over her breasts and tied at her back.
She was just preparing to leave the room when she looked out the window and spotted Lord Griffin. Dressed in brown breeches and a jacket to match, he was walking away from the house at a brisk pace while carrying something in his arms. But before Emily had a chance to determine what the item might be, he was gone, vanishing behind a large rhododendron bush that stood at the edge of the garden.
Emily turned from the window and went to prepare the breakfast. Her mother was still abed, which was something of a relief since Emily dreaded having to face her after the manner in which she’d addressed her the night before. A daughter did not speak to her mother with such disrespect. It simply wasn’t done. And yet, as she stoked the fire in the hearth and lit the oven, Emily reminded herself of Lord Griffin’s response. He had not been appalled or outraged by her manner. Quite the contrary. And as flattering as that had felt, it had also been liberating. Not only because she’d had his support, but because she’d had the courage to put the anger and pain her mother had caused into words. Forcing her to hear them had been the most cathartic experience of her life. She finally believed that there was a chance she could put the past behind her and move on, freer than ever before.
Pleased by this awareness, she cooked six eggs and toasted some bread, placed everything on the frying pan and covered the food with a lid to keep it warm. Since Lord Griffin had not yet returned from his walk, she decided to go and see if she could find him and let him know that breakfast was ready.
But when she crossed the grass and passed the rhododendron bush and the lake came into view, the sight that met her, of Lord Griffin’s lean body moving elegantly through the water, almost caused her to lose her footing. Discovering him like this was so far removed from what she’d been expecting that she could not have imagined it even if she’d tried.
Caught between doing the right thing, which was to turn away, and the intense curiosity building inside her, Emily drew to a halt. She really ought to go back to the house and give him the privacy he deserved for his morning swim. But in spite of her good intentions, Emily’s feet were somehow stuck to the ground. In fact, she was fairly certain that even if a herd of cattle came charging toward her, she would not be able to move.
So she stood, watching one arm sweep slowly up and over his head, muscles bunching briefly in his shoulders, before his hand reached into the water, propelling him fluidly forward. The other arm followed suit and then the pattern repeated with perfect timing as if he was silently pacing himself. Which Emily realized he must be when she noticed that he turned his head to breathe on exactly every fourth stroke. A shallow splashing of water accompanied his movements as he scissored his legs to aid his propulsion.
Emily stared. For a man of his height and build, she would not have imagined him capable of such grace. When he reached the far embankment, he dove beneath the water to turn, coming back up with the agile dexterity of a man accustomed to being in the water. His dark brown hair, almost black now, was pushed back from his forehead by the water. The wetness made it gleam in the early morning light breaking through the branches of a nearby weeping willow. It also made Emily forget time and place. All that existed for her right now in this moment was him, his strength and agility so thoroughly engaging she could not think of anything else.
Until he suddenly stood, rising up under a cascade of water that poured down his neck and over his shoulders. And then his eyes met hers.
With a gasp of awareness, Emily spun to the right, hiding behind the wide trunk of an oak.
“Miss Howard?” She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut in a silly attempt to escape reality. “I know you are there.” When she stayed out of sight he spoke a bit louder. “You cannot honestly think that I failed to see you?”
“I was hoping you might have.” Opening her eyes, she rolled them and muttered a curse, then stepped out from behind the oak.
The problem with this was that Lord Griffin had not remained where he was but had risen further out of the lake, putting his toned chest and well-defined abdomen on very prominent display.
Unwittingly, Emily’s gaze dipped lower, to where his body disappeared beneath the surface of the water. A flare of heat rose to her cheeks while hot little embers pricked at her skin, exacerbated by her knowledge that he was probably completely undressed.
She glanced away, unable to look directly at him, until he quietly asked, “Were you spying on me?” Which naturally caused her to meet his gaze directly and with no small amount of chagrin.
For a brief second as she stood there, staring back into his intensely dark eyes, she was tempted to lie. “No,” she wanted to say. “Of course not.” Perhaps with an added, “How dare you suggest such a thing?”
But then she reminded herself of their agreement and raised her chin instead. Crossing her arms, she told him honestly, “Yes.”
His eyebrows rose and his lips parted a fraction – just enough to convey his surprise. And then he laughed, not with humor but with the sort of devilish amusement that Emily imagined must be reserved for only the wickedest scoundrels. It suggested that his thoughts had turned very sinful indeed.
“I cannot help but marvel at your candor,” he murmured in a low, seductive tone. “And your curiosity is certainly inspiring.”
His eyes darkened as he took a step forward. The water slid away from the lower part of his chest, revealing his navel.
Emily stared even as she took a step back.
“I wonder,” Lord Griffin said as another stride offered a view of his hip, “how far this curiosity of yours,” his other hip appeared along with a narrow dart of black hair leading down over his pelvis, “will take you.”
Emily closed her eyes, her mortification stomping out all of her courage. “I just came to tell you that breakfast is ready. I’m sorry for the intrusion which wasn’t...” She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, before she turned on her heel and hurried back to the house, as she ought to have done when she’d first seen him.
