But not her. She’d always known it was there, like the spark of an ember just waiting for a chance to burst into flame. From the moment she’d met him she’d instinctively sensed the heat simmering just below his cool surface. Even when she’d despised him, or been furious with him, she’d still been drawnto that heat.
Perhaps she’d known all along he’d be the man who’d melt the ice that imprisoned her heart.
But it was more than that. What had unfolded between them, the passion, his whispered words of desire and adoration, had little to do with his skills as a lover.
He’d said he loved her. He’d whispered those sacred words to her, and she’d longed to say them back to him. They’d hovered just at the edge of her tongue, but somehow, she hadn’t been able to speak them into reality.
Yet she did love him. These stolen moments with him were everything to her.
For all that she’d never believed love would be hers, her scarred heart had suddenly learned to beat again, and now it throbbed with a flood of love for him.
Samuel shifted beside her in the bed. Emma’s fingers drifted over his chest, and he caught her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her fingertips. “Tell me about your scars, Emma.”
Emma let out a long, slow breath. She never talked about her scars to anyone. Only Lady Clifford and Daniel knew what had really happened that night. What little Emma could remember she’d vowed to take to her grave.
But now, as she lay safely in Samuel’s arms, the words began to fall from her lips. “I’ve only ever had one other lover.”
His hand stilled in her hair. “I don’t understand. The Pink Pearl—”
Emma pressed her fingers to his lips to hush him. “I did spend a year at the Pink Pearl, yes, but I never…I wasn’t like the other courtesans. I never, er…entertained any gentleman but one. Madame Marchand auctioned off my virginity to him, and I—he—I became his, after that.”
Samuel tensed, but he didn’t speak. He simply waited, letting her tell him in her own way.
Emma’s eyes burned, and she had to close them at the warm pressure of his lips against her temple. “The gentleman who purchased it—me—was a violent, brutish man, especially when he was in his cups, which was often. One night when he was particularly bad, I grew frightened and struggled against him. He—” Emma broke off, the familiar panic and horror rising like bilein her throat.
But Samuel was there, his voice gentle, his strong arms tight around her. “What did he do, sweetheart?”
“He, ah…he had a knife, and he held the blade to my throat. I can’t remember how…I don’t know how I managed it, but before he could hurt me, I wrestled the knife away from him. I don’t remember what happened after that, but when I came back to myself, he was lying still on the floor, and my…my hands were covered with blood.”
Emma closed her eyes and waited for Samuel to say…what? What could he possibly say, after hearing that? There was nothing.
Samuel didn’t say a word. Instead, he did the only thing he could do that would mean anything to her in that moment. He took her hands in his and covered them with tender kisses, his lips moving sweetly over her scars until she was trembling, and tears sheened her eyes.
He held her for long, quiet moments, waiting for her breath to steady, then he raised her face to his. “Emma, look at me. You’re the bravest lady I’ve ever known. Your past has made you who you are, and who you are is everything to me.”
A sob caught in Emma’s throat, but the tears that fell from her eyes and dampened his chest weren’t tears of sorrow, they were tears of gratitude.
Forhim. He was the dearest man she’d ever known.
He held her until her tears dried, and a shaky sighleft her lips.
“I wish we could stay here all day.” Dear God, surely she wasn’t going to start cryingagain? She tucked her face against his shoulder to hide her expression. “It’s nearly dawn. The servants will be up soon.”
It wasn’t a subtle hint, but Samuel didn’t move. “You haven’t told me what happened at the ball last night. Did any of the guests react to the pendant?”
“No. At least, not in any noticeable way.” Emma stared up at the ceiling as scenes from the ball the night before played through her mind. The villain who’d hurt Caroline, Amy, and Kitty had been there last night, she was certain of it. She couldn’t explain how she knew, but she’d sensed him there, watching from the shadows, waiting for a chance to strike.
Emma had hoped he’d make a mistake, that he’d stumble into some word or look that would give him away, but there’d been nothing. Whoever he was, he was cleverer thanshe’d thought.
“That’s the last time you’ll wear that pendant, Emma. Either he’s seen it already, or he isn’t here. There’s no purpose in your wearing it again. One time should be sufficiently dangerous even to satisfyyou.”
Emma couldn’t have said whether she was frustrated at his arrogance or thrilled at his fierce protectiveness, but he was right about the pendant. It had served its purpose, and now there was nothing to do but wait and see what happened. “I won’t wear it again, but I came to Lymington House to finish this, Samuel, and I don’t intend to give upuntil I have.”
He gathered her closer, a low growl in his chest. “Tell me what you plan to do, then. I can’t bearit otherwise.”
In spite of herself, Emma’s heart melted. “There’s not much I can do but wait. I would like to speak to your kitchen maid, Hannah, again. I’m not certain she told me everything she knows about Amy’s sweetheart.”
“I’ll come with you. I don’t like you to wander about the house alone.”
