For the first time that evening, Samuel smiled. “Shall we go over to their box and bid them agood evening?”
“I intend to, I assure you, butnot just yet.”
“Why notnow?” Samuel wasn’t in a humorto be patient.
Lovell raised an eyebrow. “Because a gentleman doesn’t pounce upon a lady who entered her box less than five minutes ago. We’ll wait until the end ofthe first act.”
The end of the first act? “For God’s sake, Lovell, that’s alifetime away.”
“My, you are anxious to speak to Lady Emma, aren’t you? I confess I’m relieved at it, Lymington. I was beginning to think your heart wasimpenetrable.”
“It’s nothing to do with my heart. It’s just…it’s the play. It’s the dullest thing imaginable.”
Lovell chuckled. “Think of it as an ambush, Lymington. Timing is of the essence.”
Samuel huffed. “Ambushes are donequickly, Lovell.”
But Lovell would not be moved. He settled comfortably back in his chair with the air of a man who’d made his plans, and was willing to bide his time until the moment he was waiting for arrived. “All in good time, Lymington. Allin good time.”
“When did you become such a pillar of patience and good sense, Lovell?” Samuel grumbled.
“Right around the time you lost your head over Lady Emma, cousin.” Lovell grinned. “Now be quiet, won’t you?”
Samuel shifted in his chair, muttering under his breath, but he knew Lovell was right. Since that night in a dark library in an infamous London brothel, from the moment he’d first heard Lady Emma’s voice, he hardly recognized himself.
A few words in that smooth, soft whisper, and his wits had scattered. Then he’d seen her face, and the few wits he’d had left had fled after them—
“That’s odd. Is LadyEmma leaving?”
Samuel’s head shot up at Lovell’s words, and what he saw made his fingers tighten around his walking stick. “Where the devil does she think she’s going?”
“Easy, Lymington. I’m sure she’ll return as soon as…for God’s sake,” Lovell hissed, when Samuel rose to his feet. “You’re not going to chase her? You promised me no frontal assaults! Just wait until—”
But Samuel was done waiting. He was on his feet and striding from the box before Lovell had even finished his sentence.
Lady Emma had been walking away from him since their first dance together at Almack’s.
Not this time. This time, he was going after her.
Chapter Twelve
“If you intend to escape me, Lady Emma, you’ll have to run more quickly than that.”
Samuel was still half a dozen paces behind her when the growl left his lips. She might have broken into a run then, just as he’d warned her to—she might have fled to her carriage and the protection of her enormous coachman, but instead she froze in the middle of the corridor as if roots had sprouted from the soles of her feet into the thick carpet below them, leaving her at his mercy.
Samuel was behind her in an instant, one arm snaking around her waist. He eased her back against his chest and pressed his lips to her ear. “Shame on you, my lady, leaving without even bidding me a good evening, and in such a hurry, too. Whereare you going?”
He shouldn’t be touching her, but hadn’t years passed since that afternoon at the Royal Academy, when he’d told himself he wouldn’t touch her again? Wouldn’t stroke her silky skin, inhale the soft scent of vanilla that clung to her, that sweetness so impossible in the midst of the dirt and grime of London?
“Everywhere I’ve been today, I searched for you.” Samuel pressed his nose to the delicious curve between her neck and shoulder, inhaling desperately. “Did you think you could avoid me, after our kiss in the rose garden? You should have knownbetter, Emma.”
On some hazy, distant level Samuel was aware he’d lost control of himself—that accosting a lady in a public corridor at Drury Lane Theatre with half thetonmere steps away was madness. Wasn’t there some rule, some wise aphorism warning gentlemen not to pursue a lady when their blood was rushing in a heated frenzy through their veins, burning them from the inside?
If there was, Samuel didn’t know it. He’d never needed such words of wisdom before, because he’d never, in all his thirty-four years, lost control of himself.
Untilher.
Emma’s breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, her slender back rising and falling against his chest. She said nothing, nor did she try to break loose from his hold, but her entire body was trembling, the coldness of her hand gripping his wrist tangible even through the fine kid of her glove.
