Page 55 of The Marquess’s Forbidden Bride

Rushing the last few yards to his side, she seized his hands. ‘At last! I thought I’d never have a moment with you tonight!’

‘I’m so glad you are excited to see me—Emma.’

Appalled, Emma looked up into the smiling face of Lord Aldersby.

After a shocked moment, she tried to pull her hands free, but he held on tight. ‘Not who you expected to see, of course. But you will grow accustomed.’

‘I will go back to the house. Release me, please,’ she said coldly, tugging at her hands.

‘We will go back—together,’ he corrected. ‘But not just yet. First, you will give me a sample of what you have been so freely handing out to that jumped-up soldier.’

‘You will get nothing from me,’ she said furiously, though an icy shiver went through her as she caught the strong odour of spirits about him.

‘Oh, come now, Emma dear. A female eager to offer herself to one man is hot for anyone who will take her, no matter her protest to the contrary. And you have offered, haven’t you? Kissing and who knows what else here in this very arbour. I mean to sample that, too.’

‘You will sample nothing,’ she gritted out, truly alarmed now as she struggled to pull away from him.

‘You needn’t worry. I shall marry you once I’ve taken you, of course. I am a gentleman.’

‘I. Will. Never. Marry. You,’ she said, emphasising every word.

‘Oh, but you will. Females must marry, and after tonight, what other choice will you have? I hadn’t meant to…resort to this type of persuasion, but you continue to be annoyingly resistant, and my financial needs are now quite pressing. You may cry over losing your soldier, but you notice how quickly your cavalier abandoned you once the delightful Lady Jersey arrived. He might dally with you when there’s no more tempting female around, but he’ll soon find another flirt, once you are mine. Besides, against the natural order of things, that commoner has inherited title and wealth. Why should he have your dowry as well?’

‘You will never have me or it,’ she spat out.

‘Come now, I shan’t ask all that much of you. Your dowry to satisfy my needs, your body long enough to get a few heirs on you and then you will be free to go your own way. Although if you continue to be too embarrassingly promiscuous, I may have to keep you confined at my estate in Kent.’

‘You are presumptuous, sir; I will never be yours,’ she cried, yanking one hand free and slapping his face.

He froze, still gripping her tightly with his other hand while he rubbed the cheek she’d struck. ‘You like a little fight, do you? Very well, that will add some spice.’

He grabbed her free hand again and pulled her towards the nearby garden bench. She tried to dig in her heels, wishing she were wearing thick boots instead of thin dancing slippers. She twisted and jerked at her hands, but he held her fast. The smell of liquor almost made her woozy as he forced her back against the bench.

Hampered by her skirts, she could neither kick him nor lift her leg high enough to knee him. Instead, she was forced inexorably backwards, until he had her lying back prone on the bench, pinning her with his weight. ‘Now for a taste,’ he panted, his mouth seeking hers.

She twisted her head, his kiss landing on her ear. Laughing, he bit her neck instead, while with one hand he dragged up her skirts and slid his hand up her bare leg. She tried to cry out, but with his heavy weight upon her, she could scarcely breathe. She worked one arm free and pummelled ineffectually at his back. A rush of cold air told her he’d yanked open her cloak, pushing it back as he grabbed at the fabric of her bodice, tearing the fine silk at her neckline.

Truly panicked now, she tried to squirm or bite or scratch at him, but her one free hand could reach only the thick wool of his coat. When she felt the wetness of his mouth on her bared chest, fear and impotent anger produced a muffled wail.

Wholly concentrating on trying to repel him, it wasn’t until that moment that she noticed the faint sound of footsteps on the gravel. His bulk blocked her view of the pathway, but a wavering band of light over his head told her someone was approaching with a lantern.

‘Help…me!’ she croaked out through her air-deprived throat, her voice pitifully faint even in her own ears.

Then, with a feeling of sudden lightness in her chest, she realised Aldersby had drawn back. Weak, dizzy from lack of air, she drew in great, heaving gulps, her ears ringing.

Faintly, as from a great distance, she heard a voice saying, ‘My, what have we here?’

‘Oh, dear!’ she heard Aldersby’s sardonic tones. ‘I fear you have discovered us in quite an indiscretion.’

Jerking away from him, Emma propped herself against the back of the bench, pulling her cloak over her torn gown and tugging her skirt back down over her knees. It took several more deep breaths before her woozy head cleared enough for her to recognise the voice as that of Lady Routham, who stood with a smile of triumph on her lips, while beside her three matrons looked on with varied expressions of shock, outrage and titillation.

‘Lord Aldersby!’ the first one cried. ‘Are you…ravishing Miss Wellingford?’

Lady Routham laughed. ‘Mary, you’ve watched his lordship’s ardent pursuit of the lady for some weeks. It appears he has finally secured her hand.’

‘He has not!’ Emma cried, finally having enough breath to speak audibly.

‘Now, now, my dear, there’s no sense trying to make these ladies doubt what their eyes can plainly see,’ Aldersby cajoled. ‘We may have been a bit…wanton in anticipating our vows, but I imagine our ardour will be forgiven once the banns are posted. Assured that they will be shortly, I’m sure they will be willing to hold their tongues about our…premature activities.’