Page 76

He pulled her toward him once again, and when her hands began their exploration, he knew he was lost. Drowning in a sea of passion, in the arms of the woman he loved, he could not get enough. He explored her backside, teasing both of them with the idea that he could lift the thin chemise over her head.

But if he so much as saw an inch of skin, he’d be lost. As would Emma’s virginity.

“Emma,” he murmured. “We need to talk.”

The words were spoken between kisses. Garrick shifted his attention to her neck, flicking his tongue against the sensitive flesh there. Emma’s soft moan prompted him to continue teasing and tormenting them both.

“Aye,” he said, his mouth moving lower and lower. “Talk.”

He loosened the ties at her front. Just a taste. One simple taste.

Undone, the ties fell to either side, widening the neckline just enough for him to reach in and lift a perfect breast toward his mouth. He brought his mouth down to taste her, and the rosy bud hardened against his tongue.

Bloody hell.

He tore his mouth away, intending to back up, but then he saw her face. Her swollen lips. Taking her lower lip into his mouth, he continued to torment them both. This time, the soft groan was his own.

“Talk,” he said again once he’d finally managed to stop. A nearly impossible feat. He took a step back, but the temptation to return to her, to take her in his arms again, was too strong.

Reaching down for the robe, he picked it up, draped it around her shoulders, and reassessed the situation. “Better.”

“What are you about, Lord Clave?”

He didn’t miss her gaze, which dropped as she spoke. His mind started to wander as he pictured her mouth on his chest, moving lower and lower as he had done to her.

Garrick reached down again, this time grabbing his own shirt and tossing it back over his head.

“Talk,” he said again, as much to himself as to her.

His throat was dry, the air thick and heavy with the promise of what could be. He continued to back away, but it was still not far enough. Her sweet lavender scent overwhelmed him.

“Of course,” she said, as if they’d been having a logical conversation rather than nearly ravaging each other.

“I cannot yet promise you anything beyond my heart.” He swallowed. “But I came here with the intention of ravishing you.”

Emma stood as still as the bed beside her.

“To make love to you as I’ve dreamt of doing since the very moment you stood, covered in hay, in that stable. There is nothing I want more. That I’ve ever wanted more.”

“But?”

“But I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Does it matter?”

Emma opened her mouth to speak, but God help him, he couldn’t let her. Not just yet. If she uttered even one word to convince him to carry out his original plan, he would do it.

“Is this really what you want, Emma?” he asked, desperate to make her understand. “Do you want a man promised to another?”

She lifted her chin, and Garrick knew he’d gotten through to her.

“I can barely keep my hands from you. But you deserve more.” And he intended to give it to her. “I don’t want anything to stand between us when we make love for the first time. Not your brother. Not Magnus.”

“Not your mother.”

He could not deny it. She’d come to know him well. “Nor her.”