A Christmas Wedding Wager (25 page)

'They are wonderful animals...' She paused, carefully considering the lines, and the sleigh.

She had never driven a sleigh before. The last thing she had driven was the governess cart this summer, but she knew her hands remembered. She watched as the lines stretched and pulled.

Did she dare take a risk? 'Yes--yes, I would like to have a try at driving.'

'That's my Emma.'

His Emma. A warmth grew inside her, reached down to her toes. More fiery than the sip of brandy or even the hot punch. She had no desire to analyse the words and read more into them yet. They were carelessly spoken and meant nothing. Later, she knew she would turn them over and over in her mind, trying to remember the exact nuance of his words. Right now she was content with the slight thrill.

He pulled back on the lines and the horses instantly slowed their gait, first to a steady trot and then to a sedate walk. The bells slowed and then quietened. The whole world became wrapped in a hush, as if it were waiting for something to happen, something wonderful.

Emma drew in a deep breath, and focused on a point beyond the horses' ear tips. The dizziness that had threatened a moment before faded and the world became beautifully clear.

She could do this. She took the leather lines, flicked them, felt the horses surge forward.

'It is almost as if the lines are alive. Are they strong enough? It would be dreadful to become stranded out here. No one is around to help.'

'They will hold. I had the leather waxed and the joints reinforced. I did not want anything to happen.' He touched his hat. 'Attention to detail saves time in the long term.'

'Are the horses liable to run away, then?' Emma swallowed hard, and tried to keep the horses at a steady gait.

'They are from Tattersall's, and are well trained but lively. I like to drive horses with a bit of spirit.'

And how do you like your women? Emma bit back the words and wondered where the thought had come from. Something inside her insisted on being reckless, grabbing life with both hands.

'You like to live dangerously, then?' she said carefully.

'Dangerously? No, I like to take calculated risks.'

Emma glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. A calculated risk? Was that what she was taking? She turned her attention firmly to the horses, and watched the power of their stride as they moved over the unbroken snow of the Town Moor.

She pulled back slightly, and the horses responded much more sharply than she'd thought they would. The sleigh turned, rising slightly on one runner. She slid into Jack, her thigh touching his through their clothes. She forgot her lungs needed air.

'Everything will be fine. Keep calm.' Jack's voice rumbled in her ear. He put his hands over hers. 'Like this. Steady, with a firm but gentle touch.'

She gave a brief nod. 'They respond quickly.'

'As I said--they are lively. A bit dangerous.'

Like their master. Emma held back the words, only allowing herself to nod. She screwed up her eyes, feeling a dizzy excitement rise within her. Emma did not know which unnerved her more--the horses' abrupt turn or the pressure of Jack's thigh against hers and the warmth of his hands. She had to remain in control. Keeping her attention focused on driving this team would help her do that.

'I believe I can handle them.'

'As you wish.'

Jack withdrew and settled himself against the backboard. He laid an arm across it, not exactly hugging her, but it was there, tempting her to lean back. Emma forced her back upright, reached forward, and gave the lines a flick.

The horses responded, and this time she was able to complete a turn without rocking the sleigh.

'It is amazing how things come back to you. Things you never forget.'

'Your confidence is returning.'

'Something like that.'

Jack glanced over and saw the brightness of her cheeks had increased. They were unnaturally pink, almost as if she had drunk far too much. There was something unusual about her, but he could not put his finger on it. A missing detail.

'Your horses are wonderful.' Her laugh rang out, tinkling like the sleighbells, and Jack decided to concentrate on that instead.

'I am pleased that my sleigh meets with your approval.'

'More than my approval. My admiration. It is very impressive. It is like something from a storybook--a dream.' His warm laughter resounded in the frosty air, warming her insides as surely as the lamb's wool punch had warmed her before, but somehow more potent--much more potent. The world appeared to spin slightly, as it had just after Dr Milburn had given her the drink. She glanced at Jack from under her eyelashes. 'Are you sure I am not dreaming? In many ways I think I must be.'

'If you are, we are experiencing the same dream. And that is an impossibility.'

She pulled the lines, slightly more jerkily this time, and the sleigh slid once more. Her body hit his, her soft breast meeting his chest. Her hands slackened, and the lines fell between them. The sleigh rocked violently.

Jack took the reins from her slack grasp, concentrating on regaining control of the horses, of his body.

'Be careful. You nearly turned us over.'

'I am trying my best,' Emma whispered. How could she explain about her increased dizziness? He would insist on returning to her father's, and she did not want the sleigh ride ever to end. She wanted to be out here, with him. The chance might never come again.

Tomorrow she would return to reality, and he would go away again. The thought sobered her.

'I lost concentration, that is all.'

'Losing concentration is when accidents happen.'

'I know.' Emma looked at her hands. 'It won't happen again. Let's stay out a bit longer...please.'

Jack pulled the lines and brought the horses to a stop under the shelter of some trees at the edge of the common.

'Do you want to explain what happened?' he asked. 'It was more than a momentary lapse.

You are an expert driver. How badly did you hit your head?'

'It has been a long time since I have driven. That is all. Nothing more. My head feels perfectly fine.'

Jack noticed the red ripeness of her mouth--a ripeness that demanded tasting. Her mouth was inches from his. And there was no sound but the soft plop of snow as it fell from the trees. It was as if they were cocooned in their own little world.

He lifted a hand and touched her cheek. 'I share some of the blame, Emma. These horses are high-spirited, and the sleigh responds instantly.'

'That is kind of you.' Her voice was small, her eyes big.

Jack fought to keep from taking her in his arms. Once he began kissing her he knew that he'd be unable to stop.

Things were too complicated. Business before pleasure. Once ownership of the company was settled, then he could pursue Emma Harrison properly. She had to know that she meant more to him than a means to an end. This sleigh ride showed he had been mistaken. He wanted her in his life. But on his terms, not Harrison's.

'We will go back.'

Go back? The fizzy bubbles in Emma's veins burst. She slumped against the backboard and braced her feet. She had been sure Jack was going to kiss her. Her whole body ached for the touch of his mouth against hers. Nobody was around. They were safe. No one would ever know.

Suddenly she knew she had to know how he felt about her. Once again the strange reckless feeling filled her. Acting on pure instinct, she leant towards him, lifted her mouth.

'Kiss me.' She caught his face between her fingers. 'Kiss me like you mean it, Jack.'

He swore, and pulled her into his arms, their bodies colliding once again.

Then his mouth descended on hers, devoured, feasted, and she knew she had never been kissed before. Everything that had gone before was tame. This was the essence of danger.

His tongue traced the edge of her lips, demanding entrance. She parted them, and plunged into a whole other world. Dark. Dangerous. Carnal. Her tongue touched his, retreated then advanced. A sigh was torn from her throat.

Her body arched forward and his arms tightened around her, holding her tight against his chest. The reckless feeling changed to something warmer, and her breasts began to ache, new feelings flooded through her. Everything in the world had stopped, had come down to one thing--him, his touch, his scent, his everything.

His lips moved from her mouth to her eyelids and face. Hot against the cold, creating a heat that was burning inside her.

A tiny voice in the back of her mind warned her to stop, to protest. But her body seemed to have a will of its own. A hot fire was coursing through her body.

She reached up, sank her hands into Jack's hair and pulled his face closer, recapturing his mouth. This time their tongues touched, played, entwined. A wild dark thrill that somehow did not lessen her desire but increased it.

She wanted more than this. A deep burning sensation was growing within her. His body seemed impossibly hard against hers and yet she wanted to feel that hardness, feel his skin touching hers. She wanted...Her hands went to his shoulders.

'We must go back,' he growled in her ear as his tongue licked her earlobe. The briefest of touches, but it sent pulses of warmth through her body.

'Back? Why?'

He lifted a hand and brushed the hair off her face. His lips skimmed her forehead. 'Because.'

His eyes were dark pools fringed by even darker lashes. She wanted to stay here, in this little world they had created. She wanted this fiery ache to continue and grow.

She pressed her lips against his ear. Her breath fanned his hair just above the earlobe. 'That is no answer. You enjoyed the kiss as much as I did.'

He gave a groan and slid his arms around her. Iron bands holding her fast to him. His hand slipped downward, cupping her bottom, pulling her more fully on top of him. Emma allowed herself to fall, encountered the full hardness of his body. She allowed her mouth to echo his, to trail down his throat. Her hands pulled at his stock, releasing a small patch of skin--skin that begged to be touched, to be tasted, feasted on.

'What is going on? Why is this sleigh here?' The voice was sharp, insistent, and horribly familiar in its piercing tone, penetrating her mind.

Emma froze, looked at Jack in horror. They were discovered. Her hair was about her shoulders in waves. His stock was mussed. He put his finger to his lips and gave a slight shake of his head. She nodded her understanding. The people might move on. If she remained quiet there was a whisper of a chance.

'Has there been a crash?' another female voice asked. 'Why has it stopped here under the trees?'

'The horses seem perfectly content. The sleigh is upright.'

'We should leave them,' a masculine voice said. 'It would be folly to pry.'

'Nonsense. They might be hurt. I am going to see. It will be fun. A mystery to be solved.'

'I really shouldn't do that if I were you...'

Emma's eyes widened. They were about to be discovered. Jack's hands released her, pushed her away. Emma hastily sat up, trying to straighten her clothes. She offered up a prayer that no one had noticed, and that she had been mistaken in the voices. They could be from anywhere. The Town Moor was popular with all sorts of people. It could be anyone. Total strangers. She had to be mistaken.

The golden light of a lantern blinded her. She raised a hand and saw several black silhouettes.

'Oh, my, oh, my, oh, my--Miss Emma Harrison. Who would ever have guessed?' Emma winced at Lottie Charlton's smug lip-smacking tones. 'I thought you were far too proper to indulge in such games, but obviously I was wrong.'

'You may lower the lantern, Miss Charlton,' Jack said, and his tone held ice.

'Mr Stanton--such an unexpected pleasure,' Lottie purred.

'We had some difficulties with the horses, but they are now solved.'

Emma's heart pounded in her ears. She knew what was happening. Her head began to spin as the enormity of what she had done hit her. She should protest, or at least make a pretence of being overwhelmed. Something to save her reputation. She should feel ashamed of what she had done. But huge great waves of tiredness hit her. Where there had been giddy excitement now there was only numbness and weary recognition. She was ruined. She was ruined, and furthermore she didn't care.

Shock, horror and general revulsion should be her emotion, she knew, but all she felt was regret and disappointment that the kisses had stopped.

Her eyelids felt heavy. Darkness pressed against her eyeballs. And the cotton wool feeling in her brain returned with a vengeance, swooped down and claimed her. She closed her eyes, intending to rest for a moment before she explained. There had to be a rational explanation for what she had done, what she longed to do again. Something she could say.

Perhaps it was all a dream? Perhaps she had hit her head in the collision with Lieutenant Ludlow and everything since drinking the punch was a dream? If she rested a moment, then she'd wake and discover what was real and what was fantasy.

'Jack,' she breathed, before the darkness claimed her.

Jack swore under his breath. He should have expected this. It had been far too easy. The woman far too willing. And now she had decided to faint. A soft snore came from her lips.

No, not to faint, but to fall asleep. Almost as if she was drunk.

He gazed up at the treetops and tried to control his temper. What had she had to drink?

Milburn had given her something to drink. There had been something in the way she'd said that. And why hadn't he realised the difference in her behaviour? He gritted his teeth. The truth was that he hadn't wanted to. He had taken because he'd wanted to.

'You saw nothing,' he said, looking at the redness of a major's coat. 'We stopped for a moment when the lines became entangled. We were in the process of untangling the lines.'

'That is not what I saw!' Lottie Charlton's voice held a tone of amused outrage. 'You and Miss Harrison were in an embrace--an intimate embrace.'

'It would be wise to keep your views to yourself, Miss Charlton. You are out here without a chaperon.' Jack glared at her.