Emilie's Christmas Love (26 page)

"I don't think I want to dance anymore right now," she told him breathlessly.

"Not that kind." He slowly stroked his tongue along hers.

"I know a secret way to my bedroom.”

He lifted her easily and held her against his bare chest. "Show me."

They left their clothes on the old ballroom floor and slipped into the passage that he'd seen Joda use. It was pitch black in the twisting corridor that ran behind the thick mansion walls. Emilie guided him with her voice and her hands until they reached the panel that opened into her bedroom.

He put her down on the bed long enough to push the rocking chair in front of the panel to prevent anyone else from using it. He locked the door to the bedroom and shrugged. "I've heard the horror stories."

Emilie heard the lock slide into place. Then he was back with her, the lacey comforter fluttering around him. His hands were already warming her body again.

 She thought briefly about the future when he kissed her.

There was no future. This was going to be her one perfect night.

She knew the truth and accepted it. 

Emilie opened her arms to him, after watching him remove the rest of his clothes. Any small part of life was better than none. She'd come that far. She wanted to feel him against her, inside of her.

She felt him remove her stockings and struggled up on her elbows, trying to see his face. "Nick, don’t—"

"Emilie," he whispered, taking her right foot into his hands and rubbing the delicate arch. "I want to see all of you. I want to kiss all of you."

Emilie felt the exquisite thrill of his touch on her bad leg. She panicked, trying to pull his hands away. David had left her leg alone. He had never even looked at it. She didn't want Nick to see it, much less touch it.

"You said you trusted me," Nick reminded her, stroking his hand gently along the length of her leg, feeling the withered muscle, the slight bend in her calf and thigh.

Emilie would have protested, but he bent his head and touched his mouth to that vulnerable place. She drew in a ragged breath, feeling the friction from his touch create waves of pleasure along her leg, reaching higher as he stroked and kissed her calf and thigh.

She moaned and her head move restlessly from side-to-side. The shock of pleasure at his touch made her forget everything. She stopped thinking, stopped questioning, and writhed beneath his passionate onslaught.

Nick felt her surrender, felt the tiny tremors of feeling race across her skin. Her love sounds made him hot and desperate to seek another place, but he took his time, forcing himself to move slowly with her. He stroked his hand from her ankle to her thigh on her good leg, noticing the difference between the two limbs. He lost that objectivity when his hand brushed her silk panties.

Emilie welcomed him when he moved over her after taking off her panties.

"You are so beautiful," he breathed, looking at her in the dim light.

She kept her eyes tightly closed and refused to look at him.

"Emilie?"

"Hmm?"

"Look at me." He kissed her breasts then feathered his lips down to her naval, his tongue tracing its indentation. He took her hands and put them on his chest. "Touch me, Emilie."

She opened her eyes wide, staring up at him. She marveled at the strength and power of his dark body over hers. She ran her hand carefully from his shoulder to his thigh then down to the juncture between his legs. She closed her hand around his throbbing manhood.

"Ahhh, yes, Emilie," he whispered, hardly aware of the sound. "Touch me. Kiss me."

His hands shaped her breasts for his questing mouth that followed. She shivered and caught her lip between her teeth as his mouth brushed kisses across her body. Her hips lifted and begged for his attention.

She kissed him, touching him with her soft hands, urging him to heights he didn't know existed. She made him forget everything but her movement. She moaned sweetly in his arms.

Emilie felt his hands slide from her ankles to her thighs. She gasped at the sensation. She strained against him, her body searching mindlessly for release.

His finger slipped inside the hot, wet opening between her legs as his mouth claimed hers, his tongue imitating the motions of his questing hand.

It was enough to send Emilie over the crest into mind-blurring waves of pleasure that she rode holding him tightly and calling his name.

Nick entered her with one long, slow thrust. His hands urged her legs around him, penetrating her deeply. He trembled, wanting to wait, wanting to stave off his release for her, but it was impossible. He lost himself in the welcoming heat of her body and the frenzied strength of their mating.

Emilie felt that spiral start again, faster and faster, until she was drowning in it, joining him as he found his release in her body. Her voice mated with his as they reached the ecstasy they both sought.

Afterwards, neither of them moved, lying spent and damp with their legs and arms entwined. Their breathing slowly returned to something more than a rasping race and their hearts began to beat at a normal rate.

Nick, mindful of his weight resting on her, moved away slowly. He smiled when he heard her catch her breath as their bodies were no longer joined.

Emilie groaned and reached for him, hardly mindful of her actions. His warmth was gone, leaving her empty and alone.

He picked her pillows up from the floor and made a bunch of them at the head of the bed, then sat against them, dragging her up with him until she was laying on him.

"Where have you been all my life, Emilie Ferrier?" he asked softly, as he stroked her hair.

Her answer was a mutter and a sigh as she clung to his arm and nuzzled his furry chest with her nose. "I love you," she whispered, caught between dreaming and sleeping.

He drew a deep breath even as he pulled the comforter up closer around them against the chill night. "Emilie?"  

Hadn't he known? Hadn't he told himself from the beginning that she couldn't handle simply having an affair? Hadn't he known from the moment that he'd laid eyes on her that she was trouble—pouting lips and gorgeous green eyes?

The terrible part was that he was still smiling. Maybe grinning. She loved him. And what had seemed impossible, suddenly became probable. In fact, it had suddenly become
feasible
.

He realized clearly that love was making him take a new look at his life. Emilie had already made him question his decision to give up the children for adoption. Wasn't it possible that he might be able to reconsider other relationships as well?

You aren't your father or your sister
, she'd told him. Maybe she was right.

Chapter Fifteen

Emilie woke up, startled by a sound she couldn't name at first. She looked at the bed beside her. It was empty and rumpled, the pillows tossed around, the comforter disarrayed.

She smoothed her hair back from her face, yawning and trying to decide if it had all been a dream. Had she really spent the night with Nick? Or had that been fantasy?

She heard the sound again and climbed out of bed, surprised to find that she was stark naked. She glanced at herself in the full-length mirror. Had Nick really kissed her crippled leg and told her she was beautiful? Had they really danced in the ballroom, ending up in her bed with him?

She put her hand to her mouth. Her lips were a little chapped and red. There were other parts of her anatomy that hadn't been used in recent times. She didn't want to think how long. She felt a little tight and sore.

She heard the sound again and realized that it was coming from her bathroom. Could it be Aunt Joda? 

She looked in and found the mirrors covered with steam. The room was thick with it. The shower was opaque, but she could make out a shape behind the cloudy glass. Surely Aunt Joda wouldn't—

Then she heard the sound again and realized that it was baritone. Someone was singing.

Nick was singing in her shower. Not a whole song, but snatches of something every now and then. She smiled and started to walk back out, going for a robe before she acknowledged his presence.

"Where are you going?" He scooped her up with wet, soapy hands.

"Nick!" she squealed.

"You need a shower," he told her. "A good, hot shower to ease those tender places." He ran a wet hand slowly across her thigh and dribbled water on her navel.

"What about the children?" she asked as she stepped into the spacious shower cubicle.

"Joda is feeding them breakfast." He closed the door and smiled down at her. "She came in and told us earlier. I guess you didn't hear her. You won't get away from me that easily."

True to his word, he soaped down every inch of her from head to toe, shampooing her hair with deft fingers and scrubbing her back.

Emilie, uncomfortable in the light, shied away from him.

He put out a hand to stop her. "What's wrong?"

She made a face while he soaped and sponged her good leg, trying to get away before his zealousness brought him to her right leg. "N-nothing. I-uh-just have to go."

He knelt down on the tile floor before her and looked up tenderly into her face. "It's this, isn't it?" He rubbed his hand down her leg.

"Please—"

He bent his head and kissed her knee. "You are so beautiful. I can't believe that this would embarrass you."

She stared at him. His dark hair was slicked back from his face. His cheeks were freshly shaved.

"You've healed so much inside of me, Emilie," he murmured. "Let me heal this for you."

Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over across her trembling lips as he soaped and sponged her right leg. He kissed it when he'd finished, then went on to kiss the rest of her, finally reaching her lips and throat. She entwined her arms around his neck, clinging to him as though she would never let him go. Just wanting to hold him and love him forever in return for his kindness and compassion, in return for all the things that he had become to her.

She wanted to tell him that she loved him. The words almost spilled from her wet lips. Her heart was still fearful. He hadn't mentioned love and she'd promised herself that she could love him for that night and let him go. No strings attached.

He opened his mouth on her wet breasts and she arched into his embrace, letting him hold her, feeling secure in his clasp. She sighed and rubbed herself against the lower half of his body, reveling in the size and feel of him. She wanted him inside of her again, feeling the building tension that would spiral into the raw pleasure he'd given her last night.

There was a knock at the bedroom door and Nick smiled at her. "You see why we have to lock the bedroom door?"

"Emilie,
petite
," Joda called through the door. "I know you two are busy, but Alain is downstairs with some news for you. Should I tell him to go away?"

"Alain?" Nick asked, one dark brow rising as he looked at her.

"My lawyer," she explained, hating to leave him but knowing that Alain could have an adoption for her. If Nick decided to keep Adam and Amber, she would still be available. "I have to see him. It'll only take a few minutes."

He kissed her hard then let her go. "Don't take too long,
petite
."

Emilie smiled and kissed his wet chin. "
Non, mon brave homme
."

She tossed on a white sweatshirt and sweat pants, drying her hair quickly on a towel then brushing it back from her face with quick, impatient hands.

Alain was waiting in the library. He was holding the bible that Jacque Ferrier had brought with him from France to the America, thumbing through the yellowed pages.

"Good morning." She walked briskly into the room. "Coffee?"

"I'm afraid Joda would throw it at me," he complained. "I didn't think she was going to let me in the house today."

"She's moody," Emilie said with a shrug. "Has something come up?"

He studied her briefly. "As a courtesy, and only as a courtesy, Jon Stewart called me last night to say that the guardian of the girl you were trying to adopt has changed his mind. Jon doesn’t know why yet, but the guardian isn’t allowing the adoption of the girl after the holidays."

Emilie's mind raced. "So the situation has changed?"

Alain laughed. "I think that might be an understatement since you have the girl here. Why is she here with you, Emilie? You could have told me that you arranged something outside of the system."

"I haven't," she denied. "I invited them to stay with me while their home is being repaired."

"Clever girl," he praised. "Have you sweet talked him around to your point of view or merely offered him a lot of money?"

"Alain!"

"Emilie—" His eyes narrowed, noticing the pink color in her face and the brightness of her eyes. "How far were you willing to go to adopt that little girl?"

"That's an interesting question." Nick’s dark eyes flashed between Emilie and Alain. "I know who you are. You're the rich bitch's lawyer who thought she could buy Amber from me. Right?"

"Nick." Emilie stepped between them, trying to smile and make it all right.

"And that makes you the rich bitch, I suppose?" He turned to her, his face angry and cold.

"If you'll let me explain—"

"Explain?" he demanded hotly. "Please. Explain to me how I could have been so gullible. Me! The man who's seen it all and knows that nothing is ever as good as it seems. Explain how I was blind enough to believe you last night when you said that you loved me—and stupid enough to think that I might love you, too."

"Please, Nick." She tried to make him understand. "I wanted to tell you. It was just never a good time. I wanted to show you that I could be a good single mother, that I could give the children a good life."

"
Children
?" he questioned closely. "You mean you had your eye on them both? No wonder you were willing to sacrifice so much to get me on your side. You made me believe that I had a chance with you, that you were different. Hell! That
I
was different! I’m the biggest fool in the world."

"Nick," she pleaded, grabbing his arm as he started to walk out of the room. "Listen to me. It started out that I wanted to adopt a little girl and I happened to find out that it was Amber. I admit that I invited you here to convince you that I would be the right person. I should have told you. Nothing I've said or done with you was to adopt Amber or Adam. I-I love you. You have to believe me."