Her Husband’s Lover (15 page)

She didn’t need to. He’d already told her what he wanted. He’d touch her too.

Emma shook her head frantically.

‘I’ll stay exactly as I am now. I won’t move a single muscle.’

Her gasp became a wheeze as it pushed past the constriction in her throat. ‘You’ll lie still while I touch you?’ She ought not to have blurted that, but in her surprise she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.

The look he gave her said he’d do so much more than that, if only she’d give him the chance. ‘Perfectly,’ he replied.

What am I doing?
Emma inched off the chair.
I’m behaving badly.
She ought to sit right back down and behave respectably. Instead, she fell onto her knees at the side of the love seat. Slowly, she uncurled a fist and turned her palm towards him.

Darleston’s silver-grey gaze followed her every movement. A tiny encouraging smile played across his narrow lips.

Emma reached out, hardly daring to look at what she was doing. Her arm shook. The very tip of her middle finger made contact first. It slid over the silk of his stocking, bringing the whole of her palm into contact with his shin. Emma bit her lip, then grinned. Triumph. She’d touched him. She could withdraw now, content in the knowledge that she’d fulfilled a hopeless wish.

Only, when she thought of it, she didn’t want to live off the memory of that single moment. Why should she, when he remained so accepting and still? Slowly, she turned her hand and stroked upwards, over the ridge of his knee and onto his breeches and the satisfying, solidly muscled wedge of his thigh.

The coals in the fire collapsed causing a sudden crack. Emma pulled her hand back fast and clasped it tight to her thumping heart.

‘It’s fine. Just the fire,’ he said. ‘Again.’

Emma uncoiled. Still hesitant, she traced the pearlescent shell of one waistcoat button, then another, following a line up from his stomach to his chest.

‘The rest of my waistcoat doesn’t bite.’

‘I like how they feel – slippery.’ Perhaps he hadn’t guessed she was half-heartedly hoping that one of the buttons would magically slip though the buttonhole and provide a pathway for her to explore the cambric shirt that lay beneath. She realised, when she spread her hand flat, that Darleston had made one leap that she hadn’t. The quiet thump of his heart beat against her hand. It stirred her emotions in ways she didn’t want to interpret. It was as though she were lost in some thick fog and following that steady drumming was the only way to find her way out. Once, long ago, she’d fallen asleep to the rhythmic comfort of a beating heart.

Emma stroked upwards again and reached his collar bone. The ends of his fiery red hair tickled the back of her palm. She curled one lock around her fingertip. The colour seemed darker against the pallor of her skin. As she slid her hand into his hair proper, she leaned closer. She pressed the tresses to her face, and let his scent wash over her. She had never known a man with hair so vibrant a shade. ‘You’re family is old,’ she observed. ‘I mean that you’ve been a long time in this place. That didn’t come out right. I mean …’

‘We date back to before the Normans is what you mean. Yes, that’s true, at least on my mother’s side. All the men of that line have red hair.’

‘Have you any siblings?’

‘One. A brother. And you have
a
sister?’

And a host of other misty faces she could barely recall well enough to put names to. ‘There were others.’ She pressed a finger to his lips to silence the questions she saw forming.
Shh! Quiet. Don’t ask any more. I don’t want to remember.

His lips parted. The tiniest hint of moisture wet her fingertip. Emma stroked upwards over his top lip too. They were soft, except for one part that seemed to have been bitten. She pressed three fingers across them and Darleston closed his eyes. He leaned into her touch, instantaneously changing everything as she felt the tiny pressure of his kiss.

‘No,’ she squeaked. Quavering, she backed into the safety of the rocking chair. ‘You promised.’

‘I’m not sure what I’ve done.’

Emma knitted her hands together as if in prayer.

‘You were pressing quite hard.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. Come back instead.’

‘I … I can’t.’ She could see, sitting here, what hadn’t been so apparent close up. Darleston was very much aroused. His cock formed a thick diagonal ridge across his abdomen. If she went back to him, she would end up touching him there. Like Lyle, she’d circle her thumb around and around the tip. She’d cup and squeeze the shaft, drive him to a point where he could no longer lie still and remain passive. Yet his grey gaze drew her in.

Only Grafton’s arrival saved her. Emma’s gaze flew to the door as the butler waddled in bearing the tea tray she’d asked for. He set a low table between her and Darleston, turning the cup handles and teapot towards her before reaching for the violated jam pot.

‘Leave it,’ Darleston said, staying Grafton’s arm. ‘I’m not done with it yet.’

‘Very well, milord.’ Grafton gave a brusque nod. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘No. Thank you. That will be all.’

He gave a nod and left.

‘You’ve no bread left,’ Emma observed. Grafton’s intrusion had served only to ratchet up the simmering heat between her and Darleston. A whole sequence of knots was now cramping her stomach.

‘I have plans for the preserve later.’

He would glaze her husband’s cock in it and lick it clean again
. Emma clamped her hands over her mouth, shocked by the image that sprang so fully formed into her head.

Darleston stood. ‘I think it might be better if we took a walk instead of tea.’ He pulled on his coat and sallied over to the window to take a peep at the world outside. ‘I think we’ll manage without your pelisse. Don’t you agree, Mrs Langley? I find exercise is a wonderful restorative when I’m agitated, and you clearly need some air. I might take a sketchbook.’

Darleston brought along a satchel containing his charcoal sticks and parchment, though he felt no inclination to draw at present. They walked a fair distance in silence, his tumultuous thoughts having stilled his urge to speak

There was much he wanted to learn about Emma Langley, but he knew it unwise to push her too much at one time. He’d succeeded in getting her to touch him. That would have to be triumph enough for the present. Alas, that knowledge didn’t place him in the most comfortable of positions. While his erection had eased as they walked, the urge to seize her and steal the kiss he so desperately wanted only intensified, which perhaps explained his choice of direction. Somehow the notion of being beaten repeatedly around the head no longer repelled him.

‘We’re headed towards the Cottage,’ Emma observed, breaking the silence.

Darleston merely inclined his head. He needed another outlet for his emotions. Drawing simply wouldn’t do. He also needed additional company to act as a buffer between them. In the heart of a crowd he was less likely to lapse into folly.

‘Why?’ She’d been almost as prickly as he since they’d left the house. ‘You know I detest it.’

He couldn’t explain, not without revealing exactly how much her tentative exploration of his body had cost him in terms of restraint. His nerves were shredded. He wanted her hot little hands roving all over his body again. ‘I thought you might like to check up upon your sister.’

‘Oh!’

‘You are worried about her, aren’t you?’ he asked, knowing full well that she was. Lyle had made his own concerns plain that morning. Amelia was the only reason Lyle had accompanied the group, as he intended to keep an eye on the silly minx. While Amelia had appeared serious before Mr Hill, Darleston had watched her dance with glee out of sight of the party.

‘I’m sure she’s only interested for the worst of reasons,’ Emma confided.

She peeped up at him with those soft blue eyes and Darleston’s reserve slipped a notch.
Pin her up against a tree and make her whimper with need.
He shook off the thought, but couldn’t entirely demist his vision. The fact was, he wanted to see her naked. And he intended to pursue this until he did. Furthermore, he wanted to listen to her mewls of delight and pain as she climaxed in his arms.

‘Worst reasons?’ He raised his brows, indicating that she should elaborate.

‘To admire the men,’ Emma whispered conspiratorially. How odd that she felt she needed to lower her voice to discuss such a matter, when she’d willingly roved her hands over his body and seen him do much more to Lyle. ‘She is being too overt in her admiration. Mr Bathhouse said only last night that he intended to pit himself against Jack today. I know that the boxers are prone to dispense with some of their garments. It’s unseemly for Amelia to be watching them.’

Quite unintentionally a laugh burst free of his lips. ‘You’re worried because she might see a man sans shirt – after what you have done and witnessed.’ Of course it was the wrong thing to say, but he couldn’t help it. He’d always hated the way women insisted on censoring one another over trifles. He’d never heard of anyone dying from exposure to a bit of bare flesh. And it was hardly the same as performing a sexual act. Not that he’d ever seen any real problem with that either.

‘That’s different,’ Emma protested. Two bright ruby-coloured spots appeared high on her cheekbones. For a moment he felt genuinely sorry to have vexed her, for her pretty face became rather hard when she frowned. On the other hand, the way she pursed her lips simply fuelled his desire to seize a kiss. ‘But perhaps you’ve forgotten that I’m a married woman while my sister is not.’

‘I’ve not forgotten.’

No, he’d definitely not forgotten. He simply wouldn’t have paid her the same regard if she’d been unwed. He had nothing to offer an unmarried lady save a great deal of heartache. Mayhap that would also prove true for Emma but he sincerely hoped not.

‘Do you genuinely believe it will do her harm to see a few men boxing, or are you merely fearful over other people’s opinions? Because if it is the latter than I don’t believe you have cause to worry. The other men won’t remark upon her presence, not when Hill is sponsoring the match.’

Emma’s expression remained doubtful. She worried her lower lip while she considered his response.

‘Take heart, there may be unexpected benefits from the situation. Bathhouse is dreadfully hairy, you know. He’s a pelt like a goddamned wolf. The sight may actually put her off him. Hell, I’ve known a maid or two resign themselves to spinsterhood for fear of having to embrace such a man.’

Emma’s frown transformed into a pout. ‘Now you are simply teasing me.’ She turned away from him with a ‘hmph’. Darleston stalked after her until he fell into step beside her again.

‘It’s no tease, Emma, I swear.’ He crossed his heart.

‘Then ought I to ask you how you know he’s so endowed? He’s not … like you and Lyle, is he?’

Startled, Darleston cleared his throat. ‘Dear Lord, no! I’ve seen him around town, that’s all.’

‘In a state of undress.’

He raised his brows. ‘Well, you know, my stepmama does hold some rather wild soirées.’

‘Your stepmama.’ It was Emma’s turn to raise her brows.

‘Yes.’ Heavens! Did she know nothing at all about him? He’d assumed, because Lyle was
au fait
with his circumstances, that Emma was equally enlightened, but, now he came to think of it, that was rather ridiculous, since the pair were hardly communicative. Lyle couldn’t even tell him the reason for Emma’s resistance to touch, so why would he share with her the details of his lover’s life? ‘My father was remarried last year to a woman both my brother and I had formerly bedded. It was a shock all round. She was a courtesan.’

‘Then it’s no surprise that your wife is scandalised. How can you accept such a thing?’

‘Don’t be naïve, Emma. I have no control over my father’s doings. He’s at liberty to marry as he pleases. As for Lucy, let me assure you that the only sourness on her behalf over the marriage was that it usurped her from the role of power at Darleston House. She doesn’t care to be second place in any situation. Otherwise she thoroughly enjoys the Countess’s affairs.’

Darleston turned away from Emma’s scrutiny. There were few if any other people alive by whom he was so repulsed as Lucy. Heaven help him, but if he met her in a cold, dark alley he’d be hard pressed to restrain himself from wringing her sorry little neck.

‘Is she aware of what you’re doing with my husband? If she were here would Lyle be courting her in the same way you are me?’

Aghast, Darleston stumbled. Once he’d righted his footing he stared at Emma in disbelief. ‘Is that what you believe this is about? That I’m simply buying your silence?’

‘Is it not? You have what you need from Lyle. You have no need of me as a lover.’

He swallowed carefully, giving himself time to order his thoughts. ‘Need and desire are two very different things. As for Lucy, no, she does not know about Lyle.’ What’s more, he’d do his damnedest to ensure she never found out, because if she did she’d be spreading her nasty tattle to the newspapers again in a trice. Yet that thought was not the one that stuck in his gullet, raising bile. The real trouble would begin if Lucy caught wind of his interest in Emma.

Even though Lucy had never loved him, that fact had never tempered her possessiveness. She’d been jealous of every woman he’d ever set eyes upon. ‘What you need to understand,’ he explained, ‘is that my marriage was not of my choosing. It was a requirement, entirely arranged by my mother as a punishment for loving Lyle.’ While there was a little more to it than that, he didn’t feel it necessary to revisit every detail.

He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Lucy left me, if that’s what you are fishing to know. It happened several months back, and for reasons it would take far too long to explain. I’ve not seen her since and I’ve no desire to. To the best of my knowledge she is still in London.’ Whoring herself to who knows whom. Engaging in Lord only knows what sort of devilment, and generally doing untold damage to his credibility. Still, it was far preferable to her presence by his side.

‘I’ve saddened you now,’ Emma observed after they’d walked a little further at a rather swift pace. The breeze ruffled her hair around the edge of her bonnet. ‘That wasn’t my intention.’