The Secret Life of Miss Anna Marsh (31 page)

H
arry sent the girls away to fetch their cloaks from the schoolroom. “Rutherford, would you mind very much if Emma and I married tomorrow?”

“Not in the least.” He grinned. “Why so soon?”

Harry glowered. “If you can't figure it out, I'm not going to tell you.”

Rutherford gave a bark of laughter. “It's the very devil to be in your own home, eh? Well, I'm not the one to ask. I don't even know what's going on with the activities at the Priory. You must speak with your betrothed, and then discuss it with your sister. Good luck to you. I'm happy to share a glass of daffy with you after you've had those conversations.”

The ladies returned with Emma bundled against the cold and Anna carrying Harry's coat, gloves, and hat. Once he'd donned these items, he and Emma left through the French doors to the terrace.

Emma twined her arm in Harry's. “Anna said there was a folly in the wood that I should like to see.”

There
was
a folly in the wood, and it would be too damn cold in this weather to do anything but look at it. “Yes, it was her spot when she was a child. I'll show it to you if you'd like.”

Emma eyes shone softly as she gazed up at him. “I'd enjoy it very much.”

He led her across a corner of the meadow, to a path in the wood. They walked along a stream until reaching a footbridge. The cabin was set in a clearing a little ways from the water's edge.

“Oh, Harry, it's charming,” Emma exclaimed.

Harry grinned at her, then stopped. “I smell smoke. Stay here.”

“Not likely,” she said under her breath as she followed him to the cabin door.

He pushed it open cautiously, stepped in, and stared. What the devil? The fireplace was lit as well as some of the candles. A pot of what smelled like spiced wine warmed on a braiser. Bread, cheese, and fruit were on a platter that took up most of the small table. And the bed—the old rustic four-poster bed—was covered with a feather duvet and blankets and pillows. “It looks like Anna's made some changes.”

Emma stepped around him into the room. “It's lovely, and so warm.”

Harry took her cloak to hang it up on one of the pegs fixed on the wall. Her hand trembled. “You should warm up near the fire.”

“I'm not cold.”

He removed his cloak, his gloves, and hat. “Then what . . .” Emma gazed up at him, and he suddenly understood. “This is for us.”

She nodded.

“Anna?”

Emma nodded again.

He narrowed his eyes. Was Anna meddling or . . . ? “My love, did you know about this?”

His beloved blushed. “I, er, might have mentioned something to her.”

Of course, the minute Emma alluded to it, Anna would make it happen. So much for his decision to wait until after they were wed. He couldn't hurt Emma's feelings. “Then we shan't let it go to waste.”

He untied the ribbons of her bonnet and pulled off her gloves, kissing her wrist as each finger was freed. “Emma, I want you.”

“I want you, too.” She stepped into his arms.

His lips touched hers, and all his intentions of taking this slowly fled. Her desire and urgency matched his. When he sought to claim her mouth, she claimed his first. His heart pounded, and his fingers fumbled with her laces. “Damn. Oh, I'm sorry. Here, turn around.”

Emma's laugh was only a little nervous as her bodice, flannel petticoat, and stays dropped to the floor in a series of soft whooshes. Her blush extended down her neck and chest.

“You're beautiful.” His voice deepened. “More beautiful than I remember.”

She slid her hands over his shoulders. “It hasn't been that long.”

Teasing the long column of her neck with his lips, he said, “It's been an eternity.”

“Here, let me.” She pushed open his jacket.

He shrugged out of it as she unlaced his shirt and pulled it out from his breeches. Harry picked Emma up, carrying her to the bed, where he unlaced and removed her boots.

Gooseflesh appeared on her creamy skin. He found a warming pan in the fireplace and ran it between the sheets. “You need to get under the covers until it's warmer in here.”

“It is a little chilly.” Emma slid under the now warm sheets.

He quickly stripped off his stockings and breeches. Emma had seen many half-naked men before working in the fields, but none had looked better than Harry. She took in his broad, muscular chest, which was covered with thick, dark, curly hair. Small scars were on his chest and arms. She raised the covers for him as he climbed on to the bed, causing her to roll against him.

She gently touched the marks. “Are they from the shipwreck?”

“Yes.”

Emma traced the larger ones with the tips of her fingers. “You were lucky.”

“I was the only one to survive.” He gazed at her, desire smoldering in his eyes. “Emma?”

She ran her hands over the soft hair and leaned over him, pressing her lips to his. “Love me.”

He groaned and flipped her on to her back without breaking the kiss. Need rose from between her legs. The ribbons of her chemise fell loose.

“Do you need this?” he asked.

“No.”

He helped her pull the thin muslin off.

When she was finally free of all her clothing, Harry lightly caressed her breasts.

She tried to deepen the kiss, but his mouth moved down over her neck to her tight nipples. Desire shot through her when he took one in his mouth and sucked.

He held her down firmly but gently as she twisted and squirmed, trying to find relief. Soon his fingers found her wet folds and stroked.

Emma shuddered when he inserted a finger in her. The tremors were like swells coming into shore, one after the other, each one stronger. Warmth surrounded her. She cried out as the eddy took her.

She was still floating on the waves of pleasure when Harry entered her. His slow movements in and out caused her craving to build. She wrapped her legs around him and was gulping for air as he filled her.

She'd been told it would hurt and was suddenly afraid. “Harry, kiss me.”

He captured her mouth. Emma clung to him, digging her fingers into his bunched and straining muscles. Harry stopped his slow thrusting and deepened the kiss. Emma found herself breathing through him.

Suddenly, there was a brief sharp pain, and he stopped. “Are you all right, my love?”

“Yes, I'm fine.” And happy, so happy.

One hand possessed a breast, and she relaxed as he kneaded. He moved again, thrusting and retreating slowly. Tiny flames licked her skin, and her need grew. She arched against him as frissons of pleasure shot through her.

Harry still filled her slowly, but with each stroke, her need and desire for him grew. The convulsions took Emma unawares, and she arched up to meet him. His muscles relaxed, and he pressed deeper, possessing her completely, until he shook and a different warmth filled her.

She was bare and open to him. Nothing hidden. Their hearts pounded together as he held her so closely not even air could pass between them. This was what it was like to be possessed by a man who loved you. What it meant to become one. Tears pricked her eyes, and a welling in her heart caused her to sob.

“Emma, my love, what is it?” His voice rumbled against her cheek.

“I'm just so full of joy.”

“You're crying.”

A tear made its way down her cheek, and Harry kissed it away.

She smiled. “It's not really crying.”

Harry brushed her damp hair back from her face. Her knot was destroyed, and long golden curls spilt over her shoulders. His, she was finally his. Nothing could happen to her. Harry's throat closed. He wouldn't let anything hurt her. “Wait here.”

Harry gently laid her down, slipped out of the bed, and covered her. The cabin was still not warm enough for his Emma. He took a small table and set it close to the bed, then filled a plate with cheese and cold meat, and poured two mugs of the spiced wine. After he'd set food and drink on the table, he arranged the pillows so she could sit up.

Harry slid in next to her. They ate, drank, and talked.

“Would you mind if we married tomorrow?” he asked.

“My darling, I would love to marry you tomorrow, but I promised Lady Rutherford I'd wait until she returned. She told Anna she'd be back for their wedding.”

Harry couldn't imagine not having her with him. Five days. How often could they come out here?

“Is there a reason I cannot come to you at night?” Emma asked.

He wouldn't have asked it of her, but . . . “No, if you're sure that's what you want.”

His arm tightened around her.

“Harry, have a care for the wine.” Emma laughed, holding her mug out to steady it.

He took it from her and kissed her.

Whilst Emma dozed, Harry took out his pocket watch and checked the time. They needed to go back soon.

He dressed and took her now cold chemise to hang by the fire. Harry watched her. Helplessness washed over him. He'd almost withdrawn and not spilled his seed in her. Maybe he should have asked. Though he was sure Emma would scoff at any notion she not have children. She wanted a lot of them. He prayed she'd survive childbirth. He couldn't lose her like he had lost Marcella and his child. He'd rather not have children at all. He blinked away the tears, then woke Emma.

They returned slowly through the darkening landscape. He held her hand in his, helping her over small rocks and dips in the ground until they reached the gate to the formal gardens. They'd missed tea, but were in time to dress for dinner.

When they entered the drawing room an hour later, his mother was full of plans for the renovation of their chambers, which Emma entered into fully.

He joined Anna, Rutherford, and his father's political discussion.

“Harry, my boy, have you decided to run for the seat?” his father asked.

“Yes, yes, I have.”