Chapter Ten

E mmie huddled closer to the horse for warmth as the sheeting rain fell in buckets around her, soaking her clothes. The rain had come earlier than expected, and as she and Broderick searched through the small village for a place to stay, the town seemed too busy closing their shops for the night to help the two weary—and drenched—strangers.

As they passed through the muddy streets, the prospect of finding a place to stay seemed bleak. Desperation fell over Emmie, and she would take anything, even a stable, just to get out of the rain. She glanced at Broderick, and his droopy expression let her know he felt the same hopelessness.

The next man they came across, Broderick urged his horse in the stranger's direction. "Hold up there, if you will." When the man stopped and turned, Broderick stopped the animal. "I'm looking for a place of lodging. Is there one close by?"

The man bundled his coat around his body and shook his head. "No, sir. Our town is too small."

Tears stung Emmie's eyes. She wanted to get out of the cold and find shelter soon, or she would indeed start crying—or freeze to death.

"However," the stranger continued, "an old widow woman just up the lane is very generous and has a large house. I'm certain she will let you stay there for the night."

"I thank you for your assistance," Broderick said before tossing the man a coin.

The man's eyes widened before he smiled up at Broderick. "God bless you."

Hope grew in Emmie's chest as she followed behind Broderick. Just as the man had directed, at the end of the lane, a large house sat up on a hill. She urged her mount faster until both she and Broderick reached the place. A few windows glowed with welcoming light. After Broderick dismounted and helped her down, he quickly put the horses in the barn. He grabbed her hand, and they ran toward the house.

He knocked, and within minutes, a short, heavyset old woman with a white cap covering most of her gray hair answered the door. She held up her lamp to see them better in the dark.

"Please forgive us for bothering you this evening, madame," Broderick began, "but we were just passing through town and were caught in the storm. We were informed you might have an extra room for us to stay the night. I would be willing to pay."

The old woman scanned both Emmie and Broderick before her expression softened and she smiled. "Oh yes, you poor dears. Do come in and warm yourself by the fire." She motioned them toward the fireplace.

Still holding Emmie's hand, he led them inside and to the fireplace. Her body shook as she rubbed her hands together, praying to feel the warmth quickly.

Leaving their side for a moment, the older woman moved to a cupboard and pulled out two woolen blankets. "People around these parts call me Georgia," she said, handing each one a blanket.

"I thank you, Georgia. My name is Broderick Worthington, and this is Emiline."

All Emmie could do was nod at the woman in appreciation as she wrapped the dry blanket around her wet body. Unfortunately, shivers overtook her, making her unable to speak due to her chattering teeth. She couldn't ever remember being this cold in her life.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. What, may I ask, were you two doing out in the rain?"

Broderick chuckled lightly. "We had been out riding and didn't notice the day slipping by. We also didn't realize the rain clouds were moving in."

Georgia shook her head. "You unfortunate souls. Let me leave you two for a moment and prepare a room. You are probably freezing in those wet clothes, and you will need to change before catching your death." She turned and hurried up the stairs.

Emmie moved even closer to the fire, staring down into the orange flames. Gradually, the feeling returned to her limbs, but it wasn't quick enough to suit her. Broderick stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her. She turned to face him as he gathered her against his body, sliding his hands up and down her arms and over her back, trying to get her warm. Although he was wet, too, she had no desire to move away or tell him how improper this was. His body's heat blended into her limbs quickly.

"I apologize for this," he said softly in her ear. "I had not planned on the weather turning bad."

Tilting her head, she looked at him. "I under… stand. You… didn't… know." Her teeth continued to chatter.

"But I still feel guilty, since it was my suggestion to keep riding the countryside."

She managed a small smile. "At least… you got us… out of the… rain."

As his hands continued to move up and down her arms, coziness settled over her, and she wanted to close her eyes and enjoy it.

"It was pure luck that we are here," he said. "I didn't think we would find a place to stay. People usually are not this friendly to strangers."

"It must be… your exceptionally handsome looks… that got us a… place, then," she teased.

"Or yours," he replied with a wink.

His eyes deepened to the color of hot coffee. The longer she stared, the more she melted. Smiling at him once more, she rested her head against his chest, snuggling closer for more warmth. It wasn't until he moved the bulk of her hair aside to rub her neck that she realized her hair had fallen out of the bun.

"Your hair is down," he whispered. "It's a lovely color."

"The color is called… wet."

He chuckled. "I'm happy to know you still have your sense of humor even while you're chilled to the bone."

"Me too." Standing against him this close to the fire as he continued to stroke heat back into her body was very relaxing. She didn't want to move from her spot against his chest. "Do you think it is raining in London?"

"Possibly. Why?"

"I wondered if the rain would keep your aunt and uncle from their opera."

"I highly doubt that. Uncle Henry is determined, and so it will happen. Besides, he has three females with him, which means they will get their way."

"You know, I didn't tell anyone where I was going today. None of the servants know. Well, besides the stable boy."

He chuckled. "I didn't tell anyone, either."

The swishing of Georgia's skirts announced her presence before she entered the room. "All right, I have your room ready and a roaring fire to warm you two up."

Broderick kept one arm around Emmie as they followed the widow upstairs to the second floor, and the guest room. The heat from the fire touched Emmie's face as she walked inside. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, still enjoying both the warmth and the comfort of being in Broderick's arms.

When she finally surveyed the room, it surprised her to see it was larger than she had expected. Against the far wall was a huge bed with quilts that had been turned down. The floor had a lovely Oriental carpet lying in the middle. The widow must be wealthier than Emmie first suspected. Even the armoires, drawers, and tables were made of the finest quality.

The cozy room beckoned to Emmie, giving her a confusing sense of being at home in North Devon. Strange she would feel this way, since she hadn't received that feeling at Mr. and Mrs. Crampton's house.

Once her mind cleared, something struck her—jolting her out of Broderick's arms. There was only one bed. Georgia couldn't possibly think they would share a bed, yet what else would the older woman think? She must assume they were married.

Panic consumed Emmie, and she took another step away from Broderick, looking up at him with wide eyes. When she opened her mouth to rectify the most improper situation, Broderick slid his arm around her once more and squeezed so she couldn't move. He shook his head as if warning her not to say anything.

"Take off those wet clothes and leave them outside the door." Georgia didn't notice Emmie's dismay. "I had a few extra changes of clothes that my children left behind, and I laid them on the bed for both of you to wear for the night."

Broderick smiled at the older woman. "Thank you, Georgia. You are an extremely kind woman."

"Let me know if you need anything else." Georgia opened the door to step out, but then stopped and looked back. "Are you two hungry? I could put together a light meal for you, if you would like."

"That would be greatly appreciated," Broderick answered.

"I shall bring the food up when it's ready." She turned and left, closing the door behind her.

Emmie yanked herself away from his side once the door was shut. "Why didn't you tell her?" she asked. "Now she thinks we are married."

Broderick shrugged. "I considered our choices. I could have let her know we are not married, and then she would have wondered why we were alone together all day long without a proper chaperone, and I didn't want her thinking you were anything less than a lady, or she would have turned us out." He dropped the damp blanket to the floor and began removing his shirt. "Or I could have told her nothing, letting her believe we are married, and she wouldn't have known otherwise. Now, which choice would you have me make?"

The second he pulled off his shirt, she suddenly forgot their conversation. Once again, she was able to look upon that wonderfully handsome, masculine chest of his. But she couldn't leisurely ogle as she had done that time by the pond.

"Wh—what are you doing?" she shrieked, while her heart fluttered rapidly.

"I'm taking off my wet clothes and replacing them with the dry ones Georgia set out for me." Pausing, he looked at her standing in the middle of the room, still shivering in her damp blanket. "I suggest you do the same before you become ill with a fever."

He was right, but she didn't think she could undress in front of him. In the back of her mind, she could hear her father's tirades on those times she didn't act like the fitting daughter of an earl. She didn't want him ashamed of her.

Then again, did she really have a choice?

Scanning the room, she looked for any signs of a dressing screen, but there was none. How could she take off her clothes and still be modest about it?

Her gaze moved back to Broderick, and he was wiping his chest dry with one of the many towels Georgia had left for them to use. Maybe Emmie would wait until he was finished and then ask him to leave the room so that she could change.

After drying his hair, Broderick rested the towel over his shoulder and began to undo his breeches. "Unless you want to see the rest of my body, I suggest you turn your head, Emiline."

Gasping, she quickly spun around and faced the fireplace. Heat filled her body, more stifling than the fire, making her face blaze so hot that she feared she wouldn't need a towel to dry off now. Nervously, she threaded her fingers through her hair, finishing removing the pins that were left. She heard when Broderick pulled the wet breeches from his body, and when they flopped to the floor. She waited a few seconds more before she heard the material flap in the air as he put on what Georgia had left for him.

"I'm decent now," he told her.

Slowly, she turned and looked. The long nightshirt he wore looked too small for him. Instead of hitting his calves like nightshirts were supposed to, this one barely covered his knees. He certainly had some muscular legs.

Silently, she grumbled. How dare he make her think of such wicked thoughts? But she had to admit that he was right to make Georgia think they were married. Emmie couldn't have her reputation ruined, especially if the truth that she was the real daughter of the earl ever came out.

Broderick carried his wet clothes to the door and set them outside in the hallway, closing the door after he was done. He turned around and gave her a grin. "Do I need to help you?"

"No."

"Then why have you not started to undress?"

"I'm waiting for you to leave first."

Chuckling, he walked past her and to the bed, where he plopped himself down. He leaned back and folded his arms across the back of his head, stretching his legs out in front of him, sighing heavily. "I think not, my dear wife . I'm staying right here." He shrugged. "Besides, how would that look to Georgia if she knew the husband had to wait outside the bedroom while the wife undressed?"

She scowled. "Will you at least have the decency to close your eyes?"

He gave her one of his teasing grins then closed his eyes.

The insufferable man! He could be so impossible sometimes. Between one hand and her chin, she tried to keep the blanket as her shield as her other hand fumbled with her clothes. Needless to say, she failed miserably.

"Would you like some help?" Broderick asked without opening his eyes. "I can hear your grunts of frustration and moans of despair."

She growled, knowing she could not do it without him. "Do you promise to keep your eyes closed?"

The corners of his mouth lifted in a grin. "Yes, but can I look now before I walk to you?"

"Of course."

He moved off the bed, grabbed a few towels, and draped them over his shoulder before coming to stand in front of her. Taking hold of the blanket, he held it together.

"Now close your eyes," she instructed him.

"Why? I will not see you with the blanket around you."

She scowled. "Just do as I say."

Wearing a wide grin, he shrugged and followed instructions. She couldn't stop herself from smiling, grateful he couldn't see. Even with his help, she still struggled, but it was easier than before. She managed to slip off her riding habit, but not her underclothes.

"Keep your eyes closed." She grabbed a towel and tried to dry herself as much as possible while still standing circled by the blanket. Then she removed his hands from the edges of the blanket and hurried to the bed to retrieve the nightgown. After slipping the gown over her head, she quickly pulled off her wet undergarments. Hastily, she patted the towel on her head to soak up any wetness her hair still held. She then picked up all her clothes and dropped them outside the door beside Broderick's. Once this was accomplished, she ran to the bed and hopped in, yanking the blankets up to her chin. "All right, I'm ready."

He opened his eyes and looked at her, then chuckled. "Why are you being so modest? Your wet riding habit showed me more of your womanly curves than that nightgown."

She scowled. He was right. The nightgown billowed over her, yet she still felt so exposed. "I cannot help how I feel. What we are doing here is wrong, and you well know it."

He laughed again then walked back to the bed, picking up a dry towel on his way. "You know why I'm continuing with this masquerade." Sitting on the bed, he draped the towel over her head and left it there. "Your hair is still wet. If you don't dry it, then your nightgown will get wet, as well as the bedsheets and pillows."

Emmie suspected she looked silly sitting on the bed with a towel over her head while she clutched the blanket with both hands to her chin. She was afraid of letting go of the covers because they might fall away from her.

With one hand she held the blankets, and with the other toweled her hair. When she was done, she threw the towel to the floor and then ran her fingers through her hair, straightening out the tangles, still keeping the blankets from dropping any lower than her chin.

Broderick lay on top of the covers, resting on his side as he watched her. He must think her silly to be so cautious. Although she was supposed to be the earl's poor relation, she still had morals. She wished he would remove that teasing grin from his face.

"What do you want now? Why are you staring at me?" she snapped self-consciously.

"I'm just trying to figure you out."

"Pray tell, what is there to figure out?"

"Your actions. Sometimes I can predict what you're going to do and say next, but other times you take me totally unaware."

"I'm sorry if I confuse you. I didn't plan to befuddle your mind."

He shook his head. "There you go again, talking all educated. Especially for a poor relation ." Leaning over, he propped himself up on his elbow. "Sometimes I feel that things are uncomplicated between us because of the way we get along so well, almost like one friend to another. Then you turn completely around and start acting like a well-bred woman, which makes me feel differently about you."

He was entirely too close, and feeling his warm breath against her face turned her insides to mush. His eyes were the dark brown she loved gazing into, and at this moment, she never wanted to look away. He appeared so relaxed as he met her stare. His expression was so very tender, and she melted the longer she gazed at him. "How do you feel when I'm acting like a well-bred lady?"

A lazy grin touched his mouth. "I feel the same way I did that first night after we met."

Her heart hammered quicker. "That night when… you kissed me?"

His eyes slowly traced her face before coming to rest on her lips. "Yes."

She swallowed hard. "Why would you feel like that about a lady's companion?"

He grinned. "Because sometimes you can be so desirable, and all I want to do is take you in my arms and kiss you."

Tightness consumed her chest, making it hard to breathe, yet her breast rose and fell so quickly, testifying that she was breathing just fine. She didn't know what to say. Maybe she didn't want to say anything.

His attention moved over her face and came to rest on her mouth. Perhaps she should let him kiss her. Yet her mind argued that they were on a bed and the situation was very improper. The longer she studied his lips, so full and inviting, the more she could actually feel herself being lured into temptation, and right now, she almost didn't care if they were in their nightclothes and on a bed.

"You… wouldn't… dare," she whispered, then wondered why she'd said that. Was she trying to goad him into doing it?