Chapter Eleven

B roderick's grin widened and his eyes sparkled. "I wouldn't dare?" He moved his head closer to hers as he took a lock of her hair and caressed it. "Are you certain of that?"

Emmie sank into the bed, but his face continued closing in. Did she really want him to kiss her? Heaven help her, yes, she did!

She closed her eyes just as his mouth touched hers. His lips were so soft this time, and she wasn't prepared for the jolt of passion shooting through her. She wasn't going to fight him, especially when he moved his upper body and lay across hers, pinning her down.

He slid his hand around her head and brought her face closer as he continued with the astonishing kiss. Pleasure filled her. She had been kissed a few times by other men, but they had always disgusted her. Not Broderick. He was completely different.

She relaxed and released the blanket she'd been clutching, sliding her hands up his broad shoulders to his neck. She stroked his rippling muscles and marveled again over how well he was put together. He was such a strong man, yet lying on top of her he was very gentle, and she wasn't frightened in the least.

"Oh, Emiline," he mumbled against her lips. "You are so adorable."

She held on to him as she met his urgent kisses, loving the heady sensations building inside her. She loved the way he stroked her neck, moving his fingers to the neckline of her nightshirt as he toyed with the embroidered collar. Heat flowed through her faster, and she yearned for more. This new feeling was so exhilarating, so pleasurable, that she didn't want to stop. Ever.

But she had to. This was improper, and she shouldn't even be with him on the bed. They were wearing their nightclothes, for heaven's sake. Her father would certainly have Broderick's head on a platter for this stunt, and probably hers as well.

Before she could pull away, there was a knock at the door.

"I brought your meal up."

Georgia! How could Emmie have forgotten about her?

She and Broderick pulled away at the same time, staring at each other in silent communication. His hot breath fanned her face, and she knew her heavy breathing matched his perfectly. He gave her a sly smile then quickly moved off her and slid underneath the covers.

"You can come in, Georgia," he called out.

Emmie hoped she didn't look as ravished and confused as she felt. Hopefully, Georgia wouldn't mention it if she did notice.

The older woman brought in a tray of food and took it right over to the bed, setting it down on top of the quilt. It was an assortment of meats and cheeses, and even some fruits and bread.

"This looks wonderful," Broderick said. "God certainly blessed us by leading us to your doorstep."

Georgia's cheeks turned pink. "I'm the one who is blessed. Do you know how long it has been since I have had any real company? My children and their families don't visit me enough, and I rarely get out and visit with my neighbors. My body is just not what it used to be." She patted her hips gently.

"Then we are happy that you are happy," he told her.

Georgia turned her gaze to Emmie in a slow inspection. She prayed the older woman couldn't see the passion still lurking inside her. Slowly, she pulled the blankets up to her neck.

"Where are you two from?" Georgia asked Broderick.

"York," he answered quickly.

Emmie glanced his way, wondering why he'd given her the wrong answer.

Georgia shook her head. "I have never been there. What did you say your last name was? You look very familiar to me."

Broderick stiffened. "Worthington. But I have relatives all over England."

She drew her silvery-brown eyebrows together in confusion. "I fear I have never met any of them." She turned her attention to Emmie. "And what about you, my dear? What was your maiden name?"

Emmie pulled herself up slightly. Oh, good grief! Now she had to think of another lie. "Um… Snow." Well, that wasn't exactly a lie, since her mother's maiden name was Snow.

Georgia opened her old brown eyes in surprise. "Snow, you say?" Emmie nodded. "Who are your parents, child?"

Quickly, Emmie thought before answering. She had told Broderick that her father was a farmer and her mother was dead. As long as she stuck with that story, she would be fine. "My mother is dead, but her name was Camilla, and my father's name is Abner." That wasn't altogether a lie either, since that was her father's middle name.

Georgia's face fell. "Oh, I don't know them. It's rather strange, because I have the same last name as you."

Emmie's heart pounded faster as she studied the older woman. Her last name was Snow? She sat up straighter. "Indeed? That is rather strange, is it not?"

"Yes, and what is even stranger is that you resemble my daughter Daphne quite a bit. She, too, has large blue eyes, but her hair was a lighter brown."

Daphne? Emiline caught her breath and held it. This could not be! Her mother's name had been Daphne.

Emmie studied the older woman's face—oval, like her mother's had been, with eyes like her mother's. They even twinkled the same. Could Emmie actually be talking to her maternal grandmother? The older woman did resemble the miniature Emmie had of her own mother.

All of this was too strange for her, and she tried her hardest to keep her eyes from watering with happiness.

Georgia chuckled. "However, now Daphne's hair is almost gray because of her age, but it used to be your color."

Emmie forgot about the blankets she clutched to her chest as numbness spread through her, and the covering slipped to her lap. Her heart stopped. If the Daphne they were discussing was indeed the same lady, that meant…

But no. It couldn't be. Emmie's mother had been dead for fifteen years.

"You know, I believe I have a miniature of her," Georgia continued. "Let me go retrieve it and show you. The resemblance between the two of you is quite remarkable." She turned and hurried out of the room.

Once Georgia had disappeared, Broderick moved the tray of food aside and wrapped his arms around Emmie. "Georgia is a sweet lady, but I wish she would leave so that we could get back to what we were doing before she came."

He kissed Emmie's neck, and she automatically stiffened. He withdrew, his brows pulled together in worry. Cupping her face, he turned it toward his.

"Emiline? What's wrong?"

She couldn't tell him. Not since she had lied to him about her identity all this time. But she had to say something . She was almost certain he would understand.

But no, she would keep her little secret.

"I suppose I'm just hungry." She took a piece of cheese off the tray and brought it up to her mouth. She nibbled but didn't taste anything.

"Are you certain that is all? You have lost all the color in your face."

She tried to calm down, inwardly forcing herself to breathe normally, although it wasn't working as well as she hoped. Turning toward him, she managed a small smile. "Yes. That is all it is. I assure you, I'm fine."

His worried eyes studied her, and she knew he didn't believe her. When his gaze rested on her lips again, his expression softened. He cupped her face, moving his thumb gently across her bottom lip.

"Do you know how much I still want to kiss you?" he whispered huskily.

This wasn't the time. She wanted to be kissed, but she had too much on her mind right now. Her mother may still be alive. If she was, what was her reason for falsifying her death instead of being with her husband and daughter, who had needed her so desperately?

"But Broderick, it's really not proper. We shouldn't even be sitting on the same bed, much less alone together," she answered softly.

He waggled his eyebrows. "But since we're here, we ought to make the best of it."

Georgia chose that moment to come back, so once again, Broderick and Emmie pulled away from each other.

"Here it is." Georgia handed the miniature to Emmie, who took it with a shaky hand.

Glancing down at the picture, she tried to keep herself from crying. The lady she stared at was indeed her mother, except an older version. Her father had kept a picture of her in his bedroom, which helped Emmie to remember. This was the same woman.

She forced herself to breathe normally again. "I—I—would like to meet her one day," she squeaked.

"Yes. I'm sure I could arrange that. Daphne is living near the border of Brighton now. She's the companion to a wealthy widow, Lady Estelle Winterbourne."

Emmie lifted her gaze and met her grandmother's eyes. "Is your daughter not married?"

The old woman's face fell in sadness. "She was married once with a child, but the ship that carried her husband and daughter was attacked by pirates, killing all on board."

What? Emmie's heart stumbled as her mind came to a screeching halt. This couldn't be right. Georgia had just outlined the same way Emmie was told her mother had died. What was going on?

"I suppose I should let the two of you get some rest," Georgia said, taking back the miniature portrait. "Sleep well, young ones, and I will visit some more with you in the morning." Georgia left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Emmie remained silent as she thought over everything Georgia had told her. This was so much to take in. Her mother was still alive.

*

Something was dreadfully wrong.

Broderick had been studying Emiline since the older woman handed her the picture. Being hungry had nothing to do with what ailed her now. "All right, my darling Emiline. Are you going to tell me what is amiss?"

She turned and met his gaze. "What do you mean?" Her voice shook.

Broderick gave her a sympathetic look, then reached up and wiped her tears falling down her face. "You're crying, love. Tell me what ails you. I'll not relent until you do, and you know how stubborn I can be."

Her mouth cracked a smile, which made him smile. She was so pretty, even crying.

Biting her bottom lip, she looked hesitant to speak, but finally, she took a deep breath. "The picture Georgia just showed us is a picture of my mother."

Confusion filled him. "But I thought you said your mother was dead."

Emiline shrugged. "I don't understand any of this." She sniffed and wiped the tears still streaking down her face. "For fifteen years, I have believed my mother was dead. Yet Daphne is my mother. That miniature is my mother—but older."

He clutched her hands. "Then we must bring Georgia back and have her explain."

Emiline tightened her hands on Broderick's fingers. "Not yet. There is much I need to straighten out in my mind first."

"But Em—"

"Broderick, please. Trust me on this."

Uncomfortable silence stretched between them as Broderick's mind scrambled to sort this story out. Emiline's actions were not making sense. He stroked her knuckles, enjoying the closeness they shared—almost as much as he relished holding and kissing her.

"Emiline, love, are you embarrassed that your mother will disapprove of your station in life?"

One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows lifted. "My station in life ?"

"Yes. Because you are a lady's companion and your father is poor."

Uncertainty flickered in her brown orbs before she shook her head. "That is not all of it, Broderick. Please do not ask. I'm not ready to tell you."

He leaned against his pillow, folding his arms across his chest. "You will feel better if you talk about it."

"I will." She touched his arm. "Just not right now."

"Oh, my sweet Emiline." He took her in his arms and gently rocked her while caressing her back tenderly. "My heart is breaking because I don't know how to help you." He rubbed his lips across her forehead.

"Holding me is helping."

"Then I shall hold you all night, if that is what you wish."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest as sobs racked her small body. Snuggling them down into the bed, he held and comforted her, all the while cursing the uncontrollable urge to become intimate with her. They were definitely closer now than they were before, and he had always been a ladies' man…

He inwardly groaned. Now was certainly not the time to act like a lovesick boy. She needed his comfort right now, no matter how badly he longed to kiss her. Unfortunately, holding her like this would be his downfall.

Indeed, tonight would be torture.