Chapter 11

11

N ate’s sleep-hazed brain knew nothing but contentment. Nothing but warmth, and softness, and a sweet, rich fragrance that acted upon his senses like an elixir.

There was a weight in his arms. A body curled against his. Emily . Fragments of memories began to materialize, and he smiled as they drifted through his head. Emily on the dining table, crying out in pleasure as he knelt between her thighs and savored that glorious quim. Emily with her lips upon his cock, stroking him until he came harder than he ever had in his life. Emily falling asleep beside him in front of the fire, her face soft and tranquil in the low light.

But something was wrong. There was no more darkness, no more subtle sway of firelight. A strange illumination pierced his eyelids, and something pounded against the floor. He could almost swear someone called his name …

His eyelids flew open, and he blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of surroundings that no longer felt right. He was still in the great hall, to be sure. However , the space had turned bright.

Flooded by sunlight.

He bolted up to sitting, his blurry gaze falling upon thick gray skirts hovering at his side. Which made him promptly turn his eyes upward, where he was met with the frantic countenance of Mrs . Ruck .

“ Mr . Pembrook .” She wrung her hands together, her brow puckering anxiously. “ Lord Rockliffe has just arrived.”

Lord Rockliffe … The name took a second or two to solidify within his mind. A second or two before his stomach sank to his toes, and he turned abruptly, ready to nudge Emily awake.

However , she was already sitting, staring at him in wide-eyed alarm. And then, she was on her feet, cramming slippers over her stockings while simultaneously giving her crumpled dress a few tugs.

The torrent rushing through his head was half dread, half sluggish disbelief. Nonetheless , he managed to vault from the blanket and drag a hand over his unruly hair. To hastily smooth his waistcoat and shove the boots back on his feet. All until it occurred to him that the bed on the floor presented the more pressing issue.

He swept the blankets and pillows into his arms, running to the servant’s door and heaving the bundle inside.

Just in time, for the moment he slammed that door closed again, the main doors burst open, and there was Lord Rockliffe , striding briskly into the room, his mouth set in a grim line.

Emily had been quick enough to dart to the table they’d left in disarray and retrieve the discarded holly bough, and she worked to straighten it in the center of the tabletop. However , she abandoned the holly the instant her eyes fell upon her father, and she sprinted forward, crashing into his chest and wrapping him in an embrace. “ Papa ! I’m so happy to see you.”

The marquess’s features softened at once, and he pulled her tight against his greatcoat. “ You , too, Em . You cannot imagine how much. We were all worried about you.”

She released her grip on him and stood back, her mouth twisting into a frown. “ But Joseph? —”

“ Told us what happened, yes.” Lord Rockliffe’s eyes did a quick scan of the room, and he seemed to notice Nate’s presence for the first time—although what he thought of his discovery remained indecipherable. “ That couldn’t stop us from feeling uneasy until we had you home safe where you belong. All the footmen and grooms have been helping to clear snow since dawn, and we were finally able to get the sleigh through, thank God .”

Nate shifted warily, a cloying heat spreading over the back of his neck and up to his ears. Everyone at Beaumont had been toiling away to reestablish a path between there and Rosemead , which was what he should have been doing the minute the snow stopped. Instead , he’d broken his commitment to seeing her home safely in favor of lazing about, holding her tight to him like a thief in possession of a stolen gem, until the stormy night faded and gleaming sunrays streaked through the windows. Brilliant enough to expose all his failings.

For another fleeting moment, Lord Rockliffe’s ice blue eyes fell upon him before flicking back to Emily . This time, though, his countenance didn’t soften, and he set his hands on her shoulders, looking her up and down. “ Are you well?”

“ Yes , of course.” She gave a tight smile, and if Nate could notice that her voice sounded a touch higher than usual, her father must recognize it, too. “ Mr . Pembrook was a fine host, and I was able to help him with the preparations for his St . Stephen’s Day party while the snow kept us trapped.”

“ Indeed .” The marquess abruptly concluded his assessment, and when his attention shot to Nate this time, it stuck. Lord Rockliffe nodded in acknowledgment, although the gesture didn’t have the air of a friendly greeting. Not that he looked angry, exactly, as much as his mien was large and imposing. Rather , he seemed to be contemplating, like he wasn’t quite certain what he’d walked in on but was determined to solve the puzzle.

Another damnable surge of warmth flooded Nate’s skin. Lord Rockliffe’s narrowed eyes were so intense that he could almost believe the marquess would discern the truth if only he kept staring long enough. That the sunrays would illuminate the place on the floor where the temporary bed had laid, and he’d know why Emily hadn’t come home earlier in the morning.

After which the Marquess of Rockliffe would rightly murder him on the spot, and Nate wouldn’t even regret it, for he’d consider it a fair price to pay for having Emily all for his own, even if he’d been granted the privilege merely for one night.

But suddenly, the large double doors flew open again, and the marquess’s powerful stare broke away, turning to the man who hovered in the doorway. The young man with a fashionable top hat, smartly cut greatcoat, and polished boots dusted with a layer of snow. The man whose gaze immediately went to Emily , and Nate recognized the stranger at once without anyone saying a word.

She whirled unsteadily to face the door, but if the sight of whom she encountered there caused her insides to freeze with shock, it showed upon her features no more than a half-second before she regained the tiny smile that didn’t meet her eyes and started forward to greet him. “ Lord Coleville .”

That was the moment when Nate experienced a true pommel of regret crashing into his abdomen. Regret , and bitterness, and a harsh, sickening lurch that could be nothing but jealousy. He wasn’t sure what he’d envisioned when Emily had mentioned her almost betrothed. Perhaps someone wizened and cantankerous instead of a spirited young earl with aristocratic good looks and an eager smile? Or perhaps he’d never considered the other man much at all, because for as long as the snow fell, she’d felt like his .

She didn’t crash into the earl’s arms the way she’d done with her father. She doesn’t love him . But the idea brought Nate no comfort. Lord Coleville lifted Emily’s hand to his lips and kissed it, and Nate couldn’t feel anything other than a deep, covetous ache.

“ I apologize for not being at Beaumont to welcome you when you arrived.” Emily peered into the earl’s dark, vibrant eyes, her tone a perfect blend of pleasantness and composure. “ How fortunate that your travels weren’t impeded by the weather.”

“ I reached Beaumont Manor right before the roads became impassable.” Lord Coleville was equally composed, blast him, in this happy reunion with his future betrothed. Equally pleasant. “ But the real good fortune is that the sun came out and we were able to reach you in time for Christmas Day .”

“ I’m so grateful.” Her expression didn’t change drastically but wavered just the slightest amount, and her eyes shifted to the side. Toward where Nate lingered by the servant’s door, as if she suddenly remembered his presence. “ Rest assured, I stayed well and was given every comfort while snowbound.”

She took an audible breath, her arm stiff as she gestured to Nate . “ Lord Coleville , may I introduce my host, and the gentleman who was kind enough to offer me shelter throughout the storm, Mr . Nathaniel Pembrook .”

She said his name so blandly, as if she’d never been carried in his arms, had never shared her secrets with him in the middle of the night, had never lain on the table while he learned every intimate fold of her.

With great effort, Nate returned the earl’s cordial bow. He knew so little of the man, but Lord Coleville’s position alone—not as a peer, but as the future husband of Lady Emily Prescott —made Nate despise him.

Although that was hardly fair, was it? His fingers clenched, his injured hand giving a throb of protest. Instead of begrudging Lord Coleville for having what he could not, he’d be wiser to point an accusatory finger in his own direction. Because he was the one who’d been shortsighted and selfish; he was the one who’d run away; he was the one who’d wasted an opportunity and let someone so magnificent slip from his grasp.

“ On that note, we should be on our way again before the whole Prescott family takes it in mind to come help with the rescue effort.” Lord Rockliffe’s declaration swiftly pulled Nate from his spiraling thoughts, and the marquess turned to him with another nod. No longer suspicious but affable. “ I thank you, Pembrook , for extending your hospitality to my daughter. If you have no other plans, Lady Rockliffe and I would welcome you to our table this evening so you can partake of Christmas dinner with us.”

The yule log burned heartily, but Nate’s blood had turned to ice. For a flash of a moment, it sounded wonderful: sitting around a table filled with Prescotts just like on Christmases past, as if he were being given another chance to appreciate what he hadn’t back then.

Yet it wouldn’t negate everything that had changed. Namely , that Emily would sit across the table from him with her intended, and instead of feeling indifferent, Nate would find the force of his longing—his envy—gnawing through his gut. God , what if Coleville decided that the dinner table made the ideal location to propose?

He tensed his shoulders, trying to appear as composed as Lady Emily and her perfect earl. Knowing he didn’t succeed. “ I appreciate the invitation, but I’m afraid I must decline. There are still some preparations for the fete tomorrow that I need to oversee.”

Lord Rockliffe cocked his head, almost like he was of a mind to argue. Just as quickly, though, he straightened again with a curt dip of his chin. “ As you wish. Now that we’ve cleared a path, we’ll see that the roast geese are sent over to you as promised.”

Nate’s throat felt thick, coated with the bitterness of bile. And still, he managed to choke out words, as if everything in his world hadn’t gone awry. “ I thank you kindly.”

Lord Rockliffe took that as his cue to start toward the large double doors, where Mrs . Ruck had silently appeared, holding out Emily’s cloak and gloves. The earl followed, straightening his already flawless hat, no doubt assuming that Emily would remain at his side.

But she didn’t. She moved in the opposite direction, toward Nate , and for one auspicious moment, his heart felt ready to explode out of his chest.

All until she arrived in front of him, leaving a respectable distance between their bodies, and folded herself into a practiced curtsey. “ Thank you, Mr . Pembrook , for everything.”

Damn it, he didn’t want that decorous gesture. Those careful words. He wanted her in his arms, baring every intimate part of herself—body and soul—to him. He wanted her to stay at his side, always, because she allowed him to think that his role as heir and future viscount wasn’t destined to end in failure.

She made Rosemead better. She made him better.

However , the weight of too many eyes rested upon them both, and he could give nothing in return but an equally polite reply. “ It is I who must thank you for the assistance you provided.”

“ Of course.” She was so reserved, so careful. That tiny waver returned to her voice, though, and she bit down on her lip, her eyes locking with his. Not darting away.

What transpired beneath those liquid amber depths? The intensity of them pulled him in, potent enough to make the burden of all other gazes vanish. Nothing existed but her, and a voice cropped up in the back of his head. Tell her .

His fingers clenched tighter, heedless of the pain, for the voice was like a spark against tinder, bursting into flames. Tell her you were an idiot all those years ago. Tell her you’re not blind anymore. Tell her you’ve gotten so many things wrong, but that if she’s willing to forgive your past offenses, you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to be a better man. For your father, for the estate, and for her, because no one has ever made your heart yearn the way she has .

He took a breath, fighting past the ache in his lungs, the bands around his chest.

But suddenly, she broke the stare, and something in her countenance shifted. Became shuttered. Perhaps she’d already seen everything she needed to see.

“ Happy Christmas , Nate .” Her words came out as a whisper for his ears only, containing a note he couldn’t quite interpret. Was it sadness? Disappointment ? Longing ?

Or maybe it was none of those things; maybe he projected his own sentiments while, in truth, she intended nothing but an insignificant farewell. For she was walking away, toward her waiting cloak and her father. Toward her almost betrothed, who’d turned back to extend an arm to her.

Wait . Don’t leave . Nate wanted to call out, to shout her name to the rafters. But to what purpose?

The snow had brought her to him and kept them ensconced until he’d started to believe in impossible things. However , the storm was over now. The sun had come out, and if it continued shining so brilliantly, the powerful rays would devour the blanket of white as if it had never been.

The rest of the world had returned. A world in which Emily had already forged a path forward and knew what she wanted from the future. His chance with her had already come and gone. Some mistakes couldn’t be undone.

She was never mine to keep .

He stood as if made of stone, the throbbing in his hand no match for the pain clawing between his ribs. “ Happy Christmas , Emily ,” he said, a murmur that was overshadowed by the sound of top boots beating against the marble floor tiles.

And then, he watched her go.