Chapter 6

The viscount took her to a pub, the Spaniard's Inn by Hampstead Heath, which David informed her had once been patronized by the poets John Keats and Lord Byron. The exterior of the inn was very old, white-washed, and square-built without ornamentation. They went inside to a large room, darkly paneled to waist height with yellowing once-white walls and ceiling above.

"What shall I get you to drink, miss?" David asked, as if they were chance met acquaintances.

The quality of her dress suggested money had been spent on it, but it was of a style worn more by the demi-monde than ladies from the ton.

"I would like some ale, please, sir," Emma said, trying to keep a straight face although she knew not much could be seen beneath the mask.

The innkeeper poured them both tankards of his best ale, and David tossed him a coin, carrying the ale to a bench set against the wall in the corner of the room. He seated Emma and then sat across from her. She took a healthy sip of her ale and sighed her pleasure, utterly delighted with the viscount yet a bit bemused by the contentment she felt. She had never been to a place like this outside Penporth. The room was rowdy, the people laughing and singing boisterously. It was a bit dingy and from the general smell, not too clean, and she suspected the candles were tallow and not beeswax.

Yet she much preferred to be here than the predictability of a ton ball or soiree.

"Do you frequent this establishment, my good sir," she asked, leaning closer so that he heard her over the raucous laughter.

"Perhaps my fourth visit."

"Thank you," Emma said, "I…thank you, David."

"My pleasure." He took a sip of his ale. "Have you thought of how far you want to dare, Emma?"

"Yes."

"How far?"

"Until I feel sated," she whispered.

"Are you chasing love?"

The question so astonished her she blinked. "No. Pleasure."

"For some, they are part of the same coin."

She took another mouthful of her ale before she answered. "I have no wish to marry."

"An unusual stance for a lady."

"Perhaps one day I shall; I simply do not own the desire right now and do not believe I should, simply because the old dragon believes that is all that is available to me in this world."

"Ah, a sweet little rebel. I like it."

Emma laughed. "Somehow, I am very glad you approve, my lord."

His gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered. The viscount leaned forward and to her shock, licked along the seam of her lip. The motion was a quick, hot dart of his tongue.

"David," she gasped, clutching the lapels of his jacket. A feeling of excitement tumbled low in her belly to settle as an ache. He had not taken her into his arms, yet there was no earth beneath her feet.

"You had some ale droplets on your lips," he said against her mouth, the vibration settling low and deep in her belly.

Emma's mouth tingled where the viscount had licked. The hum of the background faded, and the only sound to be heard was her own heartbeat. He watched her with the lazy sensuality of a jungle predator, assessing her reaction.

"So, you are planning to be my scoundrel in every way," she murmured against his mouth.

"Did you doubt it?"

Her lips parted ever so slightly, alarmed and delighted by his words. "Not anymore."

The viscount tenderly cupped her chin with his thumb and forefinger. His head dipped lower, and her breath stuttered.

"There are people here…" she whispered, aghast yet thrilled.

"I thought you wanted to live on the edge?" David said, but only brushed his mouth to her forehead.

That unexpected caress rendered her silent.

"Has anyone ever taken these lips?"

An unexpected spurt of humor shook her. "An odd way to refer to a kiss."

He smiled.

"I have never given anyone the privilege."

"Yet you'll grant it to me," he said gruffly.

"Yes."

Naked need flared in his eyes as he stared at her for a long moment.

"Let's enjoy our ale and get out of here," he said.

They finished their ale and ordered another. By the time she finished that one, Emma felt deliciously warm and perhaps just a little tipsy. Or why else would she be sitting so close to the viscount that she was almost in his lap?

"What did you mean when you said love wounds and disappoints?"

His eyes flared before his gaze hooded.

She touched the corner of his mouth with a fingertip. "Tell me, David."

"From what I have seen, ‘love' is just a damn reason to be selfish. It meant nothing more."

"Who wounded you?" she whispered.

Something raw and dangerous leaped in his eyes, and her heart stuttered. He offered no reply, only a chilling silence. Still, he did not move her away from him, in truth, he shifted so that their bodies slid closer.

"When you marry…you do not hope to love your viscountess?"

"Who says I plan to marry?"

Emma's eyes widened. "My good sir, every gentleman with a title and fortune must marry. Do I have it wrong?"

His teeth flashed in a rueful grin. "I am careful in executing my obligation and duty to my title and estate. Eventually, I must marry. That my viscountess and I would hold each other in respect and high esteem would be enough."

"Have you never fallen a little bit in love?"

He seemed startled by the question. "No. Have you?"

"Most certainly not," she said with a light laugh. "Perhaps if I had, I would not be here with you now, my lord."

"David," he said, his eyes searching hers. "If you are likely to do something as nonsensical as believe yourself to fall in love with me…do not."

She choked back a laugh. "I gather many ladies have professed love for you?"

A wry smile touched his mouth, yet his eyes remained indifferent. "Aye."

"I will not be foolish enough to fall in love with you then," she said lightly, trusting herself explicitly to keep her heart safe. "It is fun and adventure I want, my lord, nothing more. And when I am ready to give my heart to a gentleman, it would not be to a fool who would not know how to cherish it."

Laughter gleamed in his gaze, and she felt her heart trip at the beauty of that gaze. She suspected he was a complex gentleman, and suddenly Emma wanted to know him before just fleeting moments of pleasure.

"Let's go."

They scrambled from the inn and spilled outside in the night air. Emma lifted her face to the sky, held her arms open and twirled. An enchanted sort of madness was claiming her, and she basked in the sensation. She laughed and spun around to the viscount. He was frozen…just staring at her. Even though they were on the street where anyone could pass by Emma was tempted to lean into his strength and yield to the hot promise in his gaze.

"What is it? Do I have something on my face—"

She gasped as he hauled her against his chest in a move of violent tenderness. His mouth took hers, and she jerked against him into absolute stillness.

A kiss…at last.

The feel of his mouth moving atop hers, the lick of his tongue against the seam of her lips…and then the hot dart of it into her mouth to slide sinuously against hers was the most torturous and delicious thing that Emma had ever known in her entire life. A soft moan of wonder flowed from her mouth to his. She responded helplessly to his seduction, gripping his shoulders as he kissed her over and over until her heart felt as if it would rip from her chest and her mouth felt bruised.

When they parted, he breathed raggedly, and she trembled in the cage of his arms. David held her tightly to him as if he savored the feel of her body pressed against his. Mortified, there was an ache low in her belly that spread to that secret place between her thighs.

"I…" she laughed, astonished. "So that is a kiss." The ground had fairly shaken beneath her feet.

"I am not sure what the hell it was. You filled me with a craving I've never felt in my entire life."

Delight burned like embers inside her heart. A slow smile curved her mouth. "Good, for I thought it quite remarkable."

His mouth curved into a sensually provoking smile, then he cupped her cheeks tenderly between his hands and took her mouth. This time his kiss was slower…deeper, and Emma felt as if she fell impossibly deep into something she did not understand. Holding her to him, David shifted until they were standing in the shadows on the street and not under a gaslamp. That darkness held them in a soft, intimate cocoon, yet Emma felt as if she was lashed to a storm.

His sensual energy was palpable and almost overpowering. If she were another lady, she would perhaps wilt from his intensity, but she found herself purring into his kiss, taking into herself his jolt of surprise. She curved her hand over his shoulders and tipped onto her toes to get closer. She parted her lips with a soft sigh and his tongue swept inside her mouth to tangle with her own. Emma wanted to crawl into him, and she did not shy from the feelings thumping through her blood but embraced them. Emma held onto David, sinking herself in a sea of wicked sensations. Her breast ached…and that ache traveled down to the valley between her thighs and throbbed.

It felt decadent…and so forbidden.

She kissed him back with all the passion beating inside her body, and he groaned, ripping his mouth from her to bury his face into the curve of her throat.

"Hell!"

David pressed another quick kiss to her mouth before clasping her hand within his and tugging her toward the waiting carriage.

"I promised you the night was not yet over."

"You did."

He did not take her to his home to ravish her senseless. He took her to Haymarket, where a play showed, and they watched it from the upper gallery. Emma laughed and cheered, perfectly contented to act herself behind the mask and wig. If a pang went through her chest at the awareness that she could not be herself fully in this world, it was soon replaced by the joy she felt at simply living unfettered for this moment with the viscount by her side.