Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Emmeline gasped at the sensation of his warm lips against her sensitive flesh. She had no idea what he was about to do, but she was oddly at ease with him, and had been since the moment they'd met in the ballroom. She had no real reason to trust him, yet she did. A sliver of guilt stabbed through her as she thought of her fiancé. She really shouldn't be in a moonlit garden with a complete stranger when she was engaged to someone else…but a desperate need for one adventure before she married the reserved Lord Marbury had driven her to be reckless. And now that she had an inkling of what passion was like, she wasn't about to turn it down. She may never taste it again.

Eros made a noise low in his throat as he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her cleavage. She wore no stays, and he seemed to delight in that fact as he nosed the fabric of her gown aside to drop a kiss on the swell of her breast. She responding by arching toward him like a wanton hussy. So be it.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"Let's see what else you like," he murmured, hooking his finger into the fabric and pulling it aside to palm her breast. She let her head fall back, and while her eyes were closed, he bent forward to take her breast in his mouth. She tightened the arm that was draped across his shoulders while gripping his bicep with the other. He flicked his tongue across her nipple and she nearly cried out. She felt a rumble of laughter run through him.

"You know exactly what you are doing to me, don't you?" she accused.

"And you have no idea what you are doing to me," he countered, grazing his teeth across the side of her breast. "God, you are delightful."

Well. That was a lovely sentiment.

"Will you kiss me again, please?"

"As you wish…" He trailed his lips up the slender column of her throat, nipping at the tender skin along the way. Her breath caught with each bite. These sensations were all new to her, and so thrilling.

At last, he arrived at her mouth, and claimed it in a hard kiss that sent her senses reeling. His tongue danced with hers, back and forth, setting a rhythm that seemed to come naturally. So involved in kissing him was she that she hardly noticed when his hand slipped under her dress and began inching its way up her leg. He tore his lips from hers.

"So soft," he whispered, rubbing his thumb against the inside of her thigh. He nudged a little higher, toward her center. "May I?"

She hadn't expected him to ask permission. This was her chance to put a stop to this, to have her kiss and be on her merry way.

But she wanted so much more. She nodded, and he resumed his journey.

"Here. Put that leg on the ground. Part them a little. That's it."

And suddenly his fingers were nesting in her curls, teasing the most sensitive part of her. Her back arched, and her breath drew in sharply.

"All right?" he asked.

"Gah," was all she could muster as he stroked her. Her head lolled back, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Oh, this was heavenly. She couldn't even summon a bit of embarrassment for letting him touch her this way. It was divine. At first, he stroked her languidly, delighting in the little mewls that she couldn't seem to keep to herself. But after a few minutes of that, he stroked faster and harder, and her body began to tighten. She clung to him, helpless with rapture as a pressure began to build low in her belly.

"Oh…oh, God."

"That's it, my little sprite. Give yourself over to the pleasure."

She was panting now, pushing into his hand, gasping. She was wound tightly as a spring, keening moans fluttering into the night air. All at once, she seemed to fly apart, his mouth covering hers to stifle her cry. Her body went rigid while wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, until she didn't think she could stand one more. She whimpered against his mouth, and he stilled his hand. She dropped her head to his shoulder, gulping in air. He seemed content to hold her like that until she returned to herself. She could feel his heart thumping against his chest nearly as hard as her own. He ran his hands up and down her bare arms and nuzzled into her neck, dropping tiny kisses behind her ear and under her jaw. She sighed, content, basking in the glow of his attention. That is, until he whispered her name. She froze.

"What did you just call me?" Surely, she had misheard. But no, she could see the panic in his eyes. "Oh, my God!" She scrambled from his lap, chest heaving, eyes blazing. "You know who I am?"

"I'm sorry, I?—"

"Oh, my God ! You aren't supposed to know me! How could I have been so foolish?" Her hands flew to her face. "This is a disaster— disaster ! Oh, you mustn't tell anyone. You mustn't!" she implored. He could hear tears threatening her words.

"I'm not going t?—"

"I shouldn't be here. This was a terrible mistake." She bolted for the opening in the hedge.

"Emmeline, wait!"

But she was gone. Nicholas smacked his hand to his forehead. " You bloody idiot !" This was a disaster all right. She was going to be furious with him when he confessed the truth. He'd be lucky if she still married him. He wanted to explain, but he couldn't very well go after her in his aroused state. His skirt was practically a tent, for crying out loud.

By the time he returned to the ballroom, she was gone.

Two days later, he stood on her doorstep, his cravat attempting to constrict what little air flow he had. He was glad for the gloves which hid his clammy palms. An estate emergency had prevented him from calling on her yesterday, but today he had to face her and make his confession. He fervently hoped she wouldn't toss him out of her house.

The door opened and he was admitted to the front parlor, where he bowed his greetings to her mother, refused her offer of tea, and asked if Miss Emmeline would take a turn in the garden with him, with Mrs. Appledore's permission, of course. Emmeline, for her part, barely met his eyes as she dutifully took his arm.

Once in the garden, he struggled for an opening line.

"You seem quiet today. Is all well?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Nicholas. My name is Nicholas." When she remained silent, he prodded her. "I should like very much to hear it on your lips, I think."

She managed a wan smile. "I'm sorry, Nicholas. I am not quite myself today."

"I can see that." He sucked in a breath. "Would you like to tell me why?"

Emmeline nearly gave in to hysterical laughter. No indeed, she would not like to tell him about her behavior at the ball, nor that she was so appalled by her own actions that she'd not gotten out of bed yesterday. She had to find a way to tell him, of course. She couldn't risk Eros spreading it about that he'd had his way with Miss Emmeline Appledore at the Darcys' masquerade ball—Marbury deserved better than that, even though it meant he would probably break their engagement. Her family was as good as ruined, and all because she had followed her selfish desires.

All she had really wanted was a few stolen kisses, to know the excitement of being reckless. Somehow it had all gotten out of control. She'd been putty in Eros's arms, had wanted so much more, but he'd been the one who held back. She was glad for that, at least, though she did wonder what making love to him would have been like. Even now, standing across from Nicholas, her heart raced at the memory of what she'd done with a stranger in a garden bower. She regarded the man in front of her and tried to imagine him doing the things Eros had done, and she just couldn't. He was so shy and awkward, she feared he might never do more than kiss her. She pondered whether he even knew how to do that .

Except…except there was a familiar tingle dancing across her skin.

"Emmeline, I came here today for a reason. I've been avoiding the subject because I just don't know how to broach it, but I think being direct is best. We need to talk about the masquerade ball."

The blood drained from Emmy's face. "You know?" she asked, horrified.

Nicholas wore a concerned expression. "I do, but?—"

"I'm so sorry!"

"What?"

"I'm sorry! I never meant things to go that far. I only wanted one night of adventure. I trusted him—oh God, how many people has he told? How did you hear this so fast? Oh, I am ruined. Ruined!"

Nicholas grabbed her before her knees buckled and sat her on a nearby bench. "Emmeline, you don't understand."

"What must you think of me?" she asked in a pained whisper.

He sat down next to her and palmed her cheek, forcing her to look at him. "Emmy, please. Calm down. I do not think badly of you."

"You…don't?"

"No. I am just as much to blame for what happened."

Emmy stared at him; his face so close to hers. She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I…I was th-there."

Her brows knit. "Dear God, you saw ?"

"No! I…oh, hell."

He kissed her. Emmeline squeaked in surprise, but quickly warmed to his embrace. He was kissing her like no gentleman ought, and she responded like a wanton wh— bloody hell. Emmy jerked back in shock. She looked at him—really looked at him—and saw familiar eyes.

"Eros!" She gasped.

Nicholas nodded. Emmy flew to her feet, eyes snapping. "You! How could you?"

"I'm sorry. I tried to tell you, but you ran so fast?—"

"You tried to tell me? You had ample opportunity to inform me of your identity, yet you chose to stay silent."

"I didn't want to r-ruin?—"

"Ruin me? So, you just stuck you hand up my dress instead?"

"No! That's not what?—"

"Oh, this is unbelievable. Do you know I have spent the past two days holding my breath, waiting for someone to come to tea and call me a whore? Waiting for my family to hear the rumor of their daughter's indiscretion? Two whole days, regretting my actions, barely able to lift my head under the weight of my embarrassment?"

"I don't regret a moment that we spent together."

"Of course you don't. You're a man. You don't have to face the same repercussions. What, were you trying me out to see what kind of bed partner you'd be getting in a wife?"

He stiffened. "That was uncalled for."

She was being a shrew, but humiliation fueled her tirade. "I trusted you, and you took advantage of me. "

"You asked me to!" he snapped, rising. "You wanted to be reckless, to have one night of adventure, and I wanted to give it to you. Before you consign yourself to a life of boredom," he added in a mocking tone.

The full horror of the situation hit her then. She had shared her concerns about marrying Lord Marbury to the man himself. If only the ground would open and swallow her whole at this very moment.

"You must think… I can't even begin to imagine what you think of me." She glanced away, swallowing hard. After a fraught moment, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "I'm sorry for my actions, and if my words offended you. But you lied to me, and I cannot marry a man I cannot trust." She spun on her heel and stomped back toward the house.

Nicholas was left staring at her back for the second time in as many days. Well. He had handled that brilliantly. As he watched her retreating figure, he came to a solid conclusion.

He desperately wanted to marry Miss Emmeline Appledore, and he would do anything to make that happen.