Chapter 13

CHAPTER13

Silas strode after Emma, not sure what he was more annoyed about—that she had abruptly ended their kiss, or that she was going to get herself in trouble, chasing after unknown noises in the middle of the woods.

“I doubt there even is a sound,” he grumbled to himself, watching her skirts fly up behind her as she ran along the lakeshore. The fleeting glimpse of ankle and slender calf was enough to make him swallow.

You are making mistakes. She will bolt before your mother is satisfied if you carry on like this. Do not rush. His thoughts settled a little. After all, she had recently compared him to Lord Bolam, and that was not the sort of company with which he wished to be associated.

He had not even meant to kiss her. Not really. He certainly had not intended to steal her first and second kisses without asking, though she had clearly not been too cross with him.

There had been no slap, no kick to his groin, no tirade of insults, just the tender graze of her mouth on his, stoking the fires she had ignited during their waltz. Fires that refused to dwindle.

I should not have kissed her again.

Still, though he suspected he had acted rashly, he could not muster a single regret. Kissing her had given him the most surprising dose of peace. Kissing her had held the events of the past year-and-a-half at bay, clouding his brain until there was no room for anything but her and the way she felt in his arms.

The perfect distraction.

And as he continued to watch her, he already wanted more.

She had halted beside a thicket of bushes, crouched down with her hand outstretched. Nearing the spot, he raised an eyebrow at the tone of her voice; she was making peculiar noises, as if she were cooing over a baby.

“Are you not the most precious little thing, hmm?” she squealed. “Yes, you are! You are, my little sweetling!”

“Who on earth are you talking to?” he asked curtly.

But she did not answer. Instead, to his alarm, she shuffled further forward on her knees and half disappeared into the thorny, tangled bushes. From within, he finally heard the sound she must have been hearing: a pained whimper, accompanied by Emma’s hissed curses.

Not ladylike at all. He smirked, wondering where she had acquired such a filthy mouth.

With a cry of triumph, Emma wrenched herself out of the bushes and lurched to her feet, thrusting something black and furry straight into Silas’s face.

“The poor thing had his paw stuck between two of those thorny branch things!” she declared, while Silas pulled his neck back to get a better look at the creature dangling from her hands.

It was a puppy with curly fur, black as night, and as glossy as Emma’s raven locks. Yet, on the puppy’s chest was a heart of pure white, and as his big brown eyes met Silas’s, the dog’s little tail began to wag.

“Well, it is fortunate you were here to find him.” Silas took a step back. “Now, set him down and let him continue on with whatever he was doing.”

He did not mind animals and would go so far as to say he adored Ajax, but puppies were a different matter; they were messy, they were unpredictable, they were whiny, they required constant attention, and even their cuteness could not outweigh the chaos they caused.

Emma folded the puppy into her arms, laughing as the creature strained his curly head to lick her face. “Oh, fear not, I love you too! I am not going to abandon you, my sweet.” She kissed the puppy’s face all over in return. “The big bad duke is not afraid of a tiny little baby, is he?”

“It is nothing to do with fear, Emma. It is to do with mess. I do not like disorder. I do not like anything that cannot be controlled.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Yet, you have pursued me, of all women.”

“I did not mean you,” he retorted, surprisingly flustered. “I mean creatures. Things. My household.”

He was saying too much, but he could not stop the words from trickling out.

She stroked the puppy lovingly, scratching between his floppy ears. “He can be your wedding gift to me,” she taunted. “Of course, if you cannot stand to have a puppy in your house of absolute order, then I am afraid I must refuse your offer. We are evidently incompatible.”

“Of course we are!” he blurted out, exasperated by his own loose tongue and the thought of her changing things in his life if the ruse went too far. “I am sorry, Emma, but I never wished to marry you, either.”

Emma’s brow creased, a flash of hurt in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Is it not obvious why you were my choice?”

“Evidently not.” Her voice was a block of ice.

He groaned, frowning at the puppy as it licked Emma’s neck, claiming something it knew Silas desired, despite himself. “Because you run from husbands, Emma.”

She flinched as if he had struck her.

“I suppose I was hoping you would make it a round trio with me,” he hurried to continue, “but you have made yourself… far too intriguing and I have acted in a most unseemly manner by not being truthful with you. I now see that it would be unfair to proceed without you being aware of my plans.” He paused. “Indeed, perhaps you might agree to be a part of them, once your blood ceases boiling.”

Emma stared at him in stony silence, petting the puppy as if it were the only thing keeping her from throwing a punch at Silas’s nose. He would not have blamed her. He might have had his reasons, but he had tricked her, manipulated her, and kissed her; he would deserve a broken nose or a split lip for that.

“I knew there was something wrong about you,” she said quietly, her words dripping venom.

He sighed. “You would not be the first to think or to say that.”

“It is lucky I am not the sort of silly girl who falls over herself at the slightest attention from a gentleman,” she went on, blinking furiously. “Indeed, it is lucky I did not leap at the chance to marry you when you offered.”

He nodded. “I suppose it is.”

“Is that why you are saying this now? Are you trying to hurt me because I would not accept—because I would not “be controlled” as you prefer, sticking to my scheme instead of playing along with yours?” She cuddled the puppy closer, the sweet creature nestling against her shoulder, his brown eyes closing as if he knew he was safe now.

“I would not phrase it that way,” he replied, “but I was beginning to see that you might not be convinced and, perhaps, had machinations of your own that would render my plans useless, no matter how much effort I put into persuading you.”

And kissing you felt… wrong while you were oblivious to the scheme.

He was not a complete bastard. He had some morals, and tricking innocent women fell into that category, especially those as enchanting as her.

“I thwarted your plans with my own.” It was not a question.

“In essence, yes,” he hesitated. “So, let us begin afresh. Let us make a new plan.”

She sniffed. “Why would I do anything to assist you?”

“Because this will be of mutual benefit,” he told her. “You do not need to worry about marriage, I do not need to worry about my mother’s continual hounding about marriage, and only I will be judged when our business is concluded.”

She kissed the top of the puppy’s head. “What are you suggesting, if not marriage?”

“A pretense.” It felt somewhat relieving to speak truthfully, at last. “A false betrothal. Your father would never deny the interest of a duke. Society would applaud you. And we could maintain the pretense for as long as you desire—months, if necessary, so that you may breathe easily again.”

Emma’s expression hardened. “And face ten times the ridicule and judgment when the betrothal is broken after those months?”

“Face ten times the sympathy,” Silas corrected, offering a smile. “I shall weave a story so tragic, so heartrending, so utterly inspiring that not a soul in society will ever mutter rude things about you under their breath, ever again. You might have to bear their pity though, if you can stand it.”

She canted her head. “What sort of story?”

“That ours was a love that began many moons ago, but circumstance separated us. And when I discovered that you were to be wed to that first betrothed of yours, I ran to you and begged you to end the union.” He paused for dramatic effect. “But when you did, pursuing what you thought was true love, I broke your heart. I was an utter scoundrel. I shut you out and refused to honor my promises to you, but you did not say a word against me in order to save my mother from any heartbreak.

“After several years of separation, and a strange turn of events, I heard about your second wedding and realized that I could not be without you. I realized what a coward I had been and went to the church. You were about to enter, to marry that other fellow, when I leaped out, swearing my fealty and devotion to you. And you, the sweet fool with the kind heart, decided once again to choose love.

“A few weeks’ before our wedding, you discover that I have been unfaithful—that I have broken your heart for the third and final time. You ask me to sever the betrothal and I, in all my shame, agree to it.” He expelled a stiff breath. “I take all the blame, you are absolved of your former ‘sins’ and we both part ways to live our lives as we see fit.”

He had no faith in her accepting the new offer, considering how angry she had seemed not a moment ago, but perhaps she would see the benefit. Perhaps, she would see that it was her only way out of the tangled web in which she had caught herself.

“How do I know you will actually take all of the blame?” she said curtly. “You are not inspiring much trust, now, are you?”

“I shall make an arrangement with my accountant, putting a hefty sum of money in your name. In the event that I do not honor my promise, that sum will be transferred solely to you—enough to pay for a lifetime of independence. You can watch me do it and put your own signature on the contract, if that would ease your mind?”

Her eyes narrowed, but he could practically hear the cogs whirring in her mind as she weighed up her options.

What seemed like a lifetime later, she finally spoke: “If we are to do this, I have three conditions. One: I will oversee the signing of that contract and put my signature to it, for my own security. Two: No more kisses, no more flirtation, no more honeyed words from you. It will only complicate matters. Three: The puppy stays, with all of his mess and chaos and disorder.”

Relief sparked in Silas’s chest, but he kept a mask of calm consideration as he held her fierce gaze. “You can do as you please with the puppy, as long as nothing gets broken or destroyed within my household. Anything that does get ruined shall be paid for by you.”

“I can manage that,” she replied, pouting those delicious, plump lips. “What of the other two provisos?”

He shrugged. “Of course, you should oversee the contract.” His eyes warmed as he glanced up and down her exquisite figure, admiring her beauty. “As for the other matter—personally, I see no reason why we should deny ourselves the pleasure of kisses and flirtations and honeyed words, but if that is your wish, then I promise.”

“I would hear you say it,” she urged, squaring her shoulders.

He took a step forward and reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips. He did not kiss that delicate hand but poised his mouth a hair’s breadth away and, meeting her eyes, he said with a half-smile, “I will not touch you, dear Emma… not until you beg me to.”

Her palm came out of nowhere, striking him so hard in the cheek that he saw stars and even the puppy yelped in alarm. “I will put this puppy in your chambers and let him relieve himself wherever he wishes if you say such a thing again.”

“And I will risk a second slap to stand by my words,” he said, smirking through the sting. “But first, might you kiss my cheek better? Slowly, if you please.”

Both slaps, like both kisses, were entirely worth it, as her palm collided with his grinning face.