Chapter 32

CHAPTER32

With the moon lighting their way, they made a strange convoy. A carriage trundled at the head of the line, Luke and his accomplice tied up within, while Augusta swayed gently on the driver’s box with the driver. Behind them, Duncan kept slumping forward and jolting awake.

At the rear of the line, Silas and Emma rode Ajax, Silas’s arm wrapped tightly around Emma’s middle. She sank back into him, her arms crossed over his, grateful to be safe in his embrace once again.

“What do you think will happen to him?” she asked, tilting her head up to look at her beloved.

Silas furrowed his brow. “The magistrate will be called. A story will be crafted, and he will spend a few years away for his crimes.” A dark smile crept over his lips. “I can think of a fairly dismal Scottish keep where he could eke out his sentence, if he does not want to mingle with commoners.”

“How are you feeling?” She twisted sideways, draping her legs over his thigh, resting her head against his shoulder. “It cannot have been comfortable for you, listening to all of that.”

Silas swallowed thickly. “There is… a part of me that always knew I did not quite belong. Think of it as a lifelong question answered. A fissure in my character that has now been filled in.” He shrugged. “I wish I had known sooner; that is the only facet I am battling with.”

“Would you have given the dukedom to Luke?”

He chuckled roughly. “I likely would have considered it, but that is not why. I wish I had known sooner so that I might have been kinder to my father. More forgiving of him.” His eyes pinched. “I brought a lot of shame upon him and our family. I regret that.”

“Do you want to know who your real father is?”

Silas shifted awkwardly on the saddle. “No. I would not open an old wound any more than it has already been opened. I had a father, and he was the only father I shall ever choose to know as mine, to honor him and my mother, both.” He paused, sighing. “Although, whoever the other bastard is, I do hope he rots in Hell when his judgment day comes.”

Emma nestled deeper into his embrace. “I think that is a very wise and honorable thing, my love. But… do you forgive your mother for not saying anything?”

He nodded. “I forgive them both. It is strange, but I understand why.” He glanced down at her. “Before you, I might not have, but I know without doubt that if I were in my father’s position and you were in my mother’s, I would have done the same thing.”

Emma shuddered. “Let us pray that never happens.”

“Yes, that was a peculiar thing for me to say,” he replied, laughing. “I only meant that there is nothing I would not do for you and nothing you could do that would make me cast you aside.”

She squinted up at him. “Aside from believing that I ran from our wedding, you mean.”

He pulled a face. “Ouch, my love. You wound me.”

“You thought I jilted you,” she retorted playfully. “If my father had not made it back to your manor to explain, anything might have happened to me. I might be dead right now if⁠—”

He kissed her, pulling her closer. A slow, passionate kiss that made her melt, her arms looping around his neck as she kissed him back in kind. She knew he had done it to quieten her, and she did not care—this was everything she wanted.

“Never speak of what might have happened because of my stubbornness, I beg of you,” he whispered, pulling back.

She raised an eyebrow, grinning. “You beg of me?”

“For you, I admit it, I am willing to beg,” he replied, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. He leaned closer, whispering, “And when we return to my manor, I shall beg again. On my knees. Pleading between your thighs.”

A shiver of pleasure stole her breath away. “And if I do not forgive you?”

“I shall beg harder,” he murmured, sliding his hand down her waist. “So hard that you have no choice but to scream my pardon.”

“And then?”

He smiled against her neck as he kissed her there. “We will ride to the church tomorrow and finish what we began, so that we can return home, and I can do what I have been longing to do since we first waltzed together.”

“Make me your wife?” she teased, fully aware of what he meant. He had explained it to her on those long and thrilling nights they had spent with each other, lamenting that he could not demonstrate what he meant, for the sake of her reputation.

He shot her a mock withering look. “No, but, now that you mention it, I do want that more than anything.”

“Then, I am sorry to disappoint you,” she said, caressing his face. “But we need to change our agreement again. I thought I could accept a marriage of convenience with you, but I cannot. I am falling in love with you, Silas, if I have not fallen already. A marriage of convenience will never be enough.”

His teeth grazed his lower lip as he held her tighter. “How fortunate,” he purred, “for it would not be enough to satisfy me, either. I am already in love with you, my wildling, and will accept nothing but a marriage of everlasting love, unbridled passion, wicked wit, and your charming, ceaseless babbling. And let us not forget the dogs—we must have a house full of them. I want nothing less.”

He leaned in to kiss her, but she pushed him in the chest, yelping, “Snowy! How is he? Goodness, I hope he did not think I had abandoned him.”

“Actually, it turns out that he is an exceptional guard dog, just as I had hoped he might be,” Silas replied. “He tried to attack Mr. Goldsmith.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “He did not!”

“He did. He must have smelled you and realized, long before me and my idiocy, that the wretch had done something to you,” Silas said, his face flinching. “He would not stop biting Mr. Goldsmith’s ankles, and I am inclined to set the hound loose on the cretin when we return, so that Snowy may have some satisfaction of his own.”

Emma chuckled. “I like that notion.” She paused, tilting her head. “Did you just confess that you love me, Silas? I believe I might have hastened from those words too quickly.”

“I was wondering when you might hark back to it,” he replied, lifting his hand to cradle her face. “I love you. My wildling, I love you.”

She sighed, her heart full. “As I love you.”

As their lips met, the world seemed to shift on its axis. They had kissed countless times before, but as she held him close and breathed him in, savoring each ebb and flow of his mouth on hers, it was like they had never kissed before. Not like that, not in a way that whispered, “from now on, forever.” Smiling as she kissed him harder, she had never been more certain of anything or anyone in her entire life.

This was the start of theirs, together.

* * *

A gentle knock rapped on the chamber door, drawing Emma slowly out of her stupor. She was in the bath, enjoying the hot water against her aching limbs, daydreaming of her future at this manor, as the Duchess of Hudson.

“Who is it?” she called, luxuriating.

The door opened and Silas walked in. “I should hope no one else is knocking on your door while you are naked in the bathtub.”

“You should not be,” she replied, making no attempt to cover herself. “What will people say?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever they like. I do not care.”

She gripped the sides of the tub as he came closer, eyes gleaming with a familiar hunger as they skimmed across the contours of her body. The milky water, rich with oils, concealed some of her, but offered more than enough of a glimpse to torment him.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “This is why I call you my wildling—you unleash a beast in me, my love, that is hard to restrain.”

“Must I deny you of treats to get you to behave?” she purred, knowing she would never grow tired of the way he looked at her, like she was the only person in the world.

“Deny me? No, my love, that would be too cruel,” he said, dragging a stool toward the side of the bathtub. He sat down, content to admire her.

She chuckled, sinking deeper into the bath, covering more of herself with the milky water. His eyes flickered a warning.

“How is my father?” she asked.

He groaned. “Must I speak of him at such a time as this?”

“Yes, you must. Behave yourself.”

He sighed, balancing his ankle on his knee. “He is recovering well. In truth, I think he wishes to be left alone—Eliza has been fussing. The poor man has not had a moment’s peace.” He thumbed back at the door. “Your mother and sister have been sent for. I expect they will bring Nora with them, as she departed with them. Another footman has been dispatched to inform the duchesses of what has happened.”

“And Luke? Mr. Goldsmith? That sickly boy?” Emma asked tentatively.

Silas pursed his lips. “At the dowager house, under heavy guard. My mother is overseeing them. The magistrate has replied to say he is hosting a dinner party and cannot come until tomorrow.” He tutted under his breath. “The way things are dealt with in this country is in dire need of reform, but I will be patient.”

“What story will you tell the magistrate?”

Silas gave a wry smile. “A version of the truth. A jealous, bitter second son who wanted the dukedom for himself. We will explain that you were kidnapped in order to lure me to you, and that is where my brother’s plot was foiled.” He shook his head. “Luke has agreed to it, but society and the law being what it is, he will only receive a few years of imprisonment as punishment, if that. To avoid scandal, we will ask for something…discreet. I’m sure the magistrate will agree. If you have enough money, everyone agrees with you in this country.” He made a face.

“Where?” Emma’s stomach churned.

“The dowager house,” he replied grimly. “But he cannot go beyond the front doors of that house. If he does, I have already warned him that I will take matters into my own hands.”

Emma pulled a face. “And after that, he will go where he pleases?”

“No. For the rest of his life, he will not be permitted within the grounds of this manor,” Silas explained. “He has already decided to accept the marquisate, so he will leave for the north once his sentence is finished. I doubt he shall ever return.”

Emma’s demeanor softened. “Does that upset you?”

“Not particularly.” He shrugged. “I could have forgiven him imprisoning me for a year, my love. I could have forgiven him for scheming against me, but I shall never forgive his intent to hurt you. For that, it is of no concern to me if I never see him again.”

Emma wiggled her toes, causing ripples. “I am sorry to have caused so much trouble.”

He reached down and caught hold of her ankle, his eyes glittering. “Never apologize for any of this, my love. Never. None of it is your fault, not even a little bit. Knowing you, getting to know you, has been the honor of my life, and will continue to be.” He smiled like a wolf spying a young doe. “Now, I think you have soaked enough. Let me dry you, and show you how sorry I am for my part in this.”

“Dry me?” She gulped.

He nodded, offering his hand to help her out of the tub.

She could not resist him, putting her slender fingers in his. She had expected him to merely hold her hand as she stepped out of the tub herself, but as she stood up, his other arm snuck around her waist, lifting her out.

“Do not!” she squealed. “I will get you all wet!”

He chuckled huskily. “I do not care if you do.”

The air thickened in the bedchamber as he took up a dry bath sheet and began to smooth the moisture away from her skin. Holding her gaze, he began with her arms, stroking the linen down to her wrist. He did the same with her other arm, before skimming back over her chest.

Covering his hand with the linen, he stroked upward, caressing the column of her throat. His breathing changed as he brought his touch down to the swell of her breasts and dragged the slightly rough fabric down the line of her stomach. Emma had no idea if it was drying her, but it did not matter one bit; she liked it, either way. Her skin tingled afterward.

“Silas?” she whispered.

He paused, tilting his head. “Yes, my love?”

“If we are to go to the church tomorrow and be married…”

A wicked smile turned up the corners of his lips. “Are you certain?”

She nodded. “I am.”

“I love you,” he breathed, dropping the bath linen.

“As I love you,” she breathed back, gasping as he scooped her to him and pressed his warm lips to hers.

And as he kissed her, she waited for the fear to strike, waited for the nagging voice of shame and guilt, waited for her society-ingrained instincts to make her step back, but none of it came. She held no worry or unease in her heart, only love, for if Luke had not had her kidnapped, they would be married by now.

“Husband of mine,” she purred, to confirm her decision.

He smiled against her mouth. “Wife of mine. My wildling bride.”

That was good enough for her, and she doubted very much that he would make her regret it.