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Chapter 14

Emily felt both hollow and raw. It had been an extremely difficult day thus far. News of Grandmama’s death had arrived at eight o’clock in the morning before she or her parents had gone down to breakfast. Arrangements had quickly been made, mostly by Papa, who’d immediately taken charge since Mama could do little but sit and weep.

Emily had done her best to console her, even though she herself had been gripped by loss.

The carriage ride had been a solemn journey. No one had spoken a word. When they’d arrived at Seaton Hall, Emily’s aunts and uncles had all been ready to greet them. Silence had been the predominant theme, and it had been awful. It stood in stark contrast to Grandmama’s spirited personality, making her loss all the more pronounced.

Now, surrounded by family in the Seaton Hall parlor, Emily took the tea someone offered and drank, appreciating the soothing effect the heat offered.

How many tears had she cried?

She’d no idea, but it was a lot – a constant stream of agony that had dampened most of her handkerchiefs.

Her gaze wandered to where Callum sat, his expression as grave as the mood filling the parlor. His arrival had been a lovely surprise. Despite the pain he’d caused her, she’d needed him more than she’d realized. His embrace had been a wonderful comfort. And the fact that he’d chosen to be here also proved he cared. It lifted her spirits a little and gave her hope.

Perhaps Mama had been right. Maybe his feelings for her had changed since they’d started spending more time together. Would it then be fair of her to judge him for what his opinion of her had been before? Her own opinion of him had not been positive either.

No, but she wouldn’t have put it in print?

She sighed and drank some more tea while her aunts and uncles spoke with her parents and Grandpapa in hushed tones. All had offered congratulations to her on her upcoming wedding, which had been a strange experience indeed since they were presently trying to plan for a funeral.

“Why must we sit here like this?” Emily blinked at the realization that she had spoken the words out loud. She glanced around, aware the conversation had ceased and that everyone stared at her. “Forgive me. I’ll just… I believe I’m in need of fresh air.”

She stood while everyone tracked her movement.

“Shall I come with you?” Mama inquired.

“No. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

The conversation resumed as she crossed to the door.

“We need to decide on the hymns,” Aunt Marjorie, the eldest of the three sisters, said. “The vicar will want to know when he arrives.”

“Andrew and I can go to Town and meet with the cabinet maker,” Papa said. “If the service is going to take place tomorrow, we’ll need a coffin.”

“How about…”

Emily missed the rest of Uncle Andrew’s words as she slipped from the room. It was a bright and sunny day outside, though perhaps a bit chilly, she reflected as she headed toward the rose garden. Maybe she should have collected her shawl. She stopped for a moment and considered returning to fetch it, except she really didn’t wish to go back inside Seaton Hall right now.

What she needed was the liveliness to be found in the rustling of leaves and the twittering of birds. Grandmama had been an avid gardener. Her spirit was far more present out here than it was in there.

Hugging herself, Emily followed the graveled path toward the roses. It had always been her favorite spot here, not only because of the perfect blooms or the lovely scent they produced in the summer, but because of the domed folly that stood just beyond it. Emily had always imagined it to be extremely romantic – the sort of place where a knight might find his maiden when he returned from the Crusades.

Her fingers trailed over a box-cut laurel hedge lining the path. She took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of autumn. Already, the leaves on the trees had turned bright shades of red, yellow, and orange. Soon the ground would be littered with them.

She smiled at the thought. When she was little, her grandparents would take her for walks as soon as there was a thick enough layer of leaves for them to stomp through. They’d all loved the crisp sound beneath their feet and the pretty display when they kicked the leaves up in the air.

The memory tightened Emily’s throat. God, how she’d miss her grandmother.

Drawing to a halt, she stared at the rose bushes. All had been trimmed to the ground with not a single bloom left in sight. The bleakness of those thorny branches, devoid of colorful blooms, caused Emily’s eyes to well with tears once again. She swiped them away with the back of her hand.

The sound of gravel crunching behind her made her to turn.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Callum said, his expression grave. “I merely wanted to ask if you’d like some company.”

She pressed her lips together and sniffed, attempting to collect herself. “Only if you’re willing to cheer me up.”

“There’s nothing wrong with crying.”

“I know, but Grandmama wasn’t a dreary person. I think she’d prefer a lively tune played in her memory to the oppressing cloud of gloom everyone seems so determined to spread.”

Hands in both pockets, he moved toward her slowly. “Very well. I’ll do what I can to brighten the mood, although I’m not sure I’ll be very successful. You see, there’s a matter I cannot ignore. It must be addressed before you and I can move forward.”

“I know.” It was unfortunate, but he was correct. The book he’d written was like a huge boulder wedged between them. They had to acknowledge that it existed.

She resumed walking, keeping her pace slow until he fell into step beside her.

“You turned me away last night,” he began.

It wasn’t exactly a question, more of a factual statement, though it still demanded a response.

“Yes.”

He sighed. “I can only assume this to be because of the book I helped write. There’s a section in there that echoes the nature of our relationship prior to us becoming friends. I’m sorry for it, Emily. My intention was never to hurt you.”

“I’m not sure I believe that. The incidents you describe in the book are identical to the ones you and I have shared in the past. Only, in the book, you come across as the poor mistreated victim while I’m a cruel shrew. It’s not an accurate portrayal and contrary to what you’ve just said, it seems extremely vindictive.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. Emily, those characters aren’t you and me. They’re fictional. Miss Parker and Mr. Dalton were always intended to be at odds. Writing them was a challenge. I struggled to find a reason for them to be constantly clashing with one another, and that’s when I thought I’d let myself be inspired by true events.”

“Yet you chose to paint Mr. Dalton in a favorable light while making Miss Parker an awful person.”

“Only because I was hurt.”

She stopped at this and turned to face him. “How so?”

He glanced away, sending his gaze across the garden before speaking next. A slight twitch at the edge of his mouth and the way his throat worked as he swallowed, suggested he struggled to find the right words.

Eventually, he admitted, “I think I’ve had a bit of a tendre for you for a very long time. Since your debut.”

“My debut? But that’s six years ago.”

“I know.” He returned his attention to her and she saw the pained look in his eyes. “Remember when I told you how nervous you made me that evening?”

How could she forget? He’d shocked her with the confession. “You said you’d never seen a woman more dazzling.”

He nodded. “As a result, I became a clumsy mess whenever I saw you.”

“It always felt as though you were angry with me for getting in your way.”

“You’re not entirely wrong. I was angry with you, but not for getting in my way, Emily. I was angry with you for having such a crippling effect upon me. And for the way you reacted.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “You never gave me the chance to make amends.”

“Only because you made me angry as well. You ruined more than one of my gowns and, given the fact that it kept happening, I believed you did it on purpose. As a result, I wanted nothing to do with you, Callum.”

“And now?”

“You do not strike me as someone who’s overly nervous.” She narrowed her gaze. “Ever since asking me out for that walk in the park, you’ve been nothing but composed. It makes me question whether or not what you’re saying is true.”

He rocked back on his heels and turned his gaze sideways before he resumed walking at a moderate pace. Emily followed, keen on knowing if he would say more.

They followed a path that cut straight through the middle of the rose garden and led toward the folly. Callum removed his hands from his pockets and clasped them behind his back.

“Everything changed for me when we started interacting because of Peter,” he told her. The comment was followed by a swift glance in her direction as if to ensure she’d heard him. “He gave me a purpose that forced my self-consciousness into the background. I finally managed to speak with you without feeling as though my brain was filled with wood filings and my mouth with wads of cotton. I was able to relax, especially through our exchange of letters, while getting to know you on a more personal level.

“This made it so much easier when I called on you at your home and later when we went for our walk. It gave the impression that we’d become friends, and that, in itself, removed a tremendous amount of pressure. I no longer viewed you as a goddess-like woman I constantly failed to impress. Your responses to my letters and the conversation we shared when I brought you the flowers, proved we not only had much in common but that we were certain to get along. It calmed me.”

“I just wish you’d have told me about the book,” Emily said. “Why didn’t you?”

“There were numerous reasons.” He frowned as he stepped onto the grass that led to the folly.

Emily sent a glance over her shoulder. They’d walked quite a distance from the house and if they kept going, they’d soon be out of view. She stopped, unsure of whether or not it was wise to follow.

He halted as well. “First of all, you should know that the man who wrote those words is not the same man who stands before you today. That said, the truth is I simply didn’t think of it. The book was written before the summer. A lot has happened since then and besides, I didn’t expect it to have the impact it’s turned out to have.”

“You didn’t think I’d read it?”

A quick shake of his head informed her this wasn’t the case. “I didn’t give that any thought as I didn’t know you were the book reviewer. But mainly, I didn’t expect to form an attachment with you and for you to read it immediately after.”

“This has nothing to do with our being engaged.”

“Are you sure about that?”

She stared at him. “I would have been upset by it regardless.”

“Probably, though not for the same reason as you are now.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Because of what happens next in the book.” He gazed at her for a second and then his lips parted. “You didn’t read past that scene, did you?”

“I must confess, I had no wish to.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and when he looked at her next, his eyes were filled with regret. Stepping toward her, he reached for her hand. His fingers were warm. The touch of them sent an electrical charge up her arm.

“The chapter breaks and we see Miss. Parker’s perspective as she discusses Mr. Dalton with her sister.”

“That makes no sense at all,” Emily said. “Miss Parker isn’t the heroine, nor does she have any relationship to her.”

“It isn’t written from her point of view,” Callum explained, “but as an exchange Miss Partridge overhears. In it, Miss Parker has her own strong opinion of Mr. Dalton. The scene is intended to set up another romance that’s meant to unfold in the next book.”

“Are you saying Miss Parker and Mr. Dalton end up together?”

“Yes.” His hand squeezed hers. “They actually fall madly in love. A bit sickening at times, I imagine, but that’s all part of the fun.”

“You’re right. I would have been very upset if I’d read that last month.”

“And now?”

She wasn’t quite ready to tell him all was forgiven. Not when something he’d said had led to additional questions. “You mentioned numerous reasons for choosing not to mention the book. What are the others?”

“First of all, a book is a very personal thing. It offers a glimpse of the author’s mind, revealing private thoughts they’d never dare mention in public. Most importantly, however, is the fact that I’m not the only author, so speaking of it would have broken a promise I made to the others.”

Emily blinked. “What do you mean you’re not the only author?”

He gave her a funny look. “You still don’t know?”

“What I know is that it would appear as though you have been keeping more than one secret from me.”

His eyes widened. “Let us not speak of keeping secrets when you yourself are as guilty of that as I am.”

The reprimand was a swift reminder of everything she herself had intended to share with him. When the time was right. “Who told you about me being the Lady Librarian?”

“Does it matter?”

“No. I don’t suppose it does.”

Silence fell between them, expanding until Callum blew out a breath and told her, “It was Westcliffe. He and Corwin are the other two authors.”

Her lips parted for a brief second and then she shook her head while allowing a broad smile to capture her lips. “Of course they are.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she promised. Her smiled faded and it became clear that her thoughts had strayed toward something else. She gave him a hesitant look. “Will you insist that I set down my quill if we marry?”

“If?”

“All things considered, I didn’t want to presume.”

He clenched his jaw. An intense emotion burned in his eyes. He sent a quick look over her shoulder, and then he suddenly spun on his heel and pulled her along behind him.

Emily gasped as she tripped, her hand grabbing hold of his upper arm in a desperate attempt to keep her balance. “What are you doing?”

“Proving something once and for all,” he muttered.

Emily gasped as she quickened her steps, doing her best to keep up with his longer strides

“What’s that?” she asked, a little alarmed by the wild determination with which he cut a path straight to the folly.

He didn’t respond, nor did he slow his pace when they reached the domed marble structure. Instead, he led her inside the circular space and drew her toward the right, immediately behind a large pillar.

His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath as he pushed her against the cool stone. He was close – too close for her to keep all her wits about her. Closer still, as he leaned in.

Emily’s pulse leapt. Heat washed her face as he trailed his fingertips over the side of her face.

“Engaging in a fake courtship and getting engaged in the spur of the moment, have proven to me that I’m happiest knowing you will be mine. And no, I will not make you set down your quill once we’re married – as we shall be if I have anything to say about it. Because if there’s anything I have learned from spending these past few weeks together, it’s that I love you.”

Her heart fluttered. “You do?”

“Desperately, wholeheartedly, with every fiber of my being.”

“I love you too,” she confessed. “That’s why it hurt as much as it did when I read what you’d written. It felt like you hated me in return.”

“I could never hate you, Emily.” His eyes, she saw, shone with emotion. “Please forgive me. I beg you. Give me the chance to prove myself worthy.”

“Only if you forgive me for the secrets I kept.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Secrets. As in more than one?”

“I don’t just write reviews,” Emily told him. “I also run a book club. We meet the first Saturday of every month.”

“Is that all?” Callum asked, his piercing gaze holding hers.

He dipped his head as soon as she nodded, and crushed her mouth with his. This was not the paltry show of affection he had displayed when he had proposed. This kiss overwhelmed, it weakened her knees and forced her to cling to him in desperation. It was raw, completely improper, and utterly delicious.

The intimacy was extraordinary, the taste of him so divine she could not get enough. The need building inside her threatened to rid her of sensible thought. She was lost to sensation, and he was her guide.

“Exquisite,” he murmured, the words whispering softly against her skin as he kissed a path over the edge of her jaw. One hand gripped her waist, the other sought out her thigh.

She shifted a little and arched up against him, hoping to offer whatever encouragement he required to further his exploration. He did not disappoint. His hand on her thigh tightened before sliding higher.”

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he promised.

“Not yet,” she gasped as his teeth grazed her shoulder. “Kiss me again.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. His mouth returned to hers in a sensual exchange of forbidden yearning, each sweet caress alluding to something increasingly feral. And it only made her hungry for more.

The heat enveloping her and the ache he’d instilled deep inside her increased. Desperation rushed through her veins. She needed him to touch her just a little bit more to the left. Shifting her feet, she sought additional pressure, and sighed when she found what she needed.

A growl filled the air and then Callum muttered a curse. He grabbed her by the hips, effectively stilling her movements.

“Emily,” he warned, his voice roughened by his raspy breaths. “We should stop before this gets out of hand.”

“It’s already out of hand, wouldn’t you say?”

“Only a little,” he muttered. “You’ve not yet got your skirts up around your waist and I’ve not undone my placket.”

She tried to draw him back to her but he was a hard man to budge. Exasperated, she told him, “We’re to be married, are we not?”

He drew back farther and his nostrils flared. Eyes filled with endless desire pierced hers. “I want you, Emily, make no mistake about it, but I’ll not disgrace you in a folly while your relatives plan your grandmother’s funeral.”

The words had the same effect as dropping her into an icy pond. She stiffened with a horrified wince. “How could I let myself get carried away like that when she’s…? Good Lord, I’m a terrible person.”

“No, you’re not.” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her, then dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “I think we can both agree that we got a bit carried away.”

“Thankfully one of us had the good sense to stop. My goodness, you must think me an absolute wanton.”

“Certainly,” he said with a grin. “But that’s not a bad thing.”

She elbowed him in the ribs as soon as he released her. “You’re not supposed to admit to such things.”

“Why on earth not?” he challenged. Grabbing her hand, he spun her back into his arms and kissed her again with possessive force. “You are to be my wife, Emily, so let’s be perfectly clear. The way you responded to me just now makes me long for our wedding night more than you can imagine. I want you to be improper when we’re together. It heats my blood, knowing how much you crave my touch. And just so you know, I look forward to doing all sorts of scandalous things with you in our bedroom.”

“Good heavens.” She patted her cheeks which had grown blazing hot. “Do all engaged couples speak so candidly with each other?”

“I’ve no idea,” Callum said. He linked her arm with his and started guiding her back out into the sunshine. “It’s simply how I intend to speak with you, and I do hope you will reciprocate. Being open and honest about our desires is, in my opinion, the way to ensure a happy marriage.”

Emily pondered that for a moment before sending Callum a smug smile. “Well, in that case, you probably ought to know that I’d very much like to…” She rose up onto her toes and whispered the rest in his ear.

Callum suddenly coughed. When Emily drew back she saw that his eyes were impossibly wide. “I’m starting to think a special license might be in order.”

“Oh no,” said Emily, feigning dismay. “We mustn’t dismiss the crying of banns without a good cause.”

“You’ve just provided excellent cause,” Callum muttered.

“Not so much fun, being tortured, is it?”

“Don’t worry,” he told her slyly while leading her back to the house. “I’ll find a way to repay you, beginning with…”

The words he whispered next made Emily stumble. “That’s not really a thing, is it?”

“I don’t know. Is it?” He chuckled with devilish delight. “I’ll let you know once you’ve done that other thing you just mentioned.”

She punched him in the shoulder. “Impossible scoundrel.”

“Delightful vixen.”

Pursing her lips, she gave him a very unladylike sideways nudge, in response to which he picked her up and spun her around. Improprieties aside, he’d done what she’d asked of him in terms of cheering her up. It was exactly what she’d needed and left no doubt in her mind that he was much more than the Duke of Stratton, the man she’d decided to marry. He had become her dearest friend.

Nothing could possibly ruin that.

Or so she believed, until she returned home two days later and found the review she’d written for Seductive Scandal missing.

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