Chapter 7

Seven

E mma sat at her vanity as her maid secured her golden hair up in a Grecian style. Large voluminous plaits were secured at the sides and secured with seed pearl pins with her remaining locks left in loose curls flowing down her back. A few of those curling locks were secured up against the plaits to make it messy, but more uniform. The entire hairstyle had a romantic appearance. Once the maid was finished placing a few strategic seed pearl pins into her blond hair, she took thThe diadem was finely crafted gold, shaped like leaves, accented by pearls and rubies that set into her hair like a band.

“It’s lovely,” her maid said, then sighed. “You look beautiful tonight. ”

Her gown was as red as the rubies in her diadem and trimmed with white lace that resembled the finely crafted leaves. The leaves were the same shape as the mistletoe she’d hung around the manor, the day before. Tonight was the masquerade ball she’d planned for the eve before Christmas. She wanted something different for this house party. The requirement of masks would make her tasks so much easier. All she had to do was lure her prey to the mistletoe so one man would kiss the wrong woman. Not that the gentleman in question would understand their error, but the women would.

The only thing left was for her to secure her mask in place. It was red lace, similar to the lace on her gown. She had her entire outfit for the evening decided especially for the masquerade. The modiste had been enthusiastic about her requests and had outdone herself. It was all perfect. Emma placed the mask on her face and tied the ribbon at the back of her head, and tucked it into the loose curls there to hide it from view.

Emma felt decadent. The silk of her gown brushed against her skin leaving her warm all over. Ever since Blake had kissed her, and introduced her to pleasure, she’d been unable to think of anything else. Her entire body would come alive at the most inopportune times. Right now she her nipples pebbled as need scorched through her. The desire to seek him out and beg for his touch overwhelmed her. It was enough to make her hate him for what he had awakened within her. It made her revenge scheme harder to focus on. She wanted him and what he could do for her. Somehow she had to suppress the urges that rippled within her. This was the final night, and at the end of it, she’d know the satisfaction of destroying something for those two women. They would understand what it felt like to be slighted, and they would have a wedge inserted into their seemingly unbreakable friendship.

She stood and slipped on the red slippers that matched her gown. They were pretty, but not the most comfortable shoes she’d ever owned. Since they matched so perfectly, though she’d endure a little pain. Emma didn’t usually follow fashion or care much about how pieces went together. This was a special night and she wanted it all to be perfect, and it would be. Emma intended to ensure it. One way or the other…

It was time to go down to the ballroom. Since it was a masquerade, there would be no formal announcements of any of the guests. The local gentry had been invited as well. This would be a true Christmastide celebration. Holly had been strung along the walls, and mistletoe had been placed at every entrance and a few other strategic places. It was those places she wanted to lure her quarries to.

Emma slipped into the ballroom by a side entrance. The room was bathed in low light from a few scattering candles that had been lit in wall sconces. The musicians had begun to play for those who wished to dance. They were playing a lively quadrille that was near the end of the song. With masks, it would take her a little longer to find Lady Arabella. She needed to lure her under that mistletoe at the same time as Lord Clouston. She wanted Lord Marlinton so the viscount would have to be the one to kiss her. Equally as important, Miss Harriett had to witness that kiss.

As she wound her way through the crowd, she searched first for Arabella. She had to be under any of the mistletoe, but she would prefer a specific one. Finally, she found the lady she’d been searching for. Emma had to handle this carefully to get the outcome she desired. Emma pretended that she did not see Arabella and bumped into her. She glanced up and said, “My apologies…”

“You clumsy fool,” Arabella scowled at her. “You made me spill punch all over my gown. ”

She nibbled on her lip. “I did try to apologize.”

“Now I have to go to the retiring room and see if my gown can be salvaged.” She glared at Emma. “Go bother someone else with your ungainly movements.” Arabella stalked off in the direction that Emma had hoped. When she returned, she would be easily waylaid under a particular bunch of mistletoe.”

Now to take care of the other woman. She forced herself to move slowly toward Miss Harriett Smythe. She was staring up at Lord Clouston adoringly. Emma barely refrained from rolling her eyes. She stopped and frowned. “Miss Harriett?”

She turned toward Emma. “Yes?” Her gown was a deep blue and her mask a simple white. She hadn’t done much to dress for the masquerade.

“Why is that you, Miss Emma?” Clouston asked.

“Lord Clouston,” she said as she curtsied. “Indeed, it is.”

“What do you want?” Harriett demanded.

“Pardon my interruption,” she told them as she laid a hand on the viscount’s arm. “But I was asked to give you a message, Miss Harriett. Lady Arabella requires your assistance. She had to return to her bedchamber.” That should keep her out of the ballroom long enough to put the rest of the plan into place.

“Then I must see to her,” Harriett said. She turned to Lord Clouston. “Pardon me, my lord.” She curtsied and rushed out of the ballroom, in the opposite direction of the retiring room. So far, everything was going as planned. Now just to lead Clouston to the finale.

“Would you give me the honor of escorting you out for the next dance?” he asked.

He wanted to dance with her. She frowned, but what would it hurt? She could talk to him while they joined the next quadrille, and after he could find Arabella under that mistletoe. “Of course,” she said and held out her hand to him. They went out to the floor for the quadrille. They lined up with three other couples for the dance and begun. When she met with Lord Clouston, “Thank you for asking me to dance.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he told her. He might even mean that.

They continued on through the steps. By the end of this dance, the viscount had to be heading toward the mistletoe. Finally, the last strands of the song wound. Lord Clouston led her off the dance floor. “My, I am parched. I must go in search of some punch.”

“I can retrieve a glass for you,” he offered.

“Do not trouble yourself, my lord.” She smiled at him. “If you wish to be of assistance, please go see how Lady Arabella fares.” She motioned toward Arabella, who was drawing close to where Emma wanted her. She just needed Clouston there as well.

He stared at where Arabella was walking. “Are you certain?”

“I am,” she said. “Oh, and Lord Clouston.”

“Yes?” he asked.

“It’s a masquerade. Have fun.” She winked. “And do take advantage of the mistletoe. It’s hanging for a reason.”

His cheeked pinkened a little bit. “I’ll consider it.”

She prayed he did more than consider it. Emma turned away from him and headed toward the punch table. She peeked over her shoulder, and her grin widened. That timing could not have happened better. Just as Arabella stepped under the mistletoe, Lord Clouston joined her. Then the magic of mistletoe did her work for her. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Arabella’s for a brief kiss just as Miss Harriett returned to the ballroom. She stared at Lord Clouston and Arabella, then fled the ballroom again. Well, that was interesting. She had thought that Harriett would have confronted her friend. Perhaps that part would come later.

Blake studied Emma as she made her rounds in the ballroom. Had she known how sinful she’d look in that brilliant red gown? He wanted to unwrap her slowly, and taste every inch of the gift she had presented to him. His desire for her grew from moment to moment, and the kisses and pleasure they had already shared had only made him frenzied. What was it about her that drove him mad?

Then she went and danced that quadrille with the fop she’d been flirting with. Well, one of them anyway. He couldn’t recall which was which. Not that it mattered. The fact that she seemed to have some scheme planned where they were concerned did. So, he stayed in the shadows and observed everything. Even that blasted dance where he had to grit his teeth the entire time.

He narrowed his gaze as she moved away from the dance floor. She parted ways with the gentleman and he… Blake frowned and tilted his head. Was that Lady Arabella he walked toward? How interesting. Lady Arabella stopped right under a spring of mistletoe. All that mistletoe that Emma had hung in every nook and cranny of the manor. Was this her plan? To get some of the guests to kiss openly? Did she honestly think a masquerade ball was enough to hide identities so no one would be compromised?

Or maybe that was what she had wanted all along. Had she hoped that Lady Arabella would be ruined? Why? He left his hiding place and stalked toward her. It was time for her to fess up and tell him the truth. There had to be a reason for all of this secrecy and deception. He caught up with Emma as she was about to exit the ballroom. Perfect. He slid his arm around her waist and led her in the direction he wanted her to go.

“Unhand me,” she ordered.

“Not yet, love,” he drawled. “I can’t have you running off when we have much to discuss.”

She shoved at him, but he kept a grip around her. Once they were out of sight from anyone who might witness it, he lifted her into his arms and carried her. She still struggled, but it was far more manageable this way.

“Blake,” she gritted out. “I am not a sack of grains for you to haul around. I demand you put me down. Now.”

“I am pleased you remembered to use my given name, darling,” he said in an amused tone. “But that’s not enough for me to give in to any demands you feel like throwing at me.”

“You’re an insufferable lout,” she ground out vehemently. “Why are you doing this?”

“All in good time,” he said cheerfully.

Blake was enjoying this. Far too much… He liked having her in his arms. There was something about her. He’d been drawn to her from the moment he’d arrived at this house party. Now he couldn’t stay away from her. He was done fighting it.

He carried her into the sitting room at the back of the house, a good distance from the ballroom. Blake shut the door and turned the lock before he set her down. She shoved him against the door and stepped back, glaring at him. The candlelight was low in this room, much like the other rooms for the masquerade.

“Why did you bring me in here?” she asked. “I don’t want to be here with you.”

He leaned against the door and folded his arms across his chest, then he tilted his lips up into a sly smile. Blake had her locked in the room with him. Now that he had her there, he could take his time. They had all night to explore what was between them until they both had the truth. He needed to understand her, and what it was he felt for her. He’d never experienced anything like this with any other woman. Emma was special. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew that deep down in his soul.

“Yes, you do, love,” he told her. “You want to be with me as much as I do you.”

“No, I don’t,” she said in a belligerent tone. “Now move away from the door, so I may leave.”

“I’m afraid I cannot allow that,” he told her in a firm tone. “We’re not done yet.”

Blake still had a lot more to do with her, but first, he had some questions. “What did you do with Lady Arabella and that coxcomb you were dancing with?”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Do you mean Lord Clouston?”

“If that’s his name,” he said in a cool tone. “Then yes.”

Emma shrugged. “We danced. There was no grand scheme in that. Many of the guests were dancing.” She met his gaze. “That is usually what one does at a ball, or has it been so long since you have attended one that you’ve forgotten that basic aspect? ”

He lifted a brow. “That’s not what I meant, darling.” Blake pushed off of the door and stalked toward her. “You’re deflecting. That little kiss between them under the mistletoe.” He moved a step closer. “You orchestrated that. Why?”

“The mistletoe is everywhere,” she said. “I had the servants hand more after that little incident where I ended up in your arms. It’s supposed to be all in good fun.”

“Until it isn’t,” Blake said.

She was still keeping secrets. What would it take for her to admit what she’d done? Blake wanted answers, but he was also tired of it all. There was something he wanted far more than the truth. He wanted her. It was as simple as that. He closed the distance between them until he stood in front of her.

“What are you doing?” she asked. It came out breathy, as if she anticipated exactly what he planned.

He reached up and stroked a finger over her jawline. Then he slid his hand to her neck and up into her soft blond curls. Her hairstyle tonight was one of the things that had driven him mad. He wanted to pull out those pins and let her curls loose. Blake wanted to muss her and leave his mark on her. One that she would never forget. He reached underneath her hair and tugged on the ribbon that secured that red lace mask on her face and freed it.

“That’s better,” he said.

“What about your mask?” she asked.

“Remove it if it bothers you,” he ordered.

So she did. He grinned down at her before he lowered his head to capture her lips with his. The kiss seared his soul. Every time they came together like this, he gave another piece of himself over to her care. He brought her flush against him and slid his hand down to cup her waist. She pulled back and stared at him. She licked her lips and he groaned.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she said.

“I must disagree,” he said. “We definitely should do this, and often.” Blake should have taken her to his bedchamber. Then he could have stripped that gown from her slowly, as he’d imagined since the first moment he’d laid eyes upon her that night. He brushed his lips over her jaw and then drew her ear into his mouth and sucked. “You want this. I want you.”

She sucked in a breath. “We shouldn’t…”

“Tell me to let you go,” he said. “Say you don’t want me and I’ll walk away.” It would kill him, but he would do it. As much as he desired her, he wouldn’t push her into something she wasn’t ready for. They would find their way back to each other. He firmly believed that. If he had to, he could wait for her, and he would. Because he suddenly understood something he hadn’t recognized before this moment. That feeling he couldn’t identify—it was simple. He loved her. Her clever mind and beautiful face had pulled at him. Why he’d never seen her before, he couldn’t know. But he did now, and he wanted forever with her.

“No,” she told him. Then she cupped his cheek. “Don’t go. Stay here with me. Be with me.”

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. “Be sure this is what you want.”

“I am,” she told him. “Kiss me, Blake.”

He didn’t need her to tell him again. Blake rained kisses over her face. She sighed and then grabbed onto his waistcoat and yanked him forward. He understood. His desperation for her had heightened. They began to remove clothing as fast as possible. When she stood before him in just a shift, and him in his breeches, they stopped. Just long enough to take each other in. Then he carried her over to the settee and set her down. He kneeled before her and removed her slippers, then reached beneath her shift and untied her garter, slowly peeled off her stocking, then repeated the process with the other one.

“You’re skin is so soft,” he said. Before he pushed her back on the settee and spread her thighs. He leaned in and kissed her thigh, then pressed a kiss to her core. She moaned, but once he began to stroke his tongue over that tight bud, she writhed beneath him.

“Blake,” she moaned his name. “More.”

And that would be his pleasure. He slid a finger inside her as he sucked her sensitive nub. One more lick, followed by a stroke, and then she peaked. God, she was beautiful when she climaxed. He’d never tire of that sight.

He pushed up her shift and removed it. She was gloriously naked now. Blake pulled off his breeches and joined her on the settee. He continued to stroke her and lowered his head to suck one of her pert nipples into his mouth.

“You’re destroying me,” she said huskily.

“No more than you are me,” he told her. He sucked on her nipple as he tweaked the other between his thumb and forefinger. She was his own little slice of heaven. “I need to be inside of you.”

“Yes,” she said. “I want you. ”

He might be going to hell for this, but he had to have her. Blake settled between her thighs and settled at her entrance. He had to make this good for her, or as good as possible, considering her innocence. To distract her, he kissed her as he entered her. He continued to slide his tongue against hers as he pressed inside of her until he was completely seated. She gasped as he pushed all the way in and he stopped. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes,” Emma said. “Love me, Blake.”

“Always,” he whispered. Then he began to move. He slid out of her, and then slowly back in. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper inside. Blake kept the slow pace until she began to moan again. Emma was close to reaching her peak again. When she crested, it sent him over the edge until he spilled inside of her. Everything went black as he climaxed. Nothing had ever felt so intense and consuming. He rolled them to the side and he held her as she curled against him. It was something he’d never forget. Loving her changed something inside of him. Now he just had to convince her that this was where she belonged.