Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

T homas Blankenship stood in the parlor of Evangeline Mirabeau's townhouse, admiring the woman. She reclined on a chaise and watched him through hooded eyes painted an unusual, rich, honey-colored hazel. Her curves—large breasts and shapely legs, revealed through a dampened muslin gown in thin blue—could easily harden a man. Her pale blonde hair curled in perfect ringlets down her neck and back.

Blankenship smiled. It was no surprise that this courtesan had been the Duke of Essex's lover for a year and then some. If Blankenship didn't contain such a hatred for whores, he would be tempted to sate his desires between this woman's thighs. Evangeline had the body of a siren, one that beckoned men to perish upon the rocks at sea, but she lacked Emily's innocence and sweet nature. He craved that, needed to bathe in it, let it soothe the beast which rampaged in his head.

" Monsieur Blankenship, we have not met, have we?" A lilting, sultry French, Evangeline's accent alone would have swayed most men. She must have entertained Essex in his bed in ways innocent little Emily Parr never would, unless the duke took the time to teach her. Blankenship certainly hoped he would. It would make his own claiming of her all the sweeter.

"No, Miss Mirabeau, we have not yet had the pleasure. But we share a mutual acquaintance—the Duke of Essex."

Evangeline's eyes narrowed. "Oh? And how did you come to meet His Grace?" She spit out her words with all the friendliness of a viper. The duke had burned this lovely bridge and Blankenship would benefit from the destruction.

"He and I crossed paths when he stole something that belongs to me."

She laughed harshly. "His Grace, steal? Impossible, Monsieur . Whatever he wants, he acquires, either by charm or money. Steal? Mais non ."

"Ahh, but he has changed, Miss Mirabeau. What he stole from me is the reason I have come to see you."

Evangeline lifted a hand to idly gaze at her nails, but the faintest blush in her cheeks revealed her interest. " Moi? Pourquoi ? I have not been with His Grace for the last six months. What has he stolen from you, Monsieur ?"

"A young lady."

Essex's ex-mistress started.

"He has stolen a young lady from me."

"A young lady?"

"Yes. Her name is Emily Parr, and her uncle is in debt to me, as well as His Grace. Essex decided to abduct Miss Parr from her uncle, who has refused to pay him. Since she is my property, I want her back."

She moved to rest her hand on her hip, smoothing the silk as she did so.

"How do you know he stole this girl?"

"He wrote her uncle a note." Blankenship approached her and passed her a piece of paper, which she studied.

"This is Godric's handwriting, written in his left hand. A school boy trick."

"Yes. I took the magistrate to his estate, but we were unable to find her. They must have hidden her."

"They?" Evangeline raised an eyebrow.

"He had his League—" he choked back the urge to spit "—with him."

"Did he? Then it is no surprise. Those men are stubbornly loyal to one another." Her derisive tone and the flare of bitterness in her eyes was a pleasant surprise.

She would be an excellent ally.

"What do you want from me, Monsieur ?"

"I would like to employ you in a scheme that would return Miss Parr to me, and perhaps give you the chance to win Essex back."

"Win him back? I never lost him!"

"Ah, yes, of course." He resisted the urge to smile. She'd revealed her weakness. Pride.

Evangeline pouted a moment before she spoke again. "What is this scheme of yours?"

"I give you this letter, written to mimic Essex's hand, which invites you to come to his estate and spend time with him. It implies that he is not finding satisfaction with Emily. You will confirm my suspicion that Emily is there and send me a letter by post to this name and address. It should not raise Essex's suspicion in case he monitors your correspondence. Provide me with any details as to her exact whereabouts in the house, where they are keeping her, the routines of the serving men, anything you can tell me that will help me retrieve her."

"And once you know that she is there?"

"I have in my employ a most dangerous man, one who will stop at nothing to get the girl. Assuming the duke and his friends stay out of the way, they should not be harmed. Once I have the girl, Essex will be free and clear for you to take back." Blankenship's smile held no warmth.

A hint of wariness betrayed the Frenchwoman. "This hired man… Would he kill Godric?"

"If Essex tries to stop him from bringing back the girl, then yes. He is very skilled. I have more men to back him, just as ruthless in their means." Should someone pry the information from her, better that she lead Godric's men to believe he had an army at his disposal.

For a long moment, Miss Mirabeau did not speak. He had no doubt she still cared for Essex. It only made her more likely to help his cause if she could spare her lover and get him back.

"Your plan is ridiculous. His Grace will know he did not write this note. How will I explain my sudden appearance?"

"Tell him it must have been a prank played on you. Show him the note, say you've given your servants a vacation and it would be a hardship to return so soon. He's a gentleman and no doubt he'll let you stay. I will pay you handsomely for this little mission."

Greed lit up her eyes. "How handsomely, Monsieur ?"

"Very."

She plucked the cheque he held out, eyes widening at the sum. " Monsieur! " She smiled, but at the same time, it wasn't a smile at all.

"And more when you return," he added.

"Consider us partners."

Soon Emily would be in Parr's house and Evangeline back in Essex's bed. Blankenship would graciously forgive Parr his debts the moment Emily was his. He would have Emily, and Essex would be out of the way.

The hunting party had nearly reached the edge of the gardens, bags full of pheasants, when Emily tripped on a loose stone and rolled her ankle. The men turned at her cry. It hurt like the devil, and she couldn't stifle her whimper. Godric instantly assessed the injury, his fingers pushing her skirts up. He touched her stocking-covered ankle with gentle but firm fingers.

"Does that hurt?"

Emily answered with a wince. She fought to stand upright.

"Don't be silly. I'll carry you." Godric slid an arm behind her back and the other under her knees, lifting her up. Penelope followed close by, whining softly. Ashton and Cedric stayed ahead to help open the garden gate and the door back into the manor.

"Your Grace! What's happened?" Simkins approached, his wrinkled face lined even further.

"Emily sprained her ankle. Have dinner for two brought up to my chambers. I don't want her to aggravate it."

He glanced from her to Godric and said, "Of course, Your Grace," before he departed.

"What's all this, then?" A familiar voice called from the stairs. Charles and Lucien were back from London, it seemed.

"When did you return?" Ashton asked.

"Half an hour ago. Simkins told us you were out hunting." Lucien glanced at Emily in concern.

"Odd looking pheasant you have there, Godric. Did you shoot her in the leg?" Charles, unfortunately, was as brash as always.

"Hardly. I tripped on a stone on my way back into the garden."

"You're not hurt?" Lucien asked.

Cedric picked up Penelope, who was now sniffing Charles's boots. "She may have sprained an ankle."

Godric ignored the conversation and carried Emily up the stairs. He lay her down on his bed and untied the rope from his waist but did not free her. He took the loose end of his rope and tied the same intricate knot to his bedpost.

"Godric, honestly, is that necessary?"

Godric caught her chin in one hand, tilting her lips up to his as he kissed her .

"It is not yet ten, and I don't believe in taking chances where you are concerned. I'll be back soon." He kissed her again, a lingering pull of her lips, a tease of his tongue against hers, before he finally left her alone.

Emily rubbed her ankle and rotated it slowly a few times in each direction, working through the pain. As a child she'd often rolled her ankle. The pain never lasted long. The stiffness had already begun to fade.

Godric was smart to keep her restrained, but foolish to think she was powerless. Emily studied the knot of the rope around her waist. It was a multi-looped creation that she could eventually undo. Struggling with the knot for a few minutes, she managed to loosen it, but upon the sound of footsteps outside, she dropped her hands into her lap. Godric, Simkins and Libba bore two trays of food, a bottle of wine, and a pair of glasses. The maid gave Emily a conspiratorial wink as she and Simkins left.

Godric pushed one of the trays nearer to Emily, pointing at the dishes before he untied the rope at her waist. She supposed now that he had returned he could watch over her himself.

"Hare soup, lark pudding and," he grinned, pointing to the small chilled bowl covered with a silver lid, "ginger ice cream."

"Ice cream?" Emily's stomach growled. Ice cream was a delicacy only those with an icehouse could afford.

Godric smiled. "Perhaps I should have used ice cream earlier to bribe you into being a good captive…"

Emily reached for the small bowl, eager to feel the cool treat melt in her mouth. Godric swatted her hand away with a tisk.

"You must eat your other food first. Simkins would have my head if he learned you'd seduced me into letting you eat your dessert first."

"Would he?" She couldn't imagine that.

"Well, no, he'd simply look at me in disappointment, which is somehow rather worse."

"Can you even be seduced over ice cream?" She curved her lips in a small but suggestive smile. His answering grin nearly melted her insides.

"You'd be surprised."

Godric handed her a knife, fork and spoon. Emily smiled ruefully as he went to shut and lock his bedroom door, closing them in together.

"Am I going to eat here on your bed?"

" We are going to eat on my bed," he corrected as he sat down next to her.

"But…"

It was too nice, too sweet, to think that he wanted to share a meal so privately with her. Emily shied away from him, knowing if he touched her, she'd lose her tenuous grip on control. Half of her wanted to toss the food off the bed and taste him instead. The other half knew that each moment she spent with him, she drew one step closer to losing her heart.

"Eat, my dear, or you won't get to the ice cream."

Emily sighed and started on the soup and pudding.

Godric ate alongside her, the silence surprisingly pleasant. It was a simple joy, to have him so close, just existing in a space so near her .

"How is your ankle?" Godric set his tray down on the floor and reached for her leg. He pushed her skirts up past her knee. Shivers shot up Emily's spine.

"It is much better. I think it will be all right soon enough. I often hurt myself that way as a child. I never sat still long enough. My mother said I was quite the hoyden. That's why she started to educate me in all of those languages." Emily settled back into the pillows of the bed, shifting her shoulders for the best position of relaxation. Memories of her childhood unfurled like brightly colored flags in the wind.

Godric's palm moved over her leg as he listened to her talk. Emily knew she ought to be ashamed for letting him touch her so boldly, but they'd done so much together already that she couldn't bring herself to resist such a simple, sweet touch.

"Learning was the only way she kept me still. We used to hole up in the library for hours, reading stories in other languages. She challenged me, rewarded me when I did well." Emily smiled. That her mother persuaded her to abandon the outdoors for at least an hour so she might read was miraculous. "We used to hide from Father when he came to look for us at lunchtime. I will never forget when we hid under the table by the door and snuck out the door past him. He came into the dining room and found us already eating. I don't think he ever figured out how we did that. Mother was so clever." She batted away a tear.

"I imagine she was a wonderful woman." Godric caressed Emily's leg again, toying with the edge of the stocking near the knee, as though he longed to slide it off her. Emily felt her breath quicken but she struggled to remain calm.

"She was a great woman. My father said the world always needed more women like her. He wanted me to be as intelligent as she was." Tears prickled Emily's eyes, but they didn't sting. They were tears of acceptance from remembering happier days. Would she ever feel that way again?

Godric stole her attention as he pulled her onto his lap, picked up the bowl of ice cream, and held a spoonful to her lips. He'd abandoned his cravat and waistcoat, the white lawn shirt molded to his frame. He rested his chin on her shoulder as he watched her eat. To sit on his lap, to feel him as he held her close, shot Emily onto a plane of wonder.

"I want to know everything about you, Emily. Tell me the story of your life."

"The story of my life? There isn't much. I've spent more time dreaming about a life yet to be lived than actually living it. My father was not ambitious and had no love of town. We rarely went to London and I've never set foot off English soil. My parents, however, were often gone. My father had part ownership of a shipping company and he would travel to the various ports to see how the business was getting on. He always took my mother…they were so in love."

Flashes of memory, her father's fleeting smiles at her mother as she donned her traveling cloak. The brush of lips on her chubby child cheek as they headed for their hired coach, leaving her behind, clutching Mrs. Danvers' skirts. If only she'd known this would be their last trip. When her parents had left, she'd been deep in the woods behind their cottage, sketching wildflowers and birds for an essay she was writing. She'd arrived an hour too late to say goodbye and this haunted her.

Emily would have given her soul to go back in time and make herself leave her sketching for another day and return home early. She would have held her mother tight, clung to her father, and begged them not to go. One never knew the mistakes one might make, nor the price to be paid until it was too late.

Godric seemed to sense her distance and brushed a lock of hair back from her face. "You wish to travel?" His free hand dipped his spoon into her bowl and stole her ice cream.

"More than anything, I want to…"

"You want to what?"

"It's silly."

Godric abandoned his spoon to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand. "Tell me."

It was so easy to give in, to surrender to anything he asked of her, when he touched her like that. "My father left me his interest in the company as my inheritance. A fair amount of money came with it and would have gone to my husband upon marriage. I'd hoped to marry someone who'd allow me take over my interest in the company and manage the books. I could travel, see the world when I had the chance. Wouldn't it be glorious to have an opportunity to live? I want to bathe in the Mediterranean Sea, I want to feel the Egyptian sun on my skin, and I want to throw a snowball in the Pyrenees. I want to taste the Indian curries, and see the temples of the Orient…"

Godric's eyes softened.

"Those aren't silly wishes." Godric's hand against her cheek moved down her neck, a fingertip drawing a line down towards her collarbone. Emily wanted nothing more in that moment than to live her dreams with him.

"Perhaps not, but I am silly for hoping they will ever happen." She set down her spoon and bowl.

When it was clear he would not release her, she settled back in his arms. He wrapped himself around her, burying his face in the groove between her neck and shoulder, his lips pressing into her skin. Emily's head fell back against his shoulder as he moved his mouth up her neck towards her ear, nipping her lobe. She sighed, a haze of warmth coiled around her body. She could have slipped into sleep, safe in his arms. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed nine times. The distant pings roused Godric and he eased her off his lap.

"I must go down and see to the others. I shall be back soon and we'll go to bed." He didn't wait for her to protest but left her alone to sit and wait.

The five men stood around the billiard table in the drawing room. Cedric lined up his shot while Lucien and Charles told the others about their time in London.

"We ran across Blankenship in Hyde Park," Charles said, swirling a glass of brandy.

Ashton's eyes flashed. "Really? "

"Yes, I took the time to remind him of his debt to me," Lucien said. "It seems, he's quite clever in his financial practices. He takes investments from men like me and uses them to break men like…Albert Parr. I asked around today and it seems that there are hints here and there which point to Blankenship having masterminded Parr's money troubles."

Godric picked up a cue from the wooden stand up against the wall. "I wonder if Blankenship bankrupted Parr just to obtain Emily…" He studied the billiard table then looked at Lucien. "How did Blankenship's debt to you come about?"

Lucien took his time in answering. Once he pocketed two balls, he answered Godric's question. "I've only met him once. I sold him one of my smaller properties in France, the little cottage near the Chateau de Chenonceau."

Charles sighed wistfully. "I rather liked that place…"

"Well, Blankenship has the deed to it. He's only paid me the down payment." Lucien's face darkened, his features stilling into coolness. "He hasn't sent me the remainder for the property."

Godric almost pitied Blankenship. Those who dared to cheat Lucien of anything could end up on the wrong end of a dueling pistol.

"You don't think he'll try to swindle you?" asked Ashton.

"No, I am far too careful to fall into such traps, as is he to be caught using them. He's simply delaying payment to the last possible moment for the sake of interest. "

"What was he doing in Hyde Park?" Godric's turn was up. He gripped his cue and took his shot, and missed pocketing a ball by an inch. His mind was decidedly elsewhere and his game suffered for it.

"Not sure. He seemed awfully smug when he saw us, the blighter." Charles growled.

Godric smothered a laugh. They all hated Blankenship for the sole reason that he believed Emily belonged to him. Godric tried not to dwell on the thought. It only reminded him of his own less than respectful behavior.

"That does not bode well. I had my concerns about him since he came here with the magistrate," Ashton said.

"He won't rest until Emily is his," Cedric said.

"Then he will be a very tired man indeed." Godric fought the urge to pace through the halls of the house until all his energy was spent. "We must be vigilant," he said, and the others agreed.

Cedric grinned. "Besides running into Blankenship, I assume you enjoyed yourselves?"

"Indeed we did! Lucien has quite a knack for picking out women who like to experiment. They had these splendid toys imported from—"

" Ahem ." Ashton coughed. "As much as we all enjoy tales of your and Lucien's depravity, Charles, there is an innocent young lady under this roof who should not overhear you boasting of your conquests."

Godric stifled a laugh. Once again, his thoughts were drawn to Emily. He'd left her in his bedroom, unable to trust himself with her a moment longer. But he did not simply seek the pleasures of her flesh. He wanted to be with her completely, body and soul. Had he ever been with a woman that way? If he had it must have been years ago… He set the cue down on the table, drawing the attention of the other men. The time for waiting was over. He wanted her and if he was any judge of women, she wanted him just as much.

"Excuse me. I have to check on Emily."

"Of course you do…" Charles chuckled. "I imagine you'll need to check on her all night."

Godric ignored the laughter that followed him as he left the room.

Emily was stretched out on her stomach, reading a collection of essays about philosophy when Godric entered. Her eyes lifted from the pages as he shut his door and leaned back on it, arms crossed. One dark brow rose, as did one corner of his mouth. Her heart leapt. She had the urge to bolt and hide in the underbrush like a startled fawn. The embers between them had smoldered beneath the surface far too long, and would finally be tended to. There would be no going back. Did she trust him?

Yes. Far more than she ought to, but it was too late to question that part of her heart that gave itself over to him.

"Come to me, darling." Like the serpent offering her an apple, his tone promised to educate her with all of the things an innocent young woman shouldn't know.

The book fell from her hands and she eased up into a sitting position. Her mind was clouding with heady desire. He had to be as desperate for this as she was. Emily let her legs dangle over the side of the bed and leaned back, hands behind her hips and chin raised, offering him what she hoped was a come-hither look.

"If it's me you want, then come."

The wolfish gleam in his eyes told her he knew she was trying to control the situation. Finally, he pushed away from the closed door and came to her.

Godric cupped her face with one hand, his eyes flicking to her lips. "Emily, you're driving me mad."

"You think this has been easy for me? You know how I feel, but for you the choice is easy and free of consequence. For me? I'm giving up so much to be with you. Please tell me you understand that…" She didn't want to beg, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

"I do…" Godric moved his hands from her shoulders to the neck of her shirt, gripping its edges. In one swift movement he ripped it clean in two, then slid it off her arms and tossed it away. It fluttered to the ground, a white symbol of her surrender.

"You will never regret this choice. I vow it." His voice was ragged as he cupped her shoulders.

"Godric…" She tried to put a hand out to steady him. His whole body shook as his fingers quickly untied her stays.

"Not another word, vixen. The hound has come, and there is no escape." Her mind flashed with the image of a red-coated fox caught between the teeth of a hound. She had always been the fox to him, and he had won.

Godric's hands moved down to her feet, unlacing her boots and dropping them to the floor. He peeled her stockings off next. Emily lay still, watching as he worked on the hooks of her skirt before he slid it to the floor. He stood back, slowly taking off his shirt and casting his boots aside. He started to remove his breeches, but stopped when she shifted uneasily on the bed.

"Now you fear me?"

Emily thought she heard a hint of concern in his tone. Of course I fear you. You take control of everything, demand I give you everything, not just my body. Fear danced through her insides, pulling her back. Breaths became shallow, her heart tapping an unsteady, faint rhythm. Would he accidentally hurt her?

He'd taken her from her carriage by force and subdued her. But as their days together passed, he'd also shown a gentleness he was unable to hide. Would the heartless rake or the wounded soul take possession of her?

The determined look in his eyes told her the rake had control, but the shadow of that gentle soul peeked out from beneath his long, dark lashes.

Any remnant of her fears faded, but a nervous tension just as heady to her senses took its place. She didn't know how to be with Godric as a lover.

"I…I'm not afraid." Her insistent tone didn't convince either of them.

Godric took in Emily's appearance; a startled creature in a light, filmy chemise, her hair pulled up. He reached for her but only to remove her hair comb and set it on the bedside table. Her hair spilled around her shoulders. He ran his hands through it, admiring its silkiness.

She mesmerized him like an ancient goddess. He'd been with some of the most beautiful, sought after women in all of England, yet never in his life had a woman held him captive like this. It had everything to do with the way she whispered his name, the way she smiled, and the things that ran through her head as she talked of her dreams. She was not just a warm body to bed. Emily was infinitely more to him. She was real.

He moved his hands up to cup her face, then tilted her head back and plundered her trembling mouth, then dragged her closer to him.

He held her, the heat of her both arousing and soothing. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her, yet here he was ripping her clothes and growling like a damned wolf. His need to have her, to make her his was fast overriding rational sense. But his actions were also rooted in a new fear—losing Emily. She'd become impossible to do without. Godric's arms tightened around her, as though letting go would erase his protection.

The scent of her hair, like fresh-picked flowers, enveloped him, soothed him. She was here, in his arms, safe.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured. His mouth brushed along the line of her jaw to her neck.

Emily sighed, reaching her arms up around him, trying to pull him closer. He took advantage of her distraction by sliding her chemise up. He continued to kiss her until the thin cloth was near her neck, then pulled it up over her head. A gasp escaped her as she tried to cover her breasts. Godric caught her wrists and slowly lowered her back against the bed. He pinned her wrists near her waist.

"Godric… I don't think I'm ready to do this."

"I'd never hurt you, darling. Please believe me." He placed a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth, teasing her. He wanted only to keep her safe, keep her happy. He wouldn't dare risk losing her now.

Emily writhed in mounting pleasure as he slid his hips into the cradle of her thighs. His mouth descended on hers. The heat of his kiss sent thrills through her. She heard in the tone of his voice that he wouldn't hurt her, but her heart was reluctant to believe it.

"Please, Emily, trust me to take care of you. I need you."

Emily pushed at his chest. "You need my body."

Godric pulled back, his emerald eyes drowning her in the endless glints of light. "It's more than that. It has always been more. From the first moment, I knew you were mine, body and soul. Forever."

He twined a loose lock of her hair about one finger, spooling the gleaming coil in a mixture of playfulness and tenderness that undid her. "You've bewitched me, Emily. I'm under your spell and I never wish to wake. Don't deny me the right to worship you, goddess mine." He sealed his plea with a soft circling of his lips over hers, leaving her desperate for more.

Her body sparked to life. Every nerve, every muscle twitched in anticipation of that pleasure she'd yet to experience. It was a gift for which she dared not ask. All that mattered now was Godric. The power of his body, the dance of his tongue, and the ache that built between her legs.

Godric nestled his body against hers, rocking forward, pressing himself against her. Emily struggled to breathe, her lips still his prisoners as he slanted his mouth over hers. His teeth nipped her lips while his hands slid up the length of her outer thighs, pressing down with slight pressure. When he finally gazed down at her breasts, he moaned at the sight of the rosy nipples budding for him.

"I've been waiting to taste you for so long." He laid a trail of kisses from her neck down to her breasts. When he took the breast into his mouth, Emily arched into him as it sent violent tingles down her spine.

His mouth encircled her nipple, tongue laving the taut tip until Emily dug her hands into Godric's hair, urging him to continue. Godric abandoned her breast and reached up to catch her hands, returning them back to the bed near her hips.

"I am not going to give you what you desire just yet."

"No?" she gasped.

He chuckled as he kissed her collarbone. "No. It is time I punish you for your escape attempts."

His tongue flicked out and licked her skin. Emily groaned. "If this is punishment, let me admit to other sins, so I might atone for those too." His heated laugh captivated her with its burning sweetness.

Godric moved his mouth down between the valley of her breasts, past her belly and towards the dark triangle between her legs. He slid off the bed, kneeling between her legs, using his shoulders to keep her knees open as he kissed her inner right thigh. Emily's vision blurred as he moved slowly towards her wet core.

"Godric…" she whimpered as, at last, his mouth moved between her legs. As his tongue swirled sinful patterns into her throbbing flesh, she cried out his name again. He growled, loving the sound of his name as it ripped from her lips in desperation.

Godric was so tight in his breeches he could barely think. He knew he shouldn't bed Emily. He had to stop tasting her, had to stop before he went too far and pounded himself deep into her. She was a virgin, an innocent, and the first time would be painful. She needed the calm, sweet kisses of a lover, not the violence of a man possessed. Godric was on the verge of regaining control when Emily moaned loudly urging him to continue.

He nipped at the sensitive bud of her arousal, gasping himself as she cried out with pleasure. Godric released her hands as he stood to free himself from his breeches. If he wasn't inside her soon he'd lose himself as he had this morning .

Her eyes widened as he kicked his breeches away and stood before her completely nude.

Emily stared at his arousal, eyes glowing with fascination. "Godric, are you going to—"

"Emily, I know this will hurt, but I'll be as gentle as I can." His voice was strained as he parted her knees gently.

Emily wriggled as he settled over her. "Do you promise?"

"I promise." He had never meant any promise more in his life.

He slid his hands down under her bottom and lifted her hips. In one slow motion he thrust deep inside. The wall of her maidenhead tore against the force of his entrance. Emily's sharp cry of pain followed the rise of her hips as she tried to pull free, but the motion only forced him deeper.

Godric froze at the sound of her pain.

"Should I stop?" His voice was raw, scraping over his own ears.

She feathered kisses on his jaw and lifted her hips in encouragement. "No, don't."

Leaning down, he caught her mouth in a deep kiss. Her tension lessened. He urged her to move with him, and match his rocking rhythm. He was soon lost in the tight squeeze of her inner walls and the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed, and each time a soft sound mewed from Emily's lips. Her legs moved up to wrap around his thighs as he stood at the edge of the bed, bent over her, driving himself into her. Never had he felt so consumed by a woman before, so desperate to brand his soul into the very core of her being.

Mine. You are mine , he said in the rough play of his tongue against hers, his hands clenched her hips tighter as her breasts rubbed against his chest.

A crimson sea of desire enveloped Emily as Godric pushed himself deeper and deeper into her. Each time he withdrew she felt the depths of her own emptiness. Only Godric's returning thrusts eased the ache. Nothing existed, held shape or matter, beyond the mating of her body to Godric's. She tightened her legs, claiming him as hers as her tongue fought its way into his mouth, tasting the ginger from their ice cream and the remnants of brandy.

The ache and flashes of pain turned to bolts of pleasure. She was careening towards a cliff, and once she fell, there would never be a way back up to sanity. The pleasure of this union between them was beautiful and devastating.

"Take me deeper," he urged in her ear as his teeth grazed her neck.

Emily slammed her hips as hard as she could against his. All of him reached, straining towards her womb as the pressure within her crested. Emily swam on a foreign shore of desire, a scarlet sunset splashing her world in shades of fire and pleasure. Godric was there with her, his hand stretched out to grasp her, making her his forever .

She was his. Fire burst out of her body from that single point of connection and rippled through her in crashing waves. Emily cried out again, this time with sheer pleasure and Godric thrust twice more, harder than before, and collapsed onto her with a groan.

She fought to regain her breath. His heat spread out deeply between her legs as he rocked out of her a few inches before he slid back inside. Emily moaned, her inner walls convulsing around him, still welcoming him. Their bodies were damp as he slid against her, nuzzling her neck. Emily wrapped her arms around his body, the muscles of his back shifting with his movements beneath her hands. He reached under her and lifted her up a little, sliding her farther back onto the bed so he could lie beside her.

When he finally pulled himself off her, Emily shivered, and tried to reconnect to him, wanting to be held. Godric drew her against him, hands stroking her back, her bottom, her thighs, back up to her hair, holding it in place at the nape of her neck so he could kiss her. Emily rested her cheek against his chest, savoring his heat and the steady beat of his heart.

"Are you all right, Emily?" Concern roughened his voice.

She shut her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his skin beneath her cheek. "Yes." She loved to feel him breathe, to know that life flooded through him, and that he was hers and hers alone, even if for a brief time.

He kissed her hair. "I didn't mean to hurt you, my darling. The first time always hurts, but I should have been gentler. "

"Shh…" She raised a hand to cover his mouth. He kissed her fingertips tenderly and she smiled.

"And to think you meant to punish me." Emily gave a soft, sultry laugh that stirred his desire.

"Don't tempt me to be more creative. Lucien has some fascinating ideas from the Far East involving bondage with strips of red silk—"

"You wouldn't dare!" Her head snapped up, eyes darkening, and gasped as he pinched her. She beat a loosely balled fist on his chest.

"You rogue!" she hissed, but only laughter filled her eyes now.

"I've never claimed to be anything else." Emily relaxed, burrowing into him, absorbing his warmth. Godric, rather than continue to hold her, disentangled himself and pulled back the covers of the bed.

"Get in," he whispered. He tucked her in and started to dress himself. She looked up at him, the covers pulled tightly to her chin. He had just made a woman of her and yet he was abandoning her.

"Where are you going?" The quiver in her tone shamed her.

"Downstairs. I'll be back soon." He threw his shirt on, waiting for her reply.

Emily opened her mouth but the grandfather clock in the hall outside chimed.

"Ah, ten o'clock." He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

She lay still in his bed for a long minute. She wanted to laugh, to scream with joy. She had never felt so wonderful before. For a time she and Godric had been a single living entity without end or beginning. He'd been lost in her, and she in him. As soon as she realized this, she realized something more important. She never wanted to leave him.

"I love him…" The epiphany brought both thrill and heartache.

She was in love with a man who would never love her back. He was not the sort to love. Men like him never did.

Her plan to seduce him was ever more crucial. She had to do the impossible and win his heart. It was the only way they could both be happy.

Emily snuggled deeper into the covers, Godric's scent wafting about her and comforting her as she dreamt of that oneness.