Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

D inner that night was a far more formal affair than any other since Emily's abduction. Prior to Evangeline's arrival, all propriety and formality had been banished where the five lords were concerned. Now they observed every single point of etiquette, even though Evangeline wasn't present. Libba had told Emily that Godric had ordered his former mistress to take her meals in her room. That, at least, gave Emily a tiny sense of comfort, knowing that Godric wouldn't allow her to dine with them.

He sat at the head of the table with Emily directly to his right. The rest of the men ranged down on either side according to titled order. Well turned out, each gentlemen wore black knee breeches and well-tailored black coats. Emily wore an ice blue silk gown overlaid with a layer of silver netting. Pale stars were embroidered on her matching slippers and pearls threaded her hair like frozen dewdrops. She couldn't believe the results Libba had wrought. She'd never looked so beautiful, never felt so beautiful before. The butterfly comb was nestled amidst the pearls in her hair. Godric's eyes had flashed when he'd come to escort her to dinner. A proud smile had crossed his lips, which made Emily smile.

Conversation hummed all about the table as they dined on roasted pheasant and carp. The finest Wedgewood was used and the best bottle of Bordeaux filled their glasses.

Emily had Godric and Charles as her partners for table conversation. Godric said little, his eyes lingering on her only briefly before they danced along the table to the other guests.

Charles however was in his element as he regaled Emily with humorous tales of other adventures. He set his fork down and reached for a glass of wine. "Have you visited Vauxhall Gardens yet?"

"Not yet. My coming out was cut short. You may have heard." She raised a sardonic brow.

"Well, I shall take you, my dear. It is quite the sight! Fireworks, galas, and they have the best arrack-punch—"

A low chuckle interrupted Charles. Godric speared a piece of pheasant. "There is nothing in this world that could convince me to let you take Emily to those gardens alone. Don't forget I was present the last time you had too much arrack-punch."

"You're ruining my fun." Charles wore a smile, but a low edge sharpened his words. A challenge. "Emily would have a wonderful time with me. Wouldn't you, Emily? "

"I imagine so, Charles, assuming you remained a gentleman."

"For you, I would endeavor to be the perfect gentleman. I might even succeed."

Emily blushed and tried to change the subject. "You flatter me, Charles. Now, do tell me what happened when you had too much arrack-punch?"

Godric answered her. "I believe Charles left more than one disappointed young lady alone that night under the delusion they would soon be wed to an earl."

Charles set his wine glass down. "It's not my fault I become overly romantic when I am a bit foxed. Every woman looks prettier, tastes sweeter, and even the dreaded prospect of marriage doesn't sound as awful as usual."

Godric laughed. "I'd love to meet a woman who could last one day married to you."

Charles theatrically mimicked being stabbed in the heart. "That hurt, Godric!" He moaned, and feigned death.

Emily bit her lower lip to stifle a giggle. "You've never felt enough affection for a woman to want to marry her?"

Instantly resurrected, Charles said, "I'm an active man, my dear. I need a woman who could keep up with the fast pace of my life and as of yet, I've never encountered such a woman. I'd only marry a woman if she could understand that I, in all truth, can't settle down."

"I'll find you a woman, Charles," Emily promised. In brief moments she had glimpsed a startling melancholy in his expression .

"I thank you, Emily, but I'd much rather steal you away from that odious duke there." Charles nodded his head in Godric's direction.

Under the cover of the table Godric's right hand settled on Emily's knee. The heat of his large palm warmed her skin through the thin silk, but his hand merely patted her knee before vanishing again. It took all of her self-control to prevent a sigh upon being robbed of his caress, the warmth of his touch.

After dinner the party retired to the drawing room where the men poured glasses of port. Choosing then to retire, Emily made her excuses and left the men to drink.

Emily had reached the stairs when a whisper of silk on wood froze her in her steps.

Evangeline emerged from the shadows behind the staircase. "Tell me. How do you find your stay here? Your captor treats you well?"

Emily, unprepared for this remark, blanched. "Pardon?"

"Don't look so surprised. I know Godric and his friends have abducted you."

Emily recovered quickly. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Lying does not become you, Miss Parr." Evangeline smiled, and Emily knew that the fear in her chest reflected in her features.

"I'm here of my own free will."

"Of course. No doubt you are enjoying the warmth of Godric's bed. You would not be the first. He does love to seduce innocent little creatures. It fans his pride, you see." Evangeline's words dug under Emily's skin.

"You're wrong about him," Emily said, but the words felt thick and heavy on her tongue.

"May I offer some advice, Miss Parr? Leave here and return to London. Godric will only break that delicate little heart of yours, or leave you with child. Even if he did care about you…I fear that would not stop Monsieur Blankenship from pursuing you. He is a very dedicated man."

"What?" How could Evangeline know about Blankenship?

Evangeline hesitated, and the first hint of genuine emotion trespassed across her features. "I will be honest with you, I believe it would suit us both better. Monsieur Blankenship came to my residence. He told me of your abduction. I sensed right away he was… I forget the word…" A tiny crinkle furrowed her brow.

"Mad?" Emily supplied.

" Oui . Mad as Robespierre. He paid me to come here and provide information on you. He has more power than you would expect. Consequences do not matter to him, only getting what he wants. But then you know this."

"Yes," Emily admitted.

"What you do not know is that he's hired men to retrieve you. Mercenaries, I am told. They are the lowest, vilest of men. Men who would happily murder Godric and his friends if they tried to protect you."

Emily felt the blood drain from her face. "How do you know this? "

" Monsieur Blankenship boasted of his scheme. I do not wish to see bloodshed. It is vile and even I do not want to see Godric or his companions harmed. You must leave this place and convince Monsieur Blankenship you have left, or I am certain he will harm Godric and the others." Evangeline plucked at one of her white silk sleeves but the woman's hands trembled slightly. She was telling the truth.

"He… No… I can't leave, even if I wanted to," Emily said, more to herself than Evangeline. She knew that, between her love of Godric and his own iron hand over her freedom, she could never leave. It would be impossible.

"It is not an easy decision, I understand. You are a pawn in other men's games. Although I am loath to admit it, at the moment, I am as well. Pawns are always sacrificed. It is not fair, but that is our lot, n'est pas ? If you do not go, Godric will die."

Evangeline was right. Godric would only get himself killed trying to protect her. What choice did she have? She was a pawn.

"The thing about pawns," Emily said, almost to herself, "is if they reach the other end of the board, they become a queen."

A smile flitted across Evangeline's lips. "You play chess. Très bien . Monsieur Blankenship expects you to come to him at once, and though it is not my place to say, I think you should not go to him. I wish you gone from Godric's life, but I do not wish you to fall into the hands of a madman. Find someone to take you in. You are a beautiful girl, and I believe you are no fool. You can find a protector." Again, she paused, as though lost in memories. "It is how I survived. I am still crossing the board, as it were."

Emily wasn't sure how to react. She was taking advice from Godric's former mistress and finding she reluctantly admired the woman. "Th…thank you, Miss Mirabeau."

Evangeline nodded and left her alone.

Emily couldn't let Godric or the others get hurt, which meant she would have to leave immediately. But she needed to find Jonathan Helprin first. Jonathan was driving the cart to Blackbriar for supplies, that much she knew. Jonathan's open friendliness with Godric's friends was improper, even rebellious after a fashion. It was that hint of rebellion she was pinning her hopes on. If she could convince Jonathan to help her escape, for Godric's sake she might have a chance.

She turned and ran straight into Godric's butler.

"Simkins!"

He bowed and stepped back. "A thousand pardons, Miss Parr. I did not expect anyone to leave the drawing room so early."

"Don't apologize, Simkins! The fault is mine. Could you please tell me where Mr. Helprin is?"

The butler's white brows winged upward in surprise. "His Grace's valet?"

Emily nodded. "Yes."

"I believe he is in the servants' quarters." He seemed suspicious. "Has he incurred your displeasure?"

"No. I merely wished to see him briefly." If Simkins didn't trust her, her plan for escape would unravel in a matter of minutes.

"Well then, good night, Miss Parr." Simkins smiled, bowed, then slipped into the drawing room, leaving her alone in the hall.

Emily dashed towards the servants' stairs. After getting directions from a footman, she found Jonathan's room and flung open the door. He sat on the edge of his bed. His white lawn shirt was half unbuttoned, and in his lap rested one of Godric's fine hessian boots, which he was presently polishing.

He glanced up in surprise. His green eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of her alone. For a second Emily regretted the decision to come to him for help. She hadn't forgotten the way he'd tossed her over his shoulder and carted her off to Godric when she'd crawled out the study window.

He set down the boot and stood. "You should not be alone, Miss Parr. I am obliged to return you to His Grace."

"No, wait! I need to speak with you…" She started strong, but her tone became uncertain. Her heart skipped a beat as Jonathan advanced towards her. Had she made a mistake in thinking she could trust him, that she could persuade him to help her?

"With me? What would a proper young lady have to say to a valet?" He gave that same devastating half-smile Godric often flashed at her. He moved one arm around her body to swing the bedroom door shut behind her. She was trapped now, in more ways than one. Drawing a deep breath, she forced herself to remember that this man cared for Godric and it was that loyalty which she hoped would save Godric's life.

"I need your help." She realized that if she spoke with Jonathan alone like this, she might give him the wrong impression about her. Too late to go back now. His body already leaned slightly towards her. He even loomed like Godric. Even though she hadn't been successful in getting Godric to talk about Jonathan, she was no fool. Some looks simply ran in the blood. He claimed he had no siblings, and he never talked of cousins so few options remained. Who was Jonathan to him?

"I'd be happy to help you." He raised his other hand, trailing it down her bare arm. Goose bumps erupted in the wake of that slow, forbidden caress. Lord, if he wasn't Godric's kin then she wasn't a woman. She smacked his hand away.

She kept his attention on the matter at hand. "Can you take me to Blackbriar tomorrow? I have to escape. I'll be dressed as a maid and you need to give me a ride in the cart, nothing more."

"Are you asking me to betray my master?" Rather than look scandalized, like she'd expected, the sandy-haired devil had the nerve to grin.

Emily drew in a steadying breath. "As far as I am aware, he never forbade you to take me to Blackbriar, did he? If need be, I can elude you in the village and hide so you can honestly say you couldn't bring me back."

Jonathan eyed her critically. "Very well, Miss Parr. But first you must tell me why you are leaving. I've seen the way you look at His Grace. I can't begin to fathom why you would want to run off."

Emily drew a deep breath, praying she was doing the right thing. "I have to leave to save his life."

Jonathan's brows rose. "What?"

"It's Blankenship, the man who came here with the magistrate. He plans to kill Godric and anyone else in his way to get to me. If I leave, he won't have a reason to hurt anyone here."

Suspicion narrowed the valet's eyes. "How do you know this?"

"Godric's mistress, Evangeline. She warned me, told me what would happen if I didn't leave. Blankenship is mad. He's already hired men for the job."

"You're serious, aren't you? His Grace is truly in danger?"

Emily nodded. "I can't risk anything happening to him."

"Have you considered telling him what Evangeline told you?"

"Of course I have. But you know the man he is. Do you think he'd sit idly by under this kind of threat? No matter how matched they were?"

The valet considered her words. "No, the damned fool would rally his friends and go charging off to get killed."

Emily's shoulders sagged. "So you understand why I have to leave. He cannot know the truth or he will do something foolishly noble."

"You do realize this is an extremely bad plan. The man has a temper that makes even angels quake with fear. He won't be happy if you leave."

She didn't need Jonathan's warning, she knew the risk she was taking. "It's a choice between hurting him and killing him, and that isn't really a choice is it?"

Jonathan deliberated a long moment. "Very well. I'll take you to the village if you agree to my price." She was trapped against the door, unable to escape. His warm breath fanned her face.

She raised her chin a little, hoping it would strengthen her resolve. "What price?"

"Hmm…" He studied her, looking for what she didn't know. "I'll decide later. Be ready to depart tomorrow." He gently shoved her out into the hallway.

She hastily walked back up the servants' stairs, then the main staircase as she headed into her bedchamber on the second floor and ducked inside.

"There you are, little vixen! I've been waiting for you to turn up." Godric's voice made her jump. "Thought you could slip away from me?" Godric chuckled, his hands encircling her waist.

The tension in her body relaxed as she realized he hadn't overheard her conversation with Jonathan.

"No, of course not. I merely had to fix my hair, a few pins felt loose." Her hand rose to her hair as though to show she'd fixed the matter.

The predatory gaze he gave her made her ache inside. "I don't believe you, my dear. I thought we came to an understanding."

It irritated her that he didn't believe her, even if she was lying. "We have. Let me go, Godric. "

"Now, now, I've had to play the gentleman all evening and I'm not able to last another minute behaving like a bloody saint." His hands on her waist curled around her back and slid farther down over the curve of her bottom and clenched hard, lifting her into him.

Emily gasped.

He pressed her back against her door. The corded sinews of his muscled arms were taut beneath her hands as she tried to push him away. She had to keep her senses unclouded if she was to escape tomorrow, but it was nigh impossible to do so.

Godric thrust a thigh between her legs, the pressure flaming to life. Emily's head fell back, offering him her throat. He dragged his mouth down from her jaw to her shoulder.

Emily barely had time to prepare herself, before he robbed her of her control, assaulting her mind and heart with a deep kiss. They moved away from the door and he turned her so the back of her knees bumped the bed and they toppled over, Godric on top. With a soft laugh, he nuzzled her cheek and rolled them over until she lay sprawled across his chest. He gazed up at her, his eyes warm, fingers gentle as he traced her spine in soothing strokes.

"What's that look for, darling? You seem concerned." He laughed and moved his head up to nip her collarbone affectionately.

He fascinated her. One minute fiery and possessive, and the next tender, and heart-breakingly sweet. Emily's heart skipped. Would this be the last moment she would have with him? If she escaped tomorrow, it would be .

Tears stung her eyes and she bit her bottom lip, hoping that pain would distract from the stabbing wound in her chest. There would never be moments like this again.

"Don't cry…please don't cry. We'll go slow. I didn't mean to scare you." Godric sat up, keeping her straddled on his lap. His thumbs brushed away her tears and he eased the ache with feathering kisses along her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her forehead.

At last he tucked her against him, and Emily surrendered, burying her face into the groove of his neck and shoulder. They remained locked this way for a moment, the mere touch enough to calm her.

When she finally wasn't falling apart on the inside, she placed a kiss on his shoulder. Then, despite her tears and sadness, craving him desperately, she nipped him. He groaned as she flitted her tongue against the spot she'd bitten.

"You little imp!" He laughed and cupped her chin, raising her face to his. "You know I'll get back at you for that." He palmed her breast and when her nipple budded beneath his hand, he tweaked it. "Shall I start here? Or—" he slid his hand down her side over her thigh and onto her bottom "—here, perhaps?" He tightened his hold on her buttocks and Emily squirmed as desire flooded between her thighs.

Emily raised her eyes to his, challenging him. "I think you are all talk, Your Grace."

"I am, am I?" He growled and rolled her beneath him. Rather than undo her gown he flipped her onto her stomach, grabbed a pillow from near her head and lifted her hips, settling the pillow beneath her pelvis. Trembling, Emily looked over her shoulder at him, confused at what he meant to do. He knelt between her spread legs, and unfastened his trousers. The wicked smile he flashed her when he caught her looking sent new shivers down her legs.

Godric slid his palms up under her gown at her knees, raising the gown and petticoats out of the way, until she was bare to him. He stroked her bottom, his fingers drifting down until they reached her sex.

"So hot, you're so wet, darling. You undo me. I can't wait another second." He placed himself at her entrance and, bracing one hand next to her shoulder on the bed, thrust home.

They shared a mutual cry of bliss at the connection. Part pleasure, a hint of pain as he slid out and rammed deep. Emily cried out at the ecstasy. Godric continued, dragging the tip of his arousal along her inner walls, striking a spot deep inside her that made her mindless with passion. Desperation tore through her, she needed him, more than she needed his body, this clash of bodies and souls could be their last time. Panic forced a sob from her throat, yet pleasure stole her breath.

"Em…oh Em. Darling…I love the way you feel…push your hips back…YES!" Godric's ragged panting and rough praises unraveled her heart and soul. She came apart, blasting into a million pieces around him.

She was vaguely aware of his echoing shout, and the heavy weight of him on her back. His huffing breath against her neck was a sensual reward.

After a few moments, he recovered, his breathing more controlled as he fell onto his side. He reached for her, and Emily fit her body to his, for perhaps the last time. Tears burdened her cheeks, but Godric didn't see them. His eyes were closed, dark lashes spiked across his cheeks.

"I love you. No matter what happens. I love you," she whispered. He didn't stir.

She kissed his chest where she felt his heartbeat strongest. If he'd heard her, she didn't want him to say anything back. If he didn't love her, the reality would wound her. If he said it, it would kill her.

Godric held Emily's body loose against him. One of her bare legs stretched over his abdomen, and he rested a possessive hand on the soft skin of her outer thigh. Her head rested on his chest and her faint breaths betrayed her deep state of sleep. He'd worn her out tonight, she was still adjusting to his voracious appetite. She was bolder too, but she still made love with that strange mixture of wanton innocence.

It would be a lie to deny his joy at the enthusiasm and boldness in her responses. She loved him, he heard her breathe it once while asleep, and today, she'd said it without the influence of passion. She'd not taken it back, and for that he was glad.

No one had ever claimed to love him before, no woman besides his mother. He was loved by Simkins and the League, but Emily was different. He'd always assumed a woman's love would be a burden, but it wasn't. Her affection and loyalty strengthened him. She knew him for who he was, but she loved him anyway, loved him enough to declare her reputation worthless, but it mattered to Godric. The thought of anyone speaking ill of Emily churned his stomach.

He would do whatever was necessary to protect her honor, even if that meant giving her up. He'd told her she could stay as long as she loved him, but the truth was she could never leave him. There was only one option left for her, and for him.

Marriage . He had to marry Emily to salvage her reputation. In return, she would have a life she wished to live, and he would give anything to see to her happy.

In the bright light of day, he knew that marriage to Emily was a terrible idea. His reputation in society was far from unsullied and while it had never mattered to him, it would affect her. Would she ever be accepted as the wife of a duke, or simply be seen as a glorified mistress? At night, though, he couldn't help but wonder how happy they might grow to be.

He allowed himself to imagine a lifetime of nights during which Emily wound her warm body around his, and her hair spilled across his pillow like amber wheat. In his dreams she would always be there, his cunning little vixen. In a few years, babes in cradles would fill the empty ghost-ridden corners of his life, and he'd possess a family he'd never expected. He'd buy Emily a stable full of horses, a thousand hounds, whatever she desired.

Emily shifted against him, stirring slightly. Godric pulled the covers up about them to keep her warm. Only when she was asleep could he savor her—the full breasts now pressed against his chest, and the smooth muscular thighs and calves. Those legs gripped him tightly about his hips whenever he mounted her. She was sweet…and real. Nothing like the sculpted perfection of Evangeline who never liked a hair out of place or a gown rumpled. She did not really live, not like Emily. He adored the way she embraced life.

His hand slid up towards the juncture between her thighs. He slid a finger inside her, and she stirred again. Godric smiled, gently toying with her. She made that adorable sound of drugged pleasure. It took all of his willpower to stop teasing her and torturing himself. She needed sleep after the day she'd had.

Emily nuzzled his chest, rubbing herself against him as she settled down again. It struck Godric then that this moment felt right, frighteningly right. Everything he'd ever known had changed when he'd put that unconscious young lady on her bed that first night. How could it be that she'd only entered his life less than a week ago? What would happen when they were forced to accept their situation? He didn't want to think about it. His chest tightened and his fists clenched.

The abduction of Emily Parr hadn't changed just him. The League's bond epitomized the hard love men shared with each other, but when it came to Emily, they were all helpless. Ashton admired Emily's purity of soul, Charles her playfulness, Cedric her love of the outdoors, Lucien her cleverness, and Godric—he loved everything about her.

The thought shocked him. If he could love all the things within a person, did that not mean he loved the person? The question plagued him.

He ran a hand through Emily's hair, coiling a silken tendril between his fingers. Never in all his years could he have expected such a creature, so different from him, to make him so happy. He lived to see her smile, to make her laugh, to kiss her. He wanted to spend all day reading with her, all night loving her. Find every ticklish spot and every place that made her moan and sigh. He wanted a life with her, but it wasn't possible.

"Godric?" Emily's voice cut through his brooding. He hadn't realized she was awake.

"I'm sorry, darling, did I wake you?"

"I am a light sleeper." She raised her head a little, her violet eyes pale and silvery in the moonlight. "May I ask you something?"

Godric fought the urge to smile. "Oh, I suppose."

"Ashton mentioned your father, and how he—"

Godric's smile faded. "How he disciplined me?"

"Yes."

"What is it?" His tone was harsher than he meant. The ache of that old wound still stung.

Emily put a hand on his chest, right above his heart. "I am sorry he hurt you."

"That is not a question."

Her forehead creased. "No, I suppose not, but…but I wish he hadn't hurt you. I don't know how anyone could want to hurt you." She pressed her lips down on his chest, in an enticing kiss. It was so pure in its affection, in its tenderness, that Godric's throat tightened. He di dn't know how to tell her that her words meant everything to him.

Instead, he wrapped his arms about her waist and slid her up several inches, to his mouth. Her lips parted. Her fingertips stroked his jaw, and she sighed contentedly.

"I have another question," she said at last. "A real one."

He was amused by the shrewd gleam in her eyes. "All right then, my dear, let's hear it."

"When you and the others abducted me, how did you know I was in the carriage? I thought I'd fooled you with the false bottom of that seat…" She laid her palms flat on his chest and pushed up a little, which gave him a pleasing view of her breasts.

"You had me quite fooled. Ashton, however, noticed a piece of your evening gown sticking out. He devised a plan to wait for you." Godric grinned as the memory of that night flooded him, the adrenaline, the sheer exhilaration of chasing her, fighting her, capturing her…

Emily frowned. "And what if I hadn't gotten out of the carriage? I might have suffocated."

"I dare say it couldn't have been airtight." Godric tried to lift his hips, but Emily slid an inch out of reach.

"Did you really have to use laudanum? I despised that." She scowled now, which somehow resembled a puppy growl.

"We used it at Ashton's recommendation. We were worried you might scream for help."

"Why didn't you just gag me? "

"And have you squirm in my lap the entire way? You could have fallen and injured yourself."

"Your lap?" Her eyes were warm, but her nose wrinkled in consternation. "You carried me?"

Godric tugged one a lock of her hair, winding it around his finger. "Absolutely. Once I set eyes on you, I refused to let any other man have responsibility for you. I wanted you all to myself, which, let me assure you, was quite a battle. I had to endure nearly an hour of Charles's grousing. He's a dreadfully sore loser." Godric chuckled.

Emily digested all of this in silence.

"Did you plan on seducing me before you saw me?"

That was a volatile question, and Godric decided the truth was best.

"I only meant to ruin you by bringing you here, I didn't really intend to physically er…ruin you. There was no thought of seduction until I put you on this very bed. You were so dirty and dusty from your attempts at escape, but when I set you down… I was entranced… I had to touch you…so I did."

"You did?"

"Only a touch, I held your face in my hands. Your cheeks were covered in dirt and I rubbed it away. It took every bit of my self-control not to kiss you. That was when I knew you had bewitched me."

Emily was surprised, pleasantly so. She remembered little from that first night, but she had a vague memory that a handsome prince had stroked her face and nearly kissed her, a fanciful, fairytale dream, she'd thought.

Emily slid off Godric and tucked herself up in the warmth of his embrace. Sharing a bed with him now made her realize how lonely she'd be tomorrow. There would be no good morning kisses, nor more quiet afternoons in his study. There wouldn't be any warm masculine body to cuddle up to at night when shadows lengthened across her bed.

Her love for him burned hotter and brighter each hour she spent with him, but that love would kill him if she didn't leave. Blankenship's men would arrive and there'd be bloodshed on all sides.

She considered telling him the truth, telling him what Evangeline had said, but she couldn't. He and the other lords were nothing if not prideful and stubborn. They would vow to defend her and someone would get hurt or killed. Their blood could not stain her hands, they had become like family. She had to leave. Perhaps she could send Blankenship a letter when she reached Blackbriar, tell him she escaped and he would have no luck at the Essex estate. She could only hope it would work and keep them all safe.

Godric's hand gently stroked her hair, the sensation so soothing and calming that she could barely stay awake. She needed a moment longer.

"Godric…"

"Hmm?" His response vibrated her body in its soft rumble.

"Thank you. "

"What have I done now?"

"You showed me a part of life I might have missed otherwise."

The back of his knuckles brushed along her cheek. "If you were a chance, my dear, then it was my good fortune to take you."

Her eyes burned. She couldn't cry, not now.

"I know I shouldn't say it, since it ruins our moments…but I love you." She might never see him again after this and she wanted to know she was brave enough to say it to him, one last time.

"You could never ruin anything, darling."

Godric raised her head to his and slanted his mouth down over hers. It didn't matter how he kissed her, chastely or lustily, she came to life at his touch. Her tongue danced between his lips. He groaned softly, fisting his hand in her hair. His fingertips massaged her scalp, and Emily's hands slid along his chest, reveling in the hot skin beneath her fingertips.

"Make love to me," she pleaded between deep, languid kisses.

"As you command."