Suzanne Robinson (17 page)

She heard Valin catch his breath and felt his
hands move over her as hers were moving over him. In moments she felt her clothing drop from her body. A tiny voice shouted a warning, but the rest of her didn’t care. She wanted Valin North, and she was going to have him—here, in this tower, away from the grime and ugliness of St. Giles.

As if to prove her own determination, Emmie began pulling at Valin’s coat. He gave her a startled look, but didn’t protest when she stripped him of his waistcoat and shirt. That was as far as she got before he lifted her in his arms and set her on the edge of the giant bed. As he followed her down into the covers, his lips touched her breast. Emmie clenched her teeth at the jolt of desire that followed.

Trembling hands delved into hidden places. Their kissing became more and more frenzied. Emmie clutched at Valin, digging her nails into his flesh as he touched her. Then he entered her, and she gasped, tearing her lips free of his and ducking her head into the hollow of his neck and shoulder. Valin whispered her name urgently, then began to move while distracting her with his hands.

In an unfamiliar country, Emmie wavered between pleasure and pain, but with Valin’s expertise, pleasure finally won. She climbed a mountain of sensation, reached the top, and plunged hard. At the same time Valin cried out and joined her.
They collapsed among the tousled covers, and Valin pulled her into the hollow formed by the curve of his body.

Although the physical eruption was over, Emmie felt as if her world and her body were still shaking. Already the chilly light of reason was invading the dark warmth. What had she done? She’d succumbed to this man whom she could never have. Hell to pay, that’s what there’d be. Hell to pay. Just then Valin turned onto his stomach, and the sheet slipped off his hip. Her gaze slid over the curve of his buttocks, and Emmie smiled.

He was worth it.

Drowsy and satiated, Valin opened his eyes as Emmie turned on her side away from him. Her breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes while his fingers played with a long auburn curl that fell down her back. He submerged himself into a world of sunlit warmth he knew wouldn’t last, not the way he needed Emmie. Then his eyes flew open again.

What have I done?

Reason finally escaped the morass of cravings in which it had been imprisoned. He’d bedded this young woman, this adventuress. Would she expect marriage? Wasn’t that why she’d come?

Think, North, old man. You followed her. She wasn’t expecting you, and she tried to leave when she saw you. You were the one who sought her. You know
you’ve wanted her all along. That’s why you went to her rooms last night
.

Very well, he thought, best be honest; he’d gone to her rooms to do what he’d just done. Only she hadn’t been there, and he’d nearly howled with rage once he suspected she was meeting someone else. Then today when he realized she’d been looking for him—that they’d been looking for each other, he had been at once relieved, astonished, and triumphant. Part of him said,
Yes, this is what I need
.

He’d never understood what the word revelation meant until then. The shock of it had created a dizzy euphoria. The idea of showing Emmie Courtland’s folly hadn’t been a deliberate ploy. Perhaps he’d expected to share amusement with her, to prolong their moment together, but the sight of that ludicrous bed had been like a dry wind whipping across a grass fire.

As before, Emmie had ignited with him. She had stoked the furnace of their passion, her reluctance seared to ashes. Her response told him more of her need for him than any words.

And when they’d made love he’d discovered something else—she’d never been with another man. This lady adventuress with the secret past and lurid vocabulary was an innocent. He had assumed her experienced. Valin’s fist closed around the curl he’d been playing with.

Dear God, he’d just made love to a virgin!

He sat up, staring at nothing, his jaw slightly adrift. Emmie had never been with a man. Holy hell. What did that signify about her feelings for him?
Dear God
. He hadn’t expected this twist of circumstance. He wasn’t prepared, not prepared at all. Emmie stirred and turned on her back. He glanced at her body, felt his own respond, and scrambled out of the bed.

“Valin, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing, nothing,” he said as he snatched up his trousers and wrestled into them.

His hands were shaking as he dressed, making him even more anxious to escape the allure of her presence. In a few moments his determination would crumble and he’d hurl himself on top of her again.

“Where are you going?” she asked. This time her voice had an edge to it.

“Forgot an appointment. Estate manager, accounts, legal matters, boring business. You know.” He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Half of them were missing. He gave up and threw on his coat. “Have to go. I’m late. Sorry.”

Emmie drew the sheets up to her chin. “You certainly are.”

“What?”

“Don’t forget your waistcoat.” She pointed at
the foot of the bed where the garment lay twisted in the bedspread.

Valin grabbed it and retreated. “Sorry. The estate manager and my solicitor are waiting.” He opened the door but made the mistake of looking back. She was sitting in the middle of that vast bed, green eyes wide, her hair wild, her shoulders bare above the sheet she clutched, the color gone from her cheeks.

“Forgive me, Emmie.”

He stepped onto the landing and closed the door. Afraid to hear her calling him, he raced out of Hartwell Keep and rode back to the house at a gallop. He left his horse in the stables and was almost to his apartments, but suddenly stopped and retraced his steps. Moments later he was taking the Gallery Tower stairs two at a time. He reached Courtland’s study only to find it empty. Rushing upstairs, he hurtled into a small library, slammed the door behind him, and fell against it.

Courtland glanced up from a book he was reading at a table. He saw Valin, and his mouth dropped open.

“I’ve ruined everything,” Valin said. He groaned and lowered his head to his hands.

The younger man slapped his book closed and stood. “Damn, Valin, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve been in a fight.”

Answering with another groan, Valin stalked
over to a window where he proceeded to pound the stone embrasure. Courtland joined him, but Valin flung himself away and strode around the library picking up books and slamming them down, fiddling with pens and paper, glaring at a desk and an inkwell. Courtland watched him for a while, but only spoke when Valin subsided into a chair at the library table.

“If you’re coherent now, how about telling me what’s got you ranting like a Bedlamite. Has Acton done something terrible?”

Valin crossed his legs at the ankles and scowled at his boots. He was supposed to be the strong older brother, but he needed to talk to someone, and Courtland was a good listener, when he could be persuaded to turn his attention from his work.

“You must promise never to reveal what I’m going to tell you.”

Courtland approached him, nodding. “Of course, old man.”

Valin began with his discovery that Miss Emily de Winter was an imposter.

“And just now—” The words clogged his throat, and Valin clenched his jaw. “Let’s just say I’ve committed myself irrevocably to Emmie.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said!” Valin paused and cleared his throat. “I mean that I’ve committed myself in a way that does not admit going back.”

“Unless you signed some kind of agreement,” Courtland began.

Valin growled, “I said irrevocable.”

His brother met his gaze, and comprehension dawned. “I see.”

“And I never intended to marry her. At least, well, I didn’t think about it.”

“Are you sure, Valin? I’ve never seen you so baffled by a woman, and I know I’ve never heard you talk about one more. You’ve been quite the old Valin lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been like you were before the fire.” Courtland hesitated, then spoke gently. “You used to smile, old man. After the fire, the only smiles I saw were counterfeit. You know, the kind one uses in polite society. But now the real ones are back.”

“Just because she may have done something to restore my temperament doesn’t mean I should marry her.”

“And you’re not buried in work all the time.”

“I don’t work all the time.”

“You do,” Courtland said. “Even your forays into Society are work. For you. But since Miss de Winter arrived, you’ve actually enjoyed yourself. I think matching wits with her has changed you, old fellow.”

Valin looked away. “There are some things that can’t be changed, no matter how I wish I could.”

“That’s what’s wrong!”

Eyeing his brother, Valin lifted his brows.

“You’re afraid of what will happen if she hears those absurd old rumors.”

They’d never talked about the fire so openly. Courtland had been a boy when it happened, and Valin hadn’t wanted to burden him with the truth. But somehow he’d learned it anyway. Valin smiled faintly at his brother.

“You really believe those rumors are absurd?”

“Of course,” Courtland replied.

Valin refrained from protest. The urge to unburden himself was almost irresistible, but his confusion about Emmie overshadowed everything.

“There’s something else,” he said quietly. “In an—an agitated moment, I called her ‘love,’ and she must have taken it literally, otherwise she never would have …”

Courtland was gaping at him. “You said that?”

“Only once. Don’t leer at me, damn you. This whole situation is infernally confusing.”

“Why?”

Valin threw up his hands and uttered a wordless sound of exasperation. They fell silent for a moment as Valin tried to make sense of his chaotic feelings.

“Courtland,” he whispered. “I don’t even know who she is.”

His brother knelt beside him and placed a hand
on his arm. “Don’t you think that’s what has broken through that barricade of fury you’ve set up against the world?”

Valin gawked at his little brother.

“Come on, old fellow. We live in a tiny, inbred little world, a few hundred families at most. And Miss Emily de Winter descends upon you with her exotic manner of dressing and speaking, and then you find out she’s an adventuress, that you don’t know who she is. You’re fascinated with this lady scoundrel not because she’s a lady, but because she isn’t.”

“A damned stupid whim upon which to base a marriage!”

Courtland rose and walked back to the library table where he picked up the book he’d been reading. “You’re shouting, old boy.”

“How is that relevant?” Valin demanded.

“You might as well accustom yourself to the idea,” Courtland said as if Valin hadn’t spoken. “She’s in your blood. You might say you’re infected with her.”

Valin bolted out of his chair. “Oh, what do you know of it? You spend your days with your nose buried in achievements and restoring old bed—er—in restoring old keeps.” He pointed at his younger brother, who had started to grin at him. “What are you smirking at?”

“You. You’re a bear with its leg in a trap.”

Drawing himself up into a stiff posture, Valin looked down his nose at Courtland. “One would think you’d try to help me escape this predicament, or at least offer sympathy.”

Courtland’s book dropped to the table as he uttered a loud guffaw. He hurried around the table when Valin cursed and stalked out of the room. He caught up with Valin on the landing and clapped his brother on the shoulders.

“Sorry, old fellow.” Courtland was trying to stifle a grin. “I do sympathize with your plight. Perhaps it would help if you actually knew to whom you’ve promised your hand in marriage.” Unable to hold off his mirth, Courtland fell against the wall laughing.

“Cheeky sod,” Valin muttered. He glared at Courtland, then grew thoughtful.

“But perhaps you’ve hit upon the solution after all.”

Struggling into the skirt of her riding habit, Emmie kicked her corset aside. She’d been unable to tie it without help. Her tears obscured the garment as she began to cry again.

“Oh, bloody damnation.” She knelt on the floor and picked up the corset, using it as a handkerchief.
“Stop it, Emily Fox. Crying is useless and weak.”