Night had taken over by the time they collected all the clothing and made their way to the bedroom. Emma washed quickly and found a soft clean gown to drop over her head before dashing down the hall to Lucas’ room. She stared at her new husband and sighed. He wore only a pair of pants that hugged his hips. His feet were bare and his chest exposed when she walked up behind him and let her hands stroke along his sides and onto his shoulders.
“If you continue that, we’ll completely miss the evening meal,” Lucas warned, though his voice told her he might not mind so much.
“Perhaps we should bring the food to my room and feed one another there…”
Emma smiled at him when he turned. She loved the flair of fire in his eyes as he let his hands caress over the soft gown she’d put on. She knew the instant he realized there was nothing beneath the fabric but her and she laughed, dancing quickly out of his hold and tugging on his hands.
“C’mon, Lucas…I should feed you to keep your strength up.”
Emma stirred and wiggled, a long contented sigh easing free with the faint light of day that filtered into the room from the east. Something had wakened her and she knew immediately when she moved toward where the warmth used to be.
“Lucas?” The faintest hint of panic was in her voice when dark eyes popped open and her head was up instantly from the pillow to peer around. “What are you doing?” She peered over at the man holding a pair of pants in his hands, his dark blond hair disheveled and a slight hint of stubble on his face.
“Going to my room, Emma. Nancy will be here…”
“No,” Emma scrambled to her knees, ignoring her nudity.
“Emma,” his voice was soft, the corners of his eyes crinkled as he dropped the trousers and slid over the bed.
She watched him stretch out in front of her and raised her palm from her thigh to stroke over his face.
“No, Lucas. I want you with me. I want to be with you,” she hung her head. “I’m not very good at being British.”
Lucas laughed and propped himself up on one elbow.
“My sweet lady-wife…no, you are not good at being British. But you are amazing at being yourself and I want nothing more from you than that in our life,” he took her hand and kissed the soft center.
“I don’t want separate sleeping places, Lucas,” she continued stubbornly. She didn’t know why she was there. She didn’t know how long it was for but she knew she was going to take each and every minute of the happiness that had been generously given to her. “Can’t we…can’t you…” she looked around the large room and focused on the wall to the next empty room. “Move…and make an arch between them. You can put your clothing and shaving thing in there. Please…I don’t want to be sneaking around the halls like I’m doing something wrong just to be with you. What if I have a nightmare and…and you’re not here with me?”
“There would be no one to sooth you,” he murmured, his hand running along her thigh, fingertips stroking over the barest hint of her cunny trapped in between.
“Exactly.”
“We shall simply inform Nancy not to enter our chamber without knocking and receiving permission,” he said, heat flooding through him at the glorious smile he received. “I shall speak with a carpenter and we’ll arrange things in the room to put in a nice decorative arch for us.”
Lucas found himself on his back when she flung herself forward, arms around his neck and her mouth hard against his.
“You’ll do this for me?”
“My sweet wife…I’m discovering there is very little in this world I would not do for you.”
“Thank you, Lucas…thank you,” she whispered against his mouth, her fingers sunk against his scalp as she proceeded to show him just why he wanted to remain with her.
When the sun finally burnt away the marine layer that had settled over night, it was promising to become another quite warm day. Lucas came out of his room with his shirt half buttoned. His hands fell to his sides, his head shook and his voice raised.
“Emma! Desist immediately!” His bellow was deep and forceful. Long legs carried him down the hall, shirt tails flying in his wake. “What the devil do you think you’re doing?”
Emma frowned up at him.
“I’m putting this trunk in my workroom,” she finally said, standing before him in just her drawers and a fresh camisole with very miniscule sleeves and a tantalizingly low front that framed her breasts and made him shake himself. She ran one finger down the unbuttoned opening of his shirt. “You look incredibly sexy all unkempt.”
“And you are going to drive me mad,” he gripped her wrist and pulled her against him. “Leave this and do not attempt to move something heavy again. Tell me or Nancy or Harris and we will have it moved for you.”
“Lucas, I’m perfectly healthy…”
“Would you prefer it that I fix that for you and you not sit for a week?”
“Promises,” she mumbled and sighed. “Yes, sir.”
“Did you forget your dress?”
“I was distracted,” she informed him, turning and retreating into her bedroom.
Lucas followed behind, absently lifting the glass of fresh juice that Nancy had already left for her and took a deep drink. “I’ve checked the wall and I think we can easily put in a nice wide archway here for us and have a combination sitting room/dressing room.”
“I never really understood why a couple wouldn’t share a bed all the time,” Emma stood staring at the large collection of day dresses and fingered the fabric. She selected the lightest one and worked the buttons open.
“Some women wouldn’t want their husband with them at all times,” Lucas said carefully, watching the puzzled look on her face. He sighed. No hints or allusions or subtle nuances where his Emma was concerned. “Perhaps during your menses, you would prefer to be alone.”
“During…” Emma stared up at him. “Seriously? Do you believe I’m contaminated or contagious?”
“Of course not!” Lucas gaped at her. “I studied how the human body functions. I know what occurs and why. This is hardly the dark ages, Emma.”
“Then why would I want to be alone then? I want to be coddled and pampered, not abandoned,” she told him with a cheeky grin that made him laugh.
“Of course you do, my love, and I shall see to it myself,” he promised, dropping a kiss on her nose and turning to leave. “Breakfast in a few minutes, Emma. Then I have work in my shop to accomplish. Perhaps a nice long walk on the beach tonight, would you like that?”
“Perfect. And I promise not to leave the house without informing anyone although, you do realize it isn’t me they’re after, Lucas,” Emma dropped the light weight dress over her head and shimmied, making it fall into place with her hands poking through the short sleeves.
“And what, lady wife, do you believe they’re after?” He loved the spark of fire that flared in her eyes when he used that term for her.
“Well, obviously the money,” she shrugged and went to the bottom of her armoire to pull out a pair of simple, flat slippers. “I’ve been through my things, Lucas. I’m not of value to them, to either of them. I have the pouch of gold coins but that surely isn’t enough to break into a house over.”
“I have Harris investigating a few things, Emma. I’ll be down in a shortly and we shall discuss it further,” he promised, lightly kissed her brow and went down the hall to his room.
Emma wandered down the stairs carrying her shoes. She dropped them to the floor in the dining hall and continued onto the kitchen, greeting the tall, robust woman with a little wave. She might have been intimidating if Emma hadn’t won her over with plans to build a raised herb garden in the back.
“Good morning, Mrs. Neilson. Fresh coffee for Lucas?” Emma lifted the plates covered with warmers and carried them into the dining hall. She heard the clatter and watched the older woman place the large pot of coffee on the trivet with a nod. “Thank you.”
Not much on talking, Emma mused and lifted the cover from her plate before reaching for the toast and marmalade. Her appetite was definitely improved, she thought with a hungry bite.
She shivered when the warm fingers stroked over her throat, his lips brushing her temple before he continued on to take his seat.
“Do you have a schedule of things for the workmen to do?” Emma asked with an innocent smile at the interested look he gave her.
“I detect a motive,” Lucas peered at her through his spectacles and couldn’t stop his lips from twitching.
“You’ve a naturally suspicious nature,” she said loftily, poking at the fruit she’d placed on her plate.
“Speak to me, lady-wife,” he teased, taking in a long swallow of the hot coffee and sighing.
“Well, two things actually,” Emma began logically. This was her place, she’d decided. With Lucas, regardless of how or why it happened. And if it were a dream, she never wanted to wake. She wasn’t delusional. She didn’t believe it would all be peace and tranquility. She knew too much about humans, too much about history for that to ever settle in her mind. But she wanted to be with him. For however long she had.
“Emma? Are you well? You look…” Lucas gently touched the hand resting on the tabletop.
“Oh…don’t mind me…drifting mind,” she said with a smile, her hand turned and fingers entwined with his.
“Promise me, sweet. No lies between us,” Lucas had seen her thoughts drifting now and then, a sadness in her eyes that brought an ache to him.
“No lies, Lucas,” she said firmly. “Mrs. Neilson and I would like to plant a large herb garden next season. And I would like it to be a raised bed, to keep things out of it and make it easier for her to reach,” she had lowered her voice. “Bending and all, you know. So I was wanting some boards and nails or bolts or something to make a nice large square and find some really rich, good soil for it so we can begin composting and preparing it for spring.”
“Easily done,” Lucas nodded, enjoying the light in her voice. “And the second thing.”
“We need a room…perhaps attached to the kitchen and my utility room. Brick, I think, would be best. With shelves…about twelve inches wide lining the walls and a fire pit in the center, also of brick, so we can burn wood and keep the inside dry for the purpose of drying our herbs,” she bit the corner of her lip, watching her idea gel in his eyes.
“How large?”
“Perhaps ten foot square? Oh…feet…I don’t know the correct measurements…”
“I know them, not to worry,” Lucas tilted his head as if seeing the area with what she wanted created. “Mrs. Neilson does love her gardening. What depth?”
Emma frowned a little. “Eighteen inches…perhaps two feet.”
“And I’m gathering you’d like this part soon,” Lucas laughed at the flush that struck her cheeks.
“Well, it is coming on fall and I can collect leaves to begin the process of composting and inviting the worms to participate in our project…”
“I find it difficult to see you playing with worms.”
“We actually have an agreement,” she said with a little shrug. “They stay hidden and I provide them with good food. It really works out well for us. Wood is the easiest of materials to use, I think.”
“But brick or stone would be more durable and lasting,” Lucas nodded to himself. “I believe we can have this portion of your project up and running in a month. I’ve just the men for the job and it’ll be a good change for them.”
“Thank you. You’re a very indulgent husband.” Emma left her chair and moved to stand behind him, her lips moving next to his ear. “I can be a very grateful wench of a wife, I promise you.” She told him with a kiss and lick around his ear.
Lucas was prepared to pull her into his lap when the deep sound of a throat clearing trapped their attention. “Harris.”
“Visitors, milord,” Harris said politely, waiting by the arched doorway. Lucas met his gaze with the slightest of nods.
Lucas didn’t have to ask their identities. He caught Emma’s hand in his and stood up, his other palm going beneath her chin. His thumb caressed the full lower lip before kissing her softly.
“Stay here, Emma.” He didn’t know where the hard edge had come from in his voice, but he knew it belonged there at the moment. This was the tone he’d learned existed in him during his travels. He saw the defiance enter her eyes. “Show them into the library, Harris and remain on the door, watching them.”
“Yes, sir,” he said curtly and disappeared.
“Lucas, please.”
“Emma, it’s my duty to protect you.”
“With Harris on the door and Brock outside…how can I possibly be in danger? What could they do?” She pleaded. “I swear to you. I’ll sit at my desk like a quiet little mouse.”
“And in what dream world would I be gullible enough to believe that even remotely possible?”
“I’ll try,” she amended with a little wince.
Lucas was still questioning his decision as they left the dining hall. He glanced down, smiling at the bare toes the peeked from beneath her gown as she walked. His decision. The words repeated itself inside his mind, his gaze following the gentle sway of her hips. Jaunty, he thought, feeling the power surge inside him for the need, the drive to protect her.
Two older men immediately stood from the chairs they had been seated in when Emma entered the room. She looked from one to the other. It was very easy to recognize which was Lucas’ father. They were of the same height and broad shoulders. He wore his hair much shorter and hints of silver strayed through the dark blond strands. He had a moustache and neatly trimmed beard that he stroked now and then, his other hand holding a cane and hat.
“Emma...” James Carstairs took a step forward that was halted when she stepped to the side, her head shaking. He frowned and glared at Lucas. “You’ve corrupted her. And look at her hair!”
Lucas raised a brow, his gaze following Emma as she continued to his desk. She leaned against it and watched, silent for now, as she promised.
“I haven’t done a thing to your daughter, sir. I don’t know the type of relationship you had with her before the accident, but she has no memory of you and what she’s learned has not endeared her to you.”
Lucas opened his mouth, about to say something more when Emma hitched herself onto the corner of his desk, her ankles crossed and bare feet swinging slightly. Then he corrected himself and simply smiled at his pixie.
Decorum be damned, he wanted her happy and smiling and adorable. Just as she was. Not what society demanded of her.
“Why are you here?” Emma asked with a curious tilt to her head. “I like my hair. The key word being, of course, MINE.”
“We’re merely checking on your welfare,” Alister St. Christopher assured her politely.
“Uh-huh…, no, really…why are you here? You could be honest and we could end this and Lucas and I can go back to being alone and happy.” Emma studied them both critically. “It isn’t me. Neither of you cares about me…and I don’t believe you care much about Lucas, either. So…if not me, then what are you after?”
“I left something in your trunk and I would like to retrieve it,” James said finally.
“I emptied my trunks. My books and note books are mostly over there. I found a nice pouch of coins,” she kept staring at them. “But that isn’t what you’re after. And I have enough dresses to last me a lifetime. I’m not sure…” a frown creased the full bow of her lips. “I had a grandmother. That’s where the clothing came from.”
“The woman was constantly dragging you to the seamstress,” James mumbled testily. “I am not after your coins. I left some…certificates…in your trunk. I’d like them returned.”
Emma looked at Lucas. “I gave them to Lucas,” she shrugged. “My name is on the envelope. Not yours.”
“They were given to you by your grandparents, Emma,” Lucas strode across the library and took the seat behind his desk, his hands resting casually over his abdomen. “I read the letters inside. One from a solicitor and the other from your grandmother. Emma hasn’t read the letters. She is not interested in them.”
“Why do you want them? Your business is doing well,” Emma bit into her lip in thought. She put her hands behind her and leaned back in thought. “You really don’t care enough about Lucas to bother with finding him a bride. You care about money and you mishandle it.”
“Of all the impertinent…”
“She’s correct,” Lucas interrupted flatly. “And I would guard your tongue.”
“I don’t remember you,” she continued, staring at the man designated as her father. “But I suppose it’s possible you wanted to unload me…”
“I couldn’t find anyone in the city willing to take you,” he spit out heartlessly. “Mouthy, old and plain…”
Emma gulped a breath and tasted blood when she bit her lip.
“Have a care, or father-in-law or not, I will call you out,” Lucas informed him coldly.
“So I sold you to him for his son,” James Carstairs continued, sneering at Lucas. “He wanted money and I wanted her out of my hair. Now that her grandparents were gone, those stocks should have been mine. I put up with her through her whole life.”
“No one wanted me,” Emma knew those words too well from too long a life. “Not even my own father.”
“Emma…” Lucas heard the pain in her voice.
“Do you know Daniel? Is that why he climbed into my bedroom window? To find your precious stocks for you?” Emma demanded.
“I don’t know any Daniel,” he returned flatly. “I should have been paid for not throwing her in an orphanage when her mother up and died on me. But they kept those stocks over her head. Held all that money they had…made me think it would be mine. But no, they left them to the care of her future husband.”
“You don’t know Daniel,” Emma repeated softly to herself. She looked at Alister St. Christopher and then at her father. “You…sold me to him…to get the stocks and get rid of me. You accepted a dowry, not because you cared whether or not Lucas had a wife, but because you wanted money. This is all about the inheritance left me by my grandparents. And you believed you could simply take them from my trunk…”
“They weren’t any good to him if you were alive, Emma. He can’t touch them,” Lucas said quietly. “They belong to your husband.”
“The carriage accident,” she said, the faintest of hitches in her voice. “I wasn’t meant to live.”
“Now you’re exaggerating,” James Carstairs said quickly.
“I have the letter from the solicitor,” Lucas told him flatly. “Lies will not change anything. She can’t give them to you because they’re part of her children’s future. Once she married, they became mine.”
“Married?” Alister’s gaze swung to their faces and then their hands.
“You married him?” James demanded in ragged anger.
“Married,” Emma held up her hand. “He married plain, old, mouthy me. So I suppose you can stop visiting now and return to San Francisco. And you…” she smiled at Alister. “I suppose you could have him pay you out of his own funds, instead of my grandparents. I’m not sure what I’m worth, though.”
“You are priceless, my sweet,” Lucas moved to her side, his lips gently caressing her brow. “Never doubt that.”
“I don’t have the kind of money he wanted for this arrangement,” James swore and paced the room angrily. “You’ve ruined everything.”
“Harris, escort the…gentlemen…from the house, please,” Lucas ground his teeth and covered the two palms she had resting on her lap with his. “They are not welcome here.”
“Yes, sir.” Harris gestured to the door, two angry men storming out of the library before the door closed behind them.
Lucas placed both hands on her face, his thumbs beneath her chin and tipping it up. He’d braced himself but it hadn’t been quite enough for the sight of tears edging the lashes she squeezed closed.
“Emma…”
“It might be best if I go upstairs for a bit. I think I’m going to cry,” she whispered and made an effort that was ignored to push him away. Instead, she was gathered against him, a soft linen handkerchief pressed into her hand before he carried her to the large chair near the balcony door.
Lucas sat back in the chair, his arms around her. He cushioned her head against his shoulder and let her have her cry. Fingers stroked gently over her head as she sniffled, her breathing slowly leveling off.
“I’m probably all puffy now,” Emma said with a weary sigh.
“But better?”
“No…maybe…mostly just puffy,” she sniffled again, tucking the handkerchief into the pocket of her dress and sitting up slowly. “Thank you.”
“The man’s a cretin, Emma,” Lucas said quietly, relieved at the slight twitch to her lips.
“A genetic donor,” she said in agreement. She sniffled one last time and inhaled raggedly. “I shouldn’t have let it get to me. It’s so hard to get words out of your head.”
“You are beautiful,” Lucas turned her face to him, peering at her through his lenses and waiting for their gaze to lock. “Never doubt that what I see is the most amazing woman I’ve ever known in my arms,” he slid his palm along her jaw and onto her cheek.
Her lashes closed, creating that dusty effect around her eyes and she rubbed her cheek against his palm like his own sweet little kitten. His fingers slid beneath her chin, tipped it up for his mouth to slant over hers, gently, soothingly.
“And I adore your mouth, even as I battle the gentleman inside me,” Lucas told her, his cock giving a sharp lurch when her eyes opened and she smiled at him.
“I’ve not asked you to be a gentleman in all aspects of our life, Lucas,” she taunted saucily, her hands on his arms. She eased herself away, sitting on his thighs for only a moment before sliding to the floor. She parted his thighs and knelt there, gazing up at him.
“I seem to recall a promise of a wicked wench…”
Emma smiled and ran her palm over the front of his slacks, the hard length of his cock beneath the fabric making her twitch and dampen between her thighs. For her. All he wanted was her, she thought, opening the stiff leather belt and slowly undoing the buttons down the front.
“On your feet, Emma,” Lucas instructed quietly, the quizzical look on her face almost making him smile. “I won’t ask again, Emma. And you’re chalking up a punishment that is very probably long overdue.”
Emma swallowed, nodded and was immediately on her feet, her gaze never leaving his.
“To the side of the chair, Emma,” he gestured, stretching out his arm and making certain his palm would reach easily, comfortably. “Now you may continue. Release me and take me in your mouth…please me, sweet…”