Nick and Emma made their way up a small hill that overlooked Portsmouth harbor. Ribbons of red, pink, and purple waved across the evening sky as the sun set over the sparse clouds.
Pure wonder and awe at her surroundings magnified her every thought, every sensation, and every vision. The trappings of a London ballroom could never compare to the beauty that encircled her this evening. With this journey, she prayed she’d find a little solace from the guilt and the grief.
The wind picked up speed, causing several loose strands of hair to whip across her face. Dust blew into her eyes. With a turn in the opposite direction, she tried to tame the disorder with little success. Nick must have seen the struggle and taken pity on her. He pulled her close to fend off the unrelenting gusts. He tucked the offending hair behind her ear and brushed her cheek with his thumb. The leather of his soft glove proved tender, like the most luxurious velvet to the touch.
“We’re almost there.” When he tilted his head close to hers, his lips brushed across her ear. “Keep close to my side.”
She did as directed until they reached the shore. A dark shale outcropping of rocks laid a pattern that made an uneven walkway to the shoreline. Isolated and distant from the bustle of Portsmouth, the view exposed the unfettered breadth of the sea. Close to the harbor entrance, two rowboats crept close to the shore. Each trailed a string of kegs that floated in the wake of their movements. The bobbing action mimicked a brood of ducklings following their mother.
“It’s an amazing sight.” Nick stood beside her in such a way his body blocked part of the wind’s assault. Perfectly at ease, he clasped his hands in front of him and regarded the view. “Is that why you wanted to come up here?”
Emma shook her head and reached into her reticle. Her fingers traced the corner of Lena’s letter to Audra, a remembrance she’d not possess much longer since she planned to give it to Sykeston. She found the locket and brought it out for his inspection. The chain draped across her fingers.
“What do you have, Em?” The wind immediately quieted, and his whispered endearment loosened the weary knots of distress that resided in her chest. His gaze paused at her hand, then captured hers, the bemusement in his eyes evident.
“It’s a locket. Lena and I gave each other one to celebrate our entrance into society. We were such silly girls believing that such a superficial event warranted a commemoration.” She didn’t stop the tumble of words. “We gave each other a snippet of our hair and several petals of the first flowers we’d ever received from an admirer. I don’t remember who gave me my flowers, but Lena would have. She had a memory for such events.”
His face and eyes softened as if he knew this confession hurt her. He gently took the locket and examined it. “It’s lovely.”
“She always wanted us to sail from Portsmouth and visit Italy. For some reason, she thought the trip would be a grand adventure.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps she thought the men parading up and down the docks in their crisp naval uniforms would be a sight worth seeing.”
Emma made the mistake of gazing into his mesmerizing eyes. The blue color reflected the darkening sky, and for a moment, she was lost. She leaned close seeking the comfort of his embrace, then remembered where she was and returned her attention to the locket. “She’d always considered her home in Portsmouth the center of her universe—her personal North Star so to speak.”
There was no use delaying as the setting sun threatened to disappear. She stepped to the water’s edge where the waves lapped the rocky ledge. She closed her eyes and kissed the locket. Heartfelt, she prayed her love for her lost friend would seep into the silver and provide some warmth and consolation for all of life’s moments that Lena had lost forever. With all the strength she possessed, Emma heaved the locket into the water. Wherever it landed, she hoped Lena enjoyed some freedom and peace from the simple gesture.
Slowly, like an incoming storm from the sea, hot tears and grief combined into a frenzy that stole her breath and made her gut twist. She bent at the waist, desperate to escape the pain. She was still a wretch who deserved no succor.
Suddenly, Nick swept her into his arms. His eyes searched hers. “Why?”
Shamefully, she turned away. Yet his question offered her what no one ever had before—an opportunity to avow her duplicity in Lena’s death. “Why” was such a simple word, an offer that tempted her to expose every black mark on her soul and wait for her richly deserved condemnation.
When she tilted her gaze to his, everything blurred and made her confession easier. “I had to set her free. She deserved so much more in life than Aulton.”
He didn’t press her for more. There was no need as she was ready to share the truth. Whatever judgment he passed on her inactions would hurt a thousand times less than her own silent perfidy.
“Do you remember when I was banished to Falmont and you gave me Bentham’s Essays?”
“Yes.” He pulled her close until her head rested against his chest. The steady beat of his heart assured her she could trust him.
“Lena became engaged to Aulton and married a month later. I only saw her one more time before she died. I was invited to stay for a week at their estate.”
His hand played with the lose tendrils of her hair, a touch she wanted and needed but knew she didn’t deserve.
“It was horrible. Every time Aulton attended us, he was so cruel with his mocking. He’d ridicule Lena’s faults and mistakes to me, her friend. I never understood why a husband would torment his wife like that.” Her thoughts clouded with images of the past. “Lena wore above-the-elbow-length gloves the entire week. I’d ask her why so formal, and she’d immediately come up with an excuse. Her day gloves were dirty, or she’d misplaced them. I actually thought Aulton suffered financially, and the gloves were a way to economize. I’d decided to send her a half dozen when I returned home.” She shook her head at the idiotic reasoning. “At an afternoon tea, a glove slipped down her forearm, exposing a bruise in the shape of a handprint. Embarrassed, she immediately tugged it back in place.”
“Did you ask her what happened?” He rubbed his lips across the top of her head.
“I did. She told me she was standing on a chair in her bedroom trying to straighten a picture. Aulton grabbed her when she lost her balance and fell.” She found the courage to face him, ready for the disappointment she’d find in his eyes. “I didn’t press her for more of an answer, but I knew she’d lied to me. When I left for London, I begged her to come with me. She said she could never leave him.”
His arms tightened around her waist as if encouraging her to continue.
The agony became unbearable, but she perservered . “Every letter I received from her told of some clumsy accident.” A sob tried to burst free, but she made herself finish. “I knew, Nick, and I didn’t help her.”
He gritted his teeth, causing a muscle to flinch in his jaw. “What could you have done? Even if you’d witnessed the violence, neither you nor anyone else could have stopped him. Have you ever heard the rule of thumb?”
Emma shook her head.
“Some men in society accept the convention that a man shouldn’t hit his wife with anything that’s wider than his thumb. Gillray had a cartoon of Sir Francis Buller titled ‘Judge Thumb.’ He carried a bundle of sticks, each the approximate thickness of his thumb. Behind him, a man beat his wife in the background with one of those sticks. It’s heinous in the extreme, but some men advocate that type of discipline. Aulton adopted it to an unspeakable level. I’m not certain anyone could have stopped him.”
“I should have made her leave with me or hidden her someplace. If I had to do it all over again, I—”
He tilted her head with a gentle tug of his hand. “Aulton would have found her. He’s the type of man who’d have brought some legal suit. Not even your father could have stopped him.”
When she searched his face, the vehemence in his eyes and the set of his jaw gave her hope. His strength might help her shed her sins. A fervent need for such redemption broke through her like a flash of fire. “Would you kiss me?”
His gaze never left hers as his fingers trailed across her skin. She didn’t wait for his reply but stood on tiptoes. She twisted her arms around his neck for balance and touched her lips to his. A sweet shudder coursed through her.
He growled in response, but as if he knew she needed comfort, his kiss was gentle. She whimpered at his soft touch and the resulting relief from the pain. All too soon, he pulled away, yet the evident heat of their passion resided in his eyes.
“Come. Let’s return to the inn before…” He stepped away and held his hand out for hers. The throb of desire in his voice was unmistakable.
“Before what?” she asked.
He grimaced. “Before I lay you down in that grass and make you mine.”
“Oh,” she whispered. It was the only answer she could muster.
* * *
The remnants of Emma’s rose scent floated around him, and Nick leaned back in the cramped slipper tub. He’d ordered a bath for her on their return from the shore. After seeing the carriage and horses were ready for tomorrow’s departure, he’d arrived back to their suite to find Emma behind the closed door of the bedroom.
Surprisingly, the water held a comfortable warmth after she’d finished. With a dip of his head, he rinsed, careful his movements didn’t cause the water to overlap the edges of the copper tub. Relaxing for a few minutes, he realized he’d wear her fragrance as he slept.
He’d take more than her sweet scent with him to bed. What he’d witnessed this evening held him enthralled, and frankly, terrified. All his life, he’d been careful to guard against the type of heartache Emma had forced herself to suffer in Sykeston’s home. He’d never allowed himself close enough to another human being that their loss would devastate him so. Because of his father’s dismissal and the lack of friendships as a youth, he’d learned the lesson well. Granted, Pembrooke was as close as a brother to him, but the desolation he’d seen from Emma reminded him of his father’s exodus from his life.
Every tear and sob she’d shed had lanced straight through his well-guarded reserve. When he couldn’t take seeing her pain anymore, he’d reached for her at Sykeston’s. Of course, with Mary Butler next to Emma, the only thing he could offer was a touch, a simple squeeze. The overwhelming urge to sweep her in his arms and carry her far away from that agony drove every prudent thought away.
When they reached the shore later, she’d been breathtakingly beautiful in her grief. When she’d kissed him, all his masterful evasion of anything unlocking his well-guarded heart had sailed out to sea. Since they’d returned to the inn, his erect cock had mutinied, ready to battle alongside his heart to thwart his best intentions.
He’d wanted her last night, and tonight … he wanted her more.
Damnation, if he was truthful with himself, he’d wanted her since he’d intercepted her carriage three years ago.
Awed by her, Nick doubted his sanity. His feelings for Emma were deepening. It wasn’t lust. That could be satisfied. What she offered triggered an insatiable hunger. Indeed, her passion for life—all of it—happiness and sadness, overwhelmed him.
For the first time in years, he was circling around a desire that could devour him, and he wanted it. At least, a taste of it. Perhaps then, he’d be able to return home satisfied without any regrets.
Whatever magic she cast over him was deepening to a point he feared he was losing his control. God, for once, to let loose and unhinge the rules he’d bound himself to—his mind grappled with the promise of the liberation that awaited.
He stood and grabbed the neatly folded linen toweling Emma hadn’t needed. With a deft hand, he dried his torso and left the remaining trails of water to slide down his arms and legs. He tied the sheet around his waist and stepped out of the cooling water.
The bedroom door stood open.
Emma reclined against one doorpost. Without any enticement or seduction in her regard, she studied him. Unused to such a direct examination, he felt a prickling heat slide up his neck. The wet toweling did little to hide his swelling arousal.
“You’re wrong,” she whispered.
How long had she studied him while he bathed? He’d received his share of seductive looks thrown hither by mistresses looking for a new benefactor, women desperate for marriage, and merry widows hungry for companionship. Yet, he’d never had a woman look at him like that before. Calm and collected, she observed him without a hint of shyness or unease, more importantly, without any titillating looks of promised pleasure.
With her lips parted and her hair trailing across her chest in gold waves of sunshine, she reminded him of innocence matured by the reality of life. He’d seen that look on her before at Goodwin’s, but hadn’t recognized it until now.
“Wrong about what?” He didn’t want to frighten her, but his need for her pounded through him, bringing forth a desire he wasn’t certain he could battle anymore.
“Last night, I said you were beautiful, and your answer was ‘I beg to differ.’” Her eyes never left his. “I’ve seen every inch of you. You are beautiful.”
He closed the distance between them. He inhaled the sweet scent of rosewater and her extraordinary fragrance that beckoned him closer. She stood still, her eyes wide, studying him without fear. He braced his arm across the door and leaned close.
As if she called to him, he brushed his knuckles over the smooth softness of her cheeks. Tonight he’d not forgo the opportunity to drink of her goodness, nor would he deny himself the taste of her glorious passion. It was a night made to feast and celebrate the marvel of her.
“Let me see your hand.”
She gave it to him, and he saw that the angry bruise of last night had started to fade into a purple and green collar around her wrist. Gently, he brought the inside of her delicate skin to his mouth and reverently pressed his lips against her pulse. It jumped with a rapid fire, signaling his touch affected her.
Satisfaction exploded into a primordial need for her.
But she turned away.
“Look at me.” He took her chin in hand and forced her gaze to his. The candlelight enhanced her beauty and the vulnerability in her eyes.
She took a deep breath, and the movement caused her nipples to press against the thin silk dressing gown. His gaze slid down her body, appreciating the full curves of her feminine beauty.
Her eyes darkened to emerald pools.
In response, every muscle in his body tightened ready to claim her.
But then, a tear escaped.
He closed his eyes and exhaled. If she’d pierced him with a knife, it would have hurt less. His grip grew light, and he slowly drew her in his arms. “It was not my intent to frighten you. I…”
“I’m frightened … you’ll no longer have a good opinion after what I shared tonight.” Her whisper trailed to silence.
“Nothing you’ve done would change what I think of you. You’re an incredible woman with an iron will softened by a generous heart.” He drew back so she could see his sincerity.
She pressed her eyes closed. “I promised myself that your opinion didn’t matter.” Her breath caught. “But I broke that pledge.”