Chapter Fourteen

Will stared at the horse’s forelock, absently patting its sturdy neck, completely lost in thought and somewhat nervous as he waited for Emily to reappear. What just happened? She’d left him frozen to the hallway floor like a love-struck youth. She’d turned away and slowly walked up the stairs with her beautiful behind shifting nonchalantly from side to side. All Will could do was stare after her, feeling as though he’d been slapped across the face with a wet kipper.

He swallowed as his trousers tightened across his groin. He was in far too deep to be comfortable. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. A woman who would never be his. He closed his eyes and eased his head against the horse’s nose. Its soft velvety texture mixed with the general stench of horsiness and hot breath, which felt strangely soothing to his fraught nerves and confusion.

“How could I have let this happen, my girl?”

“Whatever you’re asking her, I can quite assure you Carrington will not provide the answer.”

Will abruptly straightened and heard the crick in his neck.

Emily smiled, seemingly ignorant of the pain shooting along his tendon on a wave of heat.

He could handle that. The real cause for concern was the way his heart kicked against his rib cage. “You look wonderful.”

Her cheeks flushed, and her gaze dropped to the folds of her dress. “I thought it such a beautiful day it would be perfect to wear my favorite dress. I’m grateful for your compliment.”

“It’s more than the dress.” He stared and warmth spread through his cheeks. “It’s you.” Feeling like a complete ass, Will stepped away from Carrington, who promptly nudged him hard in the back. He stumbled forward.

She laughed. “Whoops.”

He turned to the horse. “Thank you for making me look like a complete moron in front of the pretty lady.”

Emily laughed. “Don’t blame Carrington. She’s only looking after me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Will turned to face her. Her soft rosy lips were open, showing white teeth and the delicate pink of her tongue. His gaze lingered there, on the mouth he longed to kiss more than anything in the world. The final part of his heart he’d been fighting to keep under lock and key melted. If they had been born in a different time, met under different circumstances, he would have fought to the ends of the earth to make her his, but when he had nothing of substance to offer her, how could he?

She cleared her throat. “Shall we go?”

The embarrassed tone of her voice shook Will from his coma. He blinked. “Of course.”

He held out his hand, and her gloved one slid against his palm. Throwing him a final smile, she stepped up into the gig and settled on the front seat.

He inhaled a shaky breath before walking around to the other side and jumping up beside her. “Ready?”

A strange look passed over her gaze. “As I’ll ever be.”

“What is the mat—” He shook his head. “On second thought, don’t tell me. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.”

They exchanged grins. He couldn’t remember seeing her look so happy. Foolishly hoping he was the one making her that way, he slapped the reins against Carrington’s rump with a thwack, and the gig jerked away, leaving the cobbled street of Royal Crescent behind.

The next half hour passed in silence, punctuated only when either of them commented on the increasing temperature or the ever-changing ladies’ fashions on the clothes-conscious streets of the city. The vivid color of the lush summer trees and flowers served as a further distraction. And, finally, as they left Bath, Will’s shoulders came down from around his ears. The pressure of sitting next to her and not sliding his hand into hers or brushing the hair from her neck was pitiful. The clip-clop of Carrington’s hooves softened as they moved from the streets to the dirt paths leading to the endless countryside surrounding Bath’s borders. The changing smell of soot into lavender and stone to bark soothed the tension in his neck and arms.

He glanced at Emily, and his stomach clenched with anticipation. He had a good idea what this trip would entail and relished the beginning of her interrogation. Every now and then, she turned to him as though to speak but then turned away. Time and again, she took a shaky intake of breath and then released it. He would’ve found it amusing if her obvious discomfort or frustration didn’t bother him so much.

He was no stranger to interrogation, but this was entirely different. Gentlemen whose pockets he’d emptied had questioned him; shopkeepers he’d “borrowed” certain items from demanded explanations. He’d been questioned by the good blue-uniformed, silver-buttoned Bristol constabulary, even stood in front of the wigged personage of a fine upstanding English courtroom, and none of them had come close to bringing a drop of sweat to his brow.

Will was not afraid to admit weaknesses, and his biggest right now was silently preparing to question him. Beautiful, intelligent, and witty, Emily would sooner or later turn her soft, dulcet tones and big chestnut-brown eyes on him, expecting answers. There was no doubt in his mind she suspected his reasons for making her acquaintance had nothing to do with a missing nephew and everything to do with Milne.

He grimaced, but he would tell her all, including the real reason why he was in Bath. Lying to her was not an option. The problem was, once he told her, it was likely he’d lose any chance of making Milne pay for what he did to his mother. Emily might dislike the man, but she didn’t have the coldblooded hate running through her veins he did. Why would a woman as good as her, as visionary as her, want to hurt a man on hearsay? As Laura had challenged him, what tangible proof could he give other than his word that Milne had hurt his mother?

He had the names of the women Laura had given him—who might or might not testify, should the time come—and Katherine’s fragile promise of support. Other than that, it was his word against Milne’s, and Will wasn’t entirely convinced Emily trusted him enough to accept his explanations, despite her revulsion toward the man she was expected to marry.

He swallowed against the bitter taste of failure. Emily didn’t have the image of his mother trying to talk with blood filling her mouth tattooed to her memory. Nor the remembrance of her thin body as she lay in his arms, her skin marked with bruises like black spots painted on with charcoal.

“Will, you’re shaking.”

He jumped as if she’d struck him. He turned.

Fear filled her gaze, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she inched closer and carefully eased the reins from his clenched fists. “Let’s stop and rest awhile. We’ll find some trees to provide some much-needed shade.” A soft smile curved her lips, but concern shone in her coffee-brown stare.

Will forced a smile. “Good idea.”

Her hands shook on the reins as she steered Carrington onward.

Guilt burned behind his breastbone, and he swiped his hands over his face. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. The last thing I want is for you to be afraid of me.”

“Will Samson, stop talking right now.”

He arched an eyebrow in amusement. Never before had a woman told him to be quiet. Well, except his mother. He pursed his lips.

“I could never be afraid of you. Ever. If you want to apologize for your unforgivable silence for the last half hour, on the other hand, I completely understand. Don’t you know a lady likes to be entertained by a gentleman if he takes her out driving for the day?”

He smiled. “I rather thought etiquette wouldn’t be relevant on this trip.”

She turned. “Whyever not?”

Will fell headlong into her gaze. She wanted something from him, yet still cared enough to literally take the reins. She handled Carrington with ease, even though something real and tangible gathered momentum between them. Something that would either erupt and destroy or envelop and protect.

Will stared at her mouth and shook his head. “Ignore me. I’m teasing. I want to thank you.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and time suspended as they continued along the road, neither of them watching nor caring what was ahead. Seconds ticked by as fate waited for one of them to close those few vital inches between them. She wet her lips and turned away, staring straight ahead. “For what?”

Will followed the direction of her gaze as his heart pounded with the trepidation of taking the next step. “For getting me away from Bath for a while.”

“You needed some time away?”

“Something like that…but more, I wanted to spend some time alone with you.”

Silence.

He glanced at her. Her cheeks shone pink. He hoped with pleasure. “You’re my friend at best, my host at worst.” He swallowed. “Unless, you see us as more than that. In which case—”

“You are a”—a smile lifted the corner of her mouth—“a friend, I think. A friend who has come into my life for a reason, and it is that reason I want to uncover. Right here. Right now.”

The time had come. She wanted answers. Nerves stole into his belly. He could no longer deny what she meant to him, and if he told her the real reason he’d infiltrated her family home…The thought of disappointment in her eyes should she discover how he deceived her for the last three weeks caught like a spike in his chest. The tenderness in her gaze would be replaced with mistrust, her laughter with contempt.

He forced a laugh. “Do you know you can be quite scary sometimes?”

She grinned, her chestnut eyes wide with feigned innocence as she looked at him. “Me? How could I ever be scary? You, of all people, can handle anything and anyone—”

The carriage hit something hard and unyielding and lurched to the side. Will reached for the reins but was too late.

“Will!” Emily cried. “We’re falling!”

Carrington whinnied her protest, and as they began to tumble into a ditch beside them, Will gripped Emily’s waist, lifting her into his arms. The gig sharply tipped and her bottom came down on his thighs, and he curled his body around her like a protective cage.

Will’s back hit the ground with a harsh thump, almost knocking the wind from him as Emily stared down at him, shock mixed with disbelief and, unbelievably, a hint of laughter. Will’s heart raced, but the relief Emily was still in his arms was all that concerned him. Somewhere in the distance of his mind, he was aware that Carrington had got loose of her trappings and paced back and forth, neighing and far from happy.

He touched her face, checking for injury. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Thanks to you.” The tone of her voice slid over his skin like a soothing balm. Soft and husky, full of invitation and raw femininity. Neither made a move to extract themselves from the other’s embrace as Will lay on his back, her atop him. With her dark tresses loosened from their pins and her hat askew, she’d never looked so unkempt or beautiful. Will’s blood heated as the atmosphere changed from shock to hot needful attraction. Her breasts were pressed enticingly against the thin cotton of his shirt, and her pelvis lay level with his. The first whispers of arousal brushed over his skin and through his blood. Their bodies fit like two pieces of a whole, and Will didn’t want to let her go. He drank in the sight of her, knowing this blessed moment of holding her ticked away with each passing second.

“Kiss me, Will.”

He looked to her soft pink lips, open and waiting. His penis ached and hardened. His heartbeat pounded. The deepening color of her cheeks told him she felt his need, yet she didn’t move away. They were alone. He wanted her. This was a situation more dangerous than him, Milne, and a loaded gun. This was suicide.

“Emily—”

She relaxed her body into his. “Don’t talk. Just kiss me before I start to think. Please.”

He ran his gaze over her hair, her face, and finally her mouth. Taking his hands from her body, he cupped her jaw and drew her closer. With a final look into her eyes, Will covered her mouth with his and closed his eyes. She sighed into his mouth, and her fingers slid into his hair. Will shivered and increased the pressure of his lips; when her mouth dropped open, his tongue sought hers. She hesitated, and fear struck Will’s heart that she would struggle from his arms in disgust, leaving him flailing in the grass, scared of never again feeling the way he did then. Instead, her tongue gently, tentatively touched his, and he groaned knowing she was taking a risk—a risk that meant she trusted him, trusted him not to deceive her, trusted him never to tell they had kissed while lying in the grass alone on the side of a country road. Even though guilt over deceiving her in other ways cruelly seared his heart, she was right to trust him. He held her tighter. Heat and passion were offered and accepted. Will’s body awoke with a need to make love to her and worship every inch of her, inside and out.

She broke away.

Her heart beat against his as she stared, her wonderful chestnut eyes wide and her breathing heavy. He wanted to shout out No! and grab her to him once more, but instead, Will forced a smile and reached up to remove a stray length of grass from her hair. “Well, that was…”

An anxious smile twitched her lips. “Nice.”

She hastily touched her lips to his once more before rolling to the side and gently falling from his body onto the grass, the broken wheel and panel from the carriage not three feet away from her. Lying side by side, Will turned his cheek into the roughness of the grass, reluctant to stop watching her for a single moment.

“You make me feel different, Will.” Her voice was quiet as she turned and met his eyes.

“Different in a good way, I hope.”

She smiled. “Yes.”

“Then I’m glad.”

She turned her gaze back to the sky. “You’re exciting. Strong.” Her cheeks darkened. “When I’m with you, you make me think bigger, act bigger. I want to spend every spare moment I have feeling this way.”

His heart constricted. “What are you saying?”

She faced him. “I don’t know.”

His gaze wandered over her face as the words he wanted to say to her lodged like rocks in his throat. Every possible emotion rolled around inside him, and he swallowed hard. How could he confess his feelings without telling her everything? If he did that…she would never again look at him as she was at this moment. “Emily—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t. Don’t say anything. Neither of us needs to say anything. We know what’s happening, but it’s impossible. It hasn’t any future. Let’s just enjoy this time. Enjoy it for today.”

Their eyes locked, and her smile faltered. “I can’t go through with it, Will. I can’t marry Nicholas.” She pushed up onto her elbow and stared down at him. “I don’t know why, but I suspect you’re the key to my freedom. Or am I just a fool?”

Relief rushed through him at the same time as desperation ripped at his soul. He would give anything to stop her wedding going ahead—he would ensure it—but like a wounded man who needed healing, he had to know if she felt for him what he did for her. Was she fighting it as much as he was? He’d survived most of his life under a cloak of invisibility, not letting anyone close enough to see inside or hurt him. Known around Bristol as a chameleon, in Bath he’d met a woman who tossed aside his masquerade like it was nothing, leaving him naked and hers for the taking.

He closed his eyes, dropping a curtain over his thoughts. “No, you’re not a fool.”

“You know Nicholas, don’t you? There is something so rotten between you, I smell it emanating between you whenever you are in the same room. You can close your eyes, but you can’t hide from me. I am not going anywhere until I know everything.” Her breath hitched. “Please. You have to help me.”

Will’s eyes snapped open, and his heart lurched violently to see her eyes glistening with tears in the sunlight. “God, don’t cry.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You cry and I’ll come undone.”

She swiped at her eyes. “Please. Tell me how you know him.”

Milne’s face crashed once more into Will’s world like a cannonball, destroying and maiming everything in its path. Fire roared in his gut, and he swallowed the heat in his throat. “I promise I will tell you everything, just not yet. The time is not now. You have to trust me.”

She rolled onto her back. “Even you won’t help me.”

“I will. I will do everything in my power to help you.” He touched his fingers to her chin and moved her head until their eyes met. “Trust me.”

“How can I? Nicholas is two different people most of the time, and I don’t know who you are or who you’re pretending to be either. I have two men in my life whom I don’t truly know or trust.”

Will rolled onto his back, clasped her hand that lay between them. The sky was azure blue with only one or two wispy white clouds breaking its perfection. “The less you know right now, the better.”

“Why?”

His mother’s face appeared above him, and anger once more assaulted Will’s senses. “Milne has ruined enough lives. He will not ruin yours. If he suspects you know anything that could be the undoing of him and his fortune, God only knows what he will do to you. I will not risk that happening.”

Fear and loathing pumped through his veins. Fear he couldn’t resist her; loathing he could never have her. Cupid’s arrow had shot across an auction room and struck him straight in the heart the second she winked at him. Should he tell her? Confess he approached her as a playing piece in his plan for Milne’s ruin?

Feeling like the biggest fraudster in the world and hating the irony of it, Will kept his gaze steady with hers. “I have feelings for you, Emily. Real feelings.”

A blush covered her face and her eyes danced. “You have feelings for me? Truly?”

He smiled, his heart aching. “Yes.”

She looked deep into his eyes. “And I you, but no matter what we feel for each other, it is silly to think anything will ever come of it. Even though I want to find a way out of marrying Nicholas, another part of me is bound by loyalty to my father’s lifework. We have to find a way to honor him, or else I fear I will never be free.”

“Your father does not want this marriage to go ahead any more than you do.”

“No, he doesn’t, but he is dying, and desperation has him grasping at anything to save me from an unhappy life. If Nicholas were a decent man—”

“He’s not.” Will tightened his jaw. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“So what will we do, Mr. Samson?” She lifted her eyebrows. “And will we do it before or after you find your elusive nephew?”

He hesitated before hanging his head. “Ah.”

She laughed. “Yes, ah.”

He blew out a defeated breath. “Fine. That I can tell you. The nephew does not exist.”

“I knew it!”

“I needed an excuse.”

“An excuse? To move into my home?”

He grimaced. “I wanted to see you again but had no idea how.”

“So you invented a nephew and lodged a room?”

He nodded. “Sorry.”

She burst into laughter, her eyes shining. “Don’t you dare be sorry. It’s ingenious…and incurably romantic.”

Smiling, he tucked a fallen lock of hair behind her ear. “Then kiss me, Miss Darson. Kiss me until you cannot kiss me anymore.”