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He buried his face in her hair, and her heart jolted.
“You speak as if the night is over. Is it your habit to forget promises?”
I’ll keep my cock buried in you all night long, and I will not hold back with you.
Not over as she’d thought.
Just the beginning.
Emma awoke silently. The heat of the body curved behind her made her realize the graphic images blaring through her mind had not been a dream. She had made love with Elliot, over and over before sliding into an exhausted slumber. She listened to the rise and fall of his chest and determined by his steady breathing that he slept. She twisted gently to face him, bracing herself for the impact. It rose in a sweet, gentle swell, sensations she hardly knew what to do with. She smiled, unsure of what she expected. He seemed so fierce and raw when awake…now he looked at peace. Her smile grew wider. She had given him that. Peace, and without a doubt, mind blowing pleasure. Heat crawled up her face as she remembered the praises he had whispered to her, hot explicit praises and promises as he took her for the night.
This is goodbye, Elliot. A few weeks from now she would be on a ship to America.
Raw, visceral emotions tore through her, grief scalded the back of her throat, and her senses reeled. She burned to wake him and kiss him, just once more, though she suspected no matter what she experienced with Elliot, it would never be enough. She gingerly eased from the bed, wincing at how her body ached. Emma gathered her clothes and went behind the dressing frame. Her legs ached, and she desperately wanted a warm compress. She took a steadying breath and dressed without the aid of a maid. Perhaps she could ring for assistance, but that would certainly wake Elliot.
From time to time she paused to peek around the frame to ensure his breathing remained steady. She wondered what to do. Did she leave him a note thanking him for the incredible night? What would he do when he woke and found her gone? Would he wonder who she was and want to see her again? Emma shook the fancy away. Not once for the long night had he mentioned anything that suggested he would want to know more about her. Clearly, he was used to liaisons such as these, and it was foolish for her throat to burn so. But she could not help feeling a little deflated that he had not known it was her. That he had been so wild, raw, and intimate with a stranger.
She slipped out of the bedroom and down the empty hallway silently. She had left explicit instructions for the carriage to be ready by five this morning. Thankfully she hadn’t overslept. The sound of light revelry reached her ears, and she paused. The ball was not yet over. Moving gingerly, she started to descend the stairs, ensuring she used the railings for assistance. She swiped at her tears. She was terribly foolish for crying. But it felt like her soul hurt. Being with Elliot was probably a bloody mistake. She grimaced. It felt good to curse. It was breaking her heart to walk away. It physically hurt. To know that she could only have this one night. It would have been better if she’d never known what it could be like in his arms.
A dark shadow climbed the stairs, and it was as the person faltered, she glanced up. Emma froze. Anthony. Oh, God.
Perhaps he would not recognize her in her wig and dress. But perhaps she should not risk passing him so closely. She turned around and started to make her way back up the stairs. Where she would go, she had no notion, for the chamber with the sleeping duke was not an option. Her brother was clearly a guest and would have a chamber. She would wait until he entered his assigned room and then turn back. Perhaps she moved too fast, for her leg knotted, and she slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the cry of pain. She bent, and knead the muscles of her calf, deeply, working out that tight knot of anguish. The pain eased, and she breathed a soft sigh. Profound relief swept through her that it hadn’t turned into an episode.
“Emma?”
His shocked tone arrested her retreat. Dear God, how had he recognized me?
She straightened and slowly turned.
“What are you doing here?”
She could think of no possible reply. Her brother wiped his hand over his face slowly, shook his head, and stared at her unblinking. Dark blue eyes so like hers shifted up to the hallway behind her, and his gaze remained there for long, silent moments. Why was he at Lady Waverly’s country manor. She and Maryann had asked him on separate occasions, and he had said he would be in town. Her heart pounded as she watched Anthony’s face while he processed the fact that his sister had obviously just come from one of those chambers, and it did not require a genius to deduce which one. This man was her older brother, one of her onl
y safe anchors in her world, and she hated the pain that chased across his features. Even if it was unwarranted.
“Anthony, I—”
He slashed his hands, and her words tapered off. His gaze swung back to her, no doubt taking in her tear-stained face, her mussed hair, her swollen lips, the love bites trailing from the globe of her breasts toward her neck, and her scandalous red dress. Something vicious moved across his face, and she flinched.
“Did you tell him no?” he asked gently even though she could see the dark anger in his eyes.
She jerked. Was he asking her if Elliot took advantage? “I beg your pardon?”
“Did you try to tell him no, Emma? Did he seduce you?” Anthony demanded with lethal softness. Save the furious working of his jaw, he was still as he stared at her.
Her throat tightened. “What are you asking me, Anthony? Elliot is your friend, are you really asking me if he forced his attentions on me?” She could hardly credit her brother was wondering such a ghastly thing.
Something violent moved in his gaze. “Answer the bloody question, Emma.”
She stepped down a few steps, angrier than she’d ever been toward him. “I will not just answer your bloody question,” she snarled.
He raised his brow at her curse words, but she powered ahead. “How dare you insinuate Elliot would do something so disgusting?”
“I did not mean it like that,” he growled.
“Then what did you mean it as?” she demanded, incensed.
“Devil take it, I know his reputation is not rumors. We’re friends.”
