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Sam watched her with narrowed eyes. She was wearing a demure white and pink dress today, and the sight provoked him. Pink made her look like a silly society lady, a woman who would never be able to make a decision for herself, when he knew that the opposite was the truth. She was a strong woman, the strongest he’d ever met.
“There’s Emmie,” Vale exclaimed.
Had her fiancé ever looked at the grown woman? Evidently not, or he’d never call her such a girlish name as Emmie. Sam felt his hostility grow. She was like a sister to Vale, nothing more. And while love for a sister might be true and deep, it wasn’t passion. Emeline was a strong woman with intense emotions. She needed more than brotherly love.
She’d seen him. He knew that, although she pretended otherwise, her head turned away as she talked to their hostess. Emeline was always aware of where he was. He should’ve taken that as a sign. He should’ve known, just from that one fact: he couldn’t hide from her, even if he wanted to.
“Emmie!” Vale called to her and winced at the sound of his own voice. “Damn me, why doesn’t she see us?”
But she looked toward them then, though she was careful not to meet Sam’s eyes. She made a last comment to Lady Hasselthorpe and squared her shoulders before walking toward their table.
“Good morning, Jasper. Mr. Hartley.”
Vale reached for her hand, and Sam’s fingers fisted under the table. “Can you ever forgive me, Emmie? I’m ashamed I was such a drunken oaf last night.”
She smiled sweetly, making Sam immediately suspicious. “Of course I can forgive you, Jasper. You are always so appreciative.”
Sam was sure he’d not imagined her emphasis on the second you. He cleared his throat, trying to draw her attention, but she was resolute in her determination not to look at him. “Please. Sit with us.”
She couldn’t ignore him speaking directly to her without drawing attention. Emeline smiled tightly at him. “I don’t think—”
“Yes, yes! Have a seat,” Vale cried. “I’ll go get you a plate.”
A flicker of pure exasperation crossed Emeline’s face. “I—”
But she was too late. Vale was already up and bounding over to the sideboard. Sam smiled and pulled out the chair between his and Vale’s seat. “He’s left you no choice.”
“Humph.” She flounced into the chair, pointedly tilting her chin away from him.
Strangely, this made him come achingly erect. He leaned toward her, hoping to catch her scent. “I’m sorry I pushed you away last night.”
Her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink, and she finally looked at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He watched her dark eyes. “I refer to you sitting on my lap, my lady, and sticking your tongue in my mouth.”
“Are you mad?” she asked low. “You cannot speak about that here.”
“Not that I didn’t appreciate sucking on your sweet tongue.”
o;But it isn’t,” he murmured as his face drew close to hers. “You don’t know me.”
“I do. I—” She had meant to say that she knew him better than any man alive, even Jasper, but his lips covered hers.
He kissed her tenderly, his mouth soft, and she swallowed sorrow from his kiss. Why this man? Why not some other man of her own rank, of her own country? She took his face in between her hands and pushed her mouth on his, and her mouth wasn’t soft or gentle. What she wanted from him wasn’t a gentle thing. She licked across his lips, tasting salt, then forced her tongue into his mouth. She turned her upper body and pressed herself against him without any artifice, a wanton woman. He broke then. His arms wrapped about her back, and he pulled her fully into his chest, holding her tightly as his tongue slid against hers. She felt the drying tears on her face, she felt the ridge of his organ, even through all the intervening clothes, and she felt an answering feminine thrill.
And then she felt him push her away.
She grasped his shoulders to keep from falling in the basin of water. “What—?”
“Go.”
His face was dark, working with some emotion. Had she misunderstood his interest? But, no, looking at his lap, it was all too evident that he’d been fully engaged in their kiss. Then why...?
“Go!”
He picked her up, placed her on her feet, and shoved her unceremoniously toward the door. “Go.”
And Emeline found herself outside Samuel’s room. She fled down the hall, her skirts dripping bloody water and her heart overflowing with pain.
