Page 35 of Vanquishing the Viscount

All the same, she went to the window and pushed it open farther, grateful for the faint breeze that caressed her face. The heat generated by his body seemed in some alchemical way to have transferred itself to her own.

But it was no ague she was suffering from. It was desire, pure and simple—the totally inappropriate urge to run her hands over his hot, silken flesh, to press her lips to his fevered brow, and in return feel his caressing fingers on her skin.

Her heart sped up as the lustful ideas all but overwhelmed her. How could the sight of a man’s half-naked body arouse such intense feelings? She was completely taken by surprise.

She knew many women thought Charles Keane the model of male beauty and magnetism, with his angelic good looks and knowing smile. Yet James affected her at a much deeper level than Charles ever could. The viscount had a power of attraction lacking in Charles, though he seemed not to be aware of it.

That power spoke to her now and drew her in.

But she needed to fight it. Attraction between them would do neither of them any good whatsoever. She was now a nobody in the eyes of society, because she had gone into service. And James was so far above her, he’d be vilified if anything ever happened between them. Just as Charles had been by his father.

Elias’s handsome visage flashed in front of her eyes, and she felt the familiar pull of humiliation. Why, oh why, did all beautiful men have to be so vain, so fickle? How could she possibly trust any man as tempting as James ever again? Pushing abruptly away from the window, she made for the door, refraining from glancing at the man in the bed. “Rest now,” she commanded. “I’ll be in the passageway if you need me.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I’ll try to sleep.”

She closed the door and pressed her back against it, breathing hard. After a moment, she blinked, shook her head, and settled back down on her chair. Turning up her lamp, she shuffled through the books she’d brought to while away the hours of her vigil and selected a book of sermons by the Reverend John Clark.

Anything to distract her from the possibility that she was attracted to James Markham, Viscount Tidworth.

And—heaven forbid—was even beginning to like him.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Emma’s cheek was pressed against James’s chest. His hand was in her hair, stroking and tugging, pulling her head back so he could kiss her. Even as she felt the touch of his lips upon her mouth, her hand roved greedily across his taut muscles, toyed with and pinched the fascinating male nipples with their halo of hair. He groaned against her mouth, and his tongue, hot and slick, probed her lips, then penetrated and invaded her.

She pushed up, pressing her body hard against him, her tongue working with his, finding a rhythm that satisfied them both, stoking their mutual desire higher and higher.

Thud.

Suddenly, she was awake, her heart thumping painfully. It took her a moment to realize where she was, but when she looked down and saw her book lying open on the floor, she remembered.

She remembered the dream, as well.

So much for the Reverend Clark’s edifying sermons!

Thump.

This time the sound came from James’s room. Fearful he’d fallen out of his bed, she dashed in and found him sitting on the edge of it, trying—and failing—to find his way back into his nightshirt.

“Wait. I’ll help you.”

It was a bit of a battle, but they achieved it together, and he lay back on his pillows, his face pallid.

“Would you like some water?” She was still sleepy, and too confused by her dream to think of offering anything else.

“No. Too cold. More blankets, please.”

She collected up some blankets and tucked them around him. A spasm shook his body, eliciting a groan.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she examined his face closely. “James, are you in pain?” she asked.

He shivered again, then looked at her with a puzzled frown. “Why’s it so damned cold in here? What is this place?”

“Tresham Hall. You were taken ill.”

“Is it always freezing in this house?”

“I’ll make up the fire directly,” she promised, leaping up to fetch the bellows.