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“Amor vincit omnia,” she said. Then, realizing Edith would not know the Latin, she translated, “Love conquers all.”
“But whose ring is it?” she asked.
Emma placed it back inside its box. “’Twas Richard Caiser’s ring.”
The girl’s eyes widened, with good reason.
Sara’s father, the powerful earl she’d heard so much about but never met, was still revered by all at Kenshire. The day Sara had shown her this ring, she’d talked fondly about the father she’d lost just before meeting Geoffrey.
“What does it mean?”
Emma gripped the box so tightly her fingers ached. “Everything,” she said.
With that, she set the box down on the table, and hugged Edith with all her might. After wishing her a good evening and thanking her for all that she’d done, she saw her out.
The door closed and Emma whispered aloud, “It means she knows. She knows . . . and approves.”
The ring would welcome Garrick into their family just as surely as Emma was about to welcome him into her bedchamber and her life. And if the soft rapping on the door was any indication, she would be doing so now.
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Garrick blinked when she opened the door. Could this woman truly be his?
A long, black braid fell over the front of her shoulder in stark contrast to the chemise beneath it. She blinked back, and not for the first time that night, Garrick reminded himself that Emma was a virgin still. His fierce need for her would need to be curbed.
“Good evening, my lady.”
She stood to one side, allowing him entry. “Lord Clave.”
Enveloped in the dark chamber, Garrick moved toward the soft glow of the fire in the corner of the room. Nay, not completely dark. Candle after candle spread soft light onto the bed and a table on the opposite corner of the hearth. He could sense Emma behind him.
Turning, he watched as she moved closer. Willing himself not to grab her, tear off the only barrier between them, and make love to her immediately, Garrick reached for the pewter tankard on the table instead. “Wine?”
She nodded, and he filled two goblets, handing her one. They drank in silence, the liquid running down his throat, sweet and smooth.
“Are you nervous?”
“Perhaps a bit,” she said, taking a small sip.
“You should not be,” he said. “You’ll find only pleasure in this bedchamber tonight, Emma.”
When she licked a drop of wine from her lip, Garrick looked away.
“Do you remember the first meal we shared at The Wild Boar?” he asked. The urge to reach for her, to touch her, was so strong Garrick’s knuckles ached with it.
“Of course. ’Twas when I told you Edith could not continue—”
“And you accused me of having poor eyesight.”
“Hmm. I remember.”
“I had not kept my purpose for traveling to Scotland a secret intentionally.” He glanced at her. “Until that night.”
A loud crack, a log being broken in half, demanded their attention. Watching it fall, Garrick continued, “I nearly told you the truth then, but something stopped me.”
“Something?”
“I wanted to be alone with you. Kissing you was the first thing I thought about when I learned Edith would not be continuing with us. Holding you in my arms and giving in to the temptation that had plagued me since the moment we met. And, God forgive me, I remained silent.”
