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"I don't. . . I don't want anyone to know me like this."
"Little liar. I know very well what you want." He pressed his body against her, rolling her to her stomach.
When his fingers slid out of her, she sobbed. But he quickly made it better. He pulled her to her knees and was sliding deep inside her before she could even think to ask for it.
He did know her, knew her so well he could bring her to climax within a few heartbeats or keep her on the edge for a full hour. This morning he was clearly taking advantage of this knowledge; her body was flying fast toward its peak, pushed by his brutal strokes and powerful grip. Within minutes they'd both collapsed to the bed, sweat-slick and gasping.
Emma cleared her throat, knowing she'd be hoarse again today. She blushed to think of the servants who must have heard her.
"I'm done humoring you," Hart gasped. "We'll marry in one month. I'll post the banns tomorrow."
She laughed in disbelief. "Post banns? Surely you can afford a special license. Not that I'll marry you."
"I'll post them in all the London papers. I'm proud of you and I'll not have anyone think otherwise. No special license."
"Hart, nothing has changed."
"Everything has changed. You're in my home, in my bed every night. Careful as we are, you could be carrying our child right now. And I love you. I love you."
She shook her head, pressing her lips tight together.
"You're afraid, Emma. Just afraid. But I am a risk worth taking. You claim to think I will be spectacularly unfaithful, but put that gambler's brain to use. I'm a man of strong physical needs, but I'm clearly a romantic at heart. For God's sake, I proposed to someone else's mistress in a fit of irrepressible love!"
Emma held back an unwilling smile.
"Yes, I've been with many women, but. . . Emma?" He touched her chin and gently turned her face toward his, caught her in that sky blue gaze. "I was never really with them. I was not there. There is so much more pleasure in trust. I am myself with you and I'd rather die than lose that."
Her eyes burned with tears. She seemed to be constantly close to weeping these days, and surely that was a bad sign. "I am myself with you and it terrifies me."
"Why?"
"I don't—" She choked on the words and had to start again. "I don't want to be him." His thumb stroked her cheek.
"I'm afraid I'll be like him," she said again, relieved to have said it, finally.
"You won't."
She turned away from his touch and buried her face in his shoulder. "I am wicked with you."
"Yes, you are." She shook her head hard.
"Just as you should be. I will be your husband. How sad if you could not be wicked with me."
"Other wives are not—"
"Other husbands are not me. And everyone, Emma . . . everyone wants to be tied up with silk ribbons on occasion."
"You!" she gasped and reared back to hit him. He'd promised never to even mention it. His hands caught hers in an easy grip.
"Everyone," he whispered and kissed her closed lips. His eyes sparkled down at her, inviting her to laugh, and Emma's outrage slowly floated away. Wicked man.
"Even you?" she asked and was rewarded with a slow, wide smile that called to mind fallen angels. His eyes fell to her mouth.
"Even me."
Oh, that might be worth any risk at all. Hart's eyes sparked with triumph. The man could see everything about her. "And children?" she blurted out.
"We will do our best to wait until you're ready. That will be your decision. It is a gamble, but. . . Make this your last, great gamble, Emma." He kissed the knuckles of her left hand. "The best bet you've ever placed. Risk everything on me. Be afraid if you must, Emma, but love me."
