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After Emalyn’s breathy“Yes!” he kissed her, the feel of her body against him making his heart soar and his head spin. He stroked her face, then pulled her onto his lap, the stool creaking beneath them, where she curled against him with the sweetest sigh he had ever heard.
“How did this happen?” she whispered.
Philip toyed with the braid that hung down her back, the urge to loosen it, to tangle his fingers in those curls almost consuming him. “After last Christmas, my parents and your mother went on a campaign to convince us that this foolish infatuation would pass as soon as we matured and met other people.” He did not intend to tell her about the visit with Cassandra—ever. But as soon as he said the words, he saw the recognition in her eyes. “Once my father became convinced I could not be swayed, he approached your father with a different idea. My father is a powerful man who has the ear of the king as well as the prince. His word carries weight. He set about convincing the prince—especially with the rumors of war—that merchants like your father were vital to the British economy. And specifically that your father was the perfect man to expand the wine-making business here in England. But such a man would need land, and to hold land, he would need to become a denizen.”
Her eyes gleamed. “Which means I will be too.”
“If you wish.”
“Your father did this for us?”
Philip coughed. “Um... my father seldom does anything with a solitary motive. He was most sincere about such merchants helping to stabilize the economy. And since he has invested in your family’s business—”
She sat up away from him. “He has?”
“Oh, yes.”
“So this would be a merger of business as well as families.”
Philip nodded. “There is something else as well.”
“What?”
“Once your mother has been informed, my parents intend to sponsor you for a season in London. To introduce you into Society, so thetoncan see their future duchess—”
Emalyn pushed out of his lap and stood up, her face caught in a tight scowl.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head furiously, holding her hands out in front of her. “I cannot do that!”
He went to her, but she continued to back away. “Why not?”
“They will hate me!”
“Not once they got to know you.”
“But I’m not one of them. No matter what the king says—”
“Oh, I assure you what the king says will carry a great deal of weight. And the prince. I’m sure we can arrange for him to dance with you at one of the—”
Emalyn paled. “I cannot dance!”
Philip stared at her. “You had a governess who did not teach you to dance?”
“It’s not an important skill where I am from.” She put a hand on one hip, and Philip recognized the sign—Emalyn was about to switch from fearful to defensive. “I can do some Andalusian folk dances. They will find me lack—”
“Then I’ll teach you.”
She stilled. “What?”
He shrugged. “I will teach you. To dance... and other things.” Philip stroked her cheek with one finger. “Unless you would rather avoid my company.”
Emalyn stared at him a few moments, then swallowed hard. “I—I would rather not ever be without you again.”
“Then we will do everything we can to make that happen. Do you trust me?”
She nodded, and he looked around. “This room is not what I had in mind for the first time I take you into my bed.” He heard the sharp hiss from Emalyn and faced her again. “Unless you would prefer to wait.”
