AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She worked her bottom lip again, pondering. “What does it take?”
“Hmm?” He practically groaned his mumbled response.
“You said it takes a bit more than lying next to a man. I should like to know what it takes, so I’m on guard lest you try it.”
At that, his eyes shot open. “Obviously, your mother has not prepared you for your upcoming marriage. However, speaking about such things while we are both lying in bed together would not be conducive to preserving your innocence. I suggest you drop the subject and try to get some sleep. You have my word as a gentleman that I won’t do anything to compromise you.”
Did he not realize that merely being alone with him had compromised her beyond repair?
And yet, she still wondered what thatanythingwould be.
* * *
Emma’s questionshad done nothing to aid in Timothy’s attempt to sleep. In fact, once she’d brought it up, even in his weakened state, all he could think about was making love to her. He turned on his side away from her in case she glanced down and noticed the rise of the counterpane beneath his stomach.
Damnation!
How could he become excited when he felt like bloody hell? Every muscle ached, and yet he still yearned to hold her in his arms and kiss her senseless, then bury himself deep within her. He struggled to push the thoughts from his fevered mind.
Was she really so innocent as to believe she could become pregnant by simply lying next to a man? Mothers did their daughters a disservice by not explaining things. Or perhaps that was their intent—filling girls’ minds with such nonsense to keep them from placing themselves in what could be precarious situations. He stole a peek over his shoulder at Emma.
She had moved from her previously straight position to being curled in a tight ball, her slim body trembling. Why hadn’t she crawled beneath the covers?
He rose, relieved when the vertigo remained at bay, then hobbled to the fire to stir it to life.
She’d done an adequate job for someone who had never started a fire. Everything about her puzzled him. She was obviously a woman of gentle breeding, used to having servants tend to basic needs such as preparing food and fires, and yet she’d delivered a baby. Nothing made sense to him.
His military training kicked in. Cautious to take anything at face value or trust in anyone’s word, he wondered how much she had told him was truthful. And why did she only provide her Christian name?
When he tried to rouse her and encourage her to get beneath the covers, she merely moaned and rolled over. But it was enough for him to scoot the counterpane from beneath her and replace it on top. She sighed with pleasure, which did nothing for the desire he continued to tamp down.
After climbing back into bed next to her, he pulled the counterpane over himself. Emma snuggled up next to him, pressing her body to his.
God help him. It would be one of the longest nights of his life. But the softness of her next to him was a torture he both cursed and welcomed. He stared at the flickering light on the ceiling until the candle sputtered out and his eyelids grew heavy.
Dull throbbing of his ankle roused him from his slumber. A rooster crowed, probably mourning the loss of the hen they’d consumed in the stew the evening before. He cautiously cracked one eye open. Orange light of dawn filtered into the small room from the slit in the window curtains.
Mercifully, the pain in his ear subsided. His head no longer pounded, and the inferno blazing inside his body from the prior evening had died out, leaving him feeling comfortably cool except for the heat generated from the body next to him.
Emma’s arm draped casually across his chest. She had snuggled next to him with her head against his shoulder, the gentle rhythmic rise and fall of her abdomen indicative of someone in deep slumber.
With a finger, he stroked her cheek, barely brushing the delicate skin. Her long eyelashes fluttered, and her lips twitched upward. His only thought—Mr. Netherborne was a lucky man. He pushed that aside, reminding himself he had given up on the notion of love and romance.
She wasn’t his to lie next to, hold in his arms, or kiss her delectable lips. Yet here he was, doing all but the last. He should remove himself from the temptation all together. Yet, what would be the harm in remaining a few more moments while she slept?
Moments turned to minutes and before he knew it, the sun had fully risen and shone brightly, reflecting off the snow-covered ground outside and illuminating the small room. Emma’s breathing changed from slow and even to quick and shallow, and her eyes moved beneath her lids.
She stretched against him, the sensation of her body so close to his doing nothing to assist in his resolve to be a gentleman.
With thumb and index finger, he carefully lifted a stray, blond lock of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “Good morning.”
* * *
Priscilla had been havingthe most pleasant of dreams. Timothy held her in his arms and was preparing to kiss her.
His voice, no longer hoarse and raspy, whispered in her ear, “Good morning.”
“Hmm,” she moaned. She pressed against him. Still lost in her dream, her mind had not quite processed his words. What was he waiting for? She wanted that kiss. “Kiss me.”
