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“Oh, he’s Edgar now?”
Emily clenched her hands together. She was almost at her limit as well. She was tired and cold and her leg still hurt—damn it. “Will,” she said softly. “Come here.” She indicated the empty space on the seat beside her. She thought he might refuse, but he crossed the coach quickly and with surprising agility, considering the vehicle was moving rather quickly. As soon as he took his seat, she was grateful for the additional warmth he gave and couldn’t resist leaning closer to him. There was the scent of bergamot and oranges. She loved that scent, wanted to close her eyes and bury her nose in his shirt. She was wearing his coat, and she’d often put her nose close to the wool superfine to inhale his scent while she’d been imprisoned in the cottage. Having part of him there had soothed her.
Now she reached out and took his hands. “I’m not hurt. At least not hurt any more than I was. That man—Edgar—scared me but he didn’t hurt me.”
He let out a breath, and she realized he’d been afraid for her. “What happened?” he asked.
She began to explain how she’d been dozing under the cart, shivering and trying to keep warm when she heard the sound of someone moving through the woods. The branches on the ground cracked under foot as the person moved toward her. She’d wished then that she had some sort of weapon. She’d been terrified it might be the Irish separatists. She hoped, against reason, that it was Will coming back. She knew it couldn’t be him, and she kept very still and shrank into the darkest recess of her shelter.
And then she’d screamed when a man’s face appeared at the opening. He’d covered his ears and his face had disappeared. Emily had searched for a weapon of some sort, found a stick, and brandished it the next time his face filled the opening. He’d grabbed it and thrown it away, and she’d screamed again, causing him to cover one ear. He used his other hand to grasp her hand and haul her out. She might have fought, but her injured thigh knocked against the edge of the cart and she reeled in pain. She’d gone to her knees, and that was when he’d picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder as though she were a sack of flour. She’d tried to call for help, to call for Will, but she couldn’t make much of a sound when she was hanging upside down. And then she’d been too busy fighting the low-hanging branches that tangled in her hair or her clothing and tore at her.
Finally, she’d seen a field below her, then a road, and then what looked like the sort of gravel one might use for a drive. She’d looked up and spotted a cottage, and that was when she’d grown nervous again. The man had pushed open the door, carrying her inside, and Emily had begun to fight. She’d been terrified he’d rape her or murder her. When he’d put her on the bed, she’d tried to kick him, but though her good leg made contact with his chest, he didn’t seem to feel any pain.
“I tried to get away from him,” she told Will, whose face had gone rather pale, “but every time I tried to rise, he would gently push me back down. Finally, I realized he wouldn’t hurt me. He just wanted me to stay where he’d put me. It was as though I were a doll or a dog. He wanted me right there and I had better not move.”
Emily closed her eyes, finding this part of her ordeal easier to relate. “I finally realized he wouldn’t hurt me. He gave me bread and water and didn’t try to touch me. After several hours, I fell asleep, and when I woke up this morning, he was still there, refusing to let me go. I started talking to him then. He seemed tounderstand as I told him I was the queen’s lady-in-waiting, and Her Majesty needed me at the palace. I told him the queen would send soldiers to search for me, and he should allow me to go. If he let me go, he wouldn’t be in trouble. He definitely did not like the idea of being in trouble.”
“What did he do when his mother returned home?”
She remembered the pounding on the door and the woman’s voice. “I thought that might be his mother. He just covered his ears and waited for her to go away.” Emily swallowed and blinked at the stinging behind her eyes. Instantly, she was in Will’s arms, being held tightly.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” he said, his hand caressing her hair, his voice low and soothing. She pressed her face into his chest and listened to the steady beating of his heart. She was surrounded by the warmth and scent of him, and she never wanted to leave this cocoon of his embrace.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just needed a moment.” Now was the time she should push away. Now was the time she should move back to her side of the seat. She should tell him to move back to his seat.
But she didn’t.
“I understand,” he said. “Up until that point you had been waiting for something to happen, someone to come. And then she came, and nothing changed, and you were afraid you might never escape.”
He did understand. She looked up at him. “It wasn’t rational. He couldn’t keep me forever, but I was so tired and my leg hurt and—”
“I would have never left you. I would have torn every building apart, upended every rock, searched every haystack until I found you.”
Their gazes met. “I know,” she said. “That knowledge was all that kept me from panicking. I knew you’d come for me.”
There had never been a doubt in her mind about Willoughby Galloway. He might have had his suspicions about her, but he’d more than proven himself to Emily. She slid a hand through his hair and cupped the back of his neck, gently tugging his mouth down to hers.
He needed no inducement. His lips were gentle and probing. He was being careful with her, and she didn’t want careful in that moment. She wanted to feel alive. She wanted to feel free again. She parted her lips and when he did the same, she teased him with a flick of her tongue. She felt his arms tighten on her, but that was the only sign he was affected. He was remarkably restrained, even as she kissed him deeper, exploring and tasting and tangling with his tongue.
He kissed her back, teasing her as she had him, then kissing her with a passion that left her reeling. The whole world seemed to be spinning as his mouth took hers, and when he moved to kiss her neck, she opened her eyes and realized she was lying on her back.
The carriage’s curtains were closed, making the interior a soft gray, but she could see the painting of a Scottish landscape on the ceiling and could almost imagine they were there—away from London and Court and all of the awfulness of the past days.
His mouth trailed down to her bodice, his hot breath making her nipples ache through the layers of undergarments. She wanted these wrinkled, dirty clothes off more than she could say, but it was almost impossible in these close confines. What was not impossible was for Will to slide her drawers off, ruck up her skirts, and bury himself inside her. She wanted that, wanted to feel him moving within her as their breathing came faster and faster with pleasure.
His hand was under her skirts, stroking her good leg. She wanted him to move higher, opened her mouth to tell him totake off her drawers, and then she clenched her hands and forced herself to slow down.
Will felt the change in her immediately. He lifted his head from her breast and looked up at her. “What’s wrong? Should I stop?”
“No,” she said, “but yes?”
He raised a brow.
“I’m sorry. That was unclear. It’s just that I do want you—”
“But not here.”
“Not like this. Not for our first time.”
