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The idea was not without appeal.
“My monthlies are due any day. We’ll know soon, either way.”
He looked a little relieved and it was like a splinter in her thumb.
“And you don’t have to actually marry me, either way,” she reassured him.
“Gina.” He turned and looked her in the face then. “Don’t you understand? I love you. I cannot breathe without you. Your scent drives me wild. I cannot think straight when you’re around and I want you with me all the time despite that.”
“But I wish to see the world, and you already have.” He had his business, and his family. He needed a wife who would fit into his life in England.
“I need you in my life and in my bed and always near me.” He reached and cupped her face in both his hands before pressing a kiss to her mouth. Sweet, lingering.
Her heart skipped.
“I want you to be my wife and if that means us traveling the world like nomads, so be it. I care only for you. If you want to travel, we will travel.”
“You mean it?” It was excessive. She’d thought she’d have to give up one or the other: her dreams or her best friend. But here was Emmett, saying she could have both.
“I have been writing to gentlemen and ladies in countries across the world, from New York to Australia. There are many who are interested in licensing my invention. They’ll make the presses locally and pay me a small percentage on each sale. We can excuse these as business trips as well as our honeymoon.”
He’d been planning this, she realized. “Are you always a businessman first and foremost? You are inclined to make deals.”
“I cultivated those contacts as an excuse to accompany you on your first trip and be there if you needed someone. Although I don’t have anyone in the southern states of America or any other slavers, so please do not change your opinions on that topic. But yes, I suppose I do like deals. Especially the one we made.”
“It was blackmail,” she teased.
His laughter rolled through the room, warm and reassuring. “It wasn’t blackmail. It was a negotiation. As is this.”
“Very well.” Her heart almost ached. It was so full to the brim with happiness. He was still naked before her. She was too. “Negotiate. Accompany me wherever I wish to go in the world, and keep my secrets. What do you want that’s different from our last deal?”
He tipped his head to the side, as though thinking. “As your husband I need to be able to kiss you. And for you… I still don’t want you to lie to me. Never that.”
Hopefully he’d never find out about her little embroidery lie. Miss Chilson had married clients who continued the facade with their spouses. Gina would just have to do the same, even though it was sandpaper on her skin.
“You decide where we will go, and I will follow you around slavishly.” He trailed his fingertips down her arm. “I want you. Every part, ugly or inelegant or pretty and delicate. Everything, Gina. I’m yours. Will you be mine?”
“I’m already yours.” And that was the truth.
Emmett had missed almostevery shot all day, and he didn’t care, not even a bit. He’d been too busy mooning over the fact that his engagement to Gina was real. At last. After being ribbed good-naturedly by Gina’s father and friends about his total inattention, he left the shooting party early. Arriving back at the house Emmett changed quickly for dinner, eager to get downstairs to Gina.
In the drawing room, he first looked around for Gina amongst the ladies. She wasn’t to be seen and his heart dropped. It didn’t matter of course; she’d be back any second. Instead of obeying the summons to Gina’s mother’s side, he paused at Gina’s embroidery. The red roses cushion that was to be his Christmas present from her. He examined it with a helpless smile. She’d given him everything he’d ever wanted this Christmas. Herself.
But he indulged in looking at the embroidery she’d spent so many hours on all the same, tracing the beautifully crafted lines with one finger. So much work she’d put in, for him. The stitches were all so neat, even and perfect except where she’d inserted a flare of an angle that only enhanced the whole piece. Except in the top right-hand corner which she was working on now.
Those stitches were…bad. If he’d been told a six-year-old boy had done them with the aid of a puppy, he’d have believed it.
The rest of the embroidery was inspired. Just this bit she’d done since they’d been here in the country was poor. And suddenly, he knew.
He stared at the embroidery, and couldn’t imagine how he’d been such a besotted fool to have not noticed before. She didn’t like embroidery. She hadn’t been making this as a labor of love for him. This was just another fake, like her dancing, or their whole courtship.
She’d lied to him.
“Emmett!” Gina’s voice came from the far side of the room and she hurried over, happiness lighting her hazel eyes.
“You don’t like embroidery,” he said baldly, not bothering with niceties. His heart was breaking, he had no time for polite nothings.
Gina looked up at him, her face the picture of innocence. “Of course I do.”
