Page 58 of Dukes Do It Better
Are you trying to kill me?”
“I thought you were trying to kill me,” Mal replied. Bless him, he sounded as winded as she did.
Emma rolled to her side and tucked her head into the cradle of his shoulder. He lifted his hand to rest it behind his head, making his biceps the perfect pillow. The bay rum warmth of his scent hit her nose, and she breathed in the mix of him and the smell of sex.
“You were on top and I was the helpless captive under your thrall. Therefore, you’re killing me. Not the other way around.” Mal ran his fingers over her hand, with which she absently followed the lines of ink on his chest.
Emma sighed contentedly, and waited for feeling to return to her legs. A yawn split her face, reminding her of the late hour. It would be time to leave soon, but she’d cling to these last few moments while she could. Alton’s boundless energy had meant it was one of those afternoons when she’d been so grateful for the help of the nurse that Emma had nearly kissed the woman in gratitude.
“I’ve been thinking about the future,” Emma began, gathering the nerve to broach the subject. “We said we’d end this affair when you returned to sea.”
Under her cheek, he seemed to stop breathing. “Funny you should mention this. I’ve been considering the future as well.”
She could hear the smile in his voice, and a glance up showed his pale eyes crinkling at the corners. The warmth there boosted her courage. Staying for the Season and entering into this affair was an exercise in honesty, in finding a way to live authentically without turning into her mother and replicating her parents’ disastrous relationship. Which meant, in this case, asking for more. Vulnerability was knee-shakingly scary—good thing she was laying down.
“I’ll be returning to Olread Cove in a few weeks. I’m putting down roots there and purchasing property for Alton. What if, when you returned to England, you and I made an effort to see each other? We could make this a long-term arrangement. At least, until your mother convinces you to marry some simpering miss worthy of your coronet.”
He tilted his face down. “Do I detect a bit of jealousy, Lady Em?”
Emma rolled her eyes and huffed. “Of course not. I have no intention of marrying again.”
Mal gently rolled over, keeping her in the cradle of his arms, so they faced each other. “I don’t want this to end either. In fact, I’ve wondered if there is a path forward for us.”
A light feeling in her chest made it seem that only her ribs kept her heart from floating away entirely. “I don’t know what that path looks like. But I’d like to figure it out. With you, I mean.”
Dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose, he agreed. “With you.”
Joy bubbled up, but she didn’t have any idea what to do with it. Did they make plans, or go on as they were, picking their way through their situation until they found themselves where they were meant to be? She had no idea, so she changed the subject. “Speaking of futures…do you think Simon plans to offer for Adelaide?”
“I’m not sure. But what is going on between them is different from anything I’ve ever seen from Simon. He won’t toy with her, but he’s never pursued a woman like her.”
“You mean shy and quiet?”
“Virginal.”
Ah. “I think they’re great together. There would be many benefits to such a match. Especially with her father’s influential role in politics, and Simon’s place in the Admiralty.”
“Playing matchmaker, Em?” He pulled her closer, until she was pressed against the length of him. When he nuzzled along her throat, he murmured, “Do I detect lemon tonight?”
She made a noise of agreement and wiggled when he found a sensitive spot on her neck. “Probably. I took over a corner of the kitchen and set Alton to work making lemon tartlets. We were both covered in ingredients by the end of it.”
He reared back in mock horror. “And you didn’t bring me any?”
“Blame Ethan. They’re his favorite. That’s why we made them. He and Lottie visited this afternoon.”
The full bottom lip he stuck out made her laugh. “No need to pout. I’ll bake a batch for you soon.” She received a grinning kiss as answer, and Emma relaxed into the taste of him. Familiar, and growing dearer every day. It was such a relief to hear he didn’t want this to end any time soon either. Yet their earlier conversation wasn’t complete.
“Have you considered what you’ll do if you can’t return to sea?”
Heavy, dark brows met over the bridge of his nose. “Adapt, I suppose. Like it or not, I’m Trenton. I need a purpose, and managing the dukedom will certainly fill my days.” The flat tone in his voice didn’t make her think he looked forward to the prospect.
“Any luck finding out what your mother was holding over the Admiralty?”
The pause was heavy enough to make her study his face in more than the usual admiring perusal she enjoyed. Mal opened his mouth, then closed it, and opened it again, as if searching for the right words. Somehow, she knew whatever he settled on wouldn’t be the truth.
Emma placed a finger over his lips. “Whatever you are going to say. Don’t. Don’t lie to me. If you won’t or can’t tell me, then just say so.”
His expression relaxed. “I’d rather not say. It’s a family situation, and I’m not sure what any of it means yet.”
