Page 43 of The Soldier
“Winnie has given you her blessing.” Emmie steeled herself against a lassitude that was making it difficult to keep her eyes open. “And Winnie is not a creature who ignores her own preferences. Just for God’s sake do not fail to return, or I won’t answer for the consequences.”
“Will you miss me, Emmie Farnum?” He paused in his brushing, and Emmie felt his hands settle on her shoulders. She wanted to bolt to her feet and wrap her arms around him, to tell him not to go. She wanted to bolt to her feet and order him from her room, to tell him to go and not come back.
She sat in her chair, stock still, and watched in the mirror as he hunkered behind her chair and pushed her hair to the side, exposing the side of her neck.
“I told myself,” he murmured, his thumb caressing the spot just below her ear, “I could behave if I had to track you to your lair tonight. I told myself that lie, and I believed it.”
He leaned in slowly and pressed his open mouth to the juncture of her shoulder and her neck. His breath fanned over her skin, and Emmie had to close her eyes against the sight of him in her mirror. He rose, but only to let his hands drift down her arms and back up.
“You aren’t stopping me, Emmie,” he whispered.
“I will,” she said, hoping it was true. But his long fingers were busy with the ties at her throat, and she felt her wrapper fall open as he bit her earlobe. Soon, she thought, soon I will stop him, but not just…
A large, warm hand settled gently over one breast, and Emmie could not prevent a little whimper of pleasure. Through the sheer fabric of her nightgown, she could feel the heat of him. His thumb eased across her nipple, coaxing it to firmness, and Emmie felt what little resolve she could claim evaporating.
“Rosecroft…” she murmured.
“Devlin, or St. Just, or my love, but not the bloody damned title.” He shifted so he was kneeling before her and threaded his hand through her hair at her nape.
Another kiss, Emmie thought, her heart kicking into a gallop.Just this once more, and then I’ll be good.
He made it a feast, that one kiss, by grazing his nose all over her jaw, her cheeks, her brow. Everywhere, he inhaled her scent and teased her with his own. She tried to capture his mouth, but he evaded such headlong behavior. His hand remained on her breast, cupping, teasing, and learning the shape and heft of her.
“St. Just,” Emmie panted, “Devlin, please just kiss me.”
He growled, a sound that held amusement and satisfaction, but he didn’t capitulate to her demands until he’d undone the ties to her nightgown. Not until he fused his mouth to hers did he ease the material apart, though, and then he let his hand drop to her lap, leaving Emmie to focus on the way he plundered her mouth, stole her wits, and sent her best intentions and common sense begging down the lane.
***
Emmie opened for him immediately, her hands stealing around his shoulders, and those sexy little sounds starting up as soon as he touched his tongue to hers.
She wants it, he thought as his own lust spiked upward.She wants me.
And God knew he wanted her. His groin was throbbing with want, screaming with it, and demanding he make up for years of neglect in the next instant. Emmie’s hands were adding to the din, trailing up and down his arms then working at the buttons of his waistcoat. When she had those undone, she began to pull the hem of his shirt from his waistband.
“Emmie.” He tried to catch her hands. “Emmie, love. Slow down.” To get her attention, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead on her collarbone. “Easy now. Just… easy.” She was breathing as hard as he was, gulping air, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.
He lifted his head and peered around the room, then scooped her up and rose in one motion. “Bed,” he whispered to her, kissing her nose before he lowered her onto the mattress. While Emmie blinked in consternation, he pulled off his shirt and waistcoat, then sat on the bed to tug off his boots.
“You stay right there,” he muttered before rising and locking the door.
“I can’t do this,” she blurted out, rising up on her elbows. “I cannot… lie with you.” He stopped, midstride, and frowned at her.
“Is it your courses? Because that needn’t…”
Emmie shook her head. “No, it isn’t…that.” She blushed and turned her face away.
“I will not get a bastard on you, Emmie.” He took the few steps needed to bring him to the bed and sat at her hip, gazing down at her. “You should know that at least.”
“Are you God,” Emmie said in quiet misery, “to prevent conception at will?”
Her sternum was open to his view, but the froth of her night clothes hid her breasts. She was breathing hard, he could see, with arousal, but also…
“Emmie.” He reached out and brushed a lock of her hair back. “Let me pleasure you. You need it, I need it, and no one will be the wiser. I can ease your ache, and you can ease mine. It needn’t be more complicated than that.”
He trailed the back of his hand against the silky skin of her chest, moving her garments aside, baring a full breast to the candlelight. She closed her eyes, which he took for capitulation of a sort, so he leaned down and settled his mouth over her exposed nipple. He drew gently while his hand smoothed down over her ribs, over her belly, then back up.
Emmie’s hands cradled the back of his head then went still, giving him the sense she was absorbing these shocking new pleasures. He knew he’d crossed the line from persuasion to seduction, for she’d said she would not lie with him. Could not. And he could not promise her if they joined, no child would result.
