Page 14 of Married Off by the Duke
Emma rolled her eyes. “As implausible as it may seem to a man who’s incapable of dressing himself without assistance from a valet, my needs are modest. My inheritance is more than sufficient to secure safe housing and, when combined with satisfactory employment?—”
“You cannot intend to work,” he interjected, aghast. “For money.”
“What do you have against honest labor?”
“You’re a lady, Emma. Ladies do not work. I forbid it. Besides,” he bent to whisper, “I intend to occupy all your time.” Max plucked the last strawberry and touched it to her lips.
Emma brushed his hand away, so he popped the fruit into his own mouth instead. “What if I want to work?”
Max chortled. “You can’t mean it. Why would anyone engage in toil if they could avoid it?”
“Because not everyone is a lazy snob like you?” Emma said sweetly, although he detected an implacable edge beneath her syrupy tone.
“Such a Puritan ethic.” He clucked his tongue. “Unnecessary, dearest Emma. Nothing but the finest things in life for the mother of my children.”
His comment made her turn away and blush prettily. He’d flustered her.
“Then I shall step aside while ladies stampede to volunteer for the position.”
“Even my Henley isn’t enticement enough?” He clutched his chest, miming a wound. Emma laughed.
“The shirt was a blatant excuse to display your manly assets, and you know it.”
“Did it work?”
She swatted his arm instead of answering, then leaned her head on his shoulder. Max’s heart swelled. A similar sensation visibly tented his trousers. He couldn’t tell whether she noticed. Did Emma know what effect she had on him?
After a few minutes, her slight weight turned heavy. His wrists ached. His cock, too, for different reasons. He slipped one arm around her waist. Emma listed forward, and for one heart-stopping moment, he thought she was going to kiss him. Then she toppled, boneless, and Max had to scramble to catch her.
“Asleep,” he mused ruefully. “I suppose this truly was a taxing day for you.”
With his free hand, he scooped his arm beneath her knees and carefully rose to his feet. Emma’s head rested against his shoulder, her arms crossed over her stomach, her lips gently parted. In this fashion, he carried her to his coach and set her on his lap. Max held her for the entire ride back to his townhouse.
CHAPTER 8
Emma awoke slowly, to the unfamiliar but delicious feeling of a person lying next to her. Being held felt so nice…
She froze, too shocked to breathe.
Max.
What was he doing in her bed?
“What time is it?” she gasped. The clock read a quarter to eight. She sagged with relief. There was plenty of time for her to go inquire after employment.
Yet that did not explain why Max was sleeping in her room. Nor did it present a solution for getting him out of there before they were caught together.
Emma rummaged her memories of last night and concluded that nothing untoward had happened, despite how good he’d looked in that Henley shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
Briefly, she wondered what it would be like to live knowing she could wake up in the same bed every morning for the rest of her life.
“You’re awake early,” Max said in a rough voice, startling her.
“It’s late, actually. I’m usually up with the sun.”
“Mmm. You’ll have to become accustomed to sleeping in once we’re married.”
“We’re not getting married, Max.”
