Page 42 of The Viscount's Promise
Never in her life had she dreamed such a thing could exist. She had known that some found pleasure in kisses, in caresses. Why, she had seen for herself firsthand the small stolen touches and looks Caleb and Imogen had shared when they thought no one was looking. Even so, the idea of such intimacy and the pleasure that could be derived from it had been as easy for her to comprehend as grasping at a waterfall. Certainly not something she ever expected to feel herself.
Not until Malcolm had taken her in his arms.
She moved to stand before him, trying with all her might to keep her steps slow and dignified. It would not do for her to grab her skirts up above her knees and dash across the gleaming floor until she could touch him again. He could not possibly feel the same way for her, after all. She would only make a fool of herself, would make him look at her in pity.
But it was not pity in his expression as she came near. No, nothing like pity at all. There was warmth and—dare she say it?—affection lighting the depths of his dark eyes.
He held out a hand to her. With but a moment’s hesitation, she placed her own in his. Even through their kidskin gloves she felt the heat and strength in his grip. She recalled in a flash those hands on her skin, baring her, touching her in a way she had thought never to be touched.
His expression was full, as if he were remembering, too. As if there were too many things he wished to say. But when he spoke, it was to ask, “Shall we meet with the others, then?”
As she nodded and turned with him to walk to the stables, she wondered at the disappointment that settled under her skin. It had been present in small waves throughout the morning, and she took advantage of the companionable silence between them to look inside herself, to turn over her peculiar reaction.
Things had changed so drastically between Malcolm and herself. She had felt drawn to him before, but it had become so much stronger since their kiss. It was like a delicate thread that had been transformed into an unbreakable chain. It tugged on her, dragging her attention to wherever he was, making her want to touch him, to step back into that strong embrace and feel again his arms about her and his lips on hers.
In a flash she knew what her disappointment stemmed from. She wanted him to kiss her again. With everything in her she wanted to feel that incredible sensation of being in his arms, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.
She shook her head, banishing the silly, fanciful thoughts. Malcolm could not have thought it more than a simple kiss. Men like him did not want women like her, awkward and scarred and too fearful to live life.
He glanced down at her then, a small smile on his lips, and she felt her doubts melt under his perusal. Perhaps there was something more there, after all.
Soon they were at the stables, and there was no more time to think of Malcolm and kisses. Daphne took the small group quickly in hand, directing everyone in the mounting of the waiting horses, setting them off across the back lawn and the rolling hills of Willowhaven. Everyone was in high spirits, no doubt happy to be out of doors after being forced inside for so long.
Emily hung back, keeping her mare behind the group, unable to bear the thought of being within that rambunctious party. To her surprise and secret pleasure, Malcolm brought his mount aside hers. With the same quiet ease that had been with them all morning long, they rode on together, letting the others pull ahead. As they started up a gentle rise, the rest of the group kicked their horses off and as one made a mad gallop over the crest.
She squinted, frowning. “I suppose we should hurry on after them. I am the chaperone, after all,” she murmured.
“I suppose we should,” he replied. Yet he didn’t urge on his mount. The animal tossed its head, prancing a bit, before Malcolm expertly brought it under control. Emily would have felt sorry for the poor beast—he obviously wished to stretch his legs and run with the others—if she weren’t so happy to have his rider at her side.
“Then again,” she mused, “I suppose there are enough of them that they cannot possibly get into trouble.”
“I completely agree.”
There was a companionable moment of silence. A breeze caressed her, and Emily lifted her face to it, breathing in deeply of the smell of wet earth and fresh, clean air. Her chest felt lighter than it had in longer than she cared to remember.
“This is odd,” Malcolm mumbled.
Emily glanced at him in question.
“I’m not at all used to this.”
“This?”
“The silence. I’m not used to it.”
Her heart fell a bit. Here she had been enjoying the peace of the morning, and he had been made uncomfortable by it. “I apologize. I’m not the most voluble person, as you might have guessed. I’m sure you would be more comfortable if we hurried to rejoin the others.”
“No, that’s not what I meant at all,” he said as she made to kick her mare on.
“Then perhaps you’d best elaborate,” she said through suddenly stiff lips, forcing her hands to relax on the reins.
She watched as he blew out a breath, no doubt looking for the right words to say.
“I meant,” he said haltingly, “that I am not used toenjoyingthe silence.”
“Oh,” was all she could think to say. Warmth spread through her chest.
He apparently thought his explanation needed further elaboration. “I spend much of my time in London, as you know. I typically surround myself with all manner of noise and excitement and stimulation. I’ve never found quiet comfortable. Yet here, with you,....I...am.” His voice trailed off and he frowned, as if he could not quite believe what he was admitting.
